Weak Legs

A 9 year old student asked me during class the other day if I did any strength training.  I did my teacher thing and screwed up one side of my face while bulging out my eye on the other, "No," I replied,  "Do you do any strength training?"  This kid admitted that he didn't but I could see by the way he looked at the ground that someone had been trying to breed a feeling of deficiency in this kid's head.  Now we aren't talking about just any old 9 year old, this kid can walk across the room on his hands and he can do a press handstand from a straddle position on the floor.  So I said, "OK, you stand in a low horse stance and I'll put all my weight on your shoulders and you try to lift me up."  I leaned down on his shoulders and lifted myself up on to the very tips of my toes so that he had about 150lbs on his shoulders.  He then stood up with out even a second thought, lifting me into the air.  "That was easy right?" I asked.  "You could lift two adults couldn't you?."  "Yeah," he said, looking a little brighter.  "So you're strong enough already right?"  He just looked at me, unsure what to say.  "Now you have to figure out how to transfer the force of your legs to your arms.  That's what you need to work on."  And then we got back to the two-man form we had been working on when he asked the question.

If any of my readers doubt the above anecdote I challenge you to do the experiment yourself.  Find a small healthy kid, 5 to 8 years old.  Show them how to do a horse stance and then try putting all your weight on their shoulders.  As long as the kid's back is straight and her legs are aligned to take weight she should have no trouble lifting you up.

Why is this relevant?  Why now?

On my last trip to China I wandered all over Ching Cheng Shan mountain in Sichuan.  The "trails" are mostly steep stone stair cases that wind up into the clouds.  If you are lazy and have a little cash, you can hire two guys to carry you up three miles of stairs in a litter made with some cloth and two bamboo poles.  The guys who do the carrying all day long during the tourist season have pencil thin arms and legs.  They are skinny enough to be run-way models at a fashion show.  Their leg muscles do not bulge.

Likewise, I studied twice with Ye Shaolong, the second time I trained with him everyday for three months.  He is probably the world's greatest master of what George Xu calls "the power-stretch."  He uses low, slow expanding movements to develop explosive and suddenly recoiling power.  In his 70's, Ye Shaolong is one of the skinniest people I have ever met. He has no muscle.

In my early twenties, with ambitious winds blowing, I took to standing still in a low horse stance with my arms horizontal to the ground out to the sides, for one hour. I did this everyday for a year.  (20 years later, I still stand for an hour everyday but not all of it in a horse stance.) For the first few months, my thigh muscles got bigger, but then a funny thing happened.  As my alignment and circulation improved, my thigh muscles, my quadriceps, started to shrink.  After a year of this kind of practice my thigh muscles were smaller than they had been when I started.  And by the way, I wasn't just standing, I was training at least 6 hours a day and I didn't have a driver's license so I was also riding my bicycle up steep San Francisco hills as my sole form of transportation.  I'll say it again, my muscles got smaller.

Ouch! That's got to hurt

Most people who practice martial arts actually never learn this because they don't have the discipline to pass through that first gate.  At the time, I was just like everyone else, I believed that I needed to improve my strength.  I now understand that strength itself is an obstacle to freedom.

The internal arts of Qigong, Daoyin, Taijiquan, Baguazhang, Xingyiquan, and some of the the mixed internal-external arts like Eight Immortals Sword, all have ways of training that do not require building strength.  Some Shaolin schools have these methods too.  In fact, under the proper guidance of a teacher, with a natural commitment to everyday practice, anyone can use these arts to reveal their true nature.  A true nature which, like that of your average 7 year old, is already very, very strong.

On this blog I have explored many justifications for the cultivation of weakness.  For instance:

--it makes you more sensitive,

--you need less food (making it possible for more people to eat in times of food scarcity),

--you need less energy to exercise leaving more energy available for other pursuits,

--it's better for circulation in times of less activity (which is what we are doing most of the time anyway),

--your movement is less conditioned to a series of set responses (spontaneously agile),

--and you don't need to wear spandex.

But the number one reason for not developing strength is that healthy human beings are already strong enough.  Even 5 year old children are very strong.  The problem is that normal human beings have disrupted the integration of natural, untrained strength, into their everyday activities.  This happens first of all in the arms, which develop both fine motor coordination and repetitive patterns, both of which leave the arms disconnected from the natural strength of the torso.  Also, adult hormones, particularly male hormones, produce muscle really easily if we prime them with lots of food and reckless exercise.  By reckless exercise I mean games or athletics that cause injuries.  Small injuries to the legs will instantly cause a healthy male to develop big thick quads, it can happen overnight. Once these arm and leg problems are established they become habits.  But natural strength doesn't go away, it's waiting for us just under the surface.  The real problem, the only real problem, is the fear that we need to be strong to face life's challenges--the notion that we need strength to prevail.

The likelihood of injury from strength training, by the way, is the reason that people who do strength training have to create all sorts of schedules to "cross train" the various muscle groups.  These people are now arguing that all training is actually in the recovery! Weird.

And don't get me started on core strength....  OK, it's too late.  Core strength is just a marketing scheme, like Green architectural-design-dog-walking-nanny services.  It just sounds good or something.  It plays on peoples feelings of insecurity and guilt.  There is no core that needs strengthening to begin with, but even if such a core existed, the market is saturated.  Every type of movement training from Yoga to tiny-tot-tap-dancing now claims to be good for your "core."

