Midwest Tai Chi and Self Defense located in Burlington, Wisconsin, just south west of Milwaukee, is conducting classes which can lead to certification for teaching Sun style Tai Chi Cuan as practiced by Dr. Paul Lam. Ron Pfeiffer, director of Midwest says this:
This is the first event of it's kind for our local program. We will need all the help we can muster to make it successful so if you know of someone who might be interested in this please pass it on. We hold 3 lessons each week teaching the material which is needed to get certified through Dr. Lams organization. Starting lessons now would greatly increase a persons enjoyment and learning at the upcoming workshop.
Recently, a Tai Chi classmate posted a phone camera video of some of us doing Push Hands at the Tai Chi Center. Watching myself getting pushed was an valuable experience. I could see the moment I had tensed and offered a structure to my opponent which allowed him to allow me to push myself off balance. Push Hands is one of the three most important Tai Chi practices: the others being the single form and the sword form. It is essentially a game* with specific rules played with the Tai Chi principles of relaxation, rooting and following. Each player has to be willing to push the other, an act contrary to the Tai Chi notion of only reacting to your opponent. In theory, only 4 ounces of pressure may be used, although in practice, more is applied. With glee
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*I’ll probably get some contrary email for calling Push Hands a “game” but becomes one all too easily as push comes to shove.
Push hands is not about pushing… it’s about being pushed. (This is a good thing since I am pushed more than I push!) At the Tai Chi Center in Madison it is called “Sensing Hands.” Sensing the energy of your opponent is the basis of Push Hands. Learning to read the other’s intension through slight tensions and changes of speed or direction is an art form.
Yang Chengfu’s treatise on Push Hands mentions sticking, adhering, and following. This not only lets you sense the energy but allows you to redirect it. Too many times during practice the other has waited for an opening and shoved at my center, pushing me off balance. This is about speed and strength, it’s not Tai Chi. All I learn from this is not to let my guard down. If I am fast enough, I can deflect the shove and use the other’s momentum to unbalance them. This is sticking, adhering, and following.
There are two kinds of Push Hands, Fixed Step and Active, or Moving Step (and there are two forms of the moving step--- the Combined Step form where the two people move forward and backward, and the Loop Step form which allows for some overlapping steps; also in the Dalu form, the movement is in all four directions.) Whereas the formal methods of Push Hands are choreographed, the friendly sparing is not. For me, the moving version makes more sense, being more like the applications of Tai Chi Cuan. It can bring these applications into a practical arena where many variations can be tried out. Although the fixed stance is good for sensing opponent energy, you will never find yourself in a street fight where nobody will move their feet!
Fu Zhongwen book on Mastering Yang Style Tajiquan, translated and commented by Louis Swaim renders one of the Tai Chi Classics, the Song of Push Hands as follows:
In Ward Off (peng), Roll back (lu), Press (ji), and Push (an), you must be conscientious.
Upper and Lower follow one another; the other has difficulty advancing.
Let him come and strike with great strength.
Lead his movement, using four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds.
Attract him into emptiness, then join, then issue.
Adhere, connect, stick, follow, without letting go or resisting.
For further study I hardily recommend Louis Swaim’s comments on Push Hands (and on Fu Zhongwen’s book through out.) As for my complaints about some partners in Push Hands practice, I have to say that there have been several “others’ who have demonstrated their knowledge and understanding of the form and helped me a great deal toward my own understanding. I only caution that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, particularly when your are flying through the air!
The Chinese acupressure point, Yongquan, or gushing or bubbling spring, is on the soul of the foot, in the depression found about a third of the way along a line from the second and third toes to the heel. In Qigong, breath forces the Qi from the Baihui (top of the head) down through the Dantian (center of balance) and down the Yang Chaio Mo, or positive leg channel to the Yongquan, filling the body with Qi energy. In the Tai Chi Classic by Chang San-feng (Zhang Sanfeng, Chang Chun Pao, Chang Sam Bong, etc.) he says:
The internal energy, c’hi, roots at the feet, then transfers through the legs and is controlled from the waist, moving eventually through the back to the arms and fingertips. (Waysun Liao translation)
So we can see that the feet are very important in Tai Chi and in Qigong. Some texts talk about flattening the instep to the ground. Others, like William Chen, speak of rooting with the “three nails,” the big toe, ball of the foot and the heel. In rooting, the energy must feel as if it extends deep into the ground, not merely attached to the surface.
Early on in my study of the Tai Chi form I became aware of my instability, especially during movements that involved balancing on one foot or kicking. I blamed this on weak ankles (I never could ice skate well.) So I began a search for the perfect pair of shoes which, I was sure, would propel me toward mastery of the art. It made sense to have a “special” pair reserved only for Tai Chi. At any rate, most of the venues where classes were taught didn’t allow street shoes on their nice polished floors.
I have stubby little high-arched feet and have trouble finding shoes that fit properly. Running shoes are made with arch support and soles designed for high impact. I tried these but the waffle patterned soles were definitely overkill for the “Chinese Dance.” I was looking for lightness and found a pair of wrestling shoes at a discount store. They were light. They fit perfectly. But they had no flat soles and contributed to my instability more than being barefooted would have. So I tried bare foot Tai Chi. Again, no support. I was to find bare footed Tai Chi on SAND had great possibilities at a later time, but on the beach, not in New Mexico among the Choja buds!
My solution for shoes were a succession of skateboarding shoes. These are like what we used to call “deck shoes” but have more support and nice flat soles which wear quickly to a shine and become excellent for turns. They are a little heavier, though. I also experimented with Nike Airs which come in an extra wide size.
The grand ultimate shoe of choice for me now is a pair of Chinese slippers with rubber soles I got from Karate Depot or somewhere on line. They have no arch support but are better than bare feet because of the flat soles. They allow you to feel how your feet are rooting to the ground (and below), which is the real secret of balance, stability and energy transfer in Tai Chi, not good shoes.
It can be very frustrating reading different articles on Tai Chi when one author uses the term, “Qi,” and another uses “Chi.” The problem comes from trying to represent Chinese words in European languages that don’t use Chinese characters. There are more than a few systems in use and like most things in China, they are diverse and coexistent.
