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Dragon Journal Entries

Tim Richard

More on the blog dragonjournal.durangotaichi.com

Request from CHIEF Arvol Looking Horse Sioux Prayer Request from Chief Arvol Looking Horse, Chief & Keeper of Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe of the Lakota)

My Relatives,
Time has come to speak to the hearts of our Nations and their Leaders. I ask you this from the bottom of my heart, to come together from the Spirit of your Nations in prayer. We, from the heart of Turtle Island, have a great message for the World; we are guided to speak from all the White Animals showing their sacred color, which have been signs for us to pray for the sacred life of all things. As I am sending this message to you, many Animal Nations are being threatened, those that swim, those that crawl, those that fly, and the plant Nations, eventually all will be affect from the oil disaster in the Gulf. The dangers we are faced with at this time are not of spirit. The catastrophe that has happened with the oil spill which looks like the bleeding of Grandmother Earth, is made by human mistakes, mistakes that we cannot afford to continue to make. I asked, as Spiritual Leaders, that we join together, united in prayer with the whole of our Global Communities. My concern is these serious issues will continue to worsen, as a domino effect that our Ancestors have warned us of in their Prophecies. I know in my heart there are millions of people that feel our united prayers for the sake of our Grandmother Earth are long overdue. I believe we as Spiritual people must gather ourselves and focus our thoughts and prayers to allow the healing of the many wounds that have been inflicted on the Earth. As we honor the Cycle of Life, let us call for Prayer circles globally to assist in healing Grandmother Earth (our Unc’I Maka). We ask for prayers that the oil spill, this bleeding, will stop. That the winds stay calm to assist in the work. Pray for the people to be guided in repairing this mistake, and that we may also seek to live in harmony, as we make the choice to change the destructive path we are on. As we pray, we will fully understand that we are all connected. And that what we create can have lasting effects on all life. So let us unite spiritually, All Nations, All Faiths, One Prayer. Along with this immediate effort, I also ask to please remember June 21st, World Peace and Prayer Day/Honoring Sacred Sites day. Whether it is a natural site, a temple, a church, a synagogue or just your own sacred space, let us make a prayer for all life, for good decision making by our Nations, for our children’s future and well-being, and the generations to come. ... Onipikte (that we shall live).

China 2009 Travel Notes

I'll be arriving in Shanghai, China on November 19 at 14:49, not a bad time to arrive. It's not the rush hour and not the middle of the night. Shanghai is always flush with activity, though. This will be my third trip in five years and the longest at 33 days (maybe longer). After a long trip (35 hours, longer than the usual of 24 from Durango), I'll make my way from Pudong International Airport to the west Shanghai in the Putuo District near Caoyang Park. There in the A-8 Motel I'll get to stop moving and prepare mentally for the next two weeks of training and sightseeing with my colleagues at Double Dragon Alliance Cultural Centre. We'll spend nine days training mostly in the mornings, sightseeing afternoons and practicing wherever we are (dedicated practitioners tend to work anytime, any place), then attending lectures and demonstrations evenings. We'll essentially be going from early morning until 10 pm, but we'll have 2.5 hour lunch breaks and other rest times. I am looking forward to the Chinese massage demonstration known at Tuina. I wouldn't mind learning more. Many Tuina masters are also Qigong masters.

I look forward to seeing familiar faces. The camp will be taught by Master Wang Ming Bo, Master Shou Guan Shun, Master Liu Ji Fa, Master Wu Mao Gui and Master Liu Hong Cai; plus we'll have some classes with a Traditional Chinese Medicine doctor in Tuina techniques. These are extremely high level masters who are quite humble and personable. Their techniques are gentle, full of internal power and emptiness.

I'll probably train for a few days privately with one of the masters after the nine day training. I already have trained with Master Wang (Yang, Wu) and Master Wu (Tongbei). Then I'll make my way by train to Hong Kong, the famous island empire of business and a grreat place for doing tai chi in parks and atop Victoria Peak with a view of the city and the sea (if it's not foggy). I expect warm weather if not dry in Hong Kong. If things go well, I'll try a jaunt to Guangxi Province to Guilin (the most promoted tourist destiantion in China, but I'll be going at a slow time of year. I'll go to nearby Yangshuo as well (the backpackers' delight) for views of the classic karst landscapes that you've probably seen in movies.

I'll return to Shanghai for last minute training before returning to Durango Dec. 22, unless I decided to stay in China. I have a multiple entry visa. As long as you leave China after 30 days, you can return for another 30. I'll have to get a new visa for next year's trip to Master George Xu's China Camp 2010 in Beijing.

Read more on my experiences with tai chi and other points of view at dragonjournal.durangotaichi.com. Be sure to write commentary. Also, contact me if you'd like me to email you reports from the China trip.

For more info on this year's camp, DOUBLE DRAGON ALLIANCE Fourth Annual “Chinese Culture and Martial Arts Training Camp”
November 21st - November 29th 2009.

April 09 Workshop with George Xu and Susan Matthews

4/6/2009
Xu/Matthews Workshop …
This was probably the best Xu workshop I have ever been to, even though Master Xu arrived in a massive wind storm. The sky, pink from Arizona dust, greeted him Thursday afternoon. After 24-hours of high winds, it was raining and snowing by Friday night. By Saturday morning three inches of Spring snow blanketed the town of Cortez, Colorado. The roads over the passes weren’t nearly as bad as those people who stayed home probably thought, although ground blizzards were nasty for a short while.

This workshop was the best not just because so few participants came, which meant a lot more personal attention; Master George Xu worked personally with each of us lucky individuals. He shared so much quality information. We started off Friday night with Longevity Qigong exercises he said are useful for preventing stroke and potentially helping to reduce heart problems. I have trained with Master Xu for 10 years and I have seen only a few of the movements before, so it was new information. He organized them is a very logical progression, from easier to more complicated. I’m glad I was videotaping for historical preservation and to provide DVDs to workshop participants to continue their practice at home.