Here at North Star Martial Arts we specialize in Core Emptying!

That's Right! All negativity is stored in the inner "core"--known traditionally as the mingmen or "gate of fate."  Sign up for this once in a lifetime offer of 12 classes for only $99 (that's a $1 discount) and you will get a bonus "card" to keep track of your first one hundred days of Cultivating Weakness!  Empty your Core Today!  (Say the words "relax your dantian," or Tell them you heard it here at W.W.A.T.)

Like aggressive advertising, strength obscures our true nature.

Martial artists who try to develop strength are preparing themselves for some future attack, the nature of which is yet unknown.   I'm not against strength, heaven knows people love it, I'm just against the argument that we need it.  Anyone who says Chinese Internal Martial Arts require a person to develop strength is confused about the basic concepts.

note: (If you are a bit of a sadist and want to watch some people squirm, I'm about to post this at the unhinged Internet forum Rum Soaked Fist! check it out.)

1000 Words for Rebel-Bandit

Winter is such a good time for working-out and getting extra sleep; not a great time for sitting in a chair and  writing.   But you're in luck because this book in my lap is due back to the library and it's full of notes that would be lost if I didn't do this blog thing now.  Also, I'm sipping some super-duper, so secret 3-ears-never-hear Chinese herbal tonic.

In my quest to try to understand the origins of Chinese Martial arts I've come to the conclusion that in the past there were people who practiced a religious tradition of exorcistic theater interlaced with Daoist liturgy, meditation, and daoyin, who used sophisticated internal martial arts technology, healing, talisman, re-telling history, with dance, puppets, mudras, music, processions, and animal sacrifice-- all together in a single art-event, ritual happening.  The people practicing these traditions did so through violence times, sometimes as participants in rebel movements, sometimes as part of bandit societies, and sometimes as citizens of weak or powerful central governments.

And I have also come to the conclusion that all of these skills could be arts unto themselves, that individuals throughout the ages have sometimes chosen to be exclusively musicians, or martial artists, or dancers.  And, each of these traditions easily lend themselves to composites of more than one art.  For instance, it was common for a scholar, a man who had passed an Imperial exam, to spend his evenings singing or reciting the histories while playing music with friends in a wine house.  It was also common not to do both. (Just a note here, because it keeps coming up:  For some reason only historians understand, a person who passed the lowest level of the Imperial exam is generally referred to in English texts as a member of the gentry or the elite.  I'll never be comfortable with this.)

I recently read David Robinson's  Bandits, Eunuchs, and the Son of Heaven, Rebellion and the Economy of Violence in Mid-Ming China .  Great book!  Remember that lame cliche that goes, there are a 1000 words for snow in the Eskimo language.  Well, reading this book one is inclined to think there are a 1000 words for rebel-bandit in Chinese.

Here are some of the fun ones:  ..."(W)ulai" (local tough), "liumang" (hooligan), "youshou" (loafer), "xianshou" (idler), "wangming" (desperado), "guanggun" (bare sticks), and "wuji zhi tu" (unregistered ones) on the one hand, and [there are] more ambiguous appellations, such as haojie (unfettered hero, "haojun" (unfettered hero), "renxia" (knight errant), and "youxia" (wandering knight errant) on the other. (p.21)

Robinson breaks through a lot of conventions.  He chooses to write about the middle of the Ming Dynasty (around 1500) because it is considered a time of relative peace, but he shows us how totally violent it was.  He challenges the standard focus on "gentry," meaning men who have passed the lowest level of civil exam, and instead looks at the entire breath of men and women, powerful, and not so powerful.   But his particular interest is the unfettered man of force and his ability to transcend and traverse all levels of society.

"Illicit violence was an integral element of Ming society, intimately linked to social dynamics, political life, military institutions, and economic development.  Nearly everyone in China--from statesmen and military commanders to local officials and concerned social thinkers, from lineage heads and traveling merchants to farmers , transport workers, and peddlers in the street--grappled with the question of how to use, regulate, or respond to violence in their lives." (p. 2)

"The role of marital arts, martial ethos, and military institutions in late imperial society forms an important if still little-explored facet of China's economy of violence.  Violence in theater, literature, and the visual arts provides valuable insight into the economy of violence, as does the role of physical and symbolic violence in religious practice, doctrine, and imagery....and popular concepts of honor, justice, and vengeance in various parts of China during the different historical periods...(p.2)

Robinson focuses on violence closest to the capital, exploring the idea that it would be more likely that the government would have some sort of monopoly on violence nearer to the capital than in far away provinces.  In fact, if that was true, and the 40,000 pirates off the southern coast (far from the capital) at the time would suggest it was, than violence was everywhere--because the capital was teaming with bandits and rebels.

