Category: Philosophy

  • Training with Mindfulness

    Training with Mindfulness

    On January 22, 2022, one of the most influential Zen Buddhist monks, Thich Nhat Hanh passed away.  I recently listened to an interview he did with NPR’s Terry Gross.  In the interview it is mentioned that Thich Nhat Hanh started a movement called “Engaged Buddhism”.  This movement combines the practice of meditation with anti-war work.  Gross mentioned the juxtaposition of the concept of “stillness” associated with meditation with the concept of fleeing in wartime.  She asked “Were those two things compatible?  Were you able to practice stillness and the ability to run for your life when you needed to?”

    Source: Wikipedia

    In response to this, he said, “That is a matter of training.  The practice is in the practice of mindfulness.  Mindfulness is the energy that helps you to be aware of what is going on.  Like, when you walk, you can walk mindfully.  When you drink, you can drink mindfully.  And when you run, you can run mindfully.”  He also said, “The essential is that you are mindful why you do things, whether you do it slowly or quickly.”  It is this quote that caused me to think about my tai chi practice.

    Whenever I practice with students who are just starting their journey into tai chi, they are shocked when I refer to the martial arts history of tai chi.  Many will wonder how can one use tai chi as a form of self-defense?  I have spoken to (and written) at length about the stereotypical view of tai chi: slow movements, graceful motions, dance-like rhythms, etc.  Many tai chi teachers I have come across have spoken about the health, moving meditation, and martial arts principles behind taijiquan.  Many have told me that they have come across this perception many times.

    It is at this point that I think about the words of Thich Nhat Hanh and his notion of “mindfulness.”  I feel that when we practice tai chi slowly, we are mindful of our movements.  We practice to be aware of each bend, twist, and step.  We can turn our mind off and allow our bodies to “feel” the movements (thereby being a form of moving meditation).  We can focus on the ward off, fa jin, or strike (thereby focusing on the martial application).  No matter what you are looking for, it is important to practice mindfulness.  Be aware of your rooting.  Can you stay connected with the earth?  How do you time your breathing with the movements of your form?

    A tai chi practitioner can will practice their forms slow as well as fast.  Many may only see the forms done slowly.  Using wide/large sweeping movements and moving slow and with great control, may make the form look beautiful.  However, with faster expression, whipping movements, and great power, one can see the martial applications in the same form.  To watch a great master such as Chen Bing perform a Chen form has both beauty and power.

    So, whether one is practicing for meditation purposes, internal health/wellness purposes, or martial arts purposes (or all of the above), it is quite important to be aware of the purpose(s) for your training.  Each time I train I may focus on one or two principles that I wish to exercise (or improve upon).  No matter if you are moving fast, or moving slow, keep aware of your movements and be in the moment.  Train mindfully, friends.

    Don’t forget to check out our great training articles!

  • Differentiating Yin From Yang in Taijiquan

    Differentiating Yin From Yang in Taijiquan


    Taijiquan (太極拳) practitioners sometimes view yin (阴) and Yang (阳) as two sides of the same coin, and this can seem like an appropriate analogy for yin and yang united as one whole. But an important principle in Taijiquan is to clearly differentiate yin from yang. A coin’s head and tail sides do not really have the ability to differentiate yin from yang. One could designate one side of a coin as heads and the other side as tails based on different markings, but that coin would behave the same as a two headed coin would. If a coin is behaving the same regardless of whether heads or tails is up (or forward…), then yin and yang are not differentiated.

    Slide a quarter and a dime across a tabletop so that they collide, and it would not matter which sides (heads or tails) were facing up. The force of the collision merely depends on mass times acceleration (F=ma), the ordinary qualities of the coins.

    Taijiquan does not rely, or focus its training philosophy or methods, on strength or speed. Coins only have mass (size or “strength”) and acceleration (speed) when they collide, despite having two differently designated sides (e.g., heads/yang and tails/yin). Because coins cannot have their yin and yang sides behave differently from each other, coins cannot use their different faces in a way that differentiates yin from yang.

    To illustrate the separation of yin and yang, a circular disk can be used, but it is easier to use a bicycle gear rather than a coin. The teeth of the bicycle gear engages the chain to transmit the power from the pedals to the rear wheel. If one only pushes down on the pedals, then they are alternating which foot is providing the power by pushing down on first one pedal and then the other. Each foot/leg would be alternating the yang (pushing the pedal down) and yin (relaxing as the pedal continues up), and this would be differentiating yin from yang.

