Earlier evidence out of UCLA suggested that meditating for years thickens the brain (in a good way) and strengthens the connections between brain cells.
Now a further report by UCLA researchers suggests yet another benefit.
Eileen Luders, an assistant professor at the UCLA Laboratory of Neuro Imaging, and colleagues, have found that long-term meditators have larger amounts of gyrification (“folding” of the cortex, which may allow the brain to process information faster) than people who do not meditate.
Further, a direct correlation was found between the amount of gyrification and the number of meditation years, possibly providing further proof of the brain’s neuroplasticity, or ability to adapt to environmental changes.
The cerebral cortex is the outermost layer of neural tissue. Among other functions, it plays a key role in memory, attention, thought and consciousness. Gyrification or cortical folding is the process by which the surface of the brain undergoes changes to create narrow furrows and folds called sulci and gyri. Their formation may promote and enhance neural processing. Presumably then, the more folding that occurs, the better the brain is at processing information, making decisions, forming memories and so forth.
“Rather than just comparing meditators and non-meditators, we wanted to see if there is a link between the amount of meditation practice and the extent of brain alteration,” said Luders. “That is, correlating the number of years of meditation with the degree of folding.”
Of the 49 recruited subjects, the researchers took MRI scans of 23 meditators and compared them to 16 control subjects matched for age, handedness and sex. (Ten participants dropped out.) The scans for the controls were obtained from an existing MRI database, while the meditators were recruited from various meditation venues. The meditators had practiced their craft on average for 20 years using a variety of meditation types — Samatha, Vipassana, Zen and more. The researchers applied a well-established and automated whole-brain approach to measure cortical gyrification at thousands of points across the surface of the brain.
They found pronounced group differences (heightened levels of gyrification in active meditation practitioners) across a wide swatch of the cortex, including the left precentral gyrus, the left and right anterior dorsal insula, the right fusiform gyrus and the right cuneus.
Perhaps most interesting, though, was the positive correlation between the number of meditation years and the amount of insular gyrification.
“The insula has been suggested to function as a hub for autonomic, affective and cognitive integration,” said Luders. “Meditators are known to be masters in introspection and awareness as well as emotional control and self-regulation, so the findings make sense that the longer someone has meditated, the higher the degree of folding in the insula.”
While Luders cautions that genetic and other environmental factors could have contributed to the effects the researchers observed, still, “The positive correlation between gyrification and the number of practice years supports the idea that meditation enhances regional gyrification.”
The Daoyin Chuan 2012 Workshop with Sifu Fong Ha is tentatively scheduled to occur in August. Friday night and Saturday will be the workshop and Sunday for teacher training. We are tentatively planning on holding the workshop at The Grateful Pose (Yoga Center) at 254 E Pages Ln, Centerville, UT 84014 – Google Maps. This years workshop will be a great experience in a very nice and peaceful environment.
Timothy Booth in the first Standing Meditation Posture
Recently I’ve been doing a lot of standing practice and it came to mind to write an article on what exactly is standing practice (Zhan Zhuang). This is definitely one of the greatest gifts from the internal practices. So simple and yet so powerful. It is a way of developing better balance and alignment, stronger legs and waist, deeper respiration, accurate body mindfulness and tranquility. In “Standing Post” (Zhan Zhuang) one meditates while standing holding certain prescribed postures observing the natural flow of the breath what could be simpler and yet profound in more advance practice. There are several advantages to this over seated meditation in that the mind will remain more alert and one is likely to lose balance if one is not alert. The feet and legs are naturally open and extended promoting free blood circulation and actually improving blood circulation.
In standing meditation the body is always part of the experience and may promote natural body awareness. It may be the ultimate joining of the body and mind in a natural practice that can be as simple or profound as one wishes. The student does not try to do anything with qi we simply become aware of the quality of the qi, where it is blocked or whether it is clear, turbid. smooth or coarse. Internally the qi and breath are moving of their own accord. It could be that we are really learning some the four virtues of being human that are the foundation of any qigong practice. How to sit, stand, lie down and walk, unifying the body and mind savoring what it is to be human.
Standing Meditation has been called “The Milion Dollar Secret” by some. It is as hidden as the air, deeply infused with beauty. Mysterious and tranquil, a jewel in the crown of all qigong practice. We are allowed to bring back wholeness and rediscover lost parts of the body mind continuum joining body, mind and soul. In standing we learn to get rid of energetic blockages to our potential to be human.
Holding the Ball posture
Most ancient cultures had a type of standing practice. It is believed to have developed out of the need for hunters to remain perfectly still for long periods of time in the search for prey which led to an awareness of being in tune with nature and the ability to self heal. They discovered a science and psychology of posture. A lot of this has been documented and researched by Felicitas Goodman Phd. a retired professor of anthropology and linguistics at Dennison University. She has extensively tested some of these postures depicted on cave walls in Lascaux and in African petroglyphs on thousands of students noting their experiences “we found that each posture predictably mediated not just any kind of vision, but a characteristic, distinctly different experience”
Moshe Feldenkrais in his system Awareness Through Movement has also recognized consciousness related aspects of posture. In most of the great religions of the world from Buddhism to Jewish davening to Christianity and Hinduism through the Yoga asanas, postures of prayer are a common aspect. These posture are said to have powerful spiritual benefit.