....[P]rohibitions forbade bearing arms in certain contexts, most notably the strict laws against arms in or around the capital, especially the imperial palace.  Despite the extra security measures taken in Beijing, the prohibition against bearing arms in the capital was not observed.  Gangs of lahu, or urban gang members, brandishing knives, metal whip-chains, cudgels, swords, and various other weapons were frequently reported on the streets of Beijing during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.  The violations certainly owe something to Beijing's enormous and very mobile population (between 800,000 and one million by 1500). (Robinson p.93)

He convincingly argues that it was common for bandits and various sorts of highway robbers to be part of patronage networks.  These networks protected them to some extent but also meant that local magistrates or other types of officials or men of power were getting a cut of the loot.  This allowed for complex negotiations which might mean that a particular group of bandits lived in one region and robbed in another.  The Ming Dynasty was enormously wealthy and probably the best commercial environment on earth at the time.  It may have also been the most crime ridden because nearly everyone was "on the take" in one way or another.

This jives with Esherick's description of Shan Dong province during the late Qing Dynasty in The Origins of the Boxer Uprising.  Esherick describes a situation where it was common for bandits to rob neighboring towns across provincial boarders but to play the roll of protector for their own villages.

During the Ming Dynasty these patronage networks permeated the society right up to the eunuchs surrounding the Emperor and even the Emperor himself.  (In 21st Century China we call these networks "guanxi" or "connections," and the result is widespread corruption.  However the current government seems to have effectively suppressed armed bandits on horseback.)

There is a huge ethnic component to the violence and banditry but it is sometimes hard to sort out.  I also recently picked up a book by David A. Graff called Medieval Chinese Warfare, 300-900. Graff explains several things which are highly relevant.  During the lead up to the Tang Dynasty (600 CE) the region we call China developed every conceivable method for putting together groups of men to fight. That accumulated knowledge of military organizational experiments was well documented and continued to be used in all subsequent Dynasties to gather huge armies, militias, retainers, or rebels.  The other factor is that while infantries were used extensively and, if well trained, could be effective on the battle field, they were most useful for occupying an area or defending against a siege.  Cavalries were what won most battles and most wars.  Graff picked the year 300 to start his study because that was the era when the technological innovation of stirrups became pervasive.  Cavalries were made up mostly of Turks and Mongolians.  Lastly, reading about the early Tang Dynasty it is easy to get the impression that China has at least nine distinct regions capable of raising armies for the purpose of defending themselves or attacking their neighbors.  A civil war with nine different regions competing for dominance is always brewing underneath the apparent stability of every "Chinese" Dynasty.

Jumping back to the Ming Dynasty,  the Turks are gone (they went to Turkey) but there are lots of mounted Mongols serving as elite forces guarding the boarders, putting down uprisings, and sometimes protecting trade routes or even the capital.  There were also Hui people, Muslim families who are ethnically Han, who lived largely in the regions just south of the capital.  The Hui were heavily represented in the cavalries, and in the military in general.  The regular, and the various irregular but official, troops lived in large concentrations near the capital.  When the country was not actually at war, the horses used by the cavalry were supposed to be kept 'ready for action' by families registered for that purpose.  So war horses were widely available throughout the empire.  And everybody had weapons.

Robinson found this legal code:

Everyone who privately possesses armor for horse or men, shields, tubes of fire [a primitive gun], a catapult for throwing fire, banners and signaling devices and the like--military equipment that is forbidden to the people--will, for one such item, receive eighty strokes of the heavy bamboo.  for each [additional] item, add one degree.  If he manufactures the items privately, add to the punishment for possessing it privately, one degree.  In each case, the punishment is limited to one hundred strokes of the heavy bamboo and exile to 300 li.  If it is not complete [so it can not be used], there is no penalty.  He may be ordered to deliver it to the government.  Bows and arrows, lances, swords, and crossbows, as well as fishing forks and pitchforks, are not within the category of prohibited objects. (Robinson p.91)

Eunuchs are an interesting part of the story.  Many of them came from Hui villages.  There are accounts of whole villages castrating their young men because they heard that the Emperor was seeking new eunuchs.  It was common in certain regions for the third son to be castrated in hopes that he could become a eunuch.  So there were a lot of eunuchs running around (just in case you were wondering).  Eunuchs did fight, and often commanded troops. Just as an aside, I wonder if there were martial arts practices specifically for eunuchs? Is this another possible source for the development of internal martial arts? It would make sense because without the male hormones they wouldn't be able to build or keep muscle.   They would have had a type of weakness which did not have to be cultivated, but which might lead to a unique sort of martial prowess.  After reading about all the eunuchs, I'm starting to believe the story that Dong Haichuan (the founder of Baguazhang) was, as rumored, a eunuch.

The complete separation of civil and military (wen and wu) legal systems was a real disaster because it meant that wherever a military group was stationed, small groups of soldiers could rob and loot without being subject to the civil authorities.  This led to all kinds of patronage and intimidation.  And if you got pretty good at organizing bandit groups, why not strike out on your own?  Even start a rebellion?  Individuals with in these bandit groups often managed to keep their identities as soldiers or imperial cavalry, sometimes going back and forth, or simply maintaining both identities simultaneously.