Wade-Giles is a Romanization system for the Mandarin language developed from a system created by Thomas Wade during the19th century. Pinyin is another Romanization system which was introduced in China in the 1950s and is now the standard in the People’s Republic of China. Articles in English about Tai Chi Chuan can use either or both systems intermittently and can be very confusing for those of us who are not Chinese scholars. Some equivalent examples might be useful along with a brief definition of the terms. For this task I have turned to a very useful book by Masters Liang Shou-Yu and Wu Wen-Ching called Tai Chi Chuan, 24 and 48 Postures. I won’t attempt to comment on how to pronounce these terms, but the reader may wish to examine the Wikipedia entry on Wade-Giles at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wade%E2%80%93Giles.
The Pinyin, “Qi” is “Chi” in Wade-Giles and translates roughly as “Intrinsic substance of all things” or “energy.” I have written about Chi elsewhere as it is a concept that is both mysterious and difficult or impossible to prove, yet fundamental to the understanding of Tai Chi and Chinese medicine. “Tajiquan” is Pinyin for the Wade-Giles, “Tai Chi Cuan,” and translates as the “Grand Ultimate Fist.” “Qigong’” (Pinyin) is “Chi Kung” (Wade-Giles) and means “energy study or drill and training.”
Another source of confusion is the use of apostrophes to indicate certain pronunciations. I sometimes see T’ai Chi or T’ai Chi C’uan and use these spellings when referring to the work of a specific author. Then there is the Dantian, Dan Tien or Tan T’ien, literally "cinnabar or red field." It can be translated as "elixir field" and refers to one of three acupuncture areas on the body. In Tai Chi the important Dantian is the middle one, located a few inches below the navel, as this is the center of balance of the body and the place to which you “sink your Qi.”
On a completely unrelated note, I attended another William C. C. Chen workshop last weekend. Grandmaster Chen stood and talked for three straight hours during the morning. There was more lecturing in the afternoon and two hours of sword practice. This man is ten years older than I am. How does he do it? Indeed Tai Chi must have curative powers! My favorite quote from this session came when someone asked, “How do you know when you’re doing it correctly?” (Laughter from the class.) Grandmaster Chen grinned and replied, “Get into a bunch of fights and if you don’t get beat up, then you’ll know you’re doing it correctly.”
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Monkeys and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!
Animals in Tai Chi and the Martial Arts
There is a legend about a Taoist monk who came upon a tiger while walking in the woods. He tamed the tiger by staring him down and then climbed on the tiger’s back and road away. “Riding the Tiger” has many implications. Certainly, the safest place to be is on the tiger’s back. Getting off is the problem. The expression is used as a metaphor for bravery and danger and also relates to Tai Chi Chuan. Near the end of the Yang Chengfu long form is a movement called “Retreat Astride Tiger.” It comes before the “Lotus Sweep” and “Bend Bow to Shoot Tiger.” Poor tiger!
The movement of “Retreat Astride Tiger” is similar to that of “White Crane Spreads its Wings.” The right hand is raised and protects the forehead while the left guards the groin. It is single weighted. It leads into a spin that precedes the kick of the “Lotus Sweep.” Yang says, “Although my opponent may be fierce as a tiger, with but the slightest turning motion he will be under my control.”
The Taoist priest, Chang San-feng, Sung Dynasty (960-1279), was said to have originated Tai Chi Chuan after observing a fight between a snake and a white crane. When the bird attacked the snake's head, the snake yielded at his head and struck with his tail. When the bird attacked the snake's tail, the snake yielded at his tail and attacked with his head. When the bird attacked the snake's belly the snake yielded at the belly and attacked with both his head and his tail. In the end the bird gave up and flew away. Chang San-feng was able to see Yin and Yang in the snake’s yielding and attack. This led him to embody these principles in Tai Chi Chuan.
Anyway, it’s a good story. We westerners think of Chinese culture as nothing if not poetic: indeed the elite of the dynastic eras were scholars and wrote poetry. It was natural that their legends and stories related to nature, and consequently, to animal nature. The Taoists developed many “exercises” with martial arts applications and meditative properties. One tradition is the Five Animal Fun (or Frolics) in which the Crane, Monkey, Deer and Tiger contribute their natural movements to this Qigong form.
In spite of the terms “Fun” or “Frolics,” this is serious business. The Five Animal Frolics, Wu Qin Xi, were created by Hua Tuo, (died c. 208) a renowned Chinese physician. The Five Animals are the Tiger for power and improvement of the lung, the Bear for strength and support of the kidneys, the Deer for grace and care of the liver, the Crane for relaxation and maintaining the heart, and the Monkey for flexibility and aid to the stomach. The movements of the Frolics mimic those of the specific animals.
The Five Animal Martial Arts (not to be confused with the Five Animal Frolics), developed at the Shaolin Temple during the Tang Dynasty (618–907), utilized images and movements of the Tiger, Crane, Leopard, Snake and Dragon. These styles have been popularized in the recent animated film, Kung Fu Panda, although slightly different animals are featured. In a review of the movie in Kung Fu Magazine, Craig Reid observes:
Although from a historical sense it might have been more nostalgic to model the Fearless Five from Shaolin's original five animal arts (tiger, snake, leopard, white crane, dragon) as created by Jue Yuen, Li Sou and Bai Yu-feng during the 1200's, the filmmakers opted to make the leopard evil, use the dragon as the statuesque holder of the ultimate secret of martial arts, and replace them with two of the more recently created popular animals styles: monkey kung fu (late 1800's by Kou Zi) and praying mantis kung fu (mid-1600's by Wang Lang).
In Tai Chi, of course, the list of references to animal movements is long. Repulse Monkey, or Monkey Retreat, looks very similar to the movement in the Five Animal Frolic Monkey Form. The agility of the monkey swinging hand over hand through the trees is mimicked in an application in which stepping back displaces the grip and energy of the opponent. In the Sword Form animal imagery abounds:
Swallow Beats the Water
Bee Enters the Cave
Alert Cat Catches the Mouse
Dragonfly Strikes the Water
Swallow Returns to the Nest
Phoenix Spreads Both Wings
Black Dragon Wags His Tail
Lion Shakes His Head
Horse Leaps Over the Stream
The Swallow Holds Mud In His Mouth
The Rhino Gazes At The Moon
The White Ape Offers Fruit
A Fish Leaps Over the Gate of The Dragon
And so forth.