    If, however, one is wearing toe clips (attaching the shoes to the pedals), then both the down-stroke and the upstroke can be used to power the bicycle. This would not only be differentiating yin from yang, but would also represent yang (hard) and yin (soft) mutually helping each other (刚柔相济 gang rou xiang ji). Because of the nature of the circular gear, and the cycle that is produced by its rotation, it is both capable of differentiating yin from yang and having them mutually help each other. This cyclical expression of power is desirable for Taijiquan.

    While alternating between yin and yang is necessary to propel a bicycle, it is less clear what is required when practicing Taijiquan. For example, how does one clearly differentiate yin from yang while standing with both feet on the ground? Can one have yin and yang mutually helping each other in one’s legs rather than just alternating between yin and yang when one shifts their weight?

    Since there are considered to be five bows (五弓 wu gong) in the body capable of producing power, the two legs, the torso/spine, and the two arms, I will address yin and yang clearly differentiating, and mutually helping each other, in these body segments individually.

    A drawn bow has potential energy stored until the string is released to shoot the arrow. This potential energy is obtained somewhat differently than in one’s body since the material on the outer side of the bow is stretched, and the inner surface material is compressed and, when the string is released, they attempt to regain their original (inherent) shape. So one side of the bow is yang (expanding or pushing) while the other is yin (contracting or pulling). In the legs, the extensor (yang) muscles are on the front of the leg and pull on the bones to extend the leg, whereas the flexor (yin) muscles are on the back of the leg and pull on the bones to bend the leg. But we can still have both yin and yang muscles primed for action simultaneously but without isometric tension (where both flexor and extensor muscles are tensed, and the joint angle is “locked” into an unchanging angle).

    The legs push against the ground in order to keep our body from collapsing in response to the force of gravity. This is yang. In order to avoid having just yang in the legs, we are taught to maintain some bend in the knees and avoid locking the legs straight. Additionally, the image of pulling the torso downward, like when lowering oneself into a chair, aids in establishing the potential for having yin (pulling downward energy) in the legs. We want the legs to have a springiness like we have when we jump from standing on a chair and landing on the floor. Landing with the legs just pushing into the floor makes the landing very stiff and could even lead to injury. This is landing with the legs just yang. Likewise, we do not want our legs to be just yin since relaxed legs would not catch us and we would fall to the floor. The way that we naturally learn to land from a jump is the same quality that we want to maintain in our legs while standing.

    Having both the extensor muscles primed for projecting force (or pushing), and the flexor muscles primed for receiving force (or pulling), simultaneously, is a condition that we want both of our legs to maintain in order to have both yin and yang simultaneously. This can be accomplished by the nature of the stretch reflex. The stretch reflex is an automatic recruitment reflexive action (without the need for conscious commands) that attempts to maintain joint angles. If the joint angle is suddenly changed without the person intending to do so, muscle fibers are automatically recruited to counter that unintended change. This reaction is reflexive and therefore is extremely fast [this is what is seen when a doctor taps the tendon below the knee when checking a patient’s reflexes, resulting in the foot kicking]. The resilience of muscles is also enhanced by their viscoelasticity [viscoelasticity is demonstrated by the classic children’s toy, silly putty, where relatively slow changes allows the material to stretch or act like a “viscous fluid,” whereas sudden changes makes the material bounce or behave like an “elastic solid”].

    But humans habitually fail to maintain this yin+yang balance. This can be seen in beginners who alternate between legs when shifting their weight forward or backward, causing them to raise up when straightening (yang) one leg before dropping down when bending (yin) the other leg. To counter this tendency, students are often taught to maintain a constant height (except for a few specific movements) when practicing their forms. Some view the situation where the body is raised because both legs are extended as being “double weighted.” Here the weight is also evenly distributed between the legs, and both are expressing yang (minimal yin) and could correctly be called double weighted. But double weighting can also be viewed as a broader concept and can be applied to what is occurring in a single leg, regardless of one’s weight distribution.

    Even experienced practitioners often fail to maintain the yin+yang quality in their legs when engaged in push-hands (推手 tui shou) practice. One often sees them bracing the extended back leg against the ground and exhibiting the undesirable quality like butting cows (顶牛 ding niu). The quality like butting cows is yang+yang and is typically seen in animals where the two back legs push forcefully against the ground in order to propel the body forward to butt against a rival. The back leg(s) then become yang rather than maintaining yang+yin (or yin+yang). If there is no quality of receiving energy (or pulling), then there is minimal yin. Not only are the animals using yang+yang (or double weighting), they are also using force against force, both undesirable qualities in Taijiquan practice.

