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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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