Metaphor or magic, animal nature was important to the development of Tai Chi and other Martial Arts. Whether descriptive of the movement, the attitude or the strength of the animal, names and images were used in the creation of the Form and still function for us today to add richness and understanding of the history and the purpose of Tai Chi Chuan.
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
--Lewis Carroll
The health center in Elkhorn has a mirrored room that is usually vacant early in the afternoon. I like to use it to practice the Long Form, Short Form, Sun 73 Form and Sword. I only bring my wooden sword, reserving the metal one for class and backyard use where I won’t freak anyone out. The other day I was warming up on the tread mill, the sword on the floor beside me as I don’t like to leave it unattended. I felt a more or less hostile presence trying to get my attention: perhaps one of the health club staff that are supposed to be available but are often AWOL.
“What’s that?” he said, pointing to my sword. “It’s a sword.” My obvious response gave him a few seconds of bewildered pause, then: “What’s it for?” I answered, “I use it for Tai Chi practice,” waving my arms in the air. “Oh? You go into the room over there?” (pointing to the mirrored practice room.) “Yes,” I replied. “OK, then,” said he. He disappeared, leaving me with the kind of feeling you used to get as a child when a police car drove by even though you weren’t doing anything wrong.
Of course, I don’t think of the sword as a weapon. The movements of the sword form, like other single form Taijiquan are designed to move and balance the Qi. Like the Tai Chi solo form, the sword movements are a reflection of actual combat techniques but are distinctly “internal” in function. Where the solo form expresses Qi through the finger tips, the sword form expresses it through the tip of the blade. The sword is both an extension of the body and an entity all to itself with its own weight and its own Qi. Moving it through the air requires balance and timing, “rooting” and energizing.
Similar to the solo form the sword movements have their applications. Engaging the opponent’s weapon, “sticking” to it, deflecting it, and “riding down the whirlwind” to strike the opponent’s wrist have relationships to Tajiquan ward-off, roll-back, press, push, and shoulder strike. Other sword movements seem to mimic Yang form: turning toward The Divinity Points the Way is like Brush Knee; The Phoenix Spreads Both Wings is like Single Whip. There is even a Fair Lady Weaves at the Shuttle in both.
And like the solo forms, the sword form can be seen as the ultimate exercise. Why not exercise at the Health Club? It’s probably not as dangerous as dropping a weight on your foot or stepping off the tread mill at the wrong time. After all, they have organized Dodge Ball and Kick Boxing. Just so I don’t make anybody nervous, I have purchased a sword bag to carry my “weapon” into the Club. Now it looks more like I have a rifle slung over my shoulder! Oh well.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
The weekend of August (Friday the) 13th saw me in Davenport, Iowa attending Grandmaster Chen’s three day workshop. I arrived Friday night just as a monsoon level rain storm descended upon the Quad Cities. The workshop was held in a large “multi-purpose room” at the YMCA, which was reached by following strategically placed directional signs along a labyrinth path up stairs and through narrow corridors filled with the smell of chlorine and heavy with humidity. Luckily, the room was nicely air-conditioned, bright and even had some wall mirrors. About forty or fifty people were present, at times swinging swords but extremely friendly and welcoming to the three of us from Wisconsin.
Grandmaster Chen, now 75, was born in China and became the youngest student of Professor Cheng Man-Ching. He has taught in Asia and the US since 1952 and established his own school in New York City in 1965. He has many devotees and his certified instructors include my sword teacher, Jody Curley. His ease of movement through the form suggests a much younger man. It is easy to feel the inspiration he imparts to his followers.
“You do like this… not like this,” he says, demonstrating a turn or a move. The distinction between the ‘this” and the “not this” is so subtle that I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be seeing. After a few more demos I begin to understand that this is an internal transfer of energy rather than one of muscle force. His descriptions are poetic: “like a bird about to take flight,” ” go to sleep… wake up.” During a run through of the Short Form I am privileged to have a couple of corrections from the master. I’ve brought the baggage of eight years of practice with a straight back and bent legs rather than a bend at the hips. “Not pushing from the legs… wake up!” There is much to learn here.
He talks about connections between the fingers, the toes and the inside thigh muscles. The thighs don’t work alone during a turn: the fingers direct (index finger yang, pinky finger yin) and the toes implement. He shows us the design he has made for next year’s tee shirt. It includes a Tai Chi symbol (yin yang circle) with two foot prints superimposed. The feet illustrate the “three nails,” which are the contact points that root the body to the earth. They are the big toe, the ball and heel. In his treatise, “The Mechanics of the Three Nails,” Master Chen says:
My studies of body mechanics indicate that the three active nails actually control the thigh, which controls the body. In the early 1960's, I sensed the turning of the waist was controlled by the thigh muscles. At that time, I thought the thigh was in command. As I practiced the slow movements, it appears that the thigh muscles helped make possible the turns and moves. Not until in middle 1980’s that I began to realize that the thigh itself has no ability to make any moves or turns without the help of the foot which is rooted firmly on the ground. Therefore, the rooted foot, and specifically the “three active nails” are in control and energized; the fingers to move palms and fists, and body follows.
How different to have instruction with analysis based in personal research! Most of us can only parrot what we have read or been taught to think. To feel what works and then to articulate it is a high form of learning we can only strive for. Like Jung’s “bringing the unconscious into the conscious,” it requires practice and awareness. To learn the form exactly as Cheng Man Ching did it, or as one of the fifty different versions taught by his many students, means nothing by itself. There must come a point when the student becomes the teacher for him/herself. But for now, I am the student and William C. C. Chen and his student, Jody Curley, are my teachers.
When he wants to make a point he stops us and goes to a student who has come close to performing some movement correctly. He puts the student through the movement, modifying the shifting of their weight or the turning of their foot. I am not receiving any corrections now that we are in the second half of the form. Obviously, I am not close enough to the correct form to offer him a chance to demonstrate with me. Later in the sword session I get a correction: I am not grasping the sword with my ring and pinky fingers at the second “three rings around the moon.” How he even sees this at fifteen feet away is amazing.