    In the torso we want the energy of the back to be yang and expand upwards to the crown of the head. Simultaneously, we want the energy of the front to sink to the pelvic floor. This creates a cycle around the body (matching the “microcosmic orbit” of energy). To illustrate this, one can hold their hands with the palms together (like praying) and push one hand slightly upward to represent the energy of the back rising/expanding (yang) while the other hand sinks down to represent the front of the body sinking (yin). The result is that the “back” lifts simultaneously with the “front” becoming concave, as directed for in Taijiquan literature. This produces the complementary yin+yang cycle in the torso, and this should be maintained in one’s posture whether issuing, or receiving, energy/force.

    We also want to maintain a cycle of energy around our arms. The outer surfaces, with the extensor muscles, are yang while the inner surfaces, with the flexor muscles, are yin. An analogy that illustrates this cyclical quality is how the arms are used when hugging someone. When hugging, one uses their arms to extend (project/yang) around the partner while simultaneously drawing them close (absorbing/yin).

    When our arms are maintained in a rounded shape (like in embracing a ball), then we can maintain a cycle of yin+yang around the arms when interacting with an opponent. A properly inflated ball has a spherical shape that maintains a contact point on its periphery with anything that touches it. Additionally, when it rotates in response to the force that impacts it, one side of the ball turns away from the contact point while the opposite side simultaneously moves towards it. Therefore, on one side of the contact point with the ball is yin (turning away) while the opposite side is yang (rotating towards), and therefore the ball maintains yin+yang. We try to maintain this same quality in our rounded arms. If the arms become too angular, then we typically loose this yin+yang quality.

    The yin+yang quality in the arms is also facilitated in movement by smoothly transitioning through arcs (partial circles) rather than by reversing directions. Reversals indicate abrupt changes from yin to yang (or yang to yin) and an alternation of the two energies rather than a cycle of the two energies helping each other. Arcs cycle yin and yang energies in a manner similar to pedaling a bicycle while using toe clips. The cycle never stops and never reverses, it just switches from emphasizing yin to yang to yin to yang… as appropriate.

    The analogy of the hand stroking a beard addresses this same principle in the hands as was just described for the arms. Contrast this motion with how lobster claws open and close, which is more of an alternation of yin and yang rather than a cycle; claws require a reversal of direction to express different energies. Claws are “double weighted” since both sides are either yin+yin (opening/releasing) or yang+yang (closing/grasping), and are incapable of having yin+yang in how they operate. While this is differentiating yin from yang, claws are incapable of “stroking the beard” cyclical actions.

    Throughout our body, we want to have yin and yang clearly differentiated, but it is even better when we can have yang (hard) and yin (soft) mutually helping each other as is done when the energies are maintained cyclically. We seek to eliminate abrupt reversals when changing from one expression of energy to the other. We want to avoid the duality of “fight or flight” and maintain the potential for both yin and yang continuously, while still clearly differentiating yin from yang.

  • 10 Guiding Principles For Tai Chi By T. T. Liang

    10 Guiding Principles For Tai Chi By T. T. Liang

    T. T. Liang (1900 – 2002) gives a talk on his 10 guiding principles for Tai Chi from his book “T’ai Chi Ch’uan for Health and Self-Defense”. This was filmed at the annual Zhang San Feng festival when he was 96 years old.

    Above video was curated from Zhong Ding Tai Chi Youtube channel.

    T. T. Liang was a popular Tai Ch teacher in the United States. He was a senior disciple of the famous Cheng Man Ching, as well he studied with various teachers. After moving to the United States from Taiwan in 1964, he had taught Tai Chi for many years in Boston. When T.T. Liang retired from teaching at his school in Boston, he moved to St. Cloud, Minnesota in 1981 where he continued to teach.

    Below is the book “T’ai Chi Ch’uan for Health and Self-Defense”, which T.T. Liang wrote in 1974.
    Click on the image to see more about this great book!

  • Internals

    Internals

    The article “Internals” is reprinted on Slanted Flying website with the permission of the author Sam Langley from his personal Blog.

    What makes Tai Chi an internal art? Most books on the subject will tell you it’s something to do with energy and the mind. Whilst there may be some truth to this it doesn’t help a beginner very much.

    Tai Chi is internal in a very physical sense. When you align your skeleton in a specific way and relax your muscles your internal connective tissue or fascia will activate. In most people, this internal strengthening is initially hard work as you’re exercising deeper parts of your anatomy that are probably quite weak.