In order to maintain control, both the central government and local government often chose to enlist, appease, or co-opt rebel-bandits:

Integrating these various kinds of violence into a bureaucratic order was always a calculated risk, and the line dividing defenders of the imperial order from its challengers often blurred with disturbing ease.  Writing on developments in Jiangxi during the early sixteenth century, Lin Ruozhou observed, "One variety of fierce bare sticks initially claims to be assisting officials to kill bandits, but in the process colludes with them, storing stolen goods for profit.  Later these folds take up for a living the false accusation of commoners to extort goods from them.  The only thing they fear is the return of peace." (Robinson p.90)

There is lots of cools stuff in this book.  At one point the wife of a rebel-bandit named Tiger Yang takes over and goes on a series of raids on the capital before finally being caught and executed.  At another point 350 monks from Shaolin Temple are used to help put down a rebellion but 25% them are slaughtered in the first battle.

It is easy to forget that food was always scarce in the old days.  Soldiers often worked for free in the hope of being fed.  One common system was that as soldier's family was responsible for keeping him supplied with food or money.  It was a form of tax on the family, and since not everyone had family serving in the military it was a tax with some prestige.  Still families often wanted to get out of it, which was made easier if the soldiers were far away, or if they were gone for a long time.  Sometimes they were two months away from receiving a message for as long as twenty years.  Long enough to start a new family.

Bandits, Eunuchs, and the Son of Heaven is not light reading, but it is very readable!  If you like this topic, I recommend it.  I got the book because I read the "Conclusion" on Google Books (p. 163) and found it intriguing.  Perhaps you will do the same?

Mish Mash

This was my day to blog.  After teaching 5 and a half hours this morning, 3 and a half of it in the cold, two indoors, I was ready for a nap.  I slept from 1pm until 5pm.  Whoops that was my day to blog.  Well, never fear.  I have a bunch of small crunchy bits for y'all to chew on.

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I love this picture series of Liu Fengcai doing Baguazhang.

In these pictures he is emphasizing polarity in his body created by the combination of "monkey doesn't want to go to school" and "effortlessly floating the head upward." The two forces create extraordinary external wrapping of the soft tissue around the torso and the backs of the legs-- this is evident in the shape of his hands.  Sweet.  (The artist's sketch underneath is an unnecessary distraction, but notice he added the drawing 4th from the left which breaks several baguazhang rules.  The arrows are misleading too.)

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Only Comics and Dogs Wiggle their Head!

For all the hemming and hollering I’ve heard over the years about the importance of keeping the head upright as well as contrary opinions in favor of practicing dodging and ducking with the head, I am delighted to let everyone know that the controversy was created entirely from the denial of gongfu’s theatrical origins.
Here is a video of me doing an 8 part warm up that came from Kuo Lien-ying which I have been doing for 30 years.  After reading Jo Riley's book Chinese Theater and the Actor in Performance.  I've changed three of the movements slightly (I'll have to make a new video).  I'm very sure that I've been doing the exercises slightly wrong for all these years because I was limited in my view and simply didn't understand the original instructions.



Number 2 in the series is for training the basic heroic stance and should be done with the chest lifted more than you see here.

Number 3 is the basic comic stance and should be done with the tailbone back, the belly out, the arms straighter, and the head lifted.  In this position it is OK if the head wiggles because that's what comics and dogs do to show their lower statues.  It's so much better this way.

Lastly the 8th stance, usually called "chin to toe," is used as a mind clearing exercise by performers back stage immediately before they perform.  It should be done with the kidneys forward, not back as I've shown in the video. Thanks Jo, that tiny bit of information unlocked a lot of secrets for me.  (Yes, there are secrets.)

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Disheveled and in disarray...

is a good description of all of my Daoist studies, as well as all my “progress” in martial arts.   I have followed my teachers in trying to transmit brilliant structures, orders, and systemizations in my writings.  However; the reality is a lopsided, languid, sometimes choppy, sometimes flowing,  unwieldy beast.

Occasionally I pick up a comment saying I'm too organized.  Reality doesn't fit in boxes.  Thanks for pointing that out.  All systemizations are also limitations.  All stated orders are incomplete.  The truth is always available in completely undifferentiated chaos (huntun), just waiting for you to stick your head in there and pull it out.

Occasionally I have received friendly comments here and on various forums which describe my thinking as mystical.  While I realize it is silly of me to take umbrage at this, it does rub me the wrong way.  I’m not personally interested in a mystical journey.  I’m not declaring that everything I say is a concrete metaphor, yes, my metaphors are sometimes misty or even foggy; but I am not on a mystical journey.  Sometimes looking in at something new or foreign from the outside creates a mystical feeling in the observer, that's fine, but please tell me if you think I’ve become rooted in anything less than what is absolutely real.

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Chinese Martial Arts are a treasure...

but they are a changing treasure.  The Daodejing mentions three unchanging treasures, hold and preserve them!

The first is compassion.  (We're talking predator drone, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, in the thick-of-it,  compassion-- not moral platitudinous, bumper-sticker yoga compassion like, "Do no harm.")

The second is conservation. (No not greenness people!  I’m (in the) black and I’m proud!  Business is the most effective social mechanism for conservation ever-- cut your costs, improve your efficiency-- now let excess, laziness, misty eyed romantics, hysterical greenies, and inferior products and services die.)

The third is not imagining yourself to be at the center of the world.  (Duh!)

The three treasures do not lend themselves to fame, or charisma, or even claims of authorship.   Each person, or family, or community, or nation, or institution can find its own way to express these treasures.  But it's not hard to see why one might be inspired to live like a hermit.

