Category: Training

In some respects, stability and mobility counter each other. For example, Taijiquan (太極拳) styles that favour wide or long stances (e.g., Chen 陳 style) have a large base of support, and this can increase the stability in the supported direction, although the waist loses some of its rotational mobility, and stepping would require greater shifting in order to lift a leg. Conversely small styles (e.g., Wu/Hao 武/郝) have a smaller base of support but greater mobility of the waist and can step easier and quicker.

Both of these are desirable, though which predominates depends on the specifics of a situation. We want to have looseness (fangsong 放松) in the joints so that we retain freedom of movement [mobility] in response to pressures, but we also want to retain our balance [stability] and do not want to sacrifice our ability to “root” forces through our structure, which may be compromised if we are too loose (we need to retain muscle tonus and alignment).

There have been clinical studies on stability improvements using Taijiquan to prevent falls and other difficulties in elderly populations. But how does Taijiquan balance stability with mobility in fit practitioners? If used as a martial art, Taijiquan requires both stability and mobility.

A treatment system for elderly patients called Moving for Better Balance® modifies Taijiquan-based movements in their program, as noted in the following slide presentation:
https://www.ncoa.org/wp-content/uploads/Tai-Chi-Moving-for-Better-Balance-1.pdf

I consider balancing stability with mobility as one of the yin/yang (阴/阳) dualities of Taijiquan. We want mobility to complement stability, and vice versa, rather than inhibiting each other. We do not want to resist or brace in order to maintain stability, and we do not want to run away or collapse in order to maintain our mobility.

Mobility, as discussed in this article, refers to both the range of uninhibited movement around joints and the ability to step freely, both even while under pressure from a training partner or opponent. Stability is the ability to maintain or control joint movement or position and to maintain ones balance even while under pressure from a partner/opponent.

Stability and mobility can be viewed in terms of the square (fang 方) and the circle (yuan 圓). The circle provides mobility (like a ball that can easily roll around) and the square provides stability (like a cube whose large base provides solidity). We are directed to find the square within the circle and the circle in the square (方中有圓，圓中有方 fang zhong you yuan, yuan zhong you fang).

This principle means that when we take a posture to enhance our stability, we should be mindful of retaining our mobility and, when we emphasize mobility, we should still maintain stability. We should be stabile without being stiff or locked in position. Likewise, we should seek stability when moving freely, including when we move into one leg stances or while stepping.

Taijiquan puts an emphasis on roundness since a spherical shape maintains its center and its balance regardless of how it turns or moves. Roundness allows for smooth transitions and quick directional changes. Like a ball floating on water, the ability to rotate and to move is unimpeded, and this trait is very advantageous for defensive actions. But it would be difficult for this ball to issue energy since it lacks the stability of the square.

We typically use the ground as our base of support (our “root”), and we mostly depend on this base/root to power our body’s movements, especially if using “whole-body power” rather than isolated limbs. The feet can be equated with the square since they are flat against the ground when generating power. A ball only has a small point of contact with the ground, and though it has stability due to its shape, it cannot generate much push against the ground and therefore does not have much capability to produce power.

So, while the circle/mobility is great for defense, the square/stability is important for attacking. We want to be able to issue force while defending (the square within the circle), and we want to maintain our ability to change while issuing force (the circle within the square).

Writing attributed to Yan Banhou (楊班侯) states (Paul Brennan translation with comment in brackets):
“Taiji is round, never abandoning its roundness whether going in or out, up or down, left or right. And Taiji is square, never abandoning its squareness whether going in or out, up or down, left or right. As you roundly exit and enter, or squarely advance and retreat, follow squareness with roundness, and vice versa. Squareness has to do with expanding, roundness with contracting. [Squareness means a directional focus along which you can express your power. Roundness means all-around buoyancy with which you can receive and neutralize the opponent’s power]. The main rule is that you be squared and rounded. After all, could there be anything beyond these things?”

Note that “going in or out, up or down, left or right” essentially means “all directions.” “All directions” is often referred to as “six-direction” force, referring to in/out (吞吐 tuntu or swallow/spit, or absorb/reject, i.e. forward/backward), up/down (浮沉 fuchen or float/sink), and left/right (开合 kaihe or open/close).

Wu Zhiqing (吳志青) stated (Brennan translation) “Consider that with roundness there is freedom of movement, but without squareness there is no solidity to your posture. Moving with squareness leads to stagnancy, for movement that is not rounded is not nimble. Use roundness within squareness to find nimbleness, and use squareness within roundness to seek stability. This is the most important thing in the study of Taiji Boxing.”