There is a session in Tai Chi Sword Fencing. This is my first experience with Tai Chi fencing. All the locals have put away their metal swords and are pulling out their wooden ones, putting on heavy gloves and safety glasses. Oops! Will they even let me participate with my carbon steel Adam Hsu Cas Hanwei? Jody and Mark and I are the other non-woodies. It goes well, though, and I even get to fence for a few minutes with Grandmaster Chen. Tai Chi fencing is sort of like push hands with swords. We try to “stick” to each other’s sword with wrist movements similar to “dragonfly strikes the water” in the Sword Form. The others are wearing gloves because in sparring, the goal is to make a strike at the sword hand. Unlike European style foil fencing, there is not a lot of padding.
It has been quite an experience: one I will remember and absorb into my quest for the perfect form.
We love the stories. Yang Jian-Hou (1842 – 1917) was said to be able to keep a sparrow from flying off his hand because he could feel the pressure of the bird’s feet as it tried to push off and then neutralize it so perfectly that the bird couldn’t leap into the air. Recently, in a Facebook group called Tai Chi Martial Artists, a discussion was started around the following:
Many years ago, I was training in the Carolina mountains and a most remarkable event occurred. I was standing in a low horse stance, throwing triple punch combinations in rapid succession. After about two hundred punches, upon completion of one of my strikes, I noticed a butterfly had landed on my fist. The butterfly remained there and was not disturbed. I wish to share you this message that this butterfly taught me: "The soft overcomes the hard. In your movements, rise and lower with unpredictable intention. Most importantly, leave no room for fear". My friends, no matter what style of Tai Chi you practice, I encourage you to follow the example of the butterfly. –Sifu Trick.
My own story took place when I was practicing the Long Form in the yard on a very windy day. At the first one footed stance the wind blew me over. I thought about this and realized I was not well “rooted” as I try to be during push hands. So I then began to sink as if my feet were indeed under ground like the roots of a tree while my spine remained as straight as possible and my head was elevated as if hung by a thread (as they say.) When I began the form again in a “rooted” posture, the wind could no longer interrupt my balance. My form improved immensely. Sometimes the best teachers are your experiences!
The story goes that Sun Lutang, founder of Sun style Tai Chi, went to study the martial art of Xing Yi Quan with master Li Kui Yuan. Li had him practice standing posture and wouldn’t teach him anything else. After a year of practice, Sun was good enough that when his master came behind him and struck him, he was unmoved. Li then taught him the rest of the form.
Most of us dislike standing. We complain: “I’ve been standing up all day and my feet hurt!” We don’t like standing in lines (which seems to be the way of life these days in grocery stores, airports, schools, etc.) We walk slumped over, staring at the ground (OK, so I do that not to trip!) Sun Luntang has a lot to say about standing.and Wu Ji:
Wu Ji is the natural state occurring before one begins to practice the martial arts. The mind is without thought; the intent is without motion; the eyes are without focus; the body makes no movement….
Master Sun says to stand as if on sand, without the toes griping or the heels pressing down. One of the most pleasurable times practicing the form for me was on the beach. I would practice on sand always if I could. On sand, “one stands and flows with what naturally occurs.” There is potential rather than movement. The “sinking the Qi to the Dan Tien” is done through intention rather than force.
Standing in stillness (li ding shi), says Yang Chenfu, is the taijiquan posture for preparing to move. While it may seem obvious that stillness comes before movement, the cultivation of correct stillness is crucial to the practice of Tai Chi. In most Tai Chi classes the beginning posture is explained as a period of relaxing the body but the mind must also be emptied. Concentration is on the Lower Dan Tien, the center of the body, its balance point. From the earliest writings of unknown masters called the Tai Chi Classics we find:
Relax the neck and suspend the head from the crown point.
The eyes should focus and concentrate on the direction in which the ch’I flows.
Relax the chest and arch the back.
Drop and relax the shoulders, drop and relax the elbows.
The wrist should be set comfortably while the finger tips stretch outward.
The entire body must be vertical and balanced.
The coccyx must be pulled forward and upward with the mind.
Relax the waist and the juncture of the thighs and pelvis.
The knees should stay between relaxed and non-relaxed.
The sole of the foot should sink and attack comfortably to the ground.
The real secret of Tai Chi lies in bringing the essentials of this stillness through into movement. To clearly separate the “substantial and the insubstantial” means to maintain balance in movement as if you are still.
Qi, or Chi (sometimes spelled Ch’i), is variously defined as internal energy, life force, intrinsic universal substance, eternal power, vibration, breath, blood and spirit. Although the Tao Te Ching of Lao Tzu does not refer to it as Qi, it speaks similarly of the Tao as:
It flows through all things
Inside and outside, and returns
To the origin of all things
Western science (particularly Western medicine) tends to be skeptical about the existence of Qi. As my ninth grade science teacher used to say, “If we can’t explain it, then it doesn’t exist.” Perhaps, but we can’t see the wind yet we can watch its movement through the trees. Many cultures (including Western ones) have concepts like Qi. Polynesian cultures have mana, a spiritual force existing in the universe, sometimes a vital life force flowing through the body. There is prana, related to breath in yoga and many other life/energy concepts such as awen (Welsh), asha (Iran), ka (Eqypt), ashe (Yoruba), orenda (Native American), ichor (Greek), and ki (Japan). Their commonality is in being an unseen, unknowable force underlying all things (even European Alchemists had the aether) which can be cultivated and used to obtain some goal, such as long life, spiritual awareness or cosmic balance. (Trust the Force, Luke!)
They say we are chock full of Qi as babies and begin to slowly lose it as we grow older. Qi isn’t static, it is always in motion, giving rise to the concepts of Yin and Yang (positive/negative, creative/destructive, etc.) According to Waysun Liao, writing in his chapter on Ch’i in his translation of the Tai Chi Classics, as Ch’i changes from one form to another it is called Yin Ch’i or Yang Ch’i. This constant balancing of Yin and Yang is the origin and nature of the universe.
We try to visualize Qi as a “thing” not blood nor breath, not electrical nerve energy nor kinetic muscle energy, but related to all these, which can be “moved” thereby balancing us in time and space. Qi is connected to the physical, but is set in motion by thought. Tai Chi masters talk about using intention rather than action. Again, from the Tao Te Ching:
The gentlest thing in the world
Overcomes the hardest thing in the world.
That which has no substance
Enters where there is no space.
This shows the value of non-action.