In china Standing has almost been made into an exact science. Healing aspects and martial applications have been handed down from teacher to student for millennia. In any discussion of Standing Practice one must always mention the established Master Wang Xiang-zhai (1885-1963) who was a Master at all three aspects of Qigong, healing, martial application, and meditation. He believed that Standing had a number of benefits “cure anemia, normalize blood pressure, and make the heart-beat calm and regular.” He said , “In movement, be like the dragon and tiger. In stillness have the mind of the Buddha.” to him the secret of standing was “emptiness” (kong). Emptiness leads to awareness where one can sense blockages and the flow of qi and also realize the nature of the cosmos. “After forty years of experience, I have learned that all true strength arises from a primordial, selfless void, and that this void can be gradually comprehended by paying attention to the small, subtle movements of the body”
Hands Floating on Water
Most students pass through several stages in their practice of standing. Usually the first is a stage of discomfort where everything seems to ache, accompanied by trembling or shaking in the joints. This usually results from weakness in the muscles and tendons perhaps from atrophy. The body is definitely adapting to a greater charge of internal energy. We should just feel this and after a few minutes return to the posture of rest, Wuji. The second level could be called the “Test of Fire”. Energetic knots have been released how to stand and breath become automatic, formerly depleted places are now full of energy. the hands and feet may become warm. the for-head may sweat and the abdomen feels hot. This is a transitory state and can last from a few days to months. The most difficult level is the level of patient growth. This the level where most people become bored and do not persevere and the stage where most benefit is gained if one can persevere. As Wang has told his students “The ordinary is the extraordinary.” We can now focus on the positive ,breathing, feeling and awareness.
In Chen style Taijiquan, there are a set of exercises known as Silk Reeling (ChanSiGong or ChanSiJing). Why are these exercises called "Silk Reeling"? How does the reeling of silk for silk production represent the internal kinesthetic feeling that you are looking to develop in Silk Reeling exercises?
This brief article answers these questions by considering parallels between A) silk reeling for the production of silk and B) Silk Reeling exercise.
When I first learned Chen Silk Reeling, I only had a vague reference point to pulling silk from a cocoon based on a tour I attended of a silk factory in China years earlier. Outside of that, I really didn’t know anything about Silk Reeling.
Now after years of Wujifa Zhan Zhuang and other practices, I think I’ve got a much better feeling for and understanding of Silk Reeling and I’d like to share this with you.
As I wrote earlier, and I am more convinced now than then, that learning and practicing Silk Reeling forms as they are commonly taught is not the same as doing silk reeling:
Notice the method used to discover or find the end of the silk filament. In the same way, an experienced teacher is needed to help you discover and identify for you the feeling of your internal silk filament.
Notice how fine, how nearly invisible, and as she says, how soft is the silk filament from the cocoon! In the same way, the level of feeling sensitivity you must develop in your body to detect, as it were, a single silk filament is far beyond the usual feeling sensitivity level of most people which I’ll say is a feeling level in the range of steel cable and manila rope! In comparison to where I am now, when I started practicing Tai-chi, I was in this feeling level range too.
Years of practicing Tai-chi forms and push-hands really only helped me refine my cable and rope feeling level. It wasn’t until I got into Wujifa Zhan Zhuang, Rolfing and other Wujifa practices that my internal feeling sensitivity developed to a much deeper level. Now, after years of these practices, I am probably now feeling to the level of cotton string.
In the past when my Wujifa instructor adjusted me to help me feel a single silk filament, I would say it felt like nothing. So subtle is the feeling of silk filament when my feeling sensitivity level was at the cable and rope level! Now after more "boiling" and repeated "See? Here is the end of the filament.", I’m developing the internal kinesthetic sensitivity to identify the difference between my string feeling level and silk feeling level!
Just as silk production is complex and labor intensive, so too is the process of developing the internal kinesthetic sensitivity to the feeling level of a single silk filament.
So if you are doing Silk Reeling forms and your level of feeling is steel cable or manila rope, then, if you’re like me and you’re looking to develop internal strength and whole body connectedness, then you might consider putting your "cocoon" in the boiling waters of zhan zhuang and other practices until you develop the feeling level of silk filament.
You need to grasp the end of the silk filament first before you can reel silk! Hope this helps. Happy practicing everyone!
Qigong lessons for children offer a possible way to improve wellbeing at school, according to research carried out in Sweden
OBJECTIVES: Psychologic problems is increasing among pupils and has become a major problem in Sweden as well as in other Western countries. The aim of this study was to explore whether scheduled qigong exercise could have an effect on well-being at school, psychologic distress, self-image, and general stress.
SUBJECTS: Pupils, 13-14 years, were assigned to either a qigong group or a control group.
INTERVENTION: The qigong group had scheduled qigong 2 times a week for 8 weeks.
MEASURES: Self-reported well-being at school, psychologic distress, self-image, and stress were measured pre- and postintervention.