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Many Western fitness and exercise programs work from the outside to the inside. Strength training springs immediately to mind, and even running fits into this mold, at least to a certain extent. The idea is to strengthen the outside of the body, and the benefits then spread to the inside. This approach works for millions of people, there is absolutely nothing wrong with it, and more people should probably try it.

Tai chi is completely different, because it works from the inside to the outside. Essentially, many Chinese people believe that a person’s ying and yang must be aligned to bring about proper total body health. So, tai chi (pronounced “tie-chee”) consists of three elements, meditation, movement, and deep breathing, to accomplish this objective. Note that only one of these pillars has anything to do with the muscles.

If people like NBA star Stephen Curry give tai chi a try, there must be something to it. What benefits can this ancient Eastern art form offer you?

Better Balance

Many of us take the ability to put one foot in front of the other without falling over completely for granted. But for many people, this simple task that most of us perform thousands of times a day seems like a mountain that’s impossible to climb.

Lack of confidence may be the problem, especially among seniors. Many fall victims never completely recover, as most seniors who fall end up in nursing homes shortly thereafter. Tai chi’s slow, gradual movements restore this confidence, in many cases.

Physical injury is often an issue as well. Brain injury victims often have significant problems with balance, and they basically forget what it feels like to stand up straight and have complete control over their own bodies. In a nutshell, tai chi restores that control.

Improved Endurance and Strength

To most casual observers, it may seem like the slow, controlled movements in tai chi do absolutely nothing to build strength. But anyone who practices tai chi will tell you differently. The evidence is not just anecdotal, as there are a number of scientific studies (including this one) which conclude that three days a week of tai chi has a significant toning effect.

The added strength also helps people with poor posture, because in many cases, weak core muscles cause this condition.

Illness Prevention

This concept goes back to the yin/yang idea discussed above. Chronic illnesses are physical and not psychosomatic, so it is impossible to think your way to health, no matter how many positive thoughts enter your mind. But ruminating on the pain makes the pain worse, and that’s where the meditation component of tai chi comes in. The deep breathing helps as well, because practitioners exhale toxins while they inhale oxygen.

The list of chronic illnesses which tai chi can either prevent or render more manageable is very long and includes:

● Depression,
● Arthritis,
● Carpal tunnel syndrome (learn more here),
● Hypertension, and
● Digestive issues, like irritable bowel syndrome.

Again, since tai chi works from the inside to the outside, it helps in these areas, since these conditions go from the inside to the outside as well.

Lower Stress

Those squeezable executive stress balls really do help, but only for a few minutes, because distraction is not a long-term solution to an issue like chronic stress.

In contrast, permanently lower stress (not permanently eliminated stress, mind you) is one of the top benefits of tai chi. The movement is relaxing, sort of like being rocked on a ship at sea. The deep breathing helps as well, since that relaxing movement comes to your heart and lungs in addition to your arms and legs. Finally, unless you reflect on stressful things, the meditation takes your mind off your stress.

When all three of these things act in concert, the result is almost always a noticeable improvement in your mood and overall stress level

There are many other potential tai chi benefits as well, such as better coordination, more flexibility, and improved circulation. Not all tai chi practitioners will experience all these benefits, but everyone gets something.

In two previous articles I presented unorthodox views of the four primary jin (勁 refined power) of Taijiquan’s (太極拳) thirteen energies/techniques (十三式 shi san shi), peng (掤 rebound), lu (履 divert), ji (挤 squeeze) and an (按 press or push) as they relate to an elastic sphere/ball. Although people are not balls, the energy that we train/develop uses spheres and circles (and spirals, arcs, etc.).

This article presents explanations of the four secondary energies/techniques (corresponding to corner trigrams of the bagua 八卦, eight symbols): 採 cai (grabbing or “plucking”), 挒 lie (applying torque or “splitting”), 肘 zhou (“elbowing”) and 靠 kao (bumping or “shouldering”). Since human bodies are not simple spheres, these four jin give other ways that one can express energy/power.

A whole body Taijiquan “sphere” can be viewed like the Vitruvian Man, as one that connects the feet and hands, with the lower dantien (丹田 cinnabar/elixir field, an area inside the abdomen a few inches below the navel) as its center (our center of mass). But since we have joints in ourarms and legs that allow “folding,” we can use sections of our bodies other than our hands and feet (our first sections) to interact with partners/opponents.

 

Zhou can be viewed as being when we use our elbows or knees (our second sections). Kao can be viewed as being when we use our torso (shoulders, hips, back or chest; our third section). It is similar to having three nested spheres that we can switch between, rather than being a ball with only one surface.

I use bumping for what is often translated as “shouldering” because it better describes this jin that can be applied with any part of the torso. Using the shoulder is the most common, but the hips, back, and chest are all also capable of applying this bumping energy. Additionally, there is nothing inherent in the word kao that refers to a shoulder. Kao translates into English more like “lean on,” “near to,” “adjoining,” etc.