Saturday, Master Xu came up with a whole different set of movements, while stressing all of the same internal secrets that he started repeating the night before. This is the great thing about George Xu. He has no qualms repeating, even to absolute beginners, the most high-level knowledge. The core concepts were not many in number. I could name them in a couple of minutes. He patiently and enthusiastically repeated them as many times as he needed to get them across. He knows he has good information that will help any student learn and progress in internal development, not only to do martial arts, but to do anything in life; from opening doors to fighting, to building a career and interacting with one’s fellow human beings. His analogies and metaphors are not only entertaining and memorable, but quite accurately explain the concepts.

Master Xu said a number of times, it doesn’t matter to him whether you have technique, or if your form is perfect, although that’s a plus. He only cares about whether you move with internal energy or not. So he focused on getting us to do just that. In his typical manner, he listed very concise, clear steps for keeping mind when we do the movements he engaged us in practicing (and in any movements at all, for that matter). All of us had some degree of understanding long before the workshop ended of his major concepts that he came all the way from San Francisco to share. Even those few who came only on Saturday to push hands. It was the best push hands workshop I have ever been to. Not just personally, but in general.

I videotaped some three hours of movements and lecture, and produced three instructional videos available at susanamatthews.com. He presented the same information in so many different ways, each was worth capturing. I won’t divulge the details of his methods for developing internal skill and power, and maximum unit, gravity and speed, because I believe that that information was only for those who attended and paid their tuition. Fortunately, there are future opportunities to train with Master Xu; for example, from June 9-14 during his annual training camp. He said he will come back to see Susan Matthews next year, too. If you don’t want to wait that long, call Susan to set up some time with her. She understands most of what Master Xu taught us and is an excellent teacher in her own right. Master Xu expressed this several times during the workshop. I also will incorporate those he said I understand into my practice and in my instruction. Learn more here.

PS: For those who know what this means, here is a quick instruction from Master Xu. He whispered in my ear just before he boarded teh plane to return home. ["melt, spiritual fist, circles, spring-shaking, top fighter. Traditional top fighters are necessarily quiet. There is your secret."]

Learning to Walk All Over Again

One thing you learn in taijiquan is the “form,” or postures linked together by transitions and producing dance-like movements. You can transfer many skills practiced in doing form to walking or any kind of movement at all. Tai chi techniques and principles bridge the gap between our habitual way of walking and more natural movement that utilizes the body more deliberately and consciously, more spirited and satisfying. Improved posture and balance are only part of the overall results. You can also achieve a calmer attitude, a greater sense of well-being and certitude about yourself and what you are doing in life. Your body is healthier, you are more atuned to the spirit. You appreciate life more.

Walking is one activity we all do, and tai chi walking helps to align the mind and body more harmoniously. Consciousness is actually created as the result of integrating and aligning mind and body in a new relationship. Bring Qi (life force, energy) into the equation and you’re not only creating consciousness, but also energy. You’re creating energy out of a positive meeting of forces. In the practice of tai chi, energy is utilized to create energy in new ways. At first, it seems you must make an exceptional effort, especially when you practice alone, but after time it takes less and less energy to achieve some surprising outcomes. "Four ounces equals a thousand pounds,” as the old Chinese saying goes. Achieving greater awareness of this come in incremental stages. It's usually easier to feel progress in a group setting in which practitioners are moving in unison with a knowledgeable practitioner. WE more readily feel the generation and exchange of energy the results in learning. We often discover this sensation late in life when exhausted from trying to make a living and forced to seek out the memory of being relaxed and at ease with our bodied and our lives. Rediscovery of infancy. Loving ourselves and accepting fate. Luckily, though, it’s never too late. You can start tai chi at any age, you can practice in any moment. Begin now, in the present moment. Reap the benefits offered through the practice of taijiquan and qigong.

Why I Began Teaching

A young man contacted me one day and asked if I would be interested in teaching him taijiquan. He had heard from asking around that I might teach if I was asked. I had thought about it before he came along, but didn’t think I was ready. I thought I probably knew enough to share the basics, but was unsure if I would be a good teacher. I agreed to teach him and since then I have taught a few people.

I wonder why I would even want to teach. Two reasons come to mind in addition to being asked directly. One: I need to do taijiquan more than the average person. Two: I enjoy sharing the knowledge and working with people to learn the so-called “secrets” of Chinese internal martial arts training.

I can do without teaching, but it is more difficult not to share knowledge, because it's so much fun. Either way, I’ve decided not to teach unless asked and leave the option open to at least do tai chi if anyone asks. I will continue my own practice and train with my teachers, which is what anyone interested in better health and in unraveling the mysteries of internal arts training should do. It takes years to grasp not only the more subtle concepts, but even the most obvious key principles. It shouldn't, though. The more you practice the faster you get it. Explaining tai chi key concepts is a challenge, but understanding them is too. What you’re doing when you practice taiji is asking yourself to change old habits and replace them with new, better, habits. Few do so willingly. Just do the movement and maybe it will teach you.

So I’ve decided just to do tai chi rather than teach it. If you are interested in learning internal martial arts for longevity and well-being, I recommend studying with Susan A. Matthews, MS. She has been my teacher for 10 years. She has a natural gift for transferring understanding. Her own teacher Master George Xu (www.georgexu.com) has publicly described Susan as a master in her own right. I have heard him say more than once that we can call Susan a master. In fact, Master Xu has even said that Susan has mastered certain principles of internal arts better than most women martial artists in China!

In my own experience I can say that she has mastered not only the essentials of structure, but has taken the energetic elements to levels that I have seldom seen in anyone; from the US, to Europe, to even China. She also sees very clearly the needs of a class, as well as the student. The universal and individual, the yin and the yang. You can find her in Cortez, Colorado. <www.susanamatthews.com> Tell her I sent you.

In the meantime, I will be practicing at my wild farm near Marvel, Colorado, a place I call Long Hollow Refuge, 80-acres of juniper, sage, piñon and oak. It’s a great place for hiking and mountain biking. I love it for practicing taijiquan. If you make the drive out on a Saturday or Sunday, I'll welcome you. You don’t have to give me money but it would be wise to share something in return. Food is good.

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Quiet Place, Quiet Mind?