RESULTS: The control group had reduced well-being at school during the semester and the qigong group was stable. The qigong group reduced psychologic distress and stress, and had a tendency to improved self-image, whereas no changes were found in the control group. Self-image explains 47% (R(2) = 0.47) of well-being at school, and stress explains 29% (R(2) = 0.29) of psychologic distress.
CONCLUSIONS: Scheduled qigong, meditative movement, is a possible way to improve well-being at school.
Yang Lu Chan is undoubtedly the most well known Chinese martial artist in the world. The story of his obtaining the secret art of taijiquan in the remote village of ChenJiaGou and his fame as “Yang the Unbeatable” (Yang Wudi) are common stories amongst taiji players the world over. Yang Lu Chan’s renown comes as little surprise when we consider that the art he created – Yang Style TaijiQuan – is the most popular form in the world today and is practiced all around the globe. What is more surprising is that he made a little known Chinese family art into a common exercise practice in America in less than one hundred years.
The familiar story of Yang Lu Chan being challenged by the Emperor’s Head Guard presented him with the opportunity for lasting fame overnight. It also offered ruin as quickly if he lost. Yet to prevail would not mean peace, for the Imperial Guard would have lost face and could never have let the Yang family rest. The Master reasoned the only way out, preserving his reputation as “Unbeatable” yet avoiding retribution, was to fight to a stalemate. To do this Yang felt a fighter’s skill must be three time greater than his opponents. History records that the bout did indeed end with a draw.
Master Wang executes zou (elbow)
That major obstacle over come, another fell in Yang Lu Chan’s path. The Imperial family decided Yang would teach them his art. Today it is difficult to see how this created a problem for the Master. But China’s rulers at the time were Manchu’s from the North. The Chinese thought of them as invaders and outsiders. Patriotism in mind, Yang did not want to give his art to outsiders. Yet an Emperor’s wish is dangerous to deny. So Yang Lu Chan created a New Yang Style, similar in posture to the Chen family’s style, but leaving out many parts of his personal style. This was the beginning of what we now know as the Yang Jia (Yang Family) Mi Chuan (Hidden Tradition) or Lao (Old) and Xin (New) Yang styles. One style kept within the family and the other open to the public.
Later when Yang Lu Chan’s sons , Chien-ho and Ban-ho, and Grandson, Chen-fu began to teach all Chinese they secretly continued this two form tradition out of necessity. For if the aristocracy learned of Yang Lu Chan’s earlier deception, trouble would soon arrive. Many martial artists (particularly non-Yang stylist) claim that the New Yang Style is useless martially, and that Yang Lu Chan purposely made it so. This claim is completely without basis as even a quick review of Chinese martial history and contemporary masters shows. Yang Lu Chan’s grandson, Yang Chen-fu never studied the older MiChuan form, yet was well known as a boxer. Many of Chen-fu’s students, notably Chen Wei-ming and Cheng Man-Ch’ing, are taiji legends today. And America’s most well known exponent of taijiquan’s martial component, William CC Chen, studied the New Yang Style form exclusively.
Yet what then remains of the Yang tradition and what does the MiChuan form hold that the New form lacks? Amazingly the Mi Chuan part of the Yang style was within one teacher of extinction. The story of its preservation is typical of the twists and turns of Chinese martial history.
Master Wang executes ban (twist)
Yang Lu Chan had long been dead when his son Chien-ho decided to pass the secret art outside the family for the first time. In that era reputations were made through challenges not workshops. Yang Chien-ho once had a bout with a master from the ZiRanMen (Natural Style School), Du Xing-wu *, which had been a draw and remained unsettled. A student of Du’s decided to re-challenge the Yang family for his teacher. This student’s name, Wan Xing-wu, was fast becoming known in China as he traveled making and winning challenges.
When Wan arrived at the Yang family training center, the students inside were all concerned that they would be called upon to go out and face this challenger. As they stood in the court yard looking at each other one spoke up, Zhang Qin-lin. “Okay, I’ll go see what Wan wants,” said Zhang and he went out the gate.
Master Wang practices dalu with student
To everyone’s amazement he returned in a few minutes unhurt and Wan was gone. Zhang told them Wan had “asked for a lesson so he could learn of the Yang style” (the polite way of issuing a challenge). To which Zhang agreed. Knowing that the ZiRanMen fighters were particularly good with their feet, Zhang was on his guard when Du began with a right kick. Zhang swept it to the side and threw his punch into the opening. Wan at the same time also threw a strike and their hands collided. Wan immediately stopped and bowing shouted “Gao Ming (great)!” Zhang assumed Du’s wrist had been so hurt that he could not continue.
Zhang at that time had been studying the New Yang Style with Yang Chen-fu. Chien-ho, having seen Zhang’s loyalty and love of his teacher called him into his personal quarters to look him over. Chien-ho noticed that Zhang truly had the body of a martial artist. He was short and heavy with hands and feet that were twice as big as normal. He had ventured to the Yang family’s home at the age of fourteen after his parents death to pursue his love of martial art. Chien-ho seeing this decided to secretly teach Zhang the MiChuan form never before seen outside the Yang family.