And from Waysun Liao:
Ch’i is not an element of any kind, but rather it is the origin of everything. Ch’I does not even create itself because, being immune to the laws of creation and destruction, it merely continues to exist.
Is Qi just another poetic Chinese metaphor? If we refuse to believe in it will it go away? Can we say that the health benefits from Tai Chi are do to muscle exercise and slow breath aerobics rather than the cultivation of Qi? Conversely, can we become so enamored with the mysticism of Qi that we indulge in false hopes that it is an elixir of life? Awareness of Qi and its cultivation through relaxation, breathing excercises. Qigong, Taijiquan, and meditation does seem to contribute to health and well being.
There are five traditional forms of Tai Chi (Taijiquan): Chen, Yang, W’u, Wu and Sun. It is estimated that there are approximately 150 variations of these styles. The Tai Chi Snob is concerned with all these variations because he finds himself in the study of multiple forms. It is seductive to wonder which is the best, the most correct, the most authentic. It is also very difficult to move from one form to another without compounding bad habits. So it is a good thing to be examining why there are differences and what the consequences may be for the beginner or novice who is changing or adding styles. How Tai Chi came from 4th century BC Chinese origins to your local YMCA is beyond the scope of this discussion, but makes for fascinating reading (I’m peppering this piece with lots of names and dates for you to google.) Here is a quick summary of the five traditional forms to put them into historical perspective.
Chen Style (passed down within the Chen family until the 14th generation) was taught to two Chen family members, Chen Chang-Xing (1771-1853) and Chen You-Ben. Their styles were called Old Frame and New Frame respectively. From the Old Frame, Yang Lu-chan (1799-1872) developed what is now called Yang Style , while the New Frame evolved into W’u Style created by W’u Yi-Yu (1812-1880). Another form called Wu Style is derived not from W’u but from a Yang form called Small Frame Yang. It was developed by Wu Jian-Quan (1870-1942). The form called Sun Style was created by Sun Lu-Tang (1861-1932) and is a combination of W’u Style, and Ba Gua Zhang and Xing Yi Quan (two other martial arts.)
In the 1950s a simplified version of Yang Style was developed called the 24 Postures. In the 1970s this was expanded into the 48 postures. The health aspects of Tai Chi were promoted by the Cultural Revolution in China. In the United States, the various styles of Yang are the most popular and a number of Chinese Masters came to teach here, resulting in more variations.
If you move around the country or just change Tai Chi schools you will most likely be exposed to different versions of the form. There are a couple of other people in my Short Form class who have studied another version of the form. Usually, as in my case, this is the Long Form. “Long Form” refers to a more or less standardized version of Yang style Tai Chi in the tradition of Yang Chenfu (1883-1936) while the “Short Form” refers to a modification of this form by Chen Man-ch’ing (1902-1975) in which many of the repetitions were dropped, the choreography was somewhat reorganized and the style itself was more contained. Those who are interested in the specific differences may wish to look up an article by J. Justin Meehan entitled, “A Comparative Study between Traditional Yang Style Tai Chi of Yang Cheng Fu and Cheng Man Ching's Yang Style,” in a recent issues of The Journal of Qigong & Taiji Culture.
Fu Zhongwen Single Whip
The problem for those of us who studied an alternate version of the form with another teacher might be likened to trying to learn a second, and then a third language. Some forms are so similar they might be considered dialects. As Jody (teacher #3) would say, Tai Chi is a living art form; each teacher in the lineage has modified it according to their own interests. Thus no one form is more correct then any other form. However, having studied and practiced one “dialect” for many years presents obstacles to learning a new one. Movements begin to be “hard wired” so that it seems unnatural to do them any other way. Something within you screams, “Wrong! Wrong!” You have to focus to overcome the fear that you will lose what you spent years trying to achieve. You feel you are throwing out the baby with the bathwater. How different is different?
The beginning posture for both the Long and Short forms is essentially the same except that the Short Form starts with the feet together, heels touching and toes pointing out in a 90 degree angle “V” shape while the Long Form starts with the feet apart, slightly under shoulder width, with the toes pointing straight out. I’ve always found the “V” stance to be a bit awkward, but if you bend your knees and sink a little, you can be more relaxed in this position. The Short Form includes a step to the left and a turning to front of the right foot, ending in more or less the same stance as the Long Form.
In all the forms I’ve seen, the next movement is to allow the arms to move from the sides upward, extended (but relaxed), to about shoulder height. It is interesting to note that in one of the earliest descriptions we have of the Yang Form by Yang Chengfu, there is no mention of raising the hands. It is thought that this may have been added later. Both Short and Long bring the arms up and then pull the hands back toward the chest, bending the elbows. In the Long form, there is a sinking as this happens. In the Short Form there is also a sinking, but then a slight rising as the hands bend up at the wrists. The Short Form continues then to lower the arms back to the sides with another slight sinking of the body while in the Long Form, they remain at chest level. The application for this movement is to deflect an opponent who is pushing toward your chest. Bringing the arms back down is a downward push against your opponent.
Ward off, roll back, press and push have subtle differences but it is single whip that I had the most difficulty with in moving from the Long to the Short Form. The right hand forms a “hook” in both forms and the left swings out into a chop. The Short Form holds the right hook low while the Long Form holds it high. Turning the body and stepping while chopping is common to both, but the Long Form barely turns 180 degrees while the Short Form uses a left step to the rear in order to turn about 270 degrees.
Yang Chenfu Single Whip
You can look at the lineages of the two Yang styles I am studying and see that they come from the same source. (Lineage is important because the early practitioners of Tai Chi kept their teaching strictly within their own families. Tai Chi only began to be taught openly about the time of Yang Lu-chan.)
My Lineage for Yang Short Form:
Yang Lu-chan (1799-1872) founder of Yang Style
Yang Chien-hou (1839-1917) youngest son of Luchan
Yang Cheng-fu (1883-1936) the son of Chien-hou, brother of Yang Shaohou
Chen Man-ch’ing (1902-1975)
W. C. C. Chen (b. 1935)
Jody Curley
Me
My Lineage for Yang Long Form:
Yang Lu-chan (1799-1872) founder of Yang Style
Yang Jianhou (Chien-Hou) (1839-1917) 3rd son of Luchan
Yang Shaohou (1862-1930) 1st son of Jianhou
Hu Puan (1878~1947)
Xiong Yangho (1886-1984)
Yang Qingyu (1915-2002)
Michael DeMarco
Me
Yang Lu-chan Single Whip
You would say that THE FORM is the style practiced and handed down by Yang Lu-chan. Even though we have written explanations by people like Yang Chenfu and Fu Zhongwen, it was through personal contact with the teacher that the form is passed down. Many things have affected subtle changes in the styles; desiring to practice in a shorter time or a smaller space may even have helped to modify the form. Contrasting views of the applications of each movement may have served to “tweek” the postures.