September 20, 2008
It is often said that it’s a good idea to find a quiet place to practice. Like finding the right place to meditate. Since taiji and qigong are moving meditations, it makes since to find a spot that helps to quiet the mind, especially the "emotional mind." I’ve been almost ritualistic in choosing places to do my moving meditations. Once you’re in your spot it’s easier to get in the mood. This facilitates concentration.

I found a place that works for me. It’s Long Hollow Refuge. It not always easy for everyone, though. My teacher George Xu once told me that you can find peace anywhere, even in a noisy city. We were alongside Lincoln Way in San Francisco, a noisy thoroughfare bordering Golden Gate Park. Like a candle that is unaffected by its surroundings, he said. His message was to create the serenity rather than have to rely on some external factors that you may not be able to control. This may be true in SF or in China where privacy and quiet places are scarce. But out here in Southwest Colorado, there are countless places of solitude in a beautiful landscape. Whether or not you practice with a group or alone, you can easily find solitude that complements meditative practice. I found that place at Long Hollow Refuge. Here is a thought if your looking for a place within or outside of you: Recall your favorite place of all time. Remember it as if it were in front of you, even though you’re faraway. Let the sensation of being there flow through you. Feel the contentment and joy of being there. Smile inside. Do the form while maintaining this sensation. You can do this anywhere, in a noisy city, a cramped room, in the darkness.

Monday, September 08, 2008

A Rinpoche told a group of us that Buddhism doesn’t separate the mind and the heart. They strive to integrate them in practice. Taiji and qigong are similar because they are methods for dissolving artificial distinctions between head and heart. In both taiji and qigong, effort is made to silence the mind of thought. You’ve heard of “quiet mind.” One way to clear the head of thoughts is to place your attention on other parts of the body while performing the moves that the teacher is showing. By giving yourself the task of conscious, deliberate movement, you deemphasize thinking (thus stress) and enhance your body’s ability to heal and strengthen your immune system, improve blood circulation, and so on. This also relates to the description of taiji and qigong as “moving meditation.”

It doesn’t take a lot of commitment to learn and practice taiji and qigong. Both are self-healing arts. With sustained effort you benefit from better health and well-being. You don’t need a chiropractor or other specialists to fix those occasional cricks in the neck and those sore muscles you get from irregular exercise or repetitive computer motion. The only requirement is that you do them enough. Do them regularly for prevention. These are simple truths about taiji and qigong.

In my class, you can learn very simple qigong sets and taiji basic single moves that you can practice at home and start making a difference in your life almost immediately. If you attend just one 90-minute class a week for three months you’ll know even more that you can employ in your own self-healthcare practice. Even a single qigong set will work. Do taiji single-move exercises, or the whole form regularly for preventing those recurring pains and strains.

You might be perfectly healthy now, but the aging process affects all of us. Taiji and qigong can help you age healthier … more gracefully, if I may say.

"Number One Ancient Chinese Secret"
I like to say that there are 1001 secrets in taijiquan and every one of them is number one secret. Here's one about the Dantian, the area of the abdomen. The dantian ... should move like water, like water in a balloon. The balloon’s walls are stable, yet move with the water, bending like a sapling in the wind, the dantian bends but doesn’t break. It opens and closes, expands and contracts, alive; but the inside is empty except for the waving and crashing of the water in the balloon and the energy in the dantien. Sometimes it's like a balloon that has expanded with air or water; and when the air or water is let out the balloon retains its shape as though it were still full ... yet it is empty. ...TR ... June 23 2008

No Muscle? No Effort!
Old sayings are commonly evoked in the practice of taijiquan. One--"four ounces equals a thousand pounds" can be thought of in a variety of ways. Here is one: endurance results from using the body more efficiently so that the least amount of energy is expended in any effort. So figuring out how to use your body in the most efficient manner is a really worthy goal. The goal is not only is to reach the plateau of no muscle, but the plateau of no effort.

"No muscle” is not a completely correct instruction, rather "let the muscles go" is more accurate. Since the muscles are part of the body, you cannot move without them being engaged in some way. They are as important as any other part although with its own unique function. But you don't need to give them more attention than they deserve, which many people do. You want the muscles to support the movement, not lead. More properly, the deeper structure should lead and the muscles let go, turn, spiral in the spirit of the movement. The perfect whole results as each part perfects it role.

Balance . . . placing your feet in the best alignment with the rest of the body. Ankles are not turned in, pigeon-toed, or splay footed, collapsing and crushed inward; which will be painful as you age.

Alignment . . . learning to align the body in just the right way so that everything is used efficiently. Undue stress is not placed on a single muscle, bone, joint, ligament or tendon. If you’re interested in getting the most efficient motion out of the body, you ultimately want that kind of efficiency from every part of the body.

Practice . . . Stand in one place with your feet a shoulder width apart, facing straight ahead, arms relaxed at the side. Take a moment to orient yourself and then sink down the right leg. When you get to a certain point, maybe where you think you’re about to lose your structure, shift your weight through the hips and waist to the other leg, and sink into it. Don’t over extend, sink just enough to feel the motion of sinking, but also keep some weight in the leg you’re shifting from. Shift up and over like tipping an hour glass over from one side to the other and letting the sand drain through. Now, get a rhythm doing just that, going back and forth, up and down. If you want to incorporate the whole body, including arms, hands, fingers, then you can do any move at all: the tai chi symbol, punch, spiraling circles perhaps. Do whatever style you want, such as lan shou (side punch), or other kinds of punching. Perform all moves by shifting your weight and looking for your central core our of which everything seems to spins out from and around and return to. At the beginning all you can do is try to get a sense of the core whether it’s the center of the dantien or the linear core of the spine. You won’t have a great sense of the core at first. It’ll be vague, foggy; but keep doing the moves with an intention of narrowing the scope of what the central core is and try to get a better view of that by using your powers of visualization and imagination while you execute a continual, rhythmic movement side-to-side. This explanation is a biomechanical-movement approach, something that Susan Matthews talks about a lot and has developed a theory on.