    I’ve heard fascia referred to as postural muscles which is a helpful definition because the fascia is what allows you to stand. It is the connective tissue that joins your muscles to your bones and runs throughout your body. It is very important to keep your fascia healthy but most forms of exercise don’t. You can only strengthen it by relaxing. Lifting weights and doing press ups may serve some purpose but these types of external exercises will hinder any kind of internal work.

    The reason relaxation is emphasised above all else in Tai Chi is for this reason. Most people are quite tense and those that go to the gym regularly are likely to be even tenser. It seems that when you over exercise your big muscle groups you are doing so at the expense of internal strength.

    Tai Chi is a martial art that seeks to train in whole body strength. Eventually, you also want to strengthen your muscles but to place too much emphasis on that kind of training, in the beginning, would severely impede progress.

    Tai Chi develops a deep internal body connection. When I move I can feel the connection between my hand and my foot. This starts as an idea, becomes a faint sensation and eventually becomes a deep physical reality. When you start to develop this feeling Tai Chi practice becomes very satisfying indeed.

     

  • The Pathway To Stillness

    The Pathway To Stillness

    Gary Irwin-Kenyon is a the founding Chair of Gerontoloy at St. Thomas University in New Brunswick, Canada, and an author. He is also a longtime Tai Chi practitioner and instructor.

    He was interviewed on the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) radio show “Shift” by host Vanessa Vander Valk about Tai Chi, and the ideas of stillness being used to benefit you in practice and everyday life. This is the subjest of his book: “Pathways to Stillness”. Click on the Listen button below to hear the interview.

    Gary is a teacher and practitioner of Tai Chi with more than thirty years experience. He designed a program, Tai Chi as Narrative Care, which he has been teaching for the past ten years to special groups, including residents in long-term care. He conducts workshops and seminars in Canada, The United States, Europe, and Asia.

    Excerpt from Gary Irwan-Kenyon’s website. To see the whole biography and his website click this Link

    His book, Pathways to Stillness, was published in 2016 and is available on Amazon.com.

    Click on the image below to see more of this interesting book.

  • Taking The Initiative In Taijiquan

    Taking The Initiative In Taijiquan

    Wu Yuxiang’s (武禹襄) Taijiquan (太極拳) classic states “You must act according to your opponent, not try to do things from yourself, for if you go along with your opponent, you can act spontaneously, but if you act from yourself, you will get bogged down.” and “If he takes no action, I take no action, but once he takes even the slightest action, I have already acted.” The Taijiquan classic attributed to Yang Banhou (楊班侯) says “The basic of basics is to forget about your plans and simply respond to the opponent.”

    These sayings (all as translated by Paul Brennan) emphasize the predominately counter-attacking approach of Taijiquan. But does this mean that practitioners cannot initiate actions against an opponent, and that they must wait until the opponent attacks?

    In many conflicts the aggressor has an advantage since the opponent needs to be able to understand the attack and then respond. The aggressor already knows their intent, but there is a delay for the recipient since they usually cannot determine what the aggressor intends until after the aggressor initiates their attack. This delay is what Taijiquan trains to eliminate.

    We want to know what the opponent intends, but not let them know our plans. By allowing the opponent to initiate the action, we can gain information about their intent. By “forgetting about your plans” the opponent cannot read or understand our intent.

    “Borrowing force” is commonly practiced in Taijiquan. We want to use the opponent’s actions to defeat them, emphasizing responding to the opponent rather than initiating actions ourselves. This is accomplished through “sticking.” In order to use Taijiquan’s principle of stick and adhere, connect and follow (zhan nian lian sui 粘黏連隨) we typically want to be in contact with the opponent. Can we induce contact, or must we await an advance from the opponent before we can touch them?

    What about when we are using weapons where contact is often broken? In the weapons sparring that I learned, in choreographed sparring sets, drills and free sparring, we are often separated, and we frequently attack openings even when we are not in contact with the opponent’s weapon. How then does this remain compatible with Taijiquan strategy?

    There are several ways to approach these questions.

    My understanding is that there are ways to interact with an opponent that do not require the opponent to initiate the actions. For example, there are sayings that refer to having simultaneously true and false attacks. We want an attack to be real, yet be able to change it into a feint, depending on the opponent’s response. This means that we attack an opening or weak area of the opponent, but when they change to respond, we can abandon our attack and change to respond to their new actions. Initiating an attack in this way can be used to connect with the opponent when they respond.

