Teachers, Students, Friends, Masters, Disciples, Parents, Children, Lovers, Wives …

… and more. I don’t have simple relationships, most of the time. Not even with my cat (well, how complex can that be?). Like everyone else, I carry psychological baggage around that makes me want to pigeonhole people into roles that they may not want. I am glad that I’m aware of this fact, but cannot say that awareness, or even constant vigilance (you wish!) necessarily changes things.
You know of the “bell curve” effect? Standard distribution of just about anything means that the vast majority of people tend to be more or less in the middle of a range between extremes. Most people aren’t very interested or aware of the state of their own psyches, let alone those of other people. On the other hand, some people are so obsessed that they become therapists.
Those who know me well (and some who don’t plus some who think they do but don’t and others that think they don’t but do), know that I am currently studying Neuro-Linguistic Programming, and will eventually be dubbed a “Practitioner”, all things being well. It does mean that after 20 days of training, practitioners such as my good and bad selves are let loose on the general public as “coaches” (contrary to more regulated professions, where such therapists will undergo several years of training). But on a more positive note, it is helping me greatly to gain an insight into my own mind and those of other people.
They say that “you are what you do” and also that “character is destiny”. In NLP we also learn that “every action has a positive intention behind it”. The recent rioting in suburbs across France are a good example: some have said the rioters are “scum” (because of what they do) whereas others point out that there’s a reason (at least one) as to why they do it. We all have our ways of getting attention, often tried and trusted. What is your way of getting attention? Does it change in different circumstances, in different places? Does it sometimes not work? Some of the most violent and upsetting relationships will happen when two people are set in their attention-seeking ways, but the ways don’t work. Sometimes quite literally like banging your head on a brick wall. Believe me, I’ve been there.
Some of our more complicated relationships arise when someone fits more than one pigeonhole. I have students who are friends and friends who are students. In both cases, the people concerned tend to mix contexts – in class you are my student, not my friend. We both need to understand this and act accordingly. Outside class … I leave it for you to decide, if we can both separate contexts. Normally, friends stay friends and some students may become friends, though this is not so common.
In the Chinese martial arts, the teacher may be referred to as “Sifu”, which means “teaching father”. It does imply a father-like role, but not all teachers want that to be the case, and it is often unwise of the student to look for this. Chinese and Western fathers don’t necessarily have the same kind of role, and in any case Chinese culture is full of family terms to designate people who are not kin. I certainly don’t want to be any kind of a father to any of my students, partly because none of them are young enough, but also because I teach Tai Chi Chuan and not life. Looking for life lessons from your Tai Chi teacher is a common error, and can lead to terrible things.
As the teacher may be a Sifu, the student may be a “Tudi”, which means “a younger brother and follower”. Whereas there are many teachers who are called Sifu but should not be, there are not many students who think of themselves as “Tudi”. The “brother/sister” aspect implies some respect as well as the idea of belonging to a common group, a group that follows what a teacher is teaching. As a younger brother or sister, you may acknowledge that the teacher is not a father, but an elder brother or sister – a guide in other words. This is closer to the concept of Guru, but then we start getting into terminological tangles and loaded words.
My master is not a master but is. I consider myself Tudi learning from a great Sifu, who isn’t. I want to be no more than Lao shi, but for my students to be Tudi. The roles we take on, and those we expect others to take on, must be flexible and context-sensitive, just like the Long river, the long boxing. We need to understand our own nature and the characters of those around us, but also we need to understand that there will always be aspects of the psyche of which we are unaware, so that we take account of the known and the unknown. Then even our most complicated relationships can make some sense, and we can hopefully avoid the worst and live better with people.

Repetition

In one of the books I have on Chinese martial arts, there is a section called “Pugilists’ proverbs” which includes one of my favourites:
“A thousand repetitions makes the skill natural”
At one of his ‘competition’ seminars, Dan gave the example of the British Wushu team, who would run through a 5 minute form twenty times in their training on a regular basis. And those are just perfidious albionese – you can imagine what they get up to out East.
In Wudang style Tai Chi Chuan, there are three weapons forms and three hand forms. End to end, doing them all takes about 45 minutes, one time. I like to run through each form three times (of which one or two is mirror image). That’s enough to get the feel of the form and then work on some corrections, deepening the postures, and so on. Sometimes when I’m training for competition I’ll do 2x3 or 3x3 (generally on weekends!). And, frankly, this is not enough. Ideally I would want to spend around two hours on forms every day. And that’s just forms. We then need a good hour for (basic level) nei gong and a good hour for jiben gong (counting in the minimum syndical of twenty minutes punching weights). So that makes around 4 hours of solo training. You then jump in the train to go off and see your training partners for tui shou and san shou, and maybe you’ll make it to class later on to learn some more stuff, or possibly teach.
As we all know, less is more. I’m constantly trying to get students to understand this and they always want to know more and more and more. With most of them at work and play as well as studying the noble art of Tai Chi Chuan, how can they expect to be any good? If Jean is unemployed and so can practice three hours a day, why should Jeanette be upset that he has learnt more exercises then she has (Jeanette has a full-time job, children and at least two other major hobbies).
There are 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week and (normally) 365 days in a year. No more.
There’s a story that I’ve heard in at least three guises. Take a large bowl and fill it up with large stones until you can’t put any more in. Is it full? No – take some sand and pour that in until the bowl is full of stones and sand. Is it full? Still no – take some water and you can pour it in. The moral of the story: even after a large steak and some crisps down the pub, there’s always room for another beer. An alternative moral, more apt in this context: put the big things in your life in place first, because there will always be room for the smaller things.
My teacher has made the observation that most people want to do Tai Chi, not to be good at it. If you want to be good at Tai Chi Chuan, then you have to practice, practice, practice. As with the analogy of the stream blocked by a boulder, as time goes on the water eventually wears down the rock. With time, with practice, “the jin is like one hundred times refined steel”. How good you want to be at the art depends on how big a place you’re prepared to make for it in your life. Most of us are not able to do Tai Chi full-time, so be content with a little, but do it a lot. Maybe the stone will grow.