Master Wang performing a movement from the Yangjia Michuan Taiji Sword form Taipei, Taiwan, 1971
Zhang Qin-lin was later to become famous by winning the All China Fighting Championships in 1929 in the unarmed division. T.T. Liang (Cheng Man-ch’ing’s senior student) described Zhang as having amazing abilities. During the Second World War, Cheng ran into Zhang in Nanjing. They had both studied under Yang Chen-fu and the younger Cheng must have wanted to test himself and challenged Zhang to push hands. Liang described the encounter with a wave of his hand, “Zhang just pushed him down.” The story goes that Cheng bowed to Zhang and studied push hands with him for nine months. In the end, Cheng challenged Zhang to a fight and was knocked out.
What made Zhang so strong? Liang said “He learned something in the mountains from a Taoist.” It was Zhang’s Taoist lifestyle which lead him to choose a quiet life instead of one teaching martial arts. In all Zhang only taught seven students (Cheng Man-ch’ing, Wang Shan-zhi and Li Yun-long of Hebei, Hu Yao-zhen, Liu Zhi-liang, Su Qi-geng and Wang Yen-nien of Shanxi) . Of these seven only one remains alive; Wang Yen-nien living in Taiwan teaches the MiChuan Taijiquan.
Wang was able to study with Zhang only after he received an introduction from his father who was studying Taoist Mediation at the same Dao Guan (Taoist study center) as Zhang. Today at 86 Wang is the last and youngest of Zhang’s students. No one knows what ultimately became of Zhang Qin lin.
Du Xing-wu later became Sun Yet-sen’s personal body guard.
By Scott M. Rodell Originally published in Inside Kung-Fu magazine and republished in the Ultimate Guide to T’ai Chi, 2000
When most people think of taijiquan (tai chi chuan), the first image that comes to mind is one of individuals moving in slow, peaceful silence, their minds and bodies in a state of meditative relaxation. The powerful strikes and skillful parries of “Yang the Unsurpassable,” the foremost martial artist of Beijing in the mid-19th century, are a far less common association. Yet taijiquan (tai chi chuan) is no less a martial art than a systematic method for promoting health, relaxation, and meditative calm.
In the United States today, the “civil” aspect of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) (health, meditation, and relaxation) has generally been emphasized. Indeed, some practitioners have completely neglected the martial aspect of the art. Yet this reveals more about the preferences – some would say the errors – of modern practitioners than it does about the limitations of the practice. For taijiquan (tai chi chuan) explicitly aims to balance the civil and martial aspects of human existence, developing both to their highest potential simultaneously. Even for practitioners who are not primarily interested in building martial skills, focusing exclusively on the civil aspects of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) is contrary to the spirit of the art. In the words of Yang Chengfu, the turn-of-the-century martial arts genius from whom many of today’s most popular taiji forms are descended: “Learning self-defense applications is indispensable in taijiquan (tai chi chuan). Students who are primarily interested in exercise must also study applications.”
Qing officials burning opium
Why, then, do so many modern practitioners fail to acknowledge the martial aspects of taijiquan (tai chi chuan)? Indeed, why are so many only vaguely aware of the very existence of taijiquan’s martial side? To a large extent, the answer lies in history.
The Origins of Taijiquan
The historical roots of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) are ó to commence the story with a shameless cliché ó lost in the mists of Chinese history. Martial arts lore attributes the creation of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) to the legendary taoist saint Zhang Sanfeng (Chang San Feng), a figure whose dubious historicity is evidenced by the enormous certainty about when he actually lived. According to the myth, the art was picked up and developed by Wang Zongye (Wang Tsung Yueh), another figure about whom little concrete historical information is available, and to whom astounding feats of martial prowess have been attributed.
Taiji emerges from the fog of myth into the (still somewhat dim) light of history in the Chen village in Henan province in the late 18th century. The Chen clan practiced a martial art ó known as Chen boxing ó that resembled modern taiji in some respects, while differing from it significantly in others. Most obviously, Chen boxing retained elements of the “external” or “hard-style” martial arts that have been discarded in the subsequent development of taijiquan (tai chi chuan): sudden changes of speed, shouts, high kicks, leaps, and so on.
Chen boxing emerged in a time and a place where martial arts were practiced not for sport or self-cultivation, but as a practical means of self-defense in a violent social milieu. Henan and its neighboring North China provinces of Hebei, Shandong, and Shanxi were home to a strong martial tradition, for a variety of historical and social reasons. First, they lay in the path of repeated waves of barbarian invasions from the north, the latest of which ruled from Beijing as the Manchu, or Qing (Ching), dynasty. Second, the area was riven by clan and sectarian rivalries which often turned violent. Third, the region was rife with banditry and crime. Barriers to class mobility and the practices of polygamy and female infanticide had created a huge surplus of destitute, single, and alienated young men; to many of them, the attractions of a swashbuckling life of crime and pillage proved irresistible.
The factors contributing to endemic violence in North China grew worse throughout the 19th century, as the corrupt and declining Qing dynasty proved increasingly unable to provide a modicum of stability in the face of swelling waves of rebellion and unrest (such as the Taiping rebellion of 1850-1864), not to mention the encroachment of new “barbarian” hordes from Russia, Japan, and the West. It was an unwise traveler indeed who took to the roads of North China at the time without an armed escort ó or at the very least, a sword of his own and the skill to use it effectively.