Even though the elbow is specifically referred to for zhou, I view it as actually referring to techniques that use the sphere that includes the knees. Nowhere else in the names of the eight jin are specific attacking physiology like the fingers, palms, fists, shoulders, hips, knees, feet, head, etc. mentioned, and I doubt that such a specific energy as the elbow alone is being referred to here.

While opportunities to use the knee against a partner/opponent’s leg, or to strike their torso with it in a one-leg stance, are not uncommon, it is clearly not as readily available for use, nor as versatile, as the elbow. This is due to the importance of the knee in maintaining one’s stances, and in agile footwork, whereas the elbow is free to be used whenever the range is appropriate.

The “second” and “third” sections of the body can still be used to express the four primary jin (corresponding to cardinal direction bagua trigrams). For example, Chen style has training where partners contact knees (the “second section”) and perform peng, lu, an and ji at the same time that the hands/wrists/forearms cycle through these four jin. Likewise, Wu Gongzao (吳公藻) stated that zhou (elbowing) includes six other energies (e.g., peng zhou, cai zhou, lu zhou and even kao zhou), although he seems to equate the energies more in terms of directions (using the elbow from inside, outside, above, below, or while turning left or right).

We can also use peng, lu, an and ji when contacting a partner/opponent with our torso (the “third” section); being like a mountain that bounces them away (peng), rotating to divert their attacks (lu), attacking partners/opponents by using our torso to press or push against their body or body parts (an), or attacking weaknesses/gaps in their structure (ji).

Elbowing and bumping techniques are also often included in the concept of folding. For example, if the hand is neutralized by one’s partner/opponent, then one can fold (bend) and attack or defend with the elbow, and if that is neutralized one can fold and attack or defend with the shoulder. Of course, unfolding also illustrates this concept of changing the body section being used (e.g. if the elbow is blocked, one can unfold and strike with the fist).

Instead of having one, or three, spheres, we can be viewed as having an infinite number of different size spheres that can interact with partners/opponents. Each elbow or knee can act like a separate sphere, as can our shoulders, hips, back, chest or other places on our bodies. We want to have the energy of an infinite number of spheres at every point of contact with a partner/opponent. Chen Xin’s (陳鑫) boxing treatise states that even the smallest place is circular.

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Whether you are taking part in a class indoors or by yourself outdoors, wearing comfortable clothing for practicing Tai Chi is a must. You want clothing that allows you to move without restriction, that is cool in the summer, and keeps you warm in the winter.

Shirts

I tend to like to wear long-sleeved shirts that fit a little on the loose side. Some of the shirts have Tai Chi designs or logos on them, some are just a plain one coloured shirt. But which ever shirt I wear for practice that day, it has to be comfortable, so the fit is not a distraction to my practice.

Some of my favourite T-shirts are getting worn out! I have had them for years now. They are so comfortable to wear while practicing, that I just do not want to give them up. There are holes in the armpits, and the collar and cuffs are getting stretched and frayed.

Pants

Over the years, I have worn many different makes of pants for my Tai Chi practice. I tend to like the fit to be loose in the legs. Preferably cotton, but not always. I used to have a pair of light cotton Kung Fu pants I bought at a local martial arts supply store, pants for hiking/climbing, and lately pants from Lululemon which I received as a present for Christmas!.

 

 

 

 

 

Shoes

Shoes or no shoes. Personally, I like to wear shoes when I practice Tai Chi. I understand that some people like to practice with bare feet, but I tend to find being barefoot can be a distraction for myself (with temperature differences from the rest of my body, to small particles of whatever between my feet and the floor and uneven surfaces of the ground itself).

Indoors I have always liked to wear the cotton soled Tai Chi shoes. They are flat and not too stiff, so the whole foot feels the floor. Outdoors, I have worn a variety of types of shoes over the years. What I try to find, is a flat soled shoe that is fairly light and flexible. One of the best shoes I had was the martial arts shoe that was made by Converse. It had a flat black rubber sole and mesh sides. It was a very comfortable shoe to practice in, and fit my feet which tend to be on the wide side. Unfortunately, Converse stopped making them some years ago.

In summary, whatever one wears when practicing Tai Chi, it will be a personal choice (unless you are required to wear a school uniform or shirts for classes). One must feel comfortable and not distracted by clothing to be able to focus on the task at hand… To practice Tai Chi Chuan.

Two of the thirteen energies/techniques (十三式 shi san shi) of Taijiquan (太極拳) are peng (掤 rebound or “ward off”) and lu (履 divert or “roll back”). Since I like using the image of a properly inflated rubber ball floating on water when I teach interactive principles, I view peng and lu in the context of how the ball responds to incoming forces.

