Ghosts and Demons!

As I said yesterday, perhaps our most defining characteristic as human beings is our ability to make commitments. But such an observation brings with it the reality that we can make commitments to things which are not real, or not true. At one extreme we can make vague wishy-washy commitments, and at the other extreme we can swear an oath in blood to repeat and maintain a lie.

Enter Yin Spirits.

A clear strong commitment can't be made when a previous commitment is in conflict with it. If the previous and now conflicting commitment is vague, irrational, or desperate, Daoists would call it a ghostly commitment. Lingering ghostly commitments tend to dilute new commitments and thus create more ghostly commitments over time.

Where do weak commitments come from in the first place? What is a ghost or a demon? To answer those two questions I'm going to have to ask another question first.
What happens when we die? From a Daoist point of view there are five possibilities; we become a god, a ghost, a demon, an immortal, or a supportive ancestor.

At the moment of death everything which is subtle and light rises upward to join with heaven; and everything gross, heavy and thick sinks downward and becomes one with earth. The only problem is that this de-polarization can take a while to complete. The stuff that makes us what we are does not disperse immediately.

Usually when a person dies they still have a few things they wish to do, they still have a desire that is unfulfilled, or a fear that lingers. Most of these wishes quickly fade as the person dies, but not all.

A desire like, "I want to sit in my favorite chair and look out the window," would likely fade fast after death. But we've all heard the story of the unfulfilled woman who sat waiting at the window for a lover to come, only to hear a false report that something terrible has befallen her man. The woman commits suicide just at the moment her lover returns! What is left is the type of feeling that can hang around for a while after death. We don't know why this happens, but we do know that the intense feeling and lingering commitments tend to be carried forward through those who were emotionally close to the person who died.

A vow like, "I want my sons and daughters to avenge my murder," has a good chance of continuing on in some form through the living. This is true even if the sons and daughters realize that vengeance is a mistake and choose not to seek it. The fact that a parent died with such a potent unresolved will has a real effect on the children. It has the potential to interfere with their ability's to make strong clear commitments.

A behavior like a craving for a cigarette usually fades shortly after death, but in some circumstances it will be carried forward by ones descendants. This is especially true for those quirky behaviors we inherit from our families which have vague or unknown origins.

When parents experience extreme trauma it is not unusual for them to keep the details of that trauma hidden from their children but to pass on quirky or frightened behavior with out explanation. For example, the child of a Holocaust surviver who acts overly cautious about food, as if he were afraid of being poisoned, but he isn't actually afraid of that.

The Daoist definition of a ghost is a weak nagging commitment. A commitment which doesn't have enough qi to complete itself. Gods and Demons are not so different from each other. A god lower down in the Heavenly Hierarchy tends to get his start as a human who decides to keep his commitment even though he knows it will kill him.

Demon births tend to start with humans who have made very strong commitments to fantasies which spread terror and lies. After such a person dies, people who have inherited weak commitments sometimes make offerings to such a person. They collect amulets and symbols of the dead man's life and thus magnify the will of the dead over time. Hitler is a good example of a demon who lingers on through the weak commitments of the living.

It matters not at all whether you or I believe in ghosts or demons, they are real!

American Qigong Ethics (part 2)

Recently I was having an informed and thoughtful conversation about schools with a woman who has a high level job in statewide education when she casually mentioned that she studies qigong with a real master.

"Oh great," I say, "tell me more."

She tells me he leads a cancer group at one of the local Integrative-Medicine hospital clinics. "What makes him a master?" I ask, explaining that Qigong as medicine is a pretty new idea, and that taxi drivers in China are awarded the title "Master" (Shirfu) as well.

"Oh he's amazing." She said, "We do a style of walking Qigong around a small park and one day a drunk homeless guy stood up and moved imposingly toward our path shouting insults. My master just waved his hand and the guy promptly went over to a bench and fell asleep."

"O.K." I thought to myself, "Obe-Wan Kenobi did that in the Star Wars movie too!" "That's an extraordinary claim," I say. "Are you learning how to do that? What other sorts of claims does he make?"