    Some schools refer to the interactions of push-hands (推手 tui shou) training as being like a question and answer conversation. You supply energy (an attack or feint) towards your partner (the “question”), and listen for their response (their “answer”). Your follow-up action would depend on theirs, continuing the attack if their response is wrong or, if their response is correct, changing your action in order to “ask” another question or to respond to their counter (their “question”). The person that “asks” is initiating the interaction, but what happens afterwards depends on the partner’s response (“answer”).

    This type of interplay reflects the simultaneous true and false attack because the follow-up depends on how the opponent responds to the initial attack. However, it does not require that one only respond (“answer”) without ever initiating (“asking”).

    Some schools train to continually flow towards the opponent’s spine when attacking, like a river flowing to the ocean. Using this approach, the goal is to control the opponent’s spine as a way of controlling their stability and movements. Any blocking by the opponent is like an obstacle in the way of the water’s movement, and should be flowed around, over washed, undercut, or worn away. This is another way of maintaining a responsive initiative during an interaction.

    Another quote from Wu Yuxiang (Brennan translation) is “If an opportunity comes from yourself, go ahead and shoot, but when force comes from your opponent, borrow it.” Here “shoot” likely refers to the Taijiquan principle of storing energy like drawing a bow, and then releasing the energy like shooting the arrow, and probably means, in general, to attack. This quote seems to indicate that, though it may be desirable to have the opponent move first in order to have them commit to some action that is then used against them (borrowing their force), it is not a requirement; we can still attack on our own initiative.

    Those who have faced a quality modern boxing jab know how difficult it is to stick and adhere, connect and follow when the jab and the return to the guard position are both so fast. But boxing blocks are relatively stationary, especially when they are of the covering type. This means that when they initiate their attacks using a jab, they are very difficult to connect and adhere to, but when we initiate an attack from non-contact, their defense often allows us to connect with them. Once we contact the opponent, we can employ the skills that are typically trained in push-hands practice, for as long as we maintain the contact.

    Continue to page 2…

  • Softness, Sensitivity, and Science in Taijiquan

    Softness, Sensitivity, and Science in Taijiquan

    Weber’s Law of Just Noticeable Differences can help us understand our perceptions of changes in force against an opponent when practicing Taijiquan (太極拳). Weber’s Law applies to most types of perception, like the perception of different light intensity or duration or wavelength (color), loudness or length or pitch of sounds, and even psychological perceptions like differences in costs for products or services.

    In Taijiquan, the major sense that we are training is touch. Pressure on our skin is detected with our mechanoreceptors. There are other skin sensors that can detect an opponent, including thermoreceptors (detecting heat) and hair follicle receptors (detecting movements of our hairs), but the role that these play in most Taijiquan practice is probably negligible.

    Proprioception – the sensing of the strength of effort of neighboring parts of one’s body being used in movement – is also very relevant to sensing the interactions with an opponent in Taijiquan. Mechanoreception and proprioception together is much more sensitive (about seven fold) than mechanoreception alone. But since Weber’s Law should apply to both mechanoreception and proprioception, I will only use mechanoreception, which is easier to illustrate, in this article’s examples.

    Weber’s Law essentially states that our ability to sense changes (differences in magnitude) in force (pressure) is proportional to the magnitude of the initial stimulus. Thus, the greater the initial force, the greater a change must be in order to be able to perceive that change; using less pressure (practicing softer) would allow practitioners to sense changes in pressure sooner.

    The ability to sense changes in pressure would yield a linear relationship, due to having a constant ratio, which can be plotted as shown in the accompanying graph. The formula would be ∆P/P = k, where ∆P is the minimal detectable change in pressure at pressure level P, and k is the constant. The constant k is, for ease of illustration, arbitrarily set as equal to 0.1 for the blue line in this example, and is 0.15 for the red line (representing someone less sensitive to pressure changes than the person represented by the blue line). [Note that, for an average human, k = 0.14 when measuring pressure on the skin without movement, and k = 0.02 (or 2%) for lifted weights – which includes both mechanoreception and proprioception.]

    For this graph, a practitioner (blue) that can sense no less than a 10g pressure change when the initial pressure is 100g, would need a change of 0.1kg when the initial pressure is 1kg, or a 0.2kg difference when the initial pressure is 2kg, etc. The less sensitive participant (red line) would only notice a detectable difference in pressure when there is a 15g change if starting at 100g, 0.15kg change when starting at 1kg, 0.3kg change when starting at 2kg, etc.

    For relative comparisons, a golf ball weighs about 45g (0.045 on the X axis of the graph), a baseball weighs about 150g (0.15 on the graph) and a women’s shot put weighs about 4kg (4 on the graph).