Getting to Fight

As there is no day without night, so there is no peace without war. Once upon a time I was almost a pacifist, but this Taoist evidence stopped me from taking such a bodily leap into the land of Yin. One of the hardest things we can do, IMHO, is come to terms with violence.
There is no point refusing it, pretending it isn’t there or that it will go away. There is no point thinking it is “wrong” (though of course it might be misplaced). The key question to start with is “why”. Why does a particular act of violence occur? One should remember that we tend only to remark the out of place – the violence of cats fighting is not something the good citizens think is unnatural and wrong. Most often, we notice violence when it is out of place, according to our own point of view (and sometimes that of “society”).
I have always been quite violent. I remember breaking all the ground-floor windows of our house when I was about 5, and I remember the beating I got for it. Violence begets violence, and when the only tool you have is a hammer every problem starts to look like a nail. Although in most of my life violence is not an issue, in the nice furry world of Tai Chi Chuan, my violent nature has often been remarked – it is out of place, apparently.
Sorry sweet chicks but we’re not doing the same thing – violence is part of fighting, and fighting is part of martial arts, so my violence is very appropriate: it’s just that you guys are neither fighting nor practicing martial arts.
Dan says that to fight you need Shen (spirit, heart), Gong (capacity, ability) and Quan (technique) – in that order. Cheng Tin Hung told Tong Chi Kin to take a wide guard with one hand to the rear, since he was a vicious fighter (you’d have to knock him out to stop him) but had very weak technique. You can develop technique, and I know a number of people who have lots of it – but that’s not going to help you faced with a steamtrain or mad max. Nevertheless, this is where everyone must start, building up technique, because then you can channel your violence into something that helps you overcome it.
If you want to use Tai Chi Chuan to fight, then you start off learning applications with “one-step sparring”: one attack, one response. Most often, this is the only “martial” stuff people will learn, because their real interest is forms. With lots of practice, of all aspects of the art, the applications start to become integrated, natural reactions, executed with minimal stress even when the attack is relatively fast. So:
One-step sparring:
- start slowly and see how the technique works
- work the technique from different directions, using footwork to change distance and timing
- increase speed and power (this is where it can get a bit dangerous).
Together with one-step sparring, the potential Tai chi fighter should also be looking to develop his/her tui shou skills, following the 5 step strategy of course and avoiding resistance. Exercises such as “gyrating arms” and “5 element arm” should also be practiced. It is very important at this early stage to work on “jiben gong” so that you know how to kick and punch, and how to roll with them. You are establishing a physical and technical base on which to work.
After this initial stage where we’re putting the building blocks in place, we can start actually making things. This second stage is normally marked by Bai Shi and the start of the nei gong training. The Yin exercises help the body to heal and grow stronger, both of which are important when you start “mixing it up”. In pushing hands, it’s time to look at competition formats, especially moving step formats where throws and leg grabs are allowed, since these are key techniques for Chinese full-contact. It’s also good to practice more ‘martial’ push hands formats – for example reeling silk at speed and with real slaps to the face, fixed step with soft face strikes (open or closed hand), freestyle with closed hands.
In terms of applications, the Tai Chi fighting apprentice will be working on
- combinations and sequences
- two-step sparring (counters to counters)
- dealing with surprises
- understanding techniques from other styles and how to defend against them
- strategies and tactics
- understanding/dealing with injuries
It could well be that now we’re ready to fight – after all, you don’t want to wait until you’re forty! The key things to add to the above would be 1. the question of equipment (gloves and groin protector only, or headgear as well, foot protectors maybe?) and 2. the nei gong status. There is no doubt that the Yang exercises are extremely useful in developing striking Kung Fu. Indeed, punching weights and nei gong together constitute the key basic training in the Wudang style – Dan once told me that the first skill to develop for full-contact fighting is the ability to produce a KO with a single punch.
The process that I’ve outlined here where you’re getting to fight can take months or years, depending on the person and the amount of time they have for training. And, at the end of the day, it’s mostly about Chuan and Gong. No-one can teach you Shen – but you won’t get very far without it. I believe there’s a lot to be said for just diving in, and doing as many competitions and fights as you can find, alongside the training. In free sparring with protections, you can learn to apply technique and force, and to receive it. But nothing compares to the ring, or to the street, for solid functional learning. It’s just that that approach is rather risky. In any case, fighting is risky. But what’s life without violence?

