Even as a child I loved the martial arts. I never truly identified myself with them, but the arts did permeate my life. Amaris & I would sometimes play “ninja classes,” with myself as the teacher. I have memories of telling her to jump banisters and walk rolls of carpet for balance. Apparently, socks on my hands, a towel for a cape, and a bandanna transformed me into a super-ninja. With my friends, I would love to wrestle & box. In elementary school Matt & I would play “swing wars,” using the largest playground swing-sets. We’d get as high as we could and then slam into each other. Whoever was knocked off first would lose. Usually, afterward, we’d tease the older 7th graders until they jumped the fence to fight. (We’d return home laughing and covered in bruises.) While very young my friend Scotty & I would wrestle. I have a memory of discovering that I could simply step into the spot that he was about to step toward, and he’d fall down. When he asked where I’d learned such a trick, I replied that my Dad taught me how to wrestle (a lie). This use of force was fascinating to me; and when I had the chance to experiment upon other kids…well, I turned into a bit of a bully. (Eventually I understood my actions, and this knowledge was the single largest source of shame that I carried around for many years. There was definitely a grain or two of aggression to work through.) My father seemed to have an awareness of my interest, and enrolled me into a Judo school. On the first day, however, the instructor grabbed and threw me to the mat. I had never been taught to fall and felt awful for weeks afterward. Because of that Sensei’s ego & lack of compassion, I was put off from the martial arts for years.
During my life I have studied a number of styles: Taekwondo (Korean), Judo, Jujitsu, Shotokan Karate, American Kenpo-Karate, Hawaiian Kali-Kempo (Japanese), Kali (Filipino), Kajukembo (Mixed), and Taiji Quan (“Tai Chi”) (Chinese). It was fun to learn the different types of movement, and all of the different ways that you could engage your body with a partner. Every culture has produced different methods, different objectives, and they all work. For example, the Japanese have an established system, and a rigid style of movement. They take a student and mold them to fit the system. The Chinese, however, have rigid methods of training, but then mold the system to fit the student. Pretty interesting, eh? But I digress…
For a while I trained with the “Iron Palm” & “Iron Shirt” methods. These are designed to, well, you can probably guess from their names. (Otherwise, a short search on the Internet will give you enough information.) They are forms of “hard/external qigong” training. Without going into lengthy explanations here, qigong is a kind of exercise that makes use of the less obvious & more subtle aspects of our physical/mental nature. (I have studied Qi techniques in great detail, and recommend reading Ken Cohen’s book “The Way of Qigong” for more information.) Anyway, I drove around for years with an Iron Palm bag filled with metal pellets on my lap. Repeatedly pounding my hands into that thing, I wonder what the other motorists thought I was doing? As often as possible, I began training very “hard-style.” What does this mean? Well, falls on bare cement, sparring without gloves or pads, striking wooden blocks instead of a padded bag, etc. For a time, I forced my body to its limit; reasoning that I could push past my illness & fatigue. I wanted to forcibly transform myself into a healthy person. Silly me. :o) Lian & I developed contempt for the majority of martial schools to be found in
My practice methods at this point were completely external and hard in nature. Purely mechanical. I began studying properties of leverage and the “physics” of the martial arts. I was even turning over in my mind an interesting new concept in Thau-dimensional physics which unified time, space, magnetism, gravity and, for some reason, broccoli.
Somewhere in this tale, I began to teach Tai Chi. I was offered the position at a gym and figured that as a martial artist, Tai Chi would be a piece of cake. “An oversimplified, slowed-down, silly exercise for the extremely old.” Right? Unfortunately, that’s how I began to share the art with some eager students. Very luckily, Lian gave me a wonderful birthday present. She took me to study with a Tai Chi (more properly spelled and pronounced Taiji) master named Chen Xiaowang. I didn’t know it at the time, but he is one of the highest-level martial artists in the world. What are the chances that my first real exposure to the internal arts would come from him? Sheesh! I am one fortunate dude. The experiences I had with him changed my life. His qi is incredible! I saw and felt things with him that I had never dreamed were possible within the martial arts. Lian as my witness, I was instantly hooked.