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Cold!  Lively!

I love being outside this time of year!  When the temperature drops the surface of my body cools down, but the inside stays hot.  This is an ideal condition for cultivating the Daoist elixir practice (jindan) and martial arts in general.  Why?  Because jing and qi differentiate more easily.  Our structure, the heavy stuff we are made of, jing, is easier to feel and therefore relax because it is cold on the surface.  And our qi, the activity, the motion, the animation, is more obvious on the inside.  It hums and vibrates.  Explosive power is more available.  In stillness the qi wiggles deeper into the bones, making whatever it is you practice irreversible.  People who get lazy about their practice in the winter months miss out on the best season. THE BEST!

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Here are some websites I found interesting:

http://www.chinesewudangboxing.com/aboutus.htm

http://www.fathom.com/course/21701773/sessions.html

http://www.nexthomegeneration.com/Han_Dynasty#Eastern_Han

OK my home-slices, keep it real.

Guns, Whiskey, Kungfu, and Indian Dance

I did not come from a guns and whiskey family.  But I recognize that of the four major American folkways, only one has ever taken any real pride in men dancing:  Rednecks.  For this gift of beauty and freedom, I am an honorary redneck.
Some people might say, “Scott, you’ve been practicing martial arts so long you have gongfu on the brain.”  It’s a possibility, I admit.  Sometimes I get excited and I start to see martial arts in everything (Richard Rorty would call it the narcissistic tendency of powerful ideas).  I can use Kungfu power to scrub the dishes.  I can use maximum muscle tendon twisting to wring-out the laundry.  I can set the table “the way a beautiful woman would do it,” (that’s an alternate name for Baguazhang seventh palm change).

But Chitresh Das, my Kathak (North Indian Classical Dance) teacher always said that Kathak had roots in the warrior tradition.  Ladies of ill repute did the same style of dance, under a different name of course, but that does not discount it’s warrior origins.  All Indian Classical dance has some version of deity invocation as well.  Kathak is done with 5 to 10 pounds of small bronze bells wrapped around the ankles and calves.  While it makes little sense from a guerrilla warfare point of view, an assembly of several thousand warriors stamping the ground with all those bells would rival the terror inducing sounds of a line of M1 tanks.  Besides, they function as armor for the lower leg and weight training.  Oh, and every movement from the warrior dances of Arjuna to the blood lusts of the Goddess Kali, to the dragon-tail pulling antics of Baby Krishna, to the flower picking of Princess Rada --can all be done with martial power and embodiment.  In fact, the stances and silk-reeling of Chen Style Taijiquan feel like kissing cousin’s to the Indian tradition I learned.

I’ve had a taste of several different styles of African and African Diaspora Dances but my actual training was in Congolese and African-Haitian Dance.  My Congolese Dance teacher, Malonga Casquelourd, learned to dance from soldiers on army bases.  Malonga’s father was a high ranking soldier in the Congolese Army and the family followed his deployments around the country.  Malonga had a fighter’s body and spirit.  Both Congolese and Haitian styles of dance have specific war/fighting training in them, but even the dances for funerals (sometimes confrontational), dances for dating/mating (also prone to challenges), and dances for work--all can be seen through my martial artist lens. The embedded fighting techniques are hidden everywhere in plain sight, they only need to be practiced as fighting, with a partner, to become functional.

Without the Redneck contribution to American tolerance, we would, as a culture, be cut off from understanding what it is to be a man who dances.  World-wide, a significant part of what it is for a man to express himself through dance is a demonstration of his ability to fight, a show of martial prowess.  (And I dare say, the same is often true for women.)

Big Muscles

As someone whose job it is to translate ideas from one culture to another, the pressure to use more familiar language is always floating around in the background.

Many people would like me to describe the fine details of Chinese Internal Martial Arts using vocabulary from sports or physical therapy.  This is always problematic for two reasons.  First, one can only go so far describing kinesthetic experiences before one starts  sacrificing subtlety--language is an imperfect tool.  Second, by discarding Chinese concepts, one loses the primary organizing metaphors of Chinese culture, and what might be simple suddenly becomes complex.

Still, sometimes we give in to the pressure.  Today is one of those days.

There are three big muscles on our backs which are extremely powerful and efficient. Unfortunately, the problem with humans is; we don’t use these big muscles very well.  Our arms are just too smart. We habitually use our many smaller arm muscles to do complex and repetitive tasks.  This is the cause of a lot of stress and tends to shorten our lives.  For this reason advanced internal martial artists have developed ways to make use of the three big muscles.

We evolved these three big muscles as four legged creatures with our torsos parallel to the ground.  This is important because on a horizontal torso the three big muscles hang  in a relaxed way towards the front of the body (originally the underside).

• The diamond shaped Trapezius muscle hangs from the spine wrapping the ribcage towards the arms.


• The Latissimus dorsi muscle hangs from the spine around towards the belly and reaches around to the inside of the arms.


• The Gluteal Fascial muscle complex hangs off of the lower spine and pelvis onto the outsides of the legs.

If you naturally move from just these three muscles, you are probably a very strong and efficient cave man--because this is not how humans normally move.

To activate these three muscles is a fairly complex process.  Normal sports training doesn't do it.