Yang Luchan
It was in this time of social breakdown that Yang Luchan (1799-1872) of Yungnien county in Hebei province traveled over 400 kilometers to the Chen village to study the Chen masters’ renowned art. Yang is the pivotal figure in the development of modern taijiquan (tai chi chuan). Not only did he initiate a softening of the Chen style that eventually resulted in the elevation of the civil aspect of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) to a position of equality with the martial aspect, but without Yang, it is possible that taijiquan (tai chi chuan) never would have become widely known outside of the Chen clan. The millions today who benefit from the practice of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) have Yang Luchan to thank, for it was he who initiated the widespread dissemination of the art.
Yang Luchan (1799-1872)
Reliable information on Yang Luchan is scanty, even though he lived well within what Westerners regard as the modern historical period. Certainly, far more is known about contemporaneous Western figures of comparable historical import. The contrast arises because, in two important respects, Chinese attitudes toward history differed significantly from those in the West until well into the 20th century. First, Chinese history in Yang’s day was written by and about a literate elite. Despite some lingering questions about his social status, it now appears certain that Yang was of peasant origin, and thus not considered a worthy subject for historical inquiry. No matter how great his achievements, Yang was doomed by the accident of his birth to always be regarded as a “hired hand” by the gentry, and therefore outside the scope of respectable written history.
Thus, most of our information about Yang Luchan comes from oral and informal historical accounts, much of it transmitted by disciples of Yang family taijiquan (tai chi chuan). This brings us to the second distinctive feature of the traditional Chinese approach to history: in such quasi-historical accounts, fact and myth tend to be blended in unknown proportions. The greater the real achievements and the more distant in time the figure in question, the greater the element of myth. For example, taijiquan (tai chi chuan)’s legendary founder Zhang Sanfeng is credited in 19th century writings with being “seven feet tall,” and “able to cover a thousand miles in a day” ó a feat which, if literally true, would require maintaining racehorse speeds for 24 hours without rest! Even a source as recent as Yang Chengfu’s 1934 training manual, Complete Principles and Applications of Taijiquan, inserts descriptions of “historical” incidents that are dubious or obviously false ó such as a dialogue between the author and his grandfather Yang Luchan, who died over a decade before Chengfu’s birth. Such fabrications do not reflect an intent to mislead the reader so much as a cultural disposition to honor revered figures of the past, and to stress timeless ideas and principles over literal fact.
Thus, accounts of Yang Luchan’s life, and particularly of his years at the Chen village, are informal and inconsistent, and they tend to contain a generous portion of myth. The extent to which these accounts differ on specific points is so great that confidently reconstructing the details of Yang’s apprenticeship under the Chen masters is impossible. According to the most credible accounts, Yang went to the Chen village as a young adult and stayed for well over a decade, possibly two. However, some dissenting accounts have Yang travelling to the Chen village as a child. There also appears to be a distinct possibility that Yang was sold as a bond servant to the Chen clan, although some accounts insist that he sought out the Chens of his own free will. Most accounts agree that he left the Chen village on good terms; but even here, some sources disagree, maintaining that he stole away by stealth with the Chens’ secrets. Another major discrepancy concerns the question of whether Yang learned the Chen family art primarily by spying and solo practice, and was accepted as a student by Master Chen Chang Hsing only after displaying his prowess in combat against Chen’s senior students; or whether he was accepted as a student after several years of loyal service to the Chen clan, and learned the art in the usual student-teacher context. Some accounts even have Yang disguising himself as a mute beggar to weasel his way into the inner circles of the Chen clan.
Two common elements emerge from these various accounts. The first is the difficulty experienced by Yang in gaining instruction from the Chen masters, and his need to spend many years in the Chen village before learning enough of the art to venture out on his own. Taken in the context of the times, this is not surprising. The Chens evidently had a fighting style that worked ó it was widely renowned and respected, to the extent that martial arts enthusiasts such as Yang from distant regions were willing to go to great lengths to learn it. Considering the practical value of a superior fighting system in such dreadful times, the Chens were understandably loath to disseminate its secrets outside of their own clan. Consequently, an outsider such as Yang would no doubt have had to display extraordinary perseverance, skill, and dedication to the Chen clan to have any hope of reaching high-level instruction; to establish such credentials would naturally involve an extended period of time.
Guangping city where the Yang family lived, was a battleground during the Taiping and Nien rebellions.
The second common element among the otherwise widely varying accounts of Yang’s sojourn in the Chen village is that all agree Yang was there to learn to fight. While any martial art claiming kinship with modern taijiquan (tai chi chuan) would have had to contain some of the spiritual, meditative, and medicinal elements emphasized by current practitioners, the Chen family art was esteemed first and foremost as a practical fighting system, and this is what attracted Yang to it. In fact, the emphasis remained squarely on the martial aspect of the art throughout Yang Luchan’s lifetime, as well as those of his two sons, Yang Qianhe (Chien Ho) and Yang Panhe (Pan Ho). These early masters did not neglect the civil aspect of taijiquan (tai chi chuan); but circumstances did not allow them to adopt the passive attitude toward development of its martial applications that prevails among many modern enthusiasts.