Now, I must admit, that my initial interest was in its martial qualities. I wanted to become a better fighter. This is a very common way for people to get into the internal arts. One of my teachers was once a Hell’s Angel, a bodyguard, and a recognized master of the
Lian, Tai, & I also began to practice some other forms of qigong (like standing posture, gathering methods, etc.). Without understanding what was happening, our lives began to transform. Some of the first tell-tale signs appeared while sparring. At one point, desperate to find trained fighters that liked to box “hard,” Lian and I actually took out an ad to find sparring partners. These people were the toughest that we could find, several of them trained cage-fighters. After a few months of “internal” training, we began to discover that we were hitting too hard. For example, I was putting fighters on the ground with one punch! (This release of power is called a “qi-strike,” but we didn’t understand it until we had lost several of our partners.) Lian & I were also doing occasional damage to each other with tiny, seemingly harmless movements, and had to stop sparring altogether in order to be safe. You’d think that this sudden increase in fighting capacity would have made me excited, but it was another sign of my transformation that I, instead, felt terrible. I hated hurting those people. This compassion was very new for me, and not what I had expected. :oD
[At this point, I feel that I should define the difference between “internal” & “external” methods. However, I just don’t feel like going into all of that. Most of you readers wouldn’t be interested the subtleties, anyway. So, if you are truly confused I recommend reading some books about the subject, including the aforementioned text by Master Cohen. Nothing, though, replaces direct experience with the arts. As one simple example of these concepts, take Western vs. Eastern forms of exercise. (Remember, I was a personal fitness trainer, and so am expert in both methods.) Western exercise works within the system of negative feedback. If you want to strengthen your body, you would lift weights until failure occurs. Basically, you would traumatize your body badly enough so that it exclaims, “Holy crap, I had better get stronger so that this doesn’t happen again!” Then, of course, you change things up and shock your body again and again; as often as possible. Doing this, you drain resources that you probably didn’t have in the first place. Using this model, you always lose more than you gain. Eastern exercise, in contrast, works within the system of positive feedback. For instance, if you’d like to grow stronger you’d increase your level of health, and fill up any drained resources. This may be through diet, rest, breath-work, meditation, healing a relationship, qigong, or anything else that is needed. Then, when your body has renewed itself, you apply a very gentle form of stimulation like taiji. Your body says, “Oh, hey, I’d like to make that even easier; and look, I have extra qi to expend on muscular strength! Let’s do that.” This way, you always receive more than you give. Make sense? It’s very important to recognize that there is a marked difference between “health” & “fitness.” Both are possible, but need to be carefully nurtured. If you wanted to grow a tomato plant, you would water, feed, shade, & weed; not hack at its leaves or pull on the top, hoping to make it grow faster in response. One is an internal soft method; one is an external hard method. Well, sorta; but close enough for jazz.]
Aggression was soon replaced by an interest in the dynamics of harmony & conflict. Not from a religious or pacifist viewpoint, but as one genuinely interested in the practicality of such methods. What sorts of interactions actually deliver the best possible outcome? What would be the highest levels of any martial art? Would it even include physical fighting? One interesting aspect of taiji is that it modifies your way of being in the world. That is, you adjust your qi so that conflict (whether physical or mental) simply doesn’t occur. You find balance beforehand. What does this mean? Well, situations that would normally require you to defend yourself simply never arise. The patterns of mental or even verbal disharmony resolve before they get started. Sound strange? Well, it’s a pretty amazing side-effect. Maybe this would be the highest level of self-defense?
As the desire to fight slowly drained out of me, I noticed that my health was quickly improving. Symptoms that I had grown used to over my lifetime disappeared, and was replaced by a sense of well-being and vibrant health. This thrilled me more than fighting ever had. I didn’t even know that it was possible to feel so great! Without my understanding how, the very reasons that I chose to train with taiji quan began to change. I didn’t care about combat, and only wanted to focus on feeling better. I practiced for hours every day, even in the back of my acupuncture classrooms & clinic. Bit by bit my migraines disappeared, scoliosis gave way to a straight spine, lung weakness, colds & flu vanished never to return. Insomnia, digestive disorders, organ dysfunction, cardiac weakness, inflexibility, skin problems, muscular weakness, body pain, great fatigue, tinnitus, and even dental problems. All cured. (These methods are amazing! If you don’t practice them now, I recommend learning as quickly as you can!)
When I had an interest in learning the Chen-Style Taiji Quan straight sword form, I first spent a long time practicing Chinese calligraphy. The lessons are the same, and they inform each other’s practice. In fact, many of the most revered calligraphers in Chinese history were also the most renowned fencers.
Much sooner than I had expected, I had met all of the goals I had set for the practice of the internal arts. I had started the training to become a better fighter, and then had wanted to develop a healthy body. Where would I go now? Should I even bother keep training? Maybe I should simply put more time into my medical studies & play piano a few times per day? Soon though, during these contemplations, I realized just how deep these internal lessons could go. I apprehended that my learning had only scratched the surface. What other levels of subtle awareness could there be? How much life is there out there to observe? What is the mind truly capable of? What about spiritual or metaphysical concepts that before seemed so silly? (It is now known to science that there are many more dimensions than the classical four. Scientists say that these don’t normally impinge on the world because the extra dimensions are very small and curve in on themselves, and that since reality is fractal most of it is tucked inside itself. This means either that the universe is more full of wonders than we can hope to understand or, more probably, that scientists make things up as they go along. But the multiverse is full of little dimensionettes, play-streets of creation where creatures of the imagination can romp without being knocked down by serious actuality. Sometimes, as they drift through the holes in reality, they impinge back on this universe, when they give rise to myths, legends and charges of being Drunk and Disorderly.) There is so much in this life to explore!
And how about teaching? That is always fun and informative. I’ve become as excited to show this stuff to a student as I am to experience it myself. I love to write articles about the subject & to make DVDs (published in several places), and I am working on a book or 3. I was even the Taiji advisor to Dr. Andrew Weil & his Integrative Medicine program while still in
As time wore on, I would practice a little, learn a little, become more excited, and then learn a little more. This cycle has continued unabated since. It’s so much fun!
…and that’s become the most important lesson for me. To play taiji because it’s FUN! (In fact, in
When I heard the learned astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wandered off by myself,
In the mystical moist night air, and from time to time,
Looked up in perfect silence at the stars.