In actual combat, how you apply the form to meeting your opponent’s advances will vary with the circumstances. Height and weight, distance and direction, speed and angle of attack will all change your response. In Tai Chi you follow your opponent, using their energy to defeat them. The form is studied by imitating the movements of the teacher, who may be shorter, taller, heavier, lighter or more flexible than you. Studying multiple versions of the form is a good way to learn how to adapt the Tai Chi essentials to any situation.
There is a western prejudice against silence. Even in the days of early cinema “silent” movies were accompanied by music from a single piano or a full orchestra. Music set the mood and glossed over the embarrassing sniffling and shuffling of the audience. Music supplied the rhythm that might otherwise be absent in the movie editor’s continuity. When I see Tai Chi demonstrations presented on youtube or on DVDs where the “master” is filmed at the beach or in the mountains with a sound track of Chinese music (usually not in synch with the movement) I think of this strange tendency we have not to trust visual images to stand alone. When I am in a class following along in the “Chinese dance” of Tai Chi to the boom box beat of a new age melody I wonder why my internal rhythms are not sufficient for orchestrating my form. Indeed, I have a difficult time visualizing the early masters of the Yang family practicing Tai Chi attended by players of the Pipa, the Guqin, the Qinqin and the Bamboo Flute!
Harken back with me (again) to the idea rich 1960s to meet two unique individuals, a filmmaker and a composer, who will help me make my point. There was this fellow, Stan Brakhage, who lived in the Colorado mountains making what some called “experimental films” (rather, we like to use the term “personal films”). A kind of cult grew up around him, sometimes including myself, of filmmakers who rejected the sound track, or at least the use of music in film, as an intrusion of over-powering and counter-productive mood and rhythm. Brakhage made a film called “Mothlight” by sandwiching the wings of moths between strips of clear editing tape and running this through a motion picture printer. He was on a quest to create “Visual Music.” Although silent, you can hear and feel the music of this film. It is rhythmic and melodic. I believe Tai Chi practiced in silence can achieve a similar kind of internal musicality.
The experimental composer, John Cage, felt that all sounds were music. Silence, he said, does not exist. There is a wonderful story about him entering a sound proof room in search of silence, but realizing his own body generated pulses and rhythms and tones. The following is from his book, “Silence: Lectures and Writings.”
There is no such thing as an empty space or an empty time. There is always something to see, something to hear. In fact, try as we may to make a silence, we cannot. For certain engineering purposes, it is desirable to have as silent a situation as possible. Such a room is called an anechole chamber, its six walls made of special material, a room without echoes. I entered one at Harvard University several years ago and heard two sounds, one high and one low. When I described them to the engineer in charge, he imformed me that the high one was my nervous system in operation, the low one my blood in circulation.
Your heart beat and your breathing supply two significant rhythms which are always with you. What is the sound of Qi? A Zen master might say it is the soundless sound. I don’t mean to imply that Tai Chi is like a dance to the rhythms of your biological system. It is more complicated than that. Consider what the movements represent (techniques of martial art) and why the pace is so slow (possibly because Yang Lu-chang, founder of the Yang family style, wanted to disguise the form and hide its secrets from the emperor). Each individual movement, and I’m already committing an error since the form is one long continuous movement, has its own cadence and duration. To think of the form as sequence of equal “measures” is to impose western quantitative analysis on a natural, and therefore mostly indeterminate phenomenon. Pacing yourself to your breath and heart beat makes a great deal of sense to me. Breath! This will need be another blog entry. Now, however, we need to give equal time to the use of music in learning Tai Chi.
In Gordon Muir’s book, “Yang Style Traditional Long Form T’ai Chi Ch’uan,” there is a chapter written by his teacher, T. T. Liang, himself a student of Cheng Man Ching. In “Why We Should Practice T’ai Chi to Music,” Master Liang writes that practicing Tai Chi can be divided into 4 stages. First, you must memorize the number of beats for each posture, breathe naturally and not use music. Second, having mastered the guiding points, you will use beats, music and breathing. The third stage is to use only music for concentration. Of the fourth stage he says:
After practicing T’ai Chi with music for a sufficient time, you will forget the music, the movements, even yourself--- although you are proceeding as usual. At this stage you are in a trance…
Master Liang goes on to state that practicing without the use of music for concentration is the highest level of T’ai Chi we can attain, but that, after 35 years, being only human, he has not yet achieved this. The argument he makes which I like the most is that he likes music. I do too. In fact, I enjoy listening to music while I practice, but I do find it over-powering. The choice of exactly the right music is all important.
Gordon Muir has made T. T. Liang’s music available on his web site, http://www.chentaichi.org. I found it made me move a bit faster than I liked. I experimented with several new age pieces and some Chinese music and settled on Native American flute music, such as R. Carlos Nakai’s Canyon Trilogy. I found the soft flowing flute uplifting and helpful in creating my own flow of form, while its less rhythmic quality allowed me to follow my own natural pace. Lately, I have been experimenting with a piece of fractal music by Steven Berkowitz: “EC(s)TASIS” from his CD of the same name. Although intricate, it has a sort of drone quality and much like the flute music gives me a sense of timelessness. There is an underlying rhythm which is too fast to follow so you can adapt any number of beats to your own personal rhythm for syncopation.
So if I advocate the use of silence for learning Tai Chi, why am I listening to music? In my present world it is sometimes impossible to actually find silence, or at least enough quietude to enable my inner rhythms to guide me in my practice. An extreme example is the day I had to share the workout room at the health center with a person whose trainer was using rap music to instruct them in jump rope. So like T. T. Liang I would like to reach that ultimate level of Tai Chi practice without music: the Qi of silence.