One exercise you can do to become more conscious of the connection your feet have to the ground is to visualize doing qi circles in the bottom of your feet (Qi circles are among the things you learn in beginning tai chi class). Circle around the “bubbling well” while keeping equal weight on the part of the foot where your attention is placed. You’re actually pressing down into the ground. Keep even pressure as much as you can while trying to perfect the circle moving around the soles of the foot, drawing a line or circular image. Try to see how that can make the rest of the body follow through from that initial starting point, that original intention. At some point, your attention has to wave up with the qi in order to get a sense of it. A wave starts from the bottom of the feet (it can start anywhere, perhaps, but for this lesson, begin it at the feet, or perhaps the ground below the feet). It’s a fluid motion that travels through the bones in the foot and ankle, then up the leg and into the hip and waist. How do you keep equal weight of all parts of your foot while you circle around? You just make a circle and your body follows through. Practice doing it a few minutes at a time several times a day.

My Story

Most people start tai chi as a last resort. Figuring out how to reduce chronic pain is very common. They look for tai chi teachers because little else has helped. I had been interested in martial arts for a long time and finally was able to give it a try. I found out that what I really needed was overall better health. It took a while but I found out that tai chi could give me what I didn't even know I needed. I began taijiquan in 1999 after a physical therapist told me she couldn't heal a pulled groin muscle after six weeks of treatment. It had practically stopped me from doing any physical activity. I had been training in karate for more than 2 years. I was 45 years old.

I also did yoga for about eight years, which I started because a chiropractor told me to try it to help heal a severe strain of the sciatic muscle in the lower back. I did that kayaking during a roll. I couldn't sit down without pain for a year!

That's not all, either. I got a hernia while moving a bathtub and had a hernia repair, something I do not recommend. My advice is don't get a hernia. I believe that I got it because I was using my body improperly. I would not have if I had known what I know now about proper postural alignment and use of weight, gravity and leverage. People say use your legs to lift heavy object, but who knows how to really do that properly?

There's more! When I began tai chi I had been suffering from symptoms of Meniere's disease. At unannounced times, I suddenly experienced severe ringing in the ears and extreme vertigo that lasted two or three hours at a time. I often left work early, or just never made it in. I had no idea what to do. A couple of times I got optical migraines where my vision was completely lost. All I could do was lie down for a few hours hoping it would pass. I was miserable. My MD and an eye, ear, nose specialist were of little help. My doctor actually told me, "It'll eventually pass. It's really nothing."

After doing a lot of my own research I somewhat concluded that I was suffering from really bad stress combined with allergies. I got sinus infections two or three times a year. It all just got worse. When I began tai chi I was in bad shape. My posture was poor to say the least. I was so tense that old injuries flared up with the slightest wrong step. I was depressed, too. I couldn't sleep at night for months. I even tried sleeping pills, which I hated doing. Doctors prescribe pills for everything, but I'm overly sensitive to such things and I wonder if they're worth it half the time. Sleeping pills are not all what the commercials promise.

Wow, you might be saying, but there are people worse off than I was. You might be one of them. But that's not me anymore. The first night I went to a tai chi class with my teacher Susan Matthews, I felt better. It took some months of regular practice to get the concepts and principles -- to internalize them as my teachers said -- but I gradually started gaining control over my ailments. I haven't had a sinus infection for years. The Meniere's symptoms are gone, althoug I have to wtch out during allergy season. My groin injury is manageable, so are all of the ankle and knee strains gained from telemark skiing. My posture is transformed, actually. My fellow tai chi classmates remark on the changes. It's pretty amazing, but it's not uncommon. There are many similar stories. Everyone who does tai chi has a similar story of shfting from illness to well being.

If you're interested you should sign up for a weekly class (schedule) and give it a try. I'll try to accommodate your schedule if we can find a location to practice and enough people to form a small group. I'll do a private consultation, too, if you like. In about an hour to an hour and a half, you'll get a fairly good idea of what tai chi and qigong can do for you. Either write an emessage or call 970.749.0891 and let's talk.

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China Camp Notes

November 30 – December 14, 2004
Shanghai and Suzhou, Jiangsu

1/17/2005

“Okay? . . . O-kay!” Master Xu Guo Chang repeated all day long.

“Okay,” I agreed almost as often.

“Okay!” my taijiquan teacher yelled enthusiastically again and again, peering closely with happy eyes. Mauro, the instructor from Italy said Xu Guo Chang was employing a Taoist method of instruction. Training was like child’s play, highly animated and full of clowning.

“Okay? . . . Ming bai?” he would say in his native Shanghaiese, gazing through those questioning, encouraging eyes. “Ming bai?” Understand?

“Ming bai,” I reply, really not sure I understood anything.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” I guess okay, maybe. Get back to me on that; maybe in three to five years.
The truth is that so much was happening inside and outside of me I couldn’t tell the forest from the trees. One piece of understanding blended with others into a cluttered mass. Nevertheless, my teacher was happy, so I went along with his contagious encouragement. It’s all part of the continuing quest to know the self, to see what my teacher sees in me, and what I can see in the art of internal martial arts forms and systems.

My taijiquan training experience with Xu Guo Chang, a traditional Wu Style master, was memorable for me, because he triggered in me an urge to consider the abstractness of taijiquan. Oddly, he instructed us to ignore “abstractions” and open the body to learning after its own fashion. But I believe that by not focusing on the abstract, we received a dose of new insights into it; like seeing a star only by looking slightly away from it. To me the body’s ability and approach to learning is as abstract as the notion that it is the mind that actually moves.

I returned home from China Camp with some vacation time left, so I have spent several days recalling my camp experience and what I have learned; more precisely, what I know I learned and what I am still not conscious of learning. I am still searching the memory of the experience for whatever useful information I can glean. Stored somewhere in the body and mind are small memories that are like little doors into the secrets of internal martial arts. Those moves we did over and over every day for two weeks feel different, now that I am at my usual practice place, the main room of my small cabin in a valley in Southwest Colorado. I sense fresh insights waiting to be discovered, internalized physically and energetically, and perpetuated in memory. With the teacher present I often do the moves because I have to, by rote, often lacking nei jing (internal force) and an jing (invisible whipping force). Here, without the teacher’s urging, I must initiate the moves. I must come up with a motivation on my own. The motivation must come from within.