A ball/sphere can basically respond in two ways to incoming forces; it can compress/expand (peng) and rotate (lu) [we can discount collapsing inward or exploding outward if the energy of the ball/sphere is not compromised/burst]. A sphere that is floating on water can also move/shift instead of staying in a fixed location, but that takes us into the five phases (五行 wuxing) and will not be addressed in this article.

This approach to understanding the energies of peng and lu is rather general, and it likely differs from those who use these energies to describe style specific applications or those who use other frames of reference (for example, force vectors, or as they relate to the bagua 八卦 trigram lines, or describing what the recipient would feel or how they would be affected by the energies, etc.). Hopefully it will be compatible enough with other approaches to be useful to readers.

The benefit of this approach is that it can be applied to almost every instant of one’s interactive Taijiquan practice when receiving a training partner or opponent’s energy. While responses could be just peng (rebounding without any rotation) or lu (rotation without any compression/expansion), many will be a combination of these two actions.

The following video of a tiger playing with a ball illustrates how a sphere responds:

This example’s ball is not as resilient as the rubber ball image that I use for Taijiquan, but its buoyancy in the water, which allows it to sink and rise back up, is a similar expression of peng [rooting into and springing back from the ground/water, as compared with compressing/expanding of a resilient rubber ball; both of which describe aspects of peng used in Taijiquan]. Lu is the ball’s ability to rotate and divert the incoming energy.

While humans are not spherical, Taijiquan should be rounded (圆 yuan), which facilitates the elastic sphere analogy. Peng and lu should be complementary; lu corresponding to the yin (阴) and peng the yang (阳) aspects of receiving energy. Note that I do not address the approach that would correspond to being a hard ball that overpowers or damages incoming force, which is the approach that “hard” style martial arts often pursue (being stronger and tougher than the opponent).

PENG (Rebound or “Ward Off”)

Peng energy, in its general sense, could be viewed as the structural force that allows an elastic sphere to maintain its rounded shape (the structural integrity of the Taijiquan postures, and therefore this is why it is said to be present throughout Taijiquan forms and applications). It is the air that properly fills the rubber ball; the air that allows the ball to bounce, or to bounce things off of it – which is the application of peng.

This energy would expand in every direction simultaneously. This concept helps practitioners respond to unexpected attacks from any direction and any angle, as well as preventing overextending (or falling short) during applications or forms. There should be an active dynamic between simultaneously absorbing and projecting (like a ball’s surface containing the air inside, while the air pressure is trying to expand).

A common application example is one that “tends to float or buoy up” the partner/opponent’s energy like water supporting a boat. Because the “sphere” in Taijiquan is rooted to the earth (i.e., it contacts the ground/water), a force exerted straight forward against it would tend to roll/bounce upward unless the incoming force comes in level with, or lower than the center of the “sphere” (hence the common principle of getting under your opponent’s center).

Since force is typically issued through the arms, which are attached to the shoulders and is therefore typically applied above the waist, this would mean that this force would typically come above the defender’s center (the dantian 丹田, cinnabar/elixir field, an area inside the abdomen a few inches below the navel) and would be “floated or buoyed up.”

Although Taijiquan training teaches us to apply force from the ground and transmit it through the structurally integrated body, therefore generating the force originating below the partner/opponent’s center, when it is expressed through the arms it still has a tendency to have its effect above their center.

Lest someone interpret the statement “rooted to the earth” as making the idea seem too rigid or fixed [Taijiquan does move, and these principles must be applicable to the fluid stepping exhibited during Taijiquan as well], this illustration works equally well if the “sphere” is viewed as floating on the surface of water, allowing it to move freer than if viewed as being fixed to the ground.

In my opinion, the typical view of peng “tending to float or buoy up” or “uproot” is just one subset of possible peng applications. I feel that it can be applied in every direction. This is similar to a ball typically bouncing up due to the downward effect of gravitational forces, but the ball actually being able to bounce in any direction. Just as we can use the force transmitted from the ground to push in numerous directions, we can rebound forces back in those same directions.

Peng, then, would be simply what results to an incoming force due to one’s integrated structure’s resistance to deformation, the body’s “springiness” (or muscle tonus). Peng application energy is similar to the energy that enables a ball to bounce, but in this case, since a Taijiquan practitioner trains to maintain their root (even when stepping), the incoming force is itself rebounded out. If one’s center is below the opponent’s force, then one can peng upwards easily, but I feel that one can also peng straight, downwards, to the side, and even to the back.