After his return to Yungnien, the historical facts about Yang Luchan come into better focus. One of Yang’s first students and an early patron was Wu Yuxiang (Wu Yu Hsiang, 1812-1880), a local aristocrat and an accomplished martial artist in his own right. Through Wu and his brother Ruqing (Ju Ching), Yang was introduced to influential patrons of the martial arts within the Manchu nobility in Beijing, ending up as a private martial arts instructor to a number of noblemen and a trainer of imperial soldiers in various military academies and institutions.
During his time in Beijing, Yang gained a reputation as perhaps the foremost martial artist of his day, earning the title “Yang the Unsurpassable.” While accounts of Yang’s exploits through his middle and late years continue to be highly embellished, we have no concrete reason to doubt the bottom line that they all share: after his return from the Chen village, Yang met an endless series of challenges from renowned martial artists seeking to capture his great reputation, and never suffered a single loss. While all martial arts styles have their tales of an invincible forebear who defeated all comers, it is interesting that no high-profile martial arts style claims a predecessor who triumphed over Yang Luchan. His training days in the Chen village aside, Yang Luchan may well have gone to his grave without tasting defeat in a martial contest.
The Second Generation: Yang Qianhe and Yang Panhe
A Boxer Poster. Second generation teacher Yang Qianhe and his son Yang Chengfu all lived through the Boxer Rebellion, 1900
In the years following Yang’s return from the Chen village, taijiquan (tai chi chuan) developed along divergent paths. Yang’s student and patron Wu Yuxiang, his appetite whetted by Yang’s instruction and example, went on to train directly under a Chen master, Chen Qingping, and to develop a form sufficiently different from Yang’s to be classified as a separate style. It was Wu who later “discovered” (and very possibly authored) the core taijiquan (tai chi chuan) literary classics attributed to the legendary figures of Zhang Sanfeng and Wang Zongye. Wu’s style is today generally known as the Hao style, to distinguish it from the better-known “new” Wu style, created much later by Wu Qianquan (1870-1942), who learned the art from a student of Yang’s older son, Panhe. Another more-recent derivative of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) is the Sun style, created Sun Lutang (1861-1932), whose lineage extends back to Yang Luchan indirectly, through Wu Yuxiang and his students. Thus, of the major existing styles, all save the Chen style itself are in some way descended from Yang Luchan.
Yang Luchan had two sons who carried on the martial tradition of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) after his death. Both were subjected to exceedingly rigorous training under their father from a very early age, went on to achieve the highest level of skill, and earned their keep as martial arts instructors to the military and civilian elites of the Qing dynasty. However, their dispositions were famously different. Yang Panhe (1837-1892), who inherited his father’s nickname, “The Unsurpassable,” was renowned for his brutality with students and opponents alike, and failed to win much of a following ó although one of his limited circle of students occupies an important place in the historical development of taijiquan (tai chi chuan): Quan Yu (1824-1902), father and teacher of “new” Wu style founder Wu Qianquan. Panhe’s own son declined to follow in his father’s footsteps as a martial artist, and Panhe’s personal style remains a matter of some speculation. By contrast, Yang’s younger son, Qianhe (1839-1917), was an affable and popular teacher who attracted many students, a number of them of the highest caliber. Yang Qianhe was therefore the primary channel through which Yang Luchan’s art was conveyed to future generations.
The Third Generation: Yang Chengfu
Yang Qianhe had two sons, Shouhe (Shou Ho, 1862-1930) and Chengfu (1883-1936), both of whom ascended to the loftiest peaks of martial arts mastery. Of the two, Chengfu is of greater importance in the development of the art. Like his uncle Panhe, Yang Shouhe had a reputation for roughness that limited his appeal as a teacher, and ultimately reduced his influence on the art’s development. Chengfu, however, inherited his father’s gentle disposition, attracted many students, and became a pivotal figure in the history of taijiquan (tai chi chuan).
Despite living until well into the 20th century, Yang Chengfu remains a larger-than-life figure in every sense. Tipping the scales at 300 pounds and notorious for his carousing, Chengfu studied taiji with relative indifference until the advancing age of his father caused him to awaken to his responsibility for preserving and transmitting the family art. Once committed to mastery, Chengfu made such progress and reached such a high level of skill that, despite his lack of social graces, he became arguably the most respected and sought-after martial arts master of his generation. When the State Physical Culture and Sports Commission of the People’s Republic of China decided in the 1950s to promote a standardized taijiquan (tai chi chuan) form to bring some order into the chaos of proliferating forms and styles, it was Yang Chengfu’s form to which they turned.