"Oh, he is very modest. He would never make such a claim himself. I just do it everyday because it makes me feel healthy."

Now, eye rolling aside, I'm not a truth junkie. I don't want to pop this woman's balloon. I don't know what he is personally claiming, but she has apparently talked herself into exercising everyday. Who am I to get in the way of that?

Still there is a significant chance that I have been practicing qigong longer than her "Master," who I suspect invented a lineage and an improbable training history. It diminishes me in two ways. First, some people will assume I'm not very knowledgeable because I don't do these sorts of amazing feats. Second, other people may associate Qigong with these improbable claims and disregard my knowledge altogether. Both of these things happen all the time.

Does her master have some ethical responsibility to clarify his powers of agency?  How different is this from Jerry Alan Johnson who wrote a dictionary sized book on Qigong that I wouldn't even use as a door-stop?  Johnson uses the "sword-fingers" mudra to do "needless" acupuncture, and one of his students is the main Qigong teacher at a Berkeley Acupuncture School.
I acknowledge that charismatic Qigong teachers get disciplined health commitments from their students or clients that I don't get. If you tap into a client's insecurities, or their desire for power, by convincing them that they will be freer, or happier, or stronger, or more preceptive, or even more intuitive, if only they quit eating fried chicken and do some groovy breathing exercise--who am I to get in the way? Those commitments are legitimately good for one's health. Other people are free to subordinate themselves to people and ideas.

The first American Qigong Precept that I propose is this (I know, it's a little long for a precept):

When you don't know, admit you don't know! Teach your students to do the same.  Do not make claims about healing properties that you can not substantiate.  Clear explanations are O.K., anecdotes are not unless you say, "This is an un-substantiated anecdote!"

Good storytelling can be a useful teaching method because it has the power to make metaphors memorable.  When you present stories as history, go ahead and give the good-guys white hats and the bad-guys black hats--but beware, your are walking a fine line--make sure your students are sensitive to the presence of ambiguity.
If your knowledge comes from intuition admit that, and don't cross the line of claiming to know with certainty.

Meditation Muscle

In an earlier post I talked about the invocation of Zhenwu (The Perfected Warrior) as a preliminary stage of all meditation. In the secular world, which includes Zen, Yiquan, and Vipasina among others, the invocation of of the Perfected Warrior becomes just "the discipline to be still."

Particularly in the Soto School of Zen (Chan) the posture itself is the central teaching, the method and the fruition. Zen has the Zhenwu preliminary stage, it just isn't given any attention in the teaching, except to say, "sit still."

In Yiquan, Zhenwu becomes a barely active body. Thus students are instructed to wrap their arms around an imaginary tree and try to move it. This constant vigilance could also be called "stillness ready to pounce."

While it is entirely possible to just start practicing meditation with no instruction save a posture; meditation does require a certain kind of strength. Let's call it meditation muscle.  Generally the Zen tradition helps people build this meditation muscle by having new students join a daily group of people who have already established a committed practice.

Willing oneself to "be still" by constantly resisting the urge to move has the same effect as the Yiquan approach of "stillness ready to pounce." Both approaches develop this meditation muscle. They are both pulling on the same "rope."

Since we are not actually Zhenwu (a permanently meditating war god ready at any moment to leap up and charge off into battle), all these methods give-in to something softer and weaker, they reveal our true nature--they are non-productive.

Grip

I stopped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere on the way to the mountains last month. I checked the oil and it was pretty low so I bought a couple of quarts. I worked in a gas station when I was 14 so I know some tricks for getting a good grip, but my engine was really hot and the oil cap wouldn't budge. I went looking around in my trunk for someway to get more leverage and came up empty. I felt my manhood was being challenged. Just then a thick stocky man, about 6 inches shorter than me said, "Can I give you a hand." I'm sure I looked embarrassed but then I looked at his hands and they were clearly twice the size of mine, his fingers were as thick as cigars. "Sure, uhh...thanks" I said, and he unscrewed it. I asked where he got such huge hands and he said it was his Scottish ancestry.