    Weber’s Law does not always hold for extremes of stimulation, like near the limit of a practitioner’s ability to sense pressure (values close to zero on the graph), or near the maximum that their receptors can sense. If there is no pressure, then the mechanoreceptors will be unable to sense anything, but in order to affect an opponent, some force must be present, so this limitation is unlikely to affect our understanding regarding Taijiquan training.

    Weber’s Law indicates that practicing Taijiquan softly would allow the sensing of changes in pressure sooner (i.e., smaller pressure changes) than when practicing more forcefully. This applies to both practitioners indicated in the above graph. But it also indicates that the more sensitive participant will be more sensitive over all the levels of force at which the two practice.

    If practitioners are focusing on training for improved sensitivity, then they may benefit from practicing softly. The softer one practices, the less change needed before practitioners can feel that change.

    Note that Newton’s Third Law of Motion states, in general, that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. This law means that one practitioner will have the same amount of pressure at the point(s) of contact as the other participant. One practitioner cannot be softer at the point of contact than the other person. One practitioner could try to lessen the mutual (net) force by easing up, or they could try to increase the force by trying to applying heavier pressure, but whatever level one participant is at, it is the same for the other participant.

    [See: http://resource-bank.nzip.org.nz/draft-under-construction/mechanics/newtons-third-law-misconception-2/]

    Although the amount of force two practitioners have at the point of contact must be the same, one participant could be using less effort to produce that level of force. Effort is related to efficiency, in structure, breathing, even mental anxiety, etc. I suspect that many people incorrectly use the term “force,” when they actually mean “effort.” We want Taijiquan to be as effortless as possible. We seek to feel calm and “comfortable” while practicing.

    Continue to page 2…

  • My Journey

    My Journey

    my-journey-2

    I wasn’t a particularly nervous child. I just never seemed to fit in.

    I’m not telling you this because I want your sympathy either. I’m telling you because this is the first step on a journey to understand how Tàijíquán changed my life.

    I know that most kids are socially awkward, but I was particularly so. I was not athletic. I liked science, but was poor in math because of undiagnosed dyslexia—which meant I wasn’t good in math or science either. I was good at art, but that’s not enough to make you popular, so I was quite the target for being made fun of by my classmates. I was put down by my teachers, and had very few friends.

    To complicate matters in 5th grade I began—along with the rest of my family—suffering from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS). At the time, very little was known about CFS, and so the school administration and teachers were skeptical to say the least. They said that my brother, sister, and me were faking it. My parents fought tooth and nail against that accusation, even hiring a lawyer and threatening legal action. At that point the school district came back with the statement that we were suffering from a psychosomatic illness and that we needed to be treated by psychiatrists.

    My parents took my brother, sister, and me to a psychiatrist who sent the school a written affidavit attesting to the fact that we were, in fact, truly sick and needed medical care, not a school district full of administrators without a medical degree trying to give us a diagnosis.

    The school’s response to this was that my siblings and I were kicked out. We were told that since we were sick and nobody knew what was wrong with us, we were a risk to the other students and could not attend.

    From the middle of 5th grade to the beginning of 8th, we were home schooled. I missed out on a lot of socialization because of that, and became even more awkward. By high school, my sense of isolation, depression about how poorly I fit in was so bad that every morning before school I had an anxiety attack.

    Because nothing in my life was normal, I had no way of measuring what was right and what wasn’t. I aware enough to realize that anxiety attacks might be a medical condition. Since I didn’t realize my experience wasn’t normal, I said nothing and suffered in silence.

    By the time I was ready for college, my CFS was in remission, and I was feeling pretty good. I also reconnected with something I truly enjoyed before I became sick: martial arts. Before being isolated from my fellow students, my mother put me in several summer programs involving a local Taekwondo school.

    I enjoyed learning to kick and punch, and I didn’t even mind the calisthenics, but felt that what I was learning was spiritually bereft. During that time, all the martial arts movies were filled with a spiritual, quasi-religious tone that never entered the stuff I was learning. Instead of words of wisdom and fatherly advice, my Taekwondo teacher gave speeches about self-discipline, and hard work.

    So when I wanted to reconnect with the martial arts, I felt I needed something different, and moved away from the Korean art I’d been studying and began a search for something with a more spiritual bent. After trying several other styles, but feeling like they weren’t the right fit for me, I was ready to give up. A friend of mine at the time suggested that I try Tàijí, so I looked in the phone directory and discovered the Houston Institute of Martial Arts and Medicine.