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To some, the link between Tai Chi Chuan and tea may not be immediately apparent. One involves slow precise breathing exercises, performed with complete relaxation and focus. The other is a beverage made with leaves and hot water.

Yet both tea and Tai Chi come from China and during my years exploring these art forms it has become obvious that along with cultural connections they complement each other.

You could look at the relation to tea preparation and Tai Chi from many angles.

As with Tai Chi, green tea – especially Japanese matcha tea – is praised for its health-giving qualities. In recent studies, high doses of EGCg, one of the antioxidants found in tea, have been effective in treating all sorts of ailments and the Chinese have used tea medicinally for millennia. Tea and tea ceremony even take on symbolic significance in Chinese ceremonies. In the Li-family system of martial arts, for example, brewing and pouring a pot of tea is part of the ritual for passing down an advanced meditation technique.

However, I don’t want to dwell on health or ritual here. Articles raving about tea’s health benefits are too common, often exaggerated and rarely of interest to anyone but nutritionists and body builders. As for the ceremonial aspect, I don’t feel qualified to comment. Although I’ve lived in China and studied Chinese religion, the rituals are not from my culture. I might partly understand, but I didn’t grow up immersed in the three teachings – Daoism, Confucianism and Buddhism – and therefore much of the significance of the ritual passes me by and I would have to make my own interpretations.

I want to approach this from a more subjective angle: what similarities does tea preparation have to Tai Chi practice and how do I include it in my routine?

There is a saying in Chinese: 禪茶一味 chanchayiwei – ‘tea and Zen are one flavour.’ Through their history, developing together in East Asia, tea etiquette and Zen (Chan, in Chinese) became intertwined. The phrase “Tea and Zen are one flavour can be read as an allusion to the cultural and symbolic connections between tea and the Zen tradition. But I like to read this idiom differently.

Everyone practises Tai Chi in their own way. Some systems start with silk reeling, others may do a standard warm-up working the joints and tendons before moving on to the muscle fibres. Whichever way you go, all systems share something in common: we all use this time to settle our breath and bring our minds to task. If we have been wrestling with problems – both work-related and personal – we put them aside and focus on what we are doing. If you skip this stage you notice; the mind-body connection ensures that when our thoughts are stormy and turbulent, our tai chi form is jerky and disconnected.

Tea preparation shares this with Tai Chi practice. To make good tea takes a calm, Zen-like, focus. Everything has to be in place: the water has to be heated to the right temperature – never over-boiled; all the vessels – teapot, decanter and cups – have to be warmed; the tea leaves need to be washed; and all this even before you get to take your first sip. Unlike putting coffee on to brew, or making tea-bag tea, if you try to multitask, you miss a beat and end up with bitter, possibly undrinkable, tea.

Both tea preparation and Tai Chi bring you to centre and punish you if you aren’t concentrating. I use both for the same reason. They help me carve out a slice of distraction-free space within an increasingly stacked schedule.

Preparation method aside, drinking tea in itself has the awesome capability of bringing you to the point of calm, ungrasping focus – the sort of stillness fabled in Zen literature. (I said I wouldn’t bore anyone with pharmacology, but for those interested, l-theanine is responsible for smoothing out the effects of caffeine and gives tea the mellowness coffee lacks.) I often drink tea before I do Tai Chi or meditation. It enhances both.

However, I don’t go all out and prepare tea with thoroughness described above (this approach is known as gongfu tea in the tea world). If I tried to concentrate on qigong and tea gong at the same time one or both of them would suffer. Instead, I use a simple method – I prepare tea in a bowl. This technique requires less concentration. You can drink at a leisurely pace and top up with hot water every now and then, leaving you free to focus on your practice. (This brewing method is also good when writing.)

I have found when used in this way, the extra boost to concentration helps me track orbits and meridians, and the lower dantian sensation is more acute – though maybe that’s just warm tea sitting in my belly!

Different people favour different types of teas. Green tea is fresh and spring-like – good for an afternoon pick-me-up, but it can be too intense for meditation. Black tea makes you alert, but not overbearingly so, and is great for static meditation. Personally, I like oolong tea, and that is what I turn to for tai chi. Oolong sits between green and black: enlivening, but relaxing, and complex in flavour. Most important is the standard of the tea and water. Bad quality tea tastes foul and makes you uncomfortable – not a great starting point if you want to practise Tai Chi.

If you haven’t experienced it already, go to your local teahouse and ask them to take you through a gongfu tea tasting experience. I’m interested to hear if it opens up the same meditative space for other people as it does me. Or if tea is already part of your practice, let us know how it fits in.

I previously wrote about receiving energy from a partner/opponent using a ball (elastic sphere) analogy. This article addresses attacking a partner/opponent’s defensive “sphere” using an (按 press or push) and ji (挤 squeeze), two of the thirteen energies/techniques (十三式 shi san shi) of Taijiquan (太極拳).