The one thing that frustrates beginning Tai Chi students (and advanced ones too) is not being “given” the next movement when you’re sure you know the one you’ve just learned. Why do I have to keep going over and over stuff I know? Why won’t you show me the next move? At this rate it will take me years to get through the form. Yes. It will. There is an underlying Taiji-ness that you may not “get” for years. You learn by observing and following, and certainly, if you’re good at this you can be led through the whole form in no time at all. But consider how much you will then have to “unlearn” and correct later.
There is an old radio announcer’s test called “One Hen, Two Ducks.” It can be used as a memory test as well as a tongue twister. First you repeat, “one hen.” Then you repeat, “one hen, two ducks.” Then you get the next phrase, which is “three squaking geese,” added to the end of the first two. This continues through a list of ten phrases which gets longer and more complicated as it evolves. In case you are interested, here is the whole test:
* One hen
* Two ducks
* Three squawking geese
* Four limerick oysters
* Five corpulent porpoises
* Six pair of Don Alverzo's tweezers
* Seven thousand Macedonians in full battle array
* Eight brass monkeys from the ancient sacred crypts of Egypt
* Nine apathetic, sympathetic, diabetic, old men on roller
skates with a marked propensity towards procrastination and sloth
* Ten lyrical, spherical diabolical denizens of the deep who
hall and stall around the corner of the quo of the quay of the quivery,
all at the same time.
Learning Tai Chi is something like learning "One Hen, Two Ducks." Suppose you get all the way to "five corpulent porpoises" but you have forgotten or mislearned "two ducks." Thus, it is important to advance like a hamster: gradually and precisely. And don't count your hens before they are hatched!
Well, that's a very loose paraphrase of what Jung said about the Western mind encountering and trying to absorb the Eastern mind. Jung wrote introductions to two of Richard Wilhelm's translations of ancient Chinese texts, most notably, The I Ching, which embodies a great deal of Taoist thought. Here is some of what Jung said:
(From “In Memory of Richard Wilhelm” by C. G. Jung, Appendix of Secret of The Golden Flower, by Richard Wilheim.)
People have become weary of scientific specialization and rationalistic intellectualism. They want to hear truths which broaden rather than restrict them, which do not obscure but enlighten, which do not run off them like water, but penetrate them to the marrow. This search threatens to lead a large, if anonymous, public into wrong paths….Unfortunately, the spiritual beggars of our time are too inclined to accept the alms of the East in specie, that is, to appropriate unthinkingly the spiritual processions of the East and to imitate its way blindly. That is the danger about which it is impossible to give too many warnings…. What it has taken China thousands of years to build cannot be grasped by theft. We must instead earn it in order to possess it. What the East has to give us should be merely help in a work which we still have to do ourselves.
How does this relate to learning Tai Chi? Simple. Don't be enchanted by the exotic and mystical nature of embracing an alien lifestyle. Instead, be willing to bring its essence into your own consciousness by experience (and practice!) When Jung was writing, there was a Western prejudice against Eastern philosophy. During the ever-lovin' sixties, popular culture in the United States began to embrace everything non-western (just watch the movie, Woodstock, again for the sequences of hippies doing Tai Chi and Yoga). Perhaps in this century we are a little more level headed about it. There are numerous articles about scientific studies on the health benefits of practicing Tai Chi, Yoga, etc. However, the Tai Chi Snob thinks this might be a sort of renewed prejudice. We justify taking a spiritual risk by basking in scientific data. Well, whatever gets you to try it must be a good thing. Stick with it and it can change you life for the better. Just remember, they're Chinese, and you're not!
Just so you don't think that the Tai Chi Snob has become a Sword Snob I thought I'd show you what I just ordered. I did a lot of research (in other words, browsing ebay) and read some blogs and the comments in some of the facebook Taiji groups. One blog I found very helpful was "Buying a Taiji Sword" where he talks about deciding on, guess what? ---the very same sword I just ordered! It's very rewarding to have your conclusions justified by someone else's logic. I ordered an Adam Hsu series Taiji practice sword made by Paul Chen.It looks like this:
I guess that's Adam Hsu in the picture. This is not a really traditional looking sword, although it was designed by a martial arts guy who knows what it's supposed to do when you swing it (sing... yes, sing!) More about swords later, I have to go cut the grass.
Today was World Tai Chi and Qigong Day. Glennon and I drove for an hour and fifteen minutes from Delavan to Kenosha in a pounding rain ("now THAT'S what I call rain!") It could have been a nicer day weather-wise, but at least we had a nice indoor venue: the Kenosha Public Museum, home of the Schaefer mammoth. My teacher #2, Ron Pfeiffer of Midwest Tai Chi and Self Defense in Burlington was the host. Here are some pictures:
We are doing "Tai Chi for Arthristis" which is a Paul Lam modification of Sun style Tai Chi. Notice the guy in front is doing his move a little differently than the rest of the folks. Heh heh, that's me.
There would have been a beautiful view of the lake through those windows. I think this shows the "73 form," the original Sun Lutang style.
A "brush knee" from the arthritis form.
Hmm.. this might be part of "Jade Lady Works Her Shuttle" Sun style. Notice how that guy in the middle is guarding his forehead in Yang style while the rest of the folks have a Sun style block going on. Maybe I should have practiced Sun style a little more this week!
Anyway, it was great fun and I hope some of the onlookers got inspired to try Tai Chi!
It is natural to want the best teacher possible. I grew up at a time when is was still considered a good thing to be smart (well before Reagan started taking apart the schools and Bush made everyone feel good about being stupid: "hey, the prez is dumber than me, so it must be alright to be stupid!"). In high school we read about "oriental" thinking. On our own, of course. I had an English teacher that wanted to prove to me that Noah's Ark really existed. Of course I turned in a term paper on the Tao Te Ching to her. That was the only English course I ever took that I didn't ace. You see, it was the post-beatnik and pre-flower child era, so we read "On The Road" and Ginsberg's "Howl" and Alan Watts' "The Way of Zen." That of course led to the harder stuff: Taoism, The Tao Te Ching and ultimately, the I Ching. It seems strange to me that I waited another 40 years to discover Tai Chi.
