The ski season has passed. For skiing enthusiasts, snowless days are no different from a green winter."Hibernating" is both boring and helpless. Here’s another segment of a coachman’s whistle to entertain fellow skiers during this long "winter."
The first two posts shared some insights on skiing, but the message wasn’t fully conveyed—no wonder some criticized.If I say skiing is all about playing with centrifugal force, hopefully no one will throw bricks anymore?
Go ahead and throw them. If you criticize me, I’ll let my skis torture you; let the ski resort fleece you; let the gear manufacturers mess with you. After all, skiing costs your hard-earned money—wasted every time you don’t improve. Wasted your whole life, and you’ll just be a lifelong ski slave.
To be honest, I’ve never posted anything online, and I despise the pointless online arguments and reckless criticism.
Honestly, my original intention in posting was just to share my small insights to offer fellow skiers somethingperhapsuseful—not for fame or profit, just hoping to see everyone on the slopes gliding beautifully.
My online name is virtual, but my wish is sincere. Mutual appreciation, shared passion—that’s the bond. How I write is up to me; how you see it is up to you. If even play can’t escape the petty jealousy of palace intrigue, then I can only look down on certain people.Say skiing is about playing with centrifugal force—believe it or not? I do.
From a so-called technical perspective,free skithe essence of technique is first creating centrifugal force. The greater your ability to generate it, the higher your skiing skill. Second, it’s about utilizing centrifugal force. The better you control it, the more gracefully you ski. Anyway, you may not believe me, but I do. Every top skier is a master of centrifugal force.
Creating centrifugal force, in the end, is all about "leaning." I believe the degree of lean distinguishes skiing levels. As fellow skierYouyouonce said: Can you turn on a bicycle without leaning your body?
The prerequisite for "leaning" is "extension"—no need to explain that.
Many skiers struggle with "edge control." The reason is simple: if your body doesn’t lean, how can your edges grip? No edge grip, no carving. Carving skis are designed for edge control, not parallel turns. Without edge control, even the most luxurious skis won’t help you get intocarvingthe zone. Right?
To me, skiing has only three levels: sliding downhill, parallel turns, and edge carving. If you can’t lean, you’ll max out at level two—no amount of technical jargon will help.
Another issue is the debate between "carving" and "sliding." Honestly, whether to carve or slide is a non-issue. Once your edges grip, you’ll know. Sliding is just for slowing down—slide too much, and you’re braking. Carving should be the normal state of skiing. You pay to ski or just to slide? Your hard-earned cash should give you a clear answer.
Pitting carving against sliding as mortal enemies—what’s that about?Everything is ready except the crucial element: speed. Skiing is a speed sport. Without speed, no technique matters. Without speed,leaning is just leaning; with speed, leaning becomes turning. No need to debate this—anyone who’s ridden a bike gets it. Is it safer to ride fast or slow? Silly question, not worth discussing. What matters is not speeding. Safe skiing means staying within the speed you can mentally and physically handle—not just going slow.
Let’s talk about whether to trust your mind or your body when skiing.
Back to personal experience. I’ve had over seven near-death experiences (and some I don’t remember). Seven? Isn’t that reckless? Yep. Our generation grew up reckless. Childhood during the Cultural Revolution—society, the nation, everyone was out of control, so naturally, we were reckless kids. Those were carefree days, playing first, studying second, outdoors every day, pushing limits constantly. So falling into wells, rivers, getting electrocuted, escaping spinning wheels—those things happened. Later, as a sent-down youth, I became a reckless young adult. A youngster ten years younger than me once asked what sent-down life was like. I said it was about extreme limits—extreme hardship, exhaustion, cold (minus forty or fifty degrees), heat, thirst, hunger, danger, frustration, lawlessness, absurdity, recklessness, and yet incredibly rich, backed by countless personal stories. The kid didn’t believe me, called it made-up. I said,17"Drop you in a godforsaken place with no help in sight, no one to hear your cries, and you’ll believe real quick." Back then, people constantly spouted slogans like "fear neither hardship nor death, conquer nature, reshape the heavens," thought it, believed it, lived it—how could we not be reckless? Countless work-related recklessness aside, outside work, like riding a horse alone with a stick chasing wolves (adult ones), nearly killing the horse; grabbing an axe to chase bears (as a preschooler), luckily the mama bear didn’t see me; or raiding eagle nests, kidnapping eaglets, getting chased by eagle parents (golden eagles)—not mentioning those. Or as a militiaman, catching a Soviet spy only to find a naked female sent-down youth under the bed, or fighting wildfires, accidental gun discharges, hunting and getting mistaken for prey by a "friendly fire" aimed shot, or swimming through twenty-plus miles of floodwaters for college exams—novel-worthy stuff, too many to list. Just know: reckless acts bring reckless outcomes. Like nearly getting hit by a passing truck, nearly crushed by a five-horse wagon, nearly kicked by a horse during training. In short, though our minds were wasted in those reckless years, our bodies were fully liberated.
I’ve gone to great lengths just to make one point clear: every time I narrowly escaped death, it all came down to split-second decisions. And every time I survived, looking back, my mind was completely blank. Just imagine—what could the brain possibly think about in the blink of an eye? It wasn’t my mind that saved me, but my body acting on “instinct,” performing a series of reflexive actions that kept me alive time and time again.
Most importantly, every time I think back, those seemingly miraculous life-saving moves were so precise, as if I’d undergone countless rigorous training sessions. They were absolutely spot-on—just a tiny bit off, and I wouldn’t be here telling this story. I’d even go so far as to say that even if you tried to recreate the scenario and had experts redesign the escape, they couldn’t come up with moves that “perfect.” Absolutely not.