A sphere can be attacked in two ways; by controlling its surface (an), or by penetrating its surface (ji). This approach to understanding the energies of an and ji is very general and most interactions attacking a training partner or opponent can be described using this approach. Although this approach is unorthodox, hopefully it will be compatible enough with readers’ understandings to be of use.

A useful analogy for understanding an and ji is an overstuffed suitcase that is difficult to close due to clothing protruding outside the opening. To close the suitcase, one would need to press down (an) on the top of the suitcase while poking the clothing into the crack (ji) until the suitcase can be closed fully. While an is pressing or pushing against the solid substance of the suitcase, ji would be squeezing into cracks, gaps, or weak places; in this case, the suitcase opening.

Another way of explaining this is that an would attack the partner/opponent through their dorsal or yang (阳) surfaces, whereas ji would attack them by squeezing past their yang defensive surfaces and into their ventral or yin (阴) surfaces. In the illustration, the yin (ventral) surfaces are depicted with the dark gray and the yang (dorsal) surfaces are white.

Yin surfaces are generally those that are covered when in the fetal position, and yang surfaces are those that are exposed and tan quickest from normal activity sun exposure. In many animals most yin surfaces are white (e.g., squirrels, deer) whereas most yang surfaces have colored fur.

The yang surfaces contain the extensor muscles which function to extend the joints and are typically used to issue force, or to resist or repel incoming force. The yin surfaces contain the flexor muscles which function to bend the joints and to pull or absorb an opponent’s force.

Attacking through the yang surfaces can be used to produce resistance in the partner/opponent and tends to lock their structure, allowing one to connect to their spine (or their center) in order to move and control them. Attacking through the yin surfaces can be used to collapse and penetrate their structure. Attacking through the yin surfaces makes it difficult for the opponent to counter, since the muscles located on the yin surfaces function opposite to what would be needed to push away the incoming energy.

The children’s playground trick of bumping the backs of someone’s knees and causing their legs to buckle is an example of using ji to attack the yin. One could instead attack the yang to topple someone by attacking their knees from the front using an, like making a football tackle.

Taijiquan seeks to avoid having protrusions (凸 tu, convex/to stick out/protrude) or indentations (凹 ao, a depression/indentation/concave/hollow). We seek to be smooth like the surface of a sphere (圆 yuan, rounded), without bumps or pits for our partner/opponent to catch hold of and exploit. Conversely, we want to take advantage of the lack of roundness of our partner/opponent.

One saying is:
毋使有缺陷處，毋使有凸凹處
“Do not allow any defects or deficiencies; do not allow any protrusions or hollows” [from the Taijiquan Classic attributed to Zhang Sanfeng 張三丰, as translated by Lee Fife (2016)].

Tu (“protrusions”) and ao (“hollows”) are ways of stating that there are excesses or deficiencies; or imbalances in yin and yang. An could be viewed as attacking an opponent’s tu (their yang excess, i.e. protrusions), while ji would attack their ao (their yin deficiency, i.e. hollows).

Xu (虚 empty or insubstantial) and shi (实 full or substantial) are two other terms that are used to describe yin and yang qualities in Taijiquan. Ji would attack through the opponent’s xu, while an attacks their shi.

If we use the water analogy that is frequently associated with Taijiquan, an would act like water pushing against the surface of a boulder and disturbing or dislodging it, for example, whereas ji would flow around the hard surface structures to penetrate and erode the softer areas as well as seeping into cracks and fissures to destroy the boulder from the inside.

Against a partner/opponent, ji could squeeze into the gap between the partner/opponent’s arms as is demonstrated in common push-hands drills. It could also penetrate into the gap between an arm and the torso, or into the weak (yin) side of joints (the gaps between bones), or into other weak places not defined by the opponent’s arm positions (e.g., the throat, the stomach, between the legs, etc.).

An has the mass or pressure of the practitioner’s body behind it. Ji crowds the partner/opponent by squeezing close through weaknesses (gaps, cracks, etc.). Both methods displace the partner/opponent since two objects cannot occupy the same space, but they are applied differently.

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The article Are You Comfortable? is reprinted on Slanted Flying website with the permission of the author Sam Langley from his personal Blog.

In the modern world we try to avoid pain and discomfort at all costs. If I get a headache the easiest thing to do is take a paracetamol, if it’s cold I can turn on the central heating.
It is my opinion that pain and discomfort should be listened to and not anaesthetized. If I take painkillers when I’m hungover I may be avoiding a valuable lesson in alcohol moderation!