My teacher #1, Michael DeMarco, has an interesting article called "Finding My Teachers" in which he describes studying Tai Chi in Taiwan with his teacher, Yang Qingyu. There was a language barrier so instruction was by observation and imitation, with an occasional correction (like a slap on the head!) Often, we will chose a teacher because the class meets at a convenient time or place. In a way, that's how I discovered Michael's class. I did actually have a teacher #0, a guy named Greg, who taught Wu style over the lunch hour at a health center in Santa Fe. Greg was a good teacher, but I only stayed with him about a month because I got a job and couldn't make the time work out. Then I heard about this guy from Pennsylvania who had started a class that met in the evening near my job. That was the main criteria that led me to Michael. I feel very very lucky to have found him. Maybe, as he says in his article, quoting an old Chinese proverb, "when the student is ready, the teacher appears."
I am not the only Tai Chi Snob out there when it comes to teachers. I have read enough in Facebook Groups and Blogs about choosing teachers to know that others have strong opinions, not only about their teachers, but about the style they practice. I'll write more later about the different styles, and styles of styles, but for now I want to address the notion of teacher knowledge, influence, inspiration and purpose. We Snobs might say, ask your teacher to show you the application for that particular movement (its martial art purpose) and if they can't, run screaming from the room! Some may decide to focus on the healthful aspects of Tai Chi and may even be a little skittish about showing applications to a class where people have not actually attended in order to be thrown bodily around the room. That's a good way to lose students. But they should know and understand that Tai Chi IS a martial art and that the movements reflect an approach to physical combat. Tai Chi is not about the use of force but about the redirection of your opponent's force. It is about being "soft," like a needle enclosed in cotton--- strength inside softness.
All of this is hard to observe during that first (probably free) class you take. But listen, watch the other students, ask questions. You may have to work a little to find your teacher, or, they may appear when you're ready.
There seem to be a lot of artists interested in using the form as a model for painting or sculpture. Here are a couple of examples. These are by Taiwan artist, Ju Ming. I'll try to post more as I find them.
This is too good not to share! Robot does Tai Chi --The QRIO prototype was developed by Sony Intelligence Dynamics Laboratory. There are lots of videos on youtube showing it dancing and other very humanlike movements. I've got to say, his(her) Tai Chi isn't bad! I'm not sure which form this is, though.
I had a wooden sword but it wooden sword. A wanted a steel sword but steel it wooden sword. If I got a tin sword, then I tin sword.
I got up with the morning doves today and drove the hour from Delavan to Madison for my Tai Chi Sword class. Why is it that Wisconsin has never learned how to build roads? Noisy and bumpy! Couldn't hear Paul Butterfield on the stereo! Anyway, everyone else in class had nice metal swords but I only had my cheap wooden one (at least it was made in China). Did I feel like a little kid with a toy sword? Yes! We learned several new moves but now I have forgotten them completely! Admittedly, I entered the class midway through and we have had holidays and skipped classes, so I haven't had the intensity I really need. I confess I've been watching the W. C. C. Chen video on youtube in order to catch up. As I've said before, you can't really see everything on a video... and this one is blurry! I will get it, but I guess I'm not ready for that metal sword yet.
Carina Cirrincione at Raven Studios in Arizone makes some nice wooden swords (pictured above). Jody (teacher #3) says she thinks they are not balanced properly for Tai Chi. A wooden sword is pretty light, though. I wonder if balance is as crucial as it might be with a heavy metal sword. Well, what do I know?
Not! Well, let's set the Wayback machine to around 8 or 9 years ago. My friend Marie was telling me about her Tai Chi experiences and I'd seen clips of Chinese people practicing in the park and I thought, hey, I can do that! So of course, instead of seeking out a class I went to the video store. I think it was Borders in Santa Fe. At any rate, I looked through all the titles like "Tiffany's New Age Tai Chi Workout," and "Relaxercize," and (don't even think about the David Carradine one-- although he was pretty cool in Kill Bill) and so forth. I finally settled on one by Dr. Paul Lam. Dr. Lam has a whole series of Tai Chi videos like "Tai Chi for Arthritis," "Tai Chi for Back Pain," and so forth. Sounds hookey, but what he has done is to modify Sun Style Tai Chi into shorter forms that focus on specific parts of the form that seem to work well with certain health problems like back pain, etc. It turned out much later that I would learn two or three of those modified forms from Ron (teacher #2)... but I digress! I think I might have learned the opening form (raising hands) from the Lam video and got the idea that relaxing was crucial. I learned the very important technique of placing the tongue against the roof of the mouth, but other than that I was pretty lost. You will miss a lot unless you know what to look at. You can't see behind the person or ask them to turn around. You will not have any feedback or corrections. And because the video is "frozen in time" the movements you watch will never vary; this is significant because you need to adapt the form to your own sense of space, time and movement rather than copy something exactly. I do use videos as reference quite a lot, sometimes watching a sequence hundreds of time (really) until I think I understand it. But nothing can substitute for a teacher and a group of other students to follow in real time.
Next week, April 24th, is World Tai Chi Qigong Day. Did this last year in Burlington (WI) in the city park. Ron (teacher #2) brought his Tai Chi class and his Kenpo class as well. The idea is to start a wave of Tai Chi energy moving around the world. It begins at 10:00 AM local time, in New Zealand and as each time zone rolls around to 10:00 AM another group will start. Check it out! http://www.worldtaichiday.org/ If you haven't tried Tai Chi before it is a good way to get a feeling for it. If you're in a class, tell your teacher about it if they don't know. If you live in southern Wisconsin, there will be a group participating at the Kenosha Public Museum, 5500 1st Av, in Kenosha, Wisconsin.
You might ask, "Why a duck?" I was in an early class with my second teacher (more about teachers later) and was talking about having attended a class at a different school which the teacher called "Holistic Tai Chi." Needless to say, I didn't return for a second class. In telling this story I said something like, "I don't know what that was, but it wasn't Tai Chi'" and my teacher, in good spirit, said, "Oh, Byron is a Tai Chi Snob!" He was refering, I think, to the attitude found in many martial arts genres that there is one true way to do things (sort of like The One True Religion) and the resultant dictatorial teaching style and student arrogance that it spawns. Point taken. However, it WASN'T Tai Chi! So one of the themes of this blog will be to explore this idea of the perfect form, the best teacher, the "real" Tai Chi in all its pitfalls... and revelations.