Learning Tai Chi seems like a slow process. My body doesn’t seem to do what I tell it. However, China Camp and Xu Guo Chang reinforced the idea that it is the mind that we have to change in order for the body to go where it is capable of going. Often, the body is more willing than the mind. The trick is to quieten the yi and allow the chi energy to loosen and flow, even be directed. Sounds simple.

Although I don’t learn with the ease of a child, which would be ideal, I am finding it easier, as my practice progresses, to train my body to shift into postures that are new to it. The key is the yi. It must redirect its attention while also letting go of its spell over the body rather than blocking chi; letting the body go where it is capable of going, where it wants to go intensely.

Now that I have been able to think about my China Camp experience, I have a better sense of what to ask Xu Guo Chang if, or when, I train with him again. In fact, I will be more able to ask relevant questions of anyone I train with. I would ask more about details of form and posture. Where is the “yin”? Where is the “yang”? I will work with them on the terms they are willing to discuss. I got a little information on chi movement and structure from Master Xu, but I was so much in structure that structure corrections were all he could really give me.

Not speaking the same language kept us from having in-depth discussions about internal aspects. Teaching and learning the internal information really requires dialogue–lecture and discussion. But we were without a translator for most of our training time. When we did, our conversations were stimulating. This was one fault of the camp, if you want to look at it that way. Master Xu and we students took it as a challenge and I think we would all agree that it worked out well. Still, there are some things I bet we would all like to ask now that we are home.

We spoke through body language as much as possible, which we universally understood for the most part. Our knowledge of taijiquan was like a matrix through which we could communicate, which helped. We each spoke a dialect of a body language, you could say. Each of us had honed our “ting jing” to some level of refinement. And despite the communication obstacles, we managed to learn the first 26 moves of the traditional Wu Style form and many accompanying applications, as well as several chi na moves that can be incorporated into push hands. Xu Guo Chang prefers chi na to punching, using gravity to unbalance the opponent and throw him. Once he’s down you can finish him off, I suppose. We didn’t push hands much, but did some two-person exercises, including applications of form moves.

The internal aspects were another matter for me. It was difficult to key in on the internal while trying to get the sequence. It occurred to me that learning the sequence of moves requires a different part of the brain than the part it takes to apply the internal principles; even simply tapping into the energetic level has its twists and turns. Two weeks of learning the sequence of moves in the traditional Wu Style form was only a beginning to really knowing the internal foundation of the moves. I realize, or perhaps remember, that daily drilling does eventually get you where you want to be, which is to have a clear understanding of essential internal principles. The “art” is in knowing these martial “secrets.”

Xu Guo Chang and all of the masters graciously offered a wealth of information that we could take home with us. On the very first day, November 2, we divided into about seven groups in that many rooms partitioned off with movable walls set up in a large conference room. Each master and his assistants passed through one room to the other giving one-hour introductions to their particular style. Traditional Wu Style has special characteristics, which Xu Guo Chang elucidated during his hour:

• You have options at all times
• The body has substantial and insubstantial parts
• In structure, each joint junction has equal pressure = song li (sip)
• Everything moves like a chain by your natural weight/force/power (gravity); this relates to his nickname, “The Gravity Man.”
• . . . song (attainment). I’m not sure what this means. Later, I thought it means relaxed, everything in place and working together. He referred to this concept a number of times during training.
• Total relaxation (suè=relax).
• The secret is to “come back to a natural state.” Zhong ding and “natural weight.”
• Running away versus “falling, which is to run away with control to somewhere. (Pu tu pu ti: don’t go against, don’t runaway.)

On the next day, the first full day of training, Xu Guo Chang added other key concepts that he wanted our small class of about seven to incorporate in training. The first is to concentrate on the horizontal axis (or line) that passes through the hips (qua), knees and ankles. He showed us a few basic exercises and had us imitate him as we performed them. Apparently, he wanted us to concentrate on finding our center, or core, as we incorporate intricate attention to our sense of gravity. The simple movements he showed us seemed to be designed to wake the attention to the horizontal axis passing through the hips and the vertical axis along the spinal column and exiting through the perineum.

The “central core” (I didn’t catch the Mandarin word he used) which seemed distinct from dantien, is a “window” to raise your attention to. It is a location, he said. My understanding was the central core was where the vertical axis of the central equilibrium (zhong ding) and the horizontal intersected, but I am not certain that this is what he meant. It seemed that where the horizontal and vertical lines meet is the central core of the body. An astute clarity of that place, or “space,” is key to performing moves gracefully and with power.

We did the traditional Wu Style form slowly in order to cultivate our awareness of, and the ability to utilize, this core and its relationship with the horizontal and vertical axes. Whether in the form, in applications, or in chi na, which we practiced for hours, it was crucial to maintain that sense of core and its limits. I doubt that I achieved this goal, but now that I have had time to think about it and work on it in the privacy of my living room, I feel much closer to understanding.

It didn’t take long to grasp the basic teaching routine Xu Guo Chang ended up using to teach us. It took more effort to figure out other, rather subtle, intricacies that he tried to impart. This was due partly to the language barrier, but it was also due to the unique philosophical approach he took towards taijiquan and life in general. He even looked at the lack of a translator from such a perspective. He suggested that we accept it as a challenge. After practicing taijiquan long enough you attain a sense that is similar to religion, he said. You can achieve an ability that is beyond the regular senses, which is a universal level of communication. It works even though you don’t speak the same language. I assume that Xu Guo Chang believed that he had reached such ability and that he incorporated it in his assessment of our abilities in Tai Chi, and also in communicating to us the knowledge he thought we were ready to learn; ready to grasp . . . even without a translator. Still, we welcomed the challenge to communicate through body language, knowing very well that quality dialogue with Xu Guo Chang would be a much-desired bonus.

His approach usually worked for me, but sometimes the message didn’t come across clearly. Once, he let us feel his rock-hard thigh muscles. I’m sure he intended to do more than just show off his muscles. Without translation I can only imagine what he might have intended; but, I was struck by the control he had over the large mass of muscle on the backside of his upper leg. It went through to the bone. It was virtually impossible to penetrate it with a finger or a fist. I could get only a portion of my leg to harden to any degree at all.