Bone crushing power like that can not be trained.

I've been looking around the internet for a good picture of a bundle of chopsticks used for developing twisting power and grip strength. I don't see one, but I've done a fair bit of this type of training and I recommend it.

Grabbing is often considered inferior to striking or throwing because if my hands are closed around my opponent's body they aren't free for fighting. In a one-on-one match if someone grabs my wrist, I still have my hand free.

But that's generalizing, in reality there are many different types of grabbing that are effective.

If your grip is strong and well placed it can cause a lot of pain and injury or death to your opponent. For this type of grip to work your wrist, elbow and shoulder must be free to move, not rigid. Your nails must lengthen out like a cats claws with the intent to pierce the skin. The two smallest fingers are actually the strongest part of one's grip for holding, but the two larger fingers combined with the thumb are often superior for piercing.

In Taijiquan the movement "Cai" or plucking is a type of very light grabbing used only when your opponent is already leaning. Cai uses the two larger fingers with the thumb to move you partner on a 45 degree angle toward the ground. It requires no strength training, just sensitivity and clear intention (yi).
Likewise, good grappling technique does not require strength, it is all about positioning and timing. If I get you in a hold it's because I'm sensitive and you've made yourself vulnerable; it can't be planned unless one is using a surprise attack. If I've got you in a hold I can increase the pain or brake the joint with little effort. If I don't have you in the hold, strength isn't going to help me get there.

Half grips are used a lot to suddenly jerk your opponent. Done well these can cause dislocations, but they don't require that you hold on to your opponent, so a light grip works fine.

Curved fingers are used for plucking tendons. This technique is like a grab but the hand doesn't usually close.

What is important about a grip is that it connects to your torso. Twisting a bundle of chopsticks is a good technique for developing this because you are effectively twisting one arm against the other and the two arms meet in the torso where the real power should come from. You can do a simular thing with two hands on a spear.

I also practice a light dynamic grip by using a jian (double edged sword) with a slippery handle.

To develop the ability to inflict pain, you need a willing partner who lets you know what really hurts and what doesn't. You can also practice on yourself to some extent.

Making fists correctly will really develop your hands and improve your grabbing skills. If you don't practice making fists all day long, you're probably not a martial artist. It is painful to hold a solid, tightly packed fist for five minutes unless your technique is good. If it hurts, it is wrong (the spirits have left the body.)

Grabbing should be relaxed. When your hand closes it should feel like your whole torso is wrapping around something, all your organs and big muscles should support the movement. Developing Popeye forearms is a waste of time.

Compression Bands

It seems that all the big sports stars are wearing compression bands or straps. Why?

Moving an arm with a straight elbow is asking for a shoulder injury. Most athletes over develop their muscles and habitually straighten their joints. A straight elbow adds leverage to whatever torque one puts on the shoulder joint-- do this frequently and the shoulder will get lots of small rips and tears.

If you straighten your elbow in motion your shoulder muscles will get bigger to protect all the soft tissue from the regular damage you are doing. Keep it up and you will accumulate lots of scar tissue.

Compression bands stop one from straightening a joint and also help weaken over-developed muscles.

But I have to ask the question; why not just train right the first time?

Most martial artists know not to straighten their joints, but some schools are lax about it. Some schools even teach peoples to straighten their joints. I knew a taijiquan teacher who didn't speak English very well and was constantly telling students to straighten their fingers. The teacher probably meant lengthen.

Bathing Practice

Each culture has totally different standards and conceptions about what constitutes clean. Last year the New Yorker had some pictures of people living in a garbage dump in Nigeria. They were wearing bright beautiful clothing and looked cleaner than I do. Japanese are incredibly clean, I've watched men in public baths scrub their entire bodies as many as eight times before getting in the bath to soak. Yet I've seen rural places where Japanese will toss trash on the ground.

Within the United States, even among my friends, there is a lot of variation in what we each perceive as "clean enough." For instance I've noticed that female Italian Americans have very high standards of what constitutes a clean kitchen.