That’s why I’ve always harbored resentment toward my own brain. I’ve always wanted to confront it and ask: why do you meddle when there’s nothing to worry about, stirring up trouble at every turn, while my body does all the real work? But the moment things get critical, you just go blank and shirk all responsibility, letting my body take the fall. And yet, you still cling to your position as the leader of this body.
Because of this, my mind has always felt guilty toward my body, and I’ve never dared to boast in front of it.I’m no superhero. I’m not any quicker or more agile than anyone else. I believe that what I can do, anyone can do. Because our bodies possess countless physiological functions and “primitive reflexes” that we’re not even aware of.
People often mistakenly believe that human “primitive reflexes” disappear entirely after infancy. It’s because the mind discards these “primitive” reflexes and gradually develops more “advanced” conditioned responses that humans have become “superior” rational beings. The hallmark of rationality is said to be the mind controlling the body, thoughts guiding behavior, spirit dominating matter, and so on. Thus, for humans, the mind is always superior, noble, while the body is always inferior, base.
In short, the head rules the body, and the mind determines life.
Alright, then let me ask a few simple questions: who tells us to eat and drink? Who makes us go to the bathroom? Who prompts us to seek shelter from the cold or heat? Who drives us to marry and have families? If our stomachs weren’t growling or our mouths weren’t dry, would we eat or drink? If our bladders and bowels didn’t send signals, would we head to the restroom? If we couldn’t feel temperature changes, would we bother with keeping warm or cool? And if our most troublesome private parts didn’t itch, ache, or swell, driving us to distraction, who would fall in love? Who would willingly contribute to the growth of humanity? Who would obsess over reproduction—a thankless, unproductive public service?
Strip away the pretenses and speak plainly—who among us doesn’t act out of hunger, thirst, elimination, sex, or emotion? No matter how refined, rational, or civilized we may seem, aren’t we still animals? What does the word “human” really mean? Isn’t it just the name of an animal species? Do you really think the human mind was custom-made by nature for us alone? Do you really think putting on a fancy suit hides your true nature? No matter how you spin it, nonsense is still nonsense, and calmness can still hurt.
In short, it’s the body that controls the mind—that’s the true arrangement of life. The mind is, at best, just the body’s foreign affairs office. Making the mind the commander is a foolish wish born of human arrogance, yet no body has ever truly taken that absurd appointment seriously. If any body actually obeyed the mind’s commands, it would have been done in long ago by those idiotic thinkers, philosophers, and politicians.NTry it if you don’t believe me.
In reality, in daily life, no one truly sees themselves as living beings. In good health, people don’t even think about the existence of their own bodies. Even when they do notice their bodies, they treat them as nothing more than an extension or support for the mind.
Are our own bodies really so useless? So worthless? Perhaps, only when we’re sick or facing death do we begin to understand the answer.
I’ve gone off on too much of a tangent.Because the body, which is closest to us, is actually the farthest from our awareness.
There are so many secrets hidden within the body, yet foolish humans are so ignorant. Isn’t it outrageous to treat a bunch of crap fed into the brain as precious insight? Don’t take your mind too seriously. After all, deceiving yourself is easier than a con artist fooling a fool. The least intelligent people are the ones who think they’re the smartest.
That said, whether it’s learning to ski or engaging in any sport, it’s ultimately about the body. If you don’t trust your own body or the countless physiological functions hidden within it, how can your body not feel betrayed? If your own mind has turned traitor, how can someone else’s mind take charge of your body?
It should be said that learning to ski is no different from learning to walk. Walking is something the body figures out on its own, something it “experiences” naturally. Who has technical specifications for learning to walk? Who thinks about which leg to move first or which muscle to use while walking? The same goes for skiing techniques—they were developed by observing others, then refining the process. Technical references are certainly useful, and even imitating others isn’t wrong—aren’t we all learning by mimicking? The process is essential, but the key is to let the mind first give the command to move the legs, to “fall” into position, rather than directly controlling the muscles. Besides, the mind doesn’t even have the authority to command the nerves and muscles. Right?
I can’t say any more. If I keep going, I’ll spill all the “secrets of the universe.”The off-season without snow is tough. This long rant is just for fellow snowboarders to pass the time. Enjoy if you like, ignore if you don’t, but don’t lash out. The language is a bit rough, but it’s just for emphasis. No offense intended. Please understand.
Either way, I’m speaking up for your body, not to belittle others or boost my own ego. If some brain-dead folks despise their bodies, thinking of them as nothing but useless hunks of flesh, then so be it. Respect the dead, I guess.
Just learned how to post videos. Saw others do it, so I gave it a try.Look at this brainless one—its skiing skills are no worse than those of any skilled human skier.Why can it ski right from the start? The answer: it’s not afraid of falling.
The human body is far more advanced than this creature, so why can’t we match it? The answer: we’re afraid of falling.Also, this creature never practices skiing, so why does it have such great snow feel? The answer: it doesn’t overthink.Humans train hard, yet why can’t they find that snow feel? The answer: they think too much.
How can this creature make humans feel so inadequate? Charging it with crimes against humanity wouldn’t be too harsh.But when it comes to the relationship between body and mind, this creature really has the most to say.After all, humans are smart when they should be dumb and act smart when they should just be dumb.It's enough to drive one crazy. This guy must have been sent by God to enlighten humanity.