Xu Guo Chang said that body language can be superior to talking. This makes sense, because you can get entangled in meanings. Plus, why rely so much on language to understand what can be understood more deeply by utilizing a sense that exists beyond language–that part of our being that simply and directly knows? I think Guo Chang saw a neediness in us that it was more important in his mind to point this out. His message seemed to be to cultivate this little used, but vital, ability. His attempts to make us aware of this human capacity imbued him with a mysterious quality that tugged at my curiosity. He made other cryptic statements about special abilities that Tai Chi has given him. This captured my imagination. We all have our own little Tai Chi miracles. Once he said: “I have not had much education but I know a lot anyway. If you do taijiquan long enough, knowledge comes to you.” He said his college-aged son and his friends come to him for answers to things even though he has not had much schooling.

I imagine it’s true that once you cross a certain threshold in spiritual development through the practice of Tai Chi, you can communicate at a higher level of understanding without the hindrance of language. Xu Guo Chang shared his thoughts and opinions readily, even to the point of redirecting some questions on technique and proposing philosophical ideas instead. When we did have a translator, his answers became increasingly philosophical rather than technical. He was very quotable. I jotted down some of his comments. They all show his ideas about Tai Chi and life in general as a practice of Tai Chi.

• “Only through observing yourself can you achieve the most natural way of moving,” he said. “Technology has made life too easy and we are losing awareness of the body.” There is a difference between riding a bicycle and riding in a car. On a bike you still have to balance yourself.
• “Take care of yourself so you can help people. . . . Many people do martial arts to fight, but what is the use in it? . . . If you fall off your bicycle after being reckless and you can’t walk, then everyone has to support you. So take care of yourself. A person is not just a person. Whatever happens to you happens to everyone, even people you don’t even know.”
• When he was asked if he utilized any herbs in his personal health care, he said, “Don’t strive for longevity. If you are a good person you will live a long life. If you think only of yourself, what’s the use of a long life?”

When asked about what the “dantien” is doing in a particular move, he said his whole body is dantien; then suggested not to place too much attention on such an abstract concept. I thought this must be the idea until you have acquired enough practice and understanding of other more basic, but necessary, bits of knowledge. He cautioned us to shake off preconceived notions of such terms as “mind,” “chi,” and “zhong ding,” and just do what he told us.

Someone asked about “root” and he replied not to root through the feet, because “you’ll lose structure.” Once you brace yourself, you’ll lose your fulcrum, your balance, or line of the zhong ding. You want only to be weighted.

It occurred to me that the teacher was trying to convey only very basic information. It seemed like a very systematic and organized approach if you were planning to study with him for a few years, but with only 11 to 14 days at our disposal, most of us were looking for as much information as we could absorb, consciously or not, to take away with us.

Even though Xu Guo Chang told us to throw out preconceptions about dantien while we trained with him, he taught us an exercise that seemed to be just for developing sensitivity to the dantien. It consists of standing in place, bouncing up and down lightly just barely raising the heels and simply bending the knees enough to accommodate the up and down (or rolling) motion of the belly. Guo Chang sang a melodic and rhythmic chant while he bounced, almost in a trance-like state. I interpret this to mean that the goal is total relaxation which, once achieved, creates the options that he described on the first day and which you want to have at all times . . . among other things.

In addition to bouncing (for lack of a better term), he taught us other meditative, relaxing exercises. They were warm-ups designed to refine the connection to balance and gravity in our bodies. Tai Chi is the “ultimate” he said. “Every move you do, you want to reach the ultimate.” We didn’t quite understand the term and our translator revised her interpretation to say “limit.” And he said that was correct. You want to reach the limit of your center of gravity. For the exercise, we were to stand, arms in front holding the ball, then rock gently until we begin to fall either forward or backward. This is intended to teach us our “limit” and so that we will know it when pushing with an opponent. He said that in fighting, the winner always finds the other’s limit and knocks him off balance. So it’s important to know your own limits. Sang shi (spelling?): “Embrace your enemy, know thine enemy, become one with him.”

He also told us to go very slowly in the movements. “If you go too fast, even if you achieve it, you don’t really experience it,” he said. “So, do it slowly to experience it.” The ultimate has to be correct, together, and consistent in order to experience it, he said. Going slow is also good for healing, he added.

Lining up the head is the hardest part, he said, suggesting thinking of the process as a string of pearls. One suspended, then the next, and the next, and so on.

The applications that Xu Guo Chang showed us were very useful and authentic. In the end, I left China with enough information to work on for some time to come. It was great to have a chance to go. I liken the experience to a ship from which I have just debarked after a long voyage in search of a new land and now that I have found it a new start lies ahead. Everything is new, brimming with expectation and hopeful optimism.

In our conversation about abstractions, I remarked that mind is another abstract term that was not explained well enough. I have felt for a long time that it seems left up to me to figure out what mind is; this thing that can be directed on and through the body and into space itself. (Chi has seemed more accessible maybe because I expect to feel it physically; but it is abstract, also. Can the mind be “felt”?)

“I mean what is ‘mind’”? I asked Xu Guo Chang. He replied with a scrupulous glare that he knew what mind is.

“Mind is everywhere, so everywhere you look, yi is there,” Poh Kheng, the translator said. When you hit someone, yi is already there.”

Then he described “intention” as analogous to typing words and projecting them on a computer screen or printing them on paper. What is shown on the screen or paper is “fulfilled” and yi is there. The result of the action is the proof that the yi is there, I concluded.

He added that yi is like “a platform.” If you’re on a different plane, you won’t get a connection to something there. This was not clear to me, but seemed valid since the fact that an accomplished martial artist was sharing it with such conviction. What he said had credibility despite my ignorance.

Unfortunately, Xu Guo Chang didn’t elaborate on this notion of mind. I think someone yelled out “Lunch time!” and we broke up for the morning. Maybe someone else can elucidate his meaning more clearly or at least their understanding of it. I do feel an odd familiarity with his descriptions. Employing it into my practice will be challenging and fun. Next chance I get, I will have to remember to ask him how these things apply. Perhaps the abstract notions of dantien and mind escape my pure understanding, but I am gaining new insights and building upon what I have discovered so far. Training really has no end, like a string of pearls that you keep adding to throughout life.