I must admit I find Chinese notions of cleanliness puzzling. Chinese brush-bathing seems to be as much about a feeling of health as it is about getting clean. The idea is to enliven the protective layer of qi on the surface of the body.

This layer of qi is called weiqi. The entire surface of the skin is stimulated so that the weiqi will be distributed evenly around the body. Uneven weiqi results in one part of the body being cold while another part is hot. It is also associated with the first stage of many illnesses, and historically with various types of spirit possession.

I highly recommend trying brush-bathing everyday for two months during the winter. After two months if you like it you won't want to stop.

Developing your weiqi will make you more sensitive to wind and changes in temperature. It tends to improve circulation and may help tonify the liver and the lungs.

Instructions

1. Bathing room should be clean, free of drafts, and not too bright.


2. Rinse in warm water, a bathing stool, a small bucket, a large bucket, a washcloth, and a brush.


3. Sit on the stool and fill the large bucket with hot water and douse yourself (repeat).


4. Refill the large bucket and use the washcloth on your head, neck and face.


5. Scrub your whole body thoroughly and evenly with the brush, beginning at the top and working toward the feet.


6. Douse yourself with the remaining water.


7. Use the smaller bucket to rinse yourself four times with hot water, then once with cold.


8. Rise your equipment and vigorously dry off using a rough towel.

Precpts

The Xiang’er Precepts of the Dao are meant to summarize what the Daodejing says about appropriate conduct. They are held and regularly renewed by all Celestial Master (Tianshi) daoist priests. In a traditional daoist village lay people would also be encouraged to keep these precepts. The word translated here as "practice" is xing which actually means "a way of moving":

The Nine Practices

Practice lacking falseness.

Practice flexibility and weakness.

Practice maintaining the feminine. Do not initiate actions.

Practice lacking fame.

Practice clarity and stillness.

Practice good deeds.

Practice desirelessness

Practice knowing how to cease with sufficiency.

Practice yielding to others.

Translated by Stephen R. Bokenkamp in, Early Daoist Scriptures.

The ninth precept, yielding to others, is wuwei. The first precept probably works better in English as "Be Honest." The second precept is often the tough one for people. The flexibility part sounds cool, but the weakness part is confusing. Here is what Wang Xiangzai says should be the second step of martial arts training:

If one does not have the basic mechanical ability, then no matter what the movement is like, it is all wrong. The same applies to using strength and not using strength. The movements of an ordinary person cannot have strength without constant unilateral tension that disturbs the blood circulation. Every kind of strength based on constant unilateral tension is stiff and inharmonious, and besides that, harmful to health. Having strength without constant unilateral tension is namely having strength without using strength, and when using it, one gains strength.

There is a type of strength that develops from fear of being weak. And there is a type of weakness that develops out of a fear of being too strong. The type of strength (shili) we are trying to reveal when we practice internal arts is potential strength--It can be cultivated while walking, sitting, reclining and standing still.

Zhang Sanfeng

I've been weeding around for a standard translation of the Zhang Sanfeng Taijiquan creation story. Every book or website seems to tell the tale a little bit differently.

Let's try this one:

Zhang Sanfeng's family came from Dragon Tiger Mountain (Longhushan). Sometime around the end of the Song Dynasty(960-1279 CE) he passed the Imperial exam and worked for the government. He learned some Shaolin and some jindan (meditation). The Mongols invaded, there was war and a new Yuan Dynasty(1279-1368). Side stepping the turmoil and chaos he went off to live on Wudang mountain.

One day he saw a crane and a snake fighting. Each used different natural styles of movement to yield and attack, but neither the snake nor the crane got hurt. That night he had a dream in which the deity Xuanwu appeared and taught him a way of moving. When he awoke he began practicing what Xuanwu had taught him. Sometime later he was attacked by 100 bandits and using his new practice was able to defeat them all. He lived for over 200 years and his practice eventually became known as Taijiquan.

What does this mean?