Very often things that are uncomfortable are beneficial. Exposure to the cold has been shown to be very good for your health. Inspired by Wim Hoff ‘The Iceman’ I began taking cold showers every morning. This was definitely not an easy thing to do in the middle of winter! Cold showers are initially extremely uncomfortable but you feel absolutely amazing afterwards.
Similarly, Tai Chi practice brings us face to face with discomfort. This is probably the reason that 99% of people quit after a few lessons. I believe that one of the great benefits of regular Tai Chi training is that you learn to become comfortable with discomfort. Beginners tend to find the standing qigong particularly hard. If they persevere for a year or two however it gets easier. It’s not necessarily that the legs stop burning but that the mind gets calmer.

Gradually you notice that, more and more, you can maintain a feeling of calm composure when things get difficult. It is my contention, based only on experience, that Tai Chi practice and standing in particular has a profound effect on the fight or flight response of our primitive mind. This has obvious martial implications but also makes all your relationships easier.

To me, discomfort is something to be faced and experienced fully. It’s not just that you’ll often gain great benefits from arduous activities and I’m not a masochist by any stretch of the imagination, it’s more that pain is the easiest way to be present in the here and now. It is never my intention to put people off Tai Chi by mentioning the pain and difficulty but it should be clear that only by experiencing them will one really get somewhere with it. Once again however what we’re really training in this respect is the mind. Things are difficult because we say they are. From this perspective Tai Chi isn’t difficult at all. The way I approach practice is in a relaxed and perhaps nonchalant manner. It’s not a competition, you can do as much or as little as you are able to, have fun! It’s enjoyable, all of it…. even the pain!

In the practice of Taijiquan (太極拳), we strive to properly balance the yin (阴) and yang (阳) principles such that there is no excess and no deficiency, no protrusions and no depressions, no resisting but also no collapsing. Fangsong (放松 release or let go + loose = “relax”) and peng (掤 outward supportive structure, or “muscle tonus”) are terms/principles that Taijiquan uses to address these dualities.

There are two common ways that the term peng is used. One is the structural energy that fills out the shape of our body, and the other is the energy applied as one of the thirteen energies/techniques (十三式 shi san shi) of Taijiquan, and which is often translated as “warding off” or “rebounding” energy.

This article uses the general structural principle for peng; it is like the air that fills a properly inflated rubber ball and gives it the resilient structure allowing the peng application to bounce away incoming forces.

While there are numerous articles about fangsong, few tie this concept together with peng; but fangsong is the yin to peng’s yang. We strive to have both, and to train our bodies in a manner that they are complementary, not contradictory.

For examples of writings on fangsong (frequently shortened to just song), see the following:

http://www.egreenway.com/taichichuan/relax1.htm

It makes sense to emphasize fangsong first because most beginning practitioners start out being too stiff or rigid. Most intermediate and even advanced practitioners can still improve their fangsong. But this is also true for peng. Most practitioners can improve their structures such that the “nine pearl bends” (九曲珠 jiu qu zhu) are aligned with force/energy transmitted through stabile centers.

One way to view the nine pearl bends is to think of nine pearls on a string. If they are all touching and all of their centers align, then force that is applied to the first pearl can easily be transmitted all the way to the last pearl. But if the centers are not aligned, then the force will cause a bend to occur. The force would then “leak” out to the side.

In our bodies, if forces are transmitted through the centers of our joints (our “pearl bends”), then that force can be efficiently transmitted, without “leakage” to the sides which would require tensing muscles (or locking the structure) in order to hold the joints in place.

The better aligned our skeletal structure is, the less we need to use muscles to resist deformation of our structure. Holding the structure in alignment, for receiving or transmitting forces without “leakage”, allows for greater relaxation. Relaxation depends on good structure, and a good structure is one that aligns and, therefore, can be relaxed.

In the following video of a Newton’s Cradle toy, all of the balls’ centers align and allow force to be transmitted through them to the other balls. But at ~1:38-1:41 the balls’ centers are misaligned since they were wiggling too much when started, resulting in force “leaking” out the side and disrupting the transmission of force.

In Taijiquan we want an aligned and “full” structure (peng) rather than a collapsed or limp structure. We want a resilient structure that continuously balances yin and yang whether we are issuing or receiving forces.

Since we are structurally dynamic, unlike a pearl, our movements can result in the energy moving around our joints rather than through the centers, but this should still balance yin with yang in a manner similar to the rotation of a toy top where the spinning stabilizes the top. This motion is easy to illustrate by rotating the hips while keeping the center of the body (the spine) stable and centered. We can maintain “central equilibrium” (中定 zhongding) while rotating around parts of our body, including individual joints.