It was also under Chengfu that a movement toward greater stress on the civil aspects of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) is first apparent. While the styles of his brother, father, uncle, and grandfather retained hard-style elements inherited from Chen boxing, Chengfu’s style was notable for its external softness and relaxed postures. This softness could be quite deceiving to challengers, whom Chengfu regularly thrashed with reputed ease and, evidently, also with great courtesy. It was with Chengfu’s style that the description of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) as “steel hidden in cotton” or “a bullet in cotton” began to be heard. Thus, while Chengfu continued to teach taijiquan (tai chi chuan) as a martial art, he was also first of the Yang style masters to explicitly stress the elements of softness and relaxation that figure so prominently in the civil aspect of the art.
A Boxer during the 1900 Rebellion in Beijing.
Again, the reason for this shift in emphasis can be explained, at least in part, by considering the circumstances in which Yang Chengfu taught. Chengfu’s teaching career was short, as he was not a martial arts prodigy, and died at the age of 53 ó the health benefits of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) practice perhaps being insufficient in the end to offset the effects of his hard-drinking lifestyle. His teaching career was therefore confined to approximately two decades prior to his death in 1936.
Now, nothing could be further from the truth than to claim that the chaos and violence of China’s 19th century had subsided in Yang Chengfu’s day, or even that the situation was changing for the better. However, solo martial arts were becoming an increasingly impractical means of self-defense. Guns and other Western military technologies had become common in China, and violence was increasingly taking the form of large-scale conflict among national or ideological entities, rather than small-scale banditry or clan feuds. Thus, as Douglas Wile argues in the insightful first chapter of his compilation of Lost T’ai Chi Classics from the Late Qing Dynasty, Chinese martial arts in the late 19th and early 20thcentury began to take on more of their modern character as a means of promoting self-discipline, health, and personal strength, rather than as a practical set of combat skills. This is not to say that the link between martial and military arts was completely severed; as Wile notes, skill in martial arts continued to be prized among military elites well into the era of modern military technology ó but more for the sake of demonstrating these elites’ superior power, competence, and discipline vis-à-vis the rank-and-file than for the sake of learning techniques that practitioners regularly expected to use in combat.
TaijiQuan Comes to America: Zheng Manqing
A list of Yang Chengfu’s senior students would read like a who’s-who of prominent Yang style masters of the early and middle 20th century. Yet even in this elite company, the name of Zheng Manqing (Cheng Man Ching) stands out. Zheng’s towering reputation rests on several foundations, one of them being his high level of martial skill. However, Zheng is better remembered as the figure whose practice, teaching, and writing brought the fusion of the civil and martial aspects of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) to its highest expression. Zheng was arguably the first ó and certainly the most articulate ó master to explicitly set about the task of combining the major elements of Chinese philosophy, medicine, spiritual discipline, and metaphysics with the practice of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) as a martial art. Yet most ironically, given Zheng’s own martial prowess, Zheng’s success in achieving this fusion laid the foundation for the modern tendency to downplay, neglect, or even dismiss the martial aspect of taijiquan (tai chi chuan).
Zheng was also the man who brought taijiquan (tai chi chuan) to America. In 1965, Zheng set up shop in New York City, teaching his first students at a tiny hole-in-the-wall school in Chinatown. By this time, he had already taught a generation of Taiwan’s finest taijiquan (tai chi chuan) practitioners, including three well-known masters who later followed their teacher to the new world: Ben Lo, T. T. Liang, and William Chen. Zheng had also taught his first American student before his move to New York: Robert Smith, who arrived in Taiwan in 1959 and spent three years there, researching and learning the various Chinese fighting arts. Smith judged Zheng’s taijiquan (tai chi chuan) to be the most sophisticated of the dozens of styles to which he was exposed. By the time of his death in 1975, Zheng had trained a generation of first-rate American taijiquan (tai chi chuan) practitioners at his New York school, many of whom continue to teach and disseminate Zheng’s art to this day. While other styles of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) have made inroads in the United States in recent years, the Yang style remains the most widely-practiced variant, and Zheng Manqing’s form remains the most prominent of the Yang style forms. Further, practically all Yang-style practitioners in the United States as well as many practitioners of other styles have been influenced by the ideas and example of Zheng Manqing, whether directly or indirectly. It is difficult to overestimate Zheng’s influence on taijiquan (tai chi chuan) in America.
Postscript: The Martial and the Civil
Among the prominent followers of Zheng Manqing in the United States, some have continued to carefully balance the martial and civil aspects of taijiquan (tai chi chuan); William Chen, a wushu sparring champion in his native Taiwan in 1958 who continues to teach in New York City, remains at the forefront of this group. But another, arguably larger group of American taiji teachers has chosen to place almost exclusive emphasis on the civil aspect, in some cases taking their students no further than fixed-step push hands or even, in some cases, no further than stylized push-hands drills. (Fixed-step push hands, while an indispensable component for building practical self-defense skills, is inadequate in itself for fully developing such skills, and must be augmented by moving-step push hands, da lu, applications drills, and, ideally, sparring practice.) Even more surprising, many modern teachers of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) eschew two-person exercises altogether, focusing exclusively on the form and solo exercises.