    I started that week, and was immediately pleased to discover that my teacher talked about the importance of breath and the psychological and spiritual benefits of Tàijíquán. From that moment on, I was hooked.

    I began my lessons with Jeff Bolt and the same week I started studying with Madam Wang Jurong as well. Within a year, my anxiety went away, my emotions became more balanced, and I felt more confident and calm. By my second year of Tàijíquán study, I was calm enough to enter my first competition. I took gold in the beginners division, and my teacher told me that next time I competed, that I’d have to do it as an advanced student.

    I didn’t write this to say that Tàijí is a magical panacea that will cure everyone of every problem they’ve ever had. I’m not even saying that everyone should be doing Tàijíquán. On the contrary, I don’t think it’s for everyone. Some people don’t have a personality suited to learning things like Tàijíquán.

    However, I am saying that the mindfulness training from my Tàijí practice helped me deal with anxiety that I would probably have probably needed medication to control. The breath work and spiritual benefits of my training were what I needed to help me get back on track socially, psychologically, and physically.

    I am also saying that if it benefited me in this way, there’s a chance that it will help others also. Maybe you should share this story with someone who might profit from some lessons.

  • Don’t Know Mind

    Don’t Know Mind

    The article Don’t Know Mind is reprinted on Slanted Flying website with the permission of the author Sam Langley from his personal Blog.

    Don't Know Mind

    Several years ago I read book called ‘Wanting enlightenment is a big mistake’. It was about the teachings of Korean Zen master Seung Sahn and written by one of his students . Central to the teachings was the importance of don’t know mind. Master Seung Sahn was against the books publication and described it as poison. I think his point was that reading, talking and thinking about Zen would only further delude and distract people from the real practice.

    Many wise people have expressed the importance of ‘Don’t know’ in different ways. Socrates realised that true wisdom came from knowing one knew nothing, Chuang Tzu couldn’t determine whether he was man dreaming about being a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming about being a man and many centuries later Robert Anton Wilson asserted that ‘Belief is the death of intelligence’.

    It seems to me that human beings are seldom just being, we are constantly thinking, talking and doing. Which is fine….But it means we are never at peace. I think the majority of people experience a constant level of mild anxiety which is only relieved by alcohol and television. The default setting for a human seems to be one of restlessness.

    Meditation is supposed to help but what IS meditation? Our mind is constantly busy, thinking thinking thinking, conceptualizing and judging. In Buddhism they call this monkey mind. The monkey mind always wants something to do, so to calm the mind we need to give it something to do. In this way anything that requires focused attention could conceivably be called meditation. Not all activities are equally conducive to meditation however and the mind soon becomes restless again. Within many eastern traditional forms of meditation, particular attention is placed upon posture and relaxation.

    Tai Chi is a particularly good method as we focus on the whole body. The monkey mind always has something to occupy it because there’s always something to adjust. Initially Tai Chi seems difficult, the legs hurt , the moves are complex and the mind wants to give up. But the fact that it’s difficult is what makes it such a good practice. If your legs hurt while your doing standing Qigong, you are in the moment experiencing that feeling, that’s real meditation!

    Whilst meditating we drop into the state of ‘Don’t know’ we have moments where we are no longer conceptualizing. To start with these moments are brief and then become longer. Once you can bring your focus into the body for long periods the mind will become very calm.

    Even just trying to bring the concept of ‘don’t know’ into your life can be helpful. It creates a wonderful feeling of release to admit on a regular basis that you don’t know. I myself like being right. I like a good debate and often make my point vigorously. More and more I find that need to be right lessening, after all I don’t really know what I’m talking about. Most people don’t know what they’re talking about either.

    The problem arises with language. We are trapped by words. Robert Anton Wilson was opposed to using the word ‘IS’ which in his view gave rise to all conflict and misunderstanding in the world. By removing IS from your speech you suddenly sound a lot more reasonable – ‘The grass is green’ or ‘The grass appears to be green’

    There’s no scientific evidence that Ghosts exist which leads some people to conclude that they therefore definitely don’t. I think it’s more reasonable to say that we don’t know, but that doesn’t satisfy the desire in most people to have an opinion, to know if something exists or it doesn’t, yes or no.
    I have a feeling that peace of mind exists between yes and no, between yin and yang and that this place between the poles is the non judgmental feeling of don’t know mind.