Abstract or not, I still ponder the internal question. Certainly in Tai Chi, your level of achievement is measured by your ability to learn the internal principles while simultaneously learning the surface movements. Early in your training you tend to learn the more superficial sequence of moves and the structure, then when you have them down you begin exploring the internal aspects. Yet the internal principles are really the foundation. The moves you see when someone does the form are merely visible outward expressions of what is happening inside. Most practitioners know this, but many don’t yet have the experience of it, which is ultimate knowledge. The way I see it right now, given my level of experience, is once you get the internal, you will progress exponentially and the more deeply you will go into unraveling the wonderful secrets of taijiquan and internal martial arts.

My goal is just to reach simultaneity and synchronicity–where the parts work as a whole in total harmony, one part communicating with all others. This goal, so often evoked by my teachers, Susan Matthews and George Xu, still reaches mythical proportions in my mind; promises I can’t yet totally rely upon with absolute abandonment, but can still imagine. One such promise, which Xu Guo Chang made is that you could use the mind, “yi,” in such a way that yi surpasses the limits of the body’s capacity to learn. The body is too slow; however, it’s slowness doesn’t have to be a barrier. I have little concept of what shape it would take for the mind to learn and remember what the body also needs to learn and remember; but ultimately, until the body can go the speed of the mind (which I assume is something like the speed of light), the mind will have to go the speed of the body.

The trick is to slow the mind down so that the body has time to learn. Later, you begin to figure out where the mind can best put its energies in order to assist the body in learning. That way, you can eventually solve that speed equation we are so accustomed to accepting as convention–the general rule–that the body goes the body’s speed and the mind has to suffer through it all.

The mind is like a restless energy that happens to be self-aware, yet doesn’t know how to direct itself. The body seems like too small of a thing to contain the mind and its fidgety spirit. After it is all said and done, we’re still left with the most basic question: What are you doing internally in order to move the outside? What is the yi doing?

I would ask Xu Guo Chang and other masters this and other questions such as: What metaphors can you share to describe these actions that words fail to express adequately? Is Chi like water, or is it like air? Both? Is it a ball? Should I feel a ball-like presence? Maybe it is the five elements–water, wind, wood, fire, and metal–taking the essence of one at any given time. Maybe operating all five simultaneously is a mark of another level of mastery.

The restless mind is such a big issue. Martial arts practitioners are familiar with this situation. I suppose someone even invented social order to help control the mind’s wild ruminations. But unless you keep the masses totally ignorant (which of course some leaders futilely try to do) you’ll never control free will, because a free mind is the essence of freedom itself, of creativity, of art itself–the birthright of every human being.

These days, social order looks more like social chaos. Fortunately, these days we know better what we are capable of. All over the globe people are coming up with new ideas that help to improve the well being of humans and nonhumans everywhere. More of us are seeking the consciousness needed to ensure our survival in a universe in which we are increasingly making our destructive presence felt–to the point of sinking the Good Ship Earth while we squabble amongst ourselves over who gets the biggest piece of the ship before it sinks into infinity, into oblivion, back into a state of being in which no state exists, where humans are not even a thought, not even a whisper of a breeze along the cosmic winds of the universe.

I like to imagine that people across the world who are taking up internal martial arts intuit this and realize the value of learning much-needed discipline that can be achieved through martial training. And so here we are, the first participants in the first China Camp, enjoying a unique exchange of knowledge among cultures. After China Camp, I’m more certain than ever that a healthy exchange of knowledge and goodwill is possible among people of different cultures and languages; and that they can come together as friends, teachers and students. And, of all things, for the art of martial encounter. At face value, our teachers and the people of China who we encountered (and who encountered us) are wonderful, sincere people who understand something about human nature and who see a little of that same understanding in us strangers with big noses and beautiful skin tone (yes, the massage therapists around the corner in Suzhou know a good thing when they see it). To be interested in learning martial arts as a common ground for interaction sweetens the pie even more.

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Shanghai in Brief

China Dec. 17, 2004: Hard mattresses and noisy nights out of doors. In the streets below, horns honk, brakes squeal, motors rumble, machines buzz and hammers pound. All of it rolls into a single hum that ebbs and flows, one minute loud, the next quelled like a surf as it recedes and fizzes, before it begins to swell again and coil and crash down again onto the sand. The city momentarily holds its breath before letting it out with abandon. All under the smoggy mist by the sea, as though there were no sky beyond, nor a solar system beyond that. No world news and events, or cataclysmic events, only the immediate pulse of Shanghai City.

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What is "testing"?
March 18, 2008 entry

It's simple: You strike a posture and someone gives you a little resistance so you can test you ability to apply a technique or skill. It could be energetic ... moving qi through your body so your "opponent" can also feel it. It could be structural, focusing your attention on the skeletal components of your body: bones, joints, ligaments, tendons, muscle and so on and testing to see how easy or difficult it is to move you.

In this two-person testing exercise the "opponent" who is giving resistance, tests listening skills with the intention of refining the feedback to your side of the test, according to what they feel happening. Resistance creates a force (mass and its velocity = force). You take in the force and redirect. Don't go against.

Testing is not the one judging the other, or testing in the sense of pass or fail (which a huge mistake I think many current teachers make). If anything it is one judging one's self in a quest for elf-improvement. It is not something you do in order to get a grade, rather it's an opportunity to learn a little more through the experience of trying out what you learned, or think you might have learned. Through the gracious sharing in the learning process, others in your class, are presented a gift as you are. This is an important and universal tai chi principle. Yin become yang and yang transforms back in yin. Opposites attract creating a motion, taiji that comes from of wuji, creating yin/yang. Every move you make replicates this rule. In learning tai chi you find out how poorly the replication is, its outward expression is barely recognizable as being a reflection of the supreme ultimate. the microcosm doesn't resemble the macrocosm because you have gone so long without conscious practice of honing that connection to the macrocosm that you were born with but has faded as you age and experience the demands of life and world that coerce you to forget your origins or any desire to know them.