The Zhang family residence at Dragon Tiger mountain was the home of the Tianshi, the head priest of Religious Daoism. The name Sanfeng means "three mountains" and most likely means he was a member of an inner alchemy jindan lineage. Lineage names are picked from a secret poem, so people in the same lineage of the same generation sometimes have the same name. Either he really lived for 200 years or was several different people from the same generation within a Daoist lineage.

The last part of Zhang Sanfeng's life corresponds with the founding of the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644 CE). At that time the Tianshi, the most important religious leader in the country, went into a nine year retreat on Dragon Tiger mountain for the purpose of teaching the God Xuanwu, to be the head deity of the Chinese pantheon of gods. At the end of the nine years Xuanwu was promoted to the seat at the North Star and given the title Zhenwu, the Perfected Warrior. This god was promoted at the request of the first Ming Emperor who had made many sacrifices to Xuanwu (Mysterious/Dark War God) during the years he battled the armies of the previous Yuan Dynasty.

The snake uses wave action, rolling from one one end to the other. The Crane uses opening and closing, drawing in toward the center and pushing out toward the periphery. Zhang lived in a natural setting and practiced Daoist Dreaming. This is the practice of weaving Night and Day seamlessly together. His experiences during the day drifted into his dreams, and his dream body became his waking body.

Infants do not know if they are awake or asleep and they can spend hours playing with their internal organs. To the infant what is inside has no name and what is outside has no name. This undifferentiated state has a name in Chinese: Taiji.

The art of Taijiquan is a guide to weaving our day into our dreams and the unbounded movement of our dream bodies into our waking bodies.

The two Zhang's (Sanfeng and the Tianshi) were on the same mountain, hanging with the same god as he went through a transformation. In Daoism they are called seed people because they carry knowledge from previous eras and make it relevant in the present.

Taijiquan and Death

Today is Yom Kippur.

It is traditional to greet people with the saying, "May you be sealed in the Book of Life for a Good Year."

Chinese and Jewish traditions both use the same metaphor to think about human conduct. Once a year our actions are recorded in a book and that book contains both a tali of our meritorious acts and records our fate for the up coming year. Our actions throughout our life have a cumulative effect.

In the Chinese tradition when we die our actions during our lives continue to effect the living after we have died. Ideally, we simply become a supportive ancestor for our descendants. But it is also possible that we pass on bad habits, strange quirks, or even vendettas.

The residue of our inappropriate conduct during our lives is called unresolved qi. It becomes the responsibility of our descendants to resolve this qi for us if we leave it floating around after we have died. One way this is done is by offering incense and sacrifice to ancestors. This is mandatory for Chinese people.

The resolution of unresolved qi can also be achieved through appropriate conduct. For example if we brake a bad habit like quiting smoking, or start a good one like keeping the kitchen really clean.

Taijiquan clearly falls into this category. It is a positive social practice, it keeps people in good health, and it improves the efficiency of our movement so that we aren't wasting qi. Central to the practice of taijiquan is the exploration of wuwei: variously translated--not doing, non-aggression, or "like water it does nothing, yet leaves nothing unnourished."

Taijiquan is the practice of easily bringing things to completion, it is practice for dying a complete death. A death in which the only legacy we leave behind is unconditional support for the living.

New Students

I live and teach in San Francisco in a well sheltered park which is an old stone quarry.  For the whole summer there have been three large crows hanging out in the park every morning.

About two weeks ago two peregrine falcons showed up in the park and have been make a sport of dive-bombing the crows.  The crows squawk and shift around but they don't seem to have been injured.

One day while I was standing still a squirrel jumped over my foot as an escape route from one of the falcons.  Another morning I was standing still on one foot with my arms up and both falcons swooped me head on, I had to pull my arms back suddenly.

Today the crows were fighting back.  Wherever the falcons landed the crows would perch next to them and squawk.  The falcons were screaming back at them.  Quite a lot can happen during meditation.

The predator, whether falcon, cat, or bear, is so naturally aggressive that its aggression is totally effortless.  This is the quality we are trying to emulate.