Another way one can look at this is to recognize that all joints have extensor and flexor muscles that move them. These complementary sets of muscles work on opposing sides of the joints and can therefore be used to stabilize the center of the affected joint. But rather than producing isometric tension that locks a joint in one rigid position, we can instead use these opposing muscles in a dynamic spiraling way that stabilizes the joint without locking it.

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Just as every individual has their personality and idiosyncrasies, schools of Taijiquan (太極拳) also have specific traditions and rules (daotong, 道統, orthodoxy). This is evident in the differences between recognized styles (陳 Chen, 楊 Yang, 吳 Wu, 武/郝 Wu/Hao, 孫 Sun, etc), as well as variations within styles, e.g., the numerous Yang style variants.

Many teachers teach in a similar manner to how they were taught, therefore continuing the traditions that were passed on to them. Teachers are often more comfortable teaching what they were taught and works for them, rather than adapting their instruction to the specific strengths, weaknesses, and interests of each student.

Within traditions, teachers have different interests and backgrounds than their forefathers. Some emphasize martial skills; others focus on health, meditation or mindfulness, balance, fitness, energy, etc. Some teachers have extensive knowledge from their professional work (e.g., physical therapy, law enforcement, etc.), hobbies or other experiences that they incorporate into their instruction, leading to non-traditional teaching.

While many Taijiquan practitioners only train with one teacher, modern society allows for exposure to other traditions, whether through regular classes with multiple local teachers, workshops with visiting teachers, at tournaments, through videos or forums on the internet, or after finding new schools when moving to a new town.

Difficulty comes in reconciling differences between various traditions that one is exposed to.  How does one know what the correct way is? Is there a correct way? Understanding why one’s school emphasizes certain principles, especially those that are not common in other traditions, is important for students trying to understand their art.

As the joke goes, “How many Taijiquan masters does it take to change a light bulb? Ten: one to change it and nine others to say that in each of their traditions they do it a little differently.”

Searching the internet reveals numerous ways that various practitioners define the thirteen techniques/energies (十三式 shi san shi) that some teachers use as a definition (or essence) of Taijiquan (手扼八卦, 脚踏五行 shou e baqua, jiao ta wuxing, the hands hold/express the eight trigrams and the feet walk the five elements/phases). If these energies define Taijiquan, then how can there be so many, often seemingly incompatible, ways that practitioners understand them? The answer is probably that different traditions understand or emphasize things differently based on unique backgrounds.

Taijiquan is a spectrum of approaches to using the principles of yin (阴) and yang (阳). Various styles follow basic principles that characterize Taijiquan, but express them in different ways.

A beginner’s goal should be to understand the art as closely as possible to the way that their teacher practices; their teacher is the ideal. Once the art is better understood, then students can understand their personal strengths and weaknesses, as well as their interests, which will determine the emphases and development for their personal art.

The Song of Practicing the Thirteen Dynamics (十三勢行工歌訣), as translated by Paul Brennan, states:

“Beginning the training requires personal instruction, but mastering the art depends on your own unceasing effort.”

This could be interpreted as simply meaning that mastery requires personal practice, but I think that there is more to this saying. I think mastery involves incorporating the art’s principles spontaneously. This means that fixed forms and techniques, which provide the foundation for learning the principles, are transcended. We want to embody the principles underlying the forms and apply them outside of fixed form applications.

There’s a saying that one technique creates a thousand techniques. This implies that there are numerous correct ways to use a technique, even though most practitioners are only shown a few when being taught.

Rather than seeing one fixed technique, we want to see the many potentials of that technique, and we want to be able to change depending on the specifics of the interaction with an opponent. We want to be able to understand the forces (the shi san shi) involved, and be able to utilize them as desired in an unfixed manner.

Since you are different from your teacher, your practice and expression of the art will become unique to you. The teacher points the way, but the student must travel the path, and there can be many paths to get to the metaphorical peak of the mountain.

The desire is to have every generation be better than the previous. The art should progress, not just stay at, or below, the teacher’s level. Therefore, if a dedicated student is capable, their understanding and skill should progress beyond their teacher’s, and beyond what the teacher can teach (i.e., it must come through the student’s effort).

This requires an extensive understanding of the principles, and how they relate specifically to one’s own body. Correctly doing something for one practitioner may be incorrect for another, and correctly doing something in one circumstance could be wrong for another situation. Also, practitioners should know when it is correct to break training rules.

Some training rules are designed to cultivate energy, relaxation, stress relief, calmness, clarity, etc., but it is often incorrect to follow these rules when applying the art in combat. For example, one can use training that stretches one’s limits during practice, but it would be incorrect to purposely be at your limit, without a reserve, when in combat. While a practice may expand your range, don’t allow an opponent to catch you at the limit of your range.

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