First we have to get them to hang loosely.  Most of the time when we are moving around or working, the three big muscles are being used for stabilizing.  They stabilize the pelvis, the spine and the arms.  (This is an important function in the event that we get hit by a car or a buffalo, but it isn't necessary to walk around all the time using these muscles as stabilizers.)

Basic structure training in Internal Martial Arts gets us to stop using these three big muscles for stabilization by getting us to put our weight directly on our bones.  The other 400 or so smaller muscles in our bodies are then used to focus force along our bones through twisting, spiraling and wrapping.  In that sense, the early years of internal martial arts training teaches us to use our muscles like ligaments; or put another way, the primary function of the smaller muscles becomes ligament support.  (To develop this capacity in ones legs requires many years of training.)

Once the three big muscles are relaxed and loose and the rest of the muscles are being used for ligament support, a transition begins.

The transition is difficult because it requires turning off the active quality of the smaller muscles. The main function of the smaller muscles then becomes simply to transfer force or weight from outside the body (like from an opponent or gravity) to the three big muscles of the back.  The smaller muscles also have a minor secondary function of changing the direction of force coming out of the three big muscles.

This minor secondary function is not to be confused with active control.  To make this transition means practicing doing nothing with your arms for hours everyday and connecting the unengaged emptiness of your arms to an equivalent lack of active muscle engagement in your legs.  (In practice, this usually looks like loose flailing or slow spongy movement.)

The three big muscles are already so big they don’t need to be strengthened but they do need to be enlivened.  All three muscles should be like tiger skin or octopi, able to expand and condense and move in any direction.  They then can take over control of the four limbs in such a way that movement becomes effortless--even against a strongly resistant partner. If you accomplish this all of your smaller muscles will be doing the task of transferring force to the three big muscles---preventing an opponent from being able to effect your body through your limbs.  Yet whenever your limbs make contact with your opponent, he will be vulnerable to the force of your three big muscles.

In the Taijiquan Classics they call this, "I know my opponent, but my opponent does not know me!"

(Note: weightlifting/surgical ideas about anatomy are so dominant that the gluteal muscle fascial complex doesn't actually exist as a picture on the internet.)

The Contentious Origins of Baguazhang

I started a new debate thread on Rum Soaked Fist by linking to a blog post I did last year challenging the common disregard for Dong Haichuan's claim that he learned Baguazhang from two Daoist hermits in the mountains.  Most people claim that Dong Haichuan invented Bagua himself by putting together some common martial arts scraps he found laying around.  You know, like those scientific contraptions with spinning coconuts and flapping palm leaves The Professor from Gilligan's Island would put together.

One person, Josh, acknowledged that Daoist ritual and ritual theater are possible sources of martial prowess which have not been explored yet, the rest of the crew have devolved into arguing about whose lineage is the most authentic.  One guy, using my favorite metaphor of the car, says that Dong Haichuan was driving a Model T Ford and that our baguazhang machines have been getting steadily more complex until now in 2009, we are driving a Lexus.

We could just as easily flip that metaphor.  Dong Haichuan drove into Beijing in 1870 driving a Lotus tricked out with every imaginable James Bond contraption.  He was happy to let his students watch him put gas in the tank and he would pop the hood and let them check the oil.  But his car died with him.  His students were left trying to reverse engineer a working car.  Some of them studied engineering and some of them were able to find working parts from other cars.  But everyone had to build their own car.  And each of the cars look quite different.  Now-a-days, there are people saying that cars don't need gas, because they've tried it and it doesn't work.  The reality is that their spark plugs are fouled or they need a new alternator.  Yet they seem content to push their car on the hills and tell everyone else they aren't working hard enough.

I may be driving a beat-up 1981 Toyota pickup truck art car, with feathers and fake tiger fur glued to the body, and green onions growing out of the flat bed, and yes, the brakes are a little squeaky, but at least it has an engine that works!

Perhaps the car isn't such a great metaphor.  Baguazhang was a flag ship in a fleet of ships that got caught in a horrible storm.  70% of the fleet when down to Davey Jones locker.  Each ship had to decide what to throw into the sea.  Now that the storm is over, Jetsum (the stuff that sinks), if it was thrown overboard, is now lost forever.  Floatsum (the stuff that floats), can be pulled back aboard by whichever ship gets to it first.  Most of the captains are dead, and most of the crew can't read.  There are a few ships' logs being passed around and pirates are arguing about what lays on the bottom and which floatsum belongs to whom.  Most of the fleet is hobbled and lashed together.  A few boats are getting tows, and no one seems to know where they are going.

Isn't it obvious at this point that we are looking at the wrong thing?  Dong Haichuan wasn't teaching a method.  It isn't clear whether he developed a curriculum or not.  He was teaching a view, an approach, a feeling, a way of understanding what a human being is. Yeah, he shouted, "Bu hao!" (no good) a lot, then he would slap his students with a "Ho, ho, ho, and a' feel my Dantian."

Many martial arts teachers have lineage disease.  If your lineage has become just a method, it needs to be treated with a coarse of anti-biotics and then flushed down the toilet.  The reason I've kept my relationship with George Xu all these years is because he is the best reverse engineer I've ever met.  He's been taking the methods and pulling them apart to see how they work.  His baguazhang lineage is quite unremarkable, but his single palm change is undefeatable.  He understood from the beginning that he had to make his own car.