  • Hitting Taijiquan’s Sweet Spot

    Hitting Taijiquan’s Sweet Spot

    (A New Commentary on Wang Zongyue’s Treatise)

    The sweet spot in Taijiquan (太極拳), as I understand it, is the fine line between yin (阴) and yang (阳) [traditional characters 陰 and 陽 respectively], i.e., between excess and deficiency, between resisting and collapsing, etc.; or visually, being on the “s-curve” line separating the yin from the yang in the taiji diagram (taijitu 太極圖).

    Sweet Spot 1

    “EXPLAINING TAIJI PRINCIPLES” (太極法說), a book attributed to Yang Banhou (楊班侯) and written circa 1875, contains a section (“TAIJI’S REDUCING MEASUREMENTS”) describing finer and finer levels of precision – from gross movements, through a foot (10 Chinese inches), an inch, a tenth of an inch, and finally to the width of a hair. To me, this describes the increasing level of precision towards the ideal balance between yin and yang.

    Taijiquan literature contains many references that can be understood as relating to the concept of the fine line between yin and yang energies. This article offers my understanding of yin and yang through my commentary on “THE TAIJI BOXING TREATISE OF WANG ZONGYUE OF SHANXI” (山右王宗岳太極拳論) as presented in Li Yiyu’s (李亦畬) 1881 manual and translated by Paul Brennan (translations are presented in bold type). [Note: For the full translation, see the following link.]:

    https://brennantranslation.wordpress.com/2013/05/25/the-taiji-classics/

    Sweet Spot 2Taiji [“grand polarity”] is born of wuji [“nonpolarity”], and is the mother of yin and yang [the passive and active aspects]. When there is movement, they [passive and active] become distinct from each other. When there is stillness, they return to being indistinguishable.

    The treatise starts by linking the martial art with its philosophical namesake (Taiji). But even without moving, yin and yang are established in one’s body due to Earth’s gravity, the body’s Micro- and Macrocosmic orbits of energy, inherent yin and yang surfaces of the body (e.g., defining our front and back, respectively), etc. Even standing prior to beginning the form, or in zhan zhuang (站樁 standing like a post) stationary postures, we already have up/down, front/back and left/right (i.e., differentiation of yin and yang).

    We want to already have six-direction force like a properly inflated ball that expands in all directions. The “movement” that differentiates yin and yang (passive and active) is, therefore, likely referring to interaction with an opponent. With contact, like a ball floating on water that reacts instantly, there should be instant differentiation into yin and yang in a Taijiquan practitioner’s body.

    As soon as we are touched, we want to have the sensitivity to be able to move in response, and this movement dictates where yin and yang are in relation to the point(s) of contact (the part that moves away = yin, and the part that moves toward = yang) and the energy from the opponent. However, before contact, we maintain the potential to move in every direction, without the opponent being able to predetermine which way we may go, thus being “indistinguishable” when in “stillness.”

    Neither going too far nor not far enough, comply and bend then engage and extend.

    This sentence points out that, once yin and yang are distinct, practitioners must pay attention to neither having too much nor too little of either energy. It also presents Taijiquan’s approach to interaction. “Comply and bend” is first yielding in response to the opponent, which then creates the condition where we have the opportunity to attack (“then engage and extend”).

    Since yin and yang are determined by the movement in response to the energy at the point(s) of contact, Taijiquan’s strategy becomes one of the opponent committing energy first, and our response creating both defense (yin) and opportunities for offense (yang). Unlike the idea that the best defense is provided by a strong offense, Taijiquan strategy comes more from counterattacking, getting the opponent to commit, and thus reduce their changeability, while we maintain our ability to change and adapt to whatever situation is present; they become yang, while we become yin + yang.

    Sweet Spot 3He is hard while I am soft…
    Although there is an endless variety of possible scenarios, there is only this single principle [of yielding and sticking] throughout.

    This section continues explaining the Taijiquan strategy by contrast with the opponent. It also introduces the concepts of “yielding” and “sticking” which are made possible by the yin + yang energy at the point(s) of contact with the opponent. Regardless of the conditions (e.g., whether fast or slow), the strategy of Taijiquan is to respond to, rather than act in opposition to, or independent of, the energy of the opponent.

    Note that “soft” here should probably not be confused with being yin + yin since the first sentence in this section warns against both excess and deficiency when it states “neither going too far nor not far enough.” Thus “soft” is likely referring to the condition of yin + yang as opposed to the more instinctual yang + yang (i.e., fight) or yin + yin (i.e., flight). Yin + yang allows for yielding and sticking rather than fight or flight, since being too yin would prevent sticking, while being too yang would prevent yielding.

    Continue to page 2…