Zheng Manqing, whether intentionally or otherwise, left the door open for this shift to a disproportionate focus on the civil aspects of the art. While cannily balancing the martial and civil components in his own life and practice, Zheng’s writings often tend to emphasize the spiritual, meditative, and medicinal aspects of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) (although the martial aspect was never absent in his works). Further, when teaching in New York, Zheng adopted a relatively passive attitude toward the development of martial skill among his students. This has led some to conclude that martial skill is developed in taijiquan (tai chi chuan) through a process of “osmosis,” whereby diligent practice of the form and fixed-step push hands over a long period of time subconsciously instills this skill in the practitioner’s mind and body. Whether this reduced emphasis on the martial aspect reflected a shift in Zheng’s own philosophy in later life or a generous concession to the expectations of his American students (who were largely youngish individuals drawn from the ranks of New York’s 1960s subculture, many of whom shared an ideological commitment to non-violence), it became a hallmark of Zheng’s teaching, and the teaching of many of his disciples and followers.
It remains an open question whether this passive approach yields usable martial skills after a lengthy period of intense practice. What is beyond question, however, is that such an approach is an extremely inefficient way to develop these skills, if that is one of the practitioner’s goals. Moreover, Zheng did not develop his own sublime martial skills by such a curiously roundabout route. Despite Yang Chengfu’s concern for incorporating the civil element of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) in his teaching, Yang was unambiguously a teacher of martial arts; Zheng himself was knocked unconscious by his teacher on more than one occasion.
Is there any harm in downplaying the martial side of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) in this way? Surely, it would be ungenerous for taijiquan (tai chi chuan) martial artists to begrudge the dissemination of their art among those who do not aspire to martial proficiency. Indeed, many modern practitioners of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) including some serious ones are simply not interested in the martial aspects of the art, and may not have been drawn to it in the first place had they been aware of the centrality of the martial element in its history. Considering the enormous benefits of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) in the areas of health and relaxation, it is surely better that such individuals are offered the opportunity to study a strictly civil version of taijiquan (tai chi chuan).
However, students of purely civil taijiquan (tai chi chuan) should at least be aware that they are learning a truncated version of the art, and should at least have the opportunity to study the martial aspects, should their growing skill and interest in taijiquan (tai chi chuan) eventually turn their attention in this direction. Teachers who do not provide their students with this awareness and opportunity are therefore doing their students a disservice. Moreover, for individuals who are interested in martial arts, taijiquan (tai chi chuan) offers a style that is arguably unique in the extent to which it explicitly develops health, relaxation, and spiritual insight along with fighting skills. It is extremely unfortunate if such individuals lack the opportunity to study taijiquan (tai chi chuan) in its more comprehensive and traditional variant. The disassociation of taijiquan (tai chi chuan) from its martial component has reached the point in the United States today where many individuals with an interest in pursuing martial arts study may not even consider taijiquan (tai chi chuan) as an option. Both from a historical perspective and from the perspective of the individuals who miss the opportunity to study a martial art that ranks as one of the great achievements of Chinese culture this is an irony of the highest order.
The Tai Chi Player operates on the concept that there is a life force coursing through him/her, and that it can be cultivated. This life energy is called qi(chi). A person has the ability to transform or alchemize what is called jing, or essences such as food and water, saliva, hormonal secretions, air, into chi. The chi flows through the body, and when it flows freely, we are healthy. There is an added alchemy that can take place, in which chi, through advanced and disciplined practice, becomes shen, or spirit. This advanced alchemy cannot be forced, but happens in time, through the practice of qi gong, meditation, and tai chi. It is akin to spiritual development, enlightenment, and a powerful inner strength.
The tai chi forms themselves, practiced slowly, are a type of chi kung. And there are many set qi gong forms that one can learn. One of the basic and nicest sets is the Eight Pieces of Brocade(You can see this on my YouTube channel for free–just click on the linkup top for my youtube channel). Other sets I have practiced are the Tai Chi Breathing exercises I learned rom Master Leungh Shum, Wuji qi gong, and the chan ssu chin silk reeling exercises. All are designed to open the joints and promote the cultivation of and free flow of chi.
In taoist meditation, while there are several different ways to meditate, the primary focus of taoist meditation is on the dan tien, or energy center located in the center of the body a bit below the navel. One imagines the jing simmering, then steaming, the steam rising up the back channel, condensing at the palate, and circulating back down the front channel back to the dan tien.
There are also two important visualizations. The microcosmic orbit described above, and the macrocosmic orbit, visualizing chi moving through the entire body(chi knows its own path but you can visualize the paths). Dan tien rotation is good practice also to cultivate chi. Imagine an orb in the dan tien rotating vertically, back down front and up again in a circular motion. Sideways rotation is also good, as if you are using a hula hoop.
Once you are familiar with traditional forms, I encourage you to be spontaneous and creative. Start in a posture like horse stance and raise your palms. Feel for the energy, then allow yourself to be moved as opposed to moving. Do you discern the difference? Keep trying. It’s fun and good.
Finally, it is important to note that in taoist and tai chi practice, the player can take in universal chi and earth chi. These sources of chi are infinite. Simplest(but not so easy) way to do it is in standing meditation, seated in your stance, arms in front of your body very rounded, and palms, instead of each pointing to the crows nest(divot below your collar bone), slightly pointed up for universal chi, or down for earth chi. It is amazing what a difference just a subtly change makes.