But I have a different task.  My task is to recover the original ideas and world view which inspired the creation of these arts in the first place.

Anyone in the teaching profession today knows that there are a number of different standard forms used to evaluate and compare classes:

1. Class Plans (An outline of what happens in a given class built around a teaching objective)


2. Class summaries (A narrative description of what actually happened in a given class)


3. Curriculum Overviews (A phrase or sentence for each class in a given semester which describes the objective and/or activity of that class)


4. Curriculum Standards  (An external measure of teaching results or goals that everyone in the field can agree on)


5. Coarse descriptions  (One or two paragraphs that describe the topic, feel, and content of the course)


6. Teaching outcome goals  (What students are expected to learn and how the teacher will varify that they have learned it)


7. Syllabi  (A week by week description of class activities)


8. Program integration analysis  (How what is learned in the class is meaningful or useful in relationship to the other classes in a program and the program as a whole)

If you are going to argue about whose teaching is better, you would do well to use the same standard form, otherwise your arguments will be incoherent.  But people! if you can't tap the original inspiration for the accumulation of your particular body of knowledge in the first place, well, you're going to have to use charisma to keep your students around, because methods are hooks without a worm.

The big problem, and I mean huge, is that people bring their own story, their own view, their own inspiration, or their own paranoia, to the method they have inherited.  When you do this the results, the fruition if you will, becomes skewed.  Inspiration creates methods, methods produce fruition.  If you don't know the original inspiration that created your method, you may have already achieve it's fruition and you might not even have noticed. You could be staring the perfect fruition in the eye and think it's a failure.  If you don't share the same inspiration as the founder of your style, you are likely missing the fruition, but you are also probably working with a method that isn't doing a very good job of producing the results you want.

And that me hearties, is why connecting with history matters to our everyday practice.

Masters of Internal Arts

Adam Hsu said in his last book that many traditional Shaolin systems have high kicks which are non-functional because they come from Chinese Opera.  In fact he calls them Opera Kicks.  Since the traditional Northern Shaolin system I learned has many different types of high Chinese Opera kick, I might be inclined to argue that they do indeed have a function.

For instance I might say that they increase the size of your martial frame, ultimately allowing for the development of superior power.  Or I could say that the great flexibility that these practice kicks develop makes all lower kicks safer.  Or I could say if you can kick high with power and control, your low kicks will have even more power and control.  Or I could say high kicks force you to use the correct muscle groups, accomplishing the same thing that other schools achieve by having students hold their legs in the air at waist level while distributing qi to all the extremities.

Yes I could make all those arguments, but I don't think they would get anywhere with someone who has decided that the traditional arts need to be repaired because they have become degraded by theatrical development.  (No one knows exactly when this degradation was supposed to have happened but somewhere between the great Han (200 BCE) and the fall of the Qing (1908)).  Their argument is actually hard to follow.  It requires that you believe there was a time in the past in which people practiced pure martial arts when in fact evidence for such an era is scanty at best.

However, I'm not going to make those arguments.  Instead I would like to argue from my own experience.  I live in a time of great peace.  In an era where wealth and hygene are taken for granted.  In my 20's I was part of a milieu which was enthralled with ideas about how to create improvisational theater and dance--developing methods and practices of mind which would enable us to adapt spontaneously to anything anyone threw at us.  That experience, urban public school, and perhaps my Jewish home style of ferocious passionate argumentation, gave me a set of skills that has made it nearly impossible for me to get in a real fight.  Believe me, it's not from lack of willingness to fight.  I spent several years under George Xu, where I was walking around seeing other people's movement in slow motion, watching their bodies for weaknesses I could exploit, the way my mom would look at a chicken before pulling off its limbs.

So here is my argument.  I've been practicing Northern Shaolin for over 30 years and I've been teaching it for 17.  I took the summer off from teaching children and I've recently started back up again.  My advanced students have already learned the lowest stances of any martial arts tradition, and most of the high kicks and airborne kicks that I teach.  But they need polishing.  I have each of them working on their own short routine this week.  I call it 3-2-1.  Three kicks, two stances held with fire in the eyes for 3-5 seconds, and one sudden unpredictable change in direction.  They can put it together anyway they want and I'll add more elements to the task next week.  At 42 years of age, I'm still doing these kinds of high kicks, like barrel turn slap the foot above your head into a sudden butterfly kick and then into a spinning double jump in the opposite direction of momentum---how is it that I am not getting injured?

I'll tell you how.  Because I'm doing taijiquan, xingyiquan and Baguazhang.  I'm doing internal arts when I do these high kicks.  Sure, it looks like Shaolin, but if it wasn't the purest internal practice I can pull off, my muscles would be ripping, my ligament falling off the bone.  It's not that it would be impossible to do this kind of practice externally at my age, it's just that the risk of injury is so high, and the healing time for even minor injuries is so long, that I couldn't possibly teach or perform.

And that's my argument.  There is more reason for a 40 to 60 year old performer to make their martial displays internal than there is for any bodyguard or officer in the military.  The incentive is just better.