Resistance is another interesting concept that you can deconstruct for deeper understanding. You don't need another person to give you resistance in order to test yourself. Gravity is another kind of"opponent," a force that meets you and gives you something to press against. Drilling yourself becomes intriguingly fun when you stand in a single posture and move up/down, left/right, front/back. Of course, you can use a tree, or a boulder … things that are bigger than you. You can even use small things. I’ve used a rounded piece of sandstone that fits snugly in the palm of my hands to practice cloud hands. I just roll it around in unison with my dantien, while also spiraling the hips and the rest of the structure.

The act of acquiring of knowledge is a yin/yang dialectic that spirals ever farther into the maze of learning. Very tai chi.

I began studying taijiquan after a physical therapist who had been treating me for a pulled "groin muscle" said after six weeks, "I can't help you anymore. Do tai chi." Susan Matthews was teaching in town at the time. A co-worker who trained with her invited me to come to class one summer evening in 1999. So I went and have studied it regularly ever since. My own study began with one 90-minute class a week. Some nights, it was rather hard to get motivated and go to class, especially after working an 8-5 shift. I made myself go a number of times out of impending sense of guilt if I didn't go. Out of the finality of debilitating physical problems. I just couldn't go through life that way anymore. Within a few months, I was taking two classes a week, and over time, I found myself attending six hours a week and practicing at home a few times a week. I think I simply developed a habit of going to class. It also helped that Susan was very consistent at keeping up. Over the years my practice has grown to a nearly daily regimen of practicing something I've learned and trying out new stuff.

After training this way and attending several annual week-long summer camps and two intensive multi-week study trips to China (George Xu China Camp 2004 & 2007), I think I've cultivated a degree of expertise that allows me to teach fundamental aspects of tai chi. My motivation is to attract more beginners to doing tai chi and build up a community of practitioners with strong commitments to self healthcare through the practice of integrating mind, energy, and matter with natural movement. Whatever your intended application is, the basics must be learned to actually achieve your application goals. Whether you're interested in the martial aspects of taijiquan, or in the health and wellbeing benefits of tai chi, the basics are the same for both.

In my personal training, I work on cultivating energy to do the work while my physical is relaxed, yet stable and powerful. So that's what I try to show students in class. Tai chi and qigong are really made up of exercises done on two levels of activity: physical and energetic. There are more levels, of course, but these are the basic ones. When you learn the moves of the tai chi form, for example, you're learning to move your arms and legs, waist and shoulders and hips in certain shapes and patterns ... the physical or the external; what people see on the surface when they watch you move. The energetic level is the other. What is energy? How do you detect it? How can you direct it? How do you begin to understand it? Learn tai chi. Regain some natural movement by doing the internal training you get from tai chi and qigong. Do the moves, open your mind and your lower back, and it comes back to you, Plus, your body gets some exercise. It takes time.

People practice tai chi in a group setting and alone. Each has its benefits and both are essential for developing skill and achieving the most positive results, whether its for martial application or for better healthier body, mind, and spirit. Group class is a good motivational tool, challenging you to learn in positive ways. In solo training you try out and practice what you learn in class, improving it for testing in the next class.

Why I teach tai chi and qigong

The quality of internal training you get when you learn qigong and taijiquan really depends on the teacher's learning experience, who his teachers are, and on his skill at conveying the key principles and practices associated with qigong and tai chi. It takes a bit of patience to learn certain aspects of tai chi, such as the more so-called "internal" principles. You can get a lot out of simply learning the steps of the form--where to place your feet and arms, and so on. I drill basic moves and the form sequence to get the external training, then I intersperse that with discussion of how the moves are accomplished from internal, energetic perspectives; i.e., how the mind, qi, and body integrate to do a move.

It takes a lot of effort to teach tai chi, but teaching offers a new level of learning ... It's a way of proving to yourself what you know and that you can talk about it at all. I like doing tai chi with others because it offers a different dynamic than training alone. Both are essential for the person who teaches. One kind of learning takes place in solo training. At home, you practice what you learn in class in order to internalize it and build upon it over time. Everything you learn in tai chi is cumulative; like riding a bike. You might think you forgot, but get on one and your body remembers.

In group training you get a chance to test what you think you might have learned in solo practice. The group setting is the social aspect of learning tai chi and qigong in which we learn about sharing the experience of learning. You get new ideas to bring home and work on. Group class is essential for learning, but either way--alone or in a group--you need regular practice over time to keep building up your skills and maintain the health benefits.

Home Practice Notes

After some months of going to class, I realized I wasn't remembering what I was learning very well. So I gave myself the ultimatum of either developing a home practice or stop blowing my money on weekly classes that were little more than a pill that wore off long before the next class. Each class was almost like starting over from scratch. To get my home practice going when I began tai chi classes, I first decided on a specific time and day of the week. I chose Sunday mornings before other demands distracted me. It usually took most of Saturday to rest up and clutter the cluttered mind of the work week. At first, I didn't have an idea of how to start, but I asked myself; "What have I learned in class that appeals to me? What felt good to do?"

Once I picked and few single moves and had been practicing them only a little while, I realized that having a time scheduled and a place picked (also important to do) was overshadowed by the need to have a plan on how to train. A plan evolves into a practice in other words. I didn't get really started at a home practice until I just did things I was more likely to remember from class. I started with a single move and just repeated it over and over, trying to remember the details the teacher talked about.

In my classes, I teach moves and their sequences while describing the internal aspects, which inevitably becomes a question of integrating mind intention, qi, and physical movement (body). In effect, the exercise part of tai chi is training the mind to focus and the energy (qi) to flow. Ultimately, you're training your mind and your qi, and the body simply follows suit automatically. It's rather simple, but most of us have learned a different order to which we are habituated. Learning tai chi is partly about breaking old habits and learning new ways to move: softer on your body, less demanding, regenerative. Energy is generated by releasing energy that is bound up and making it available to do whatever task you have. Tight muscles are the most obvious example of stuck energy. You don't improve balance by muscling your way through moves, you learn it by refining an awareness of your dantien and your central equilibrium. All the muscle Mr. Universe ever wished for can't promise better balance without a greater grasp of your centerpoint and cultivating a greater sense of "whole-body movement." ...

Look for more posts in the future about this and other subjects of interest to me. I hope you find my essaying on them interesting as I find the subject matter.