It's not that I can't see the other argument.  Seeing real combat against drilled and tested troops doesn't inspire much need for cultivating qi.  But imagine an officer with 10,000 troops on the boarder for 10 years and nothing to do, because just his presence on the boarder is keeping the peace--yes I can imagine him developing internal arts.  He has to practice anyway because he might even see some action if things go badly.  But most likely he is going to end up back in his home village, perhaps  working on a farm.  There is some incentive, but it isn't a very strong one.

The same lack of strong incentive is probably true for caravan guards but I don't honestly know how this business worked.  I'd think that it was mostly a numbers game.  More guards than bandits and you're safe; fewer and you start to look like a car with "The Club" but no alarm.  A deterrent perhaps, but not enough to dissuade bandits who are pretty sure you've got treasure.

But I have no doubt that bodyguards, officers in the military, and Chinese theatrical performers-- all practiced internal martial  arts.  They all contributed something.  Each of these lifestyles would attract kinesthetic people like me, who get high on working out, playing rough, and looking for extraordinary beauty in motion.  The question I'm asking is, who of the three had the strongest incentive to develop internal martial arts?

Tell me what you think of my theory.

Okay, we didn't talk about the heath-nut contribution to internal martial arts.  Can we save that for another day?

Five Levels of Muscle Training

This is a description of internal martial arts from the point of view of muscles.  These five levels apply to taijiquan, baguazhang, xingyiquan and (applied) qigong:

1. Moving and Coordinating; running, jumping, rolling, lifting, stretching, etc.


2. Static Structure; The ability to hold a static shape for a long period of time, and transfer force applied on any part of the body to the feet, the back or another limb.


3. Continuous Structure with Movement;  All muscles must move in twists and spirals following the flow of the bones and ligaments.  Muscles weaken and become sensitive.  Force can be applied in motion at any angle from any part of the body.  Force can be avoided without losing whole body integration.


4. Empty and Full at the Same Time;  All muscle tension must be discarded along with all intention to move.   Any solid concept of body structure must be discarded or melted away.  Muscles function like liquid and air.  (Power becomes unstoppable but unfocused and difficult to direct.)


5. Whole Body Becomes a Ball.  Resistance training for big muscles only.  Small muscles are used mainly for sensitivity and force transfer (ligament support).  Muscles move only by "ten directions breathing," they move in all directions using expansion and condensation, not lengthening and shortening.

Notes:

The separation of jing and qi, which happens automatically in stillness, needs to be available in motion to enter level 4.

In order to act through a body, that body must be felt as a dream.  Dreaming is not like the conscious mind.  If you think about running, you are likely to stumble.  In order to run, speak, or do any of these types of muscle training, you must first dream it.  In order to reach level 5, levels 1 through 4 must be felt as dream.  In other words, they can be done spontaneously by feeling, without thinking, or willing.

______________________

Thoughts:

From my experience, this order is essential.  Each level takes a minimum of two years training.  Some internal traditions attempt to start their training at level 4 and then go back and fill in gaps in levels 1 and 2 through diligent forms practice.  The attempt to fill gaps in level 3 through push-hands training.  That seems like a mistake.

The quickest way to get level one skills is through rough play or dance (forms with speed and rhythm).

Level 2 can only be learned through a teacher/partner who tests your structure.

Levels 3 and 4 will be inhibited by strength training.

The key to transitioning from level 3 to level 4 is non-aggression, wuwei.  Aggression is refined to perfection and then discarded.  This transition probably requires working with emotionally mature partners.

Applications do not work at level 4.  Period. But paradoxically, the ability to use weight and momentum improves.

The good news! Yes, it takes at least ten years (two years for each level, and a minimum of three hours everyday), but levels 2 through 5 can be practiced at any age.  Levels 2 through 5 actually get easier with age because muscles become weaker and skin becomes looser!

George Xu on The Ball

The Ball

George Xu used a surprisingly counter intuitive definition of a ball the other day.

The term "ball" gets used in martial arts and qigong all the time.  Of course there's "ball up you firsts," but there are lots of other uses.  The term ball is used as a metaphor, a verb, and as a spacial description.  George Xu was using it to mean something else entirely.

Here are the most common uses of "ball'

• Imagine you are sitting on a large ball


• Imagine you are holding a ball in your palm


• Imagine you are holding a ball using your arms and torso


• Imagine you are inside of a ball


• Imagine a ball next to you or behind you


• Turn, roll, bounce, shake, spin or compress and expand one of the above balls you have imagined (but actually do the movement


• Align your body and limbs in arcs, which are part of imagined balls, now move the balls


• Have your arms connect to each other through your opponent (this one is actually a ring)


• Connect your arms to each other or a leg or both legs, or through space using an imagined ball

I could probably keep going.  Am I missing anything big?  Any other uses of the term ball in martial arts?

The definition George Xu gave me was in someways more concrete.  He said a ball, like a basketball for instance, has a skin, a surface thickness.  As a ball inflates, deflates, rolls or bounces, the dynamic pressure on the surface of the ball must change.  The surface of our physical body is like the thick skin of a basket ball.  It is capable of changing in tone, or being stretched around a curved surface.  Use the surface of your body like a ball.

When you practice gongfu, you must always "have a ball."