Tai Chi et Kung Fu

Lors de mes premiers mois en France j’ai été surpris par l’absence apparente de dénomination des styles chinois. Dans tel ou tel centre, il y avait des cours de Judo, de Karaté, … et de Kung fu. Puis de Tai Chi parfois aussi. Cela ne correspondait pas à mon expérience de l’autre coté de la manche. A Londres, en faisait de la grue blanche, du Hung Gar, des 5 animaux, de la Main de Buddha, entre autres. Les cours de Tai Chi aussi étaient dénommés style Yang, Wu, Wudang etc. … mais beaucoup moins, c’est vrai. Mais personne ne faisait des cours de « Kung Fu » … car ça ne veut rien dire.
En fait oui, bien sur cela veut dire quelque chose : « le savoir faire ». Pour être au plus correct (même politiquement parlant) on dirait « kung fu wushu » - le savoir-faire des arts martiaux. Un Taiwanais dirait peut-être bien « kung fu guoshu » - le savoir-faire des arts nationaux. Aussi, il est vrai qu’au Hong Kong, dans le sud de la Chine et plus généralement dans le diaspora chinois lorsqu’on parle de Kung Fu (selon le contexte) le plus souvent on fait référence aux arts martiaux. Ainsi, le Karaté serait le Kung Fu Japonais, et la boxe anglaise (sorry !) serait le Kung Fu occidental.
Dans les cours de Dan, on commençait toujours avec la marche des sept étoiles (« qi xing bu »), suivi par des applications et autres exercices de Tui shou, le tout pimenté avec des roulades, des poiriers, des exercices avec la patte d’ours et d’autres « jiben gong ». A la fin on faisait un peu de forme – parfois plus, parfois moins. Ceux qui connaissent un peu le maître savent que les formes viennent des applications : c’était donc l’ordre des choses dans ses cours.
Aujourd’hui en 2006 je constate que pour la plupart des gens, y compris les pratiquants, lorsqu’on parle de Tai Chi on parle, en effet, des formes. La pratique de tui shou, pourtant toujours présente dans, disons 40% des écoles, reste souvent quelque chose pour les initiés ayant dix ans de pratique. La pratique martiale de l’art a disparue (sauf pour des styles peuplés d’irréductibles guerriers qui résistent encore et toujours … ), surtout en Chine populaire. Alors donc, quand on veut faire du combat à la Chinoise, on appelle ça Kung fu. Je constate aussi qu’on parle de « Tai Chi martial » : une dérive créée par le fait que le Tai Chi est devenu une gymnastique douce basée sur les formes. Comme si le Tai Chi Chuan pouvait être autre chose que martial !
Dans le Kung fu traditionnel, on fait une différence entre « externe » (Wai jia chuan) et « interne » (Nei jia chuan). Les deux approches ayant pour but de développer du Kung fu Wushu. L’externe, grosso modo, est censé se reposer sur une approche plus physique, plus orienté muscle, que l’interne, qui lui est censé être plus axé sur le développement du « Nei kung » (force interne) à travers des exercices normalement moins exigeants sur le plan physique. Il existe des différentes catégorisations : certains disent que l’externe veut dire « venu de l’extérieur » (de la Chine, l’Inde donc). On trouve aussi une distinction qui en est liée : que l’externe remonte au Bouddhisme (Inde) tandis que l’interne est associé au Taoïsme (Chine).
J’aimerais citer deux dictons « Kung Fu » : « l’externe et l’interne ne font qu’un », et « tous les Kung Fu vient de Shaolin ». Je suis d’accord pour le premier, mais non pas pour le deuxième. La théorie du Tai Chi Chuan est basé sur le jeu entre le Yin et le Yang (ce qu’on pourrait caractériser par l’interne et l’externe). Sans cet équilibre dynamique, on se retrouve soit trop endormi soit trop chargé. Dans les exercices qui font parti de l’art, dans le plus grand sens du terme, on retrouve des pratiques qu’on pourrait caractériser comme « externe » (endurcissements, travail d’endurance, utilisation de haltères, …), ainsi que des pratiques bien sur plus internes (postures, méditations, …). Alors, pour le Shaolin, ben certains disent que Chang san feng avait passé du temps au célebre temple. Peut-être bien et pourquoi pas ? Mais on ne pourrait pas dire la même chose, à ma connaissance, pour d’autres arts « taoistes », notamment les styles quasi-mythiques du mont Emei (pourtant une montage sacrée pour les bouddhistes). De toute façon, pour un sinophile, on ne pourrait jamais admettre qu’un élément culturel si important que le Kung Fu soit venu d’ailleurs. Il y avait forcément des pratiques martiales en Chine avant que Ta Mo (Bodhidharma) à mis ses pattes dans le pays du milieu.
Pour moi, en tant qu’enseignant et quelque part représentant du style Wudang, je dirais que le Tai Chi Chuan fait partie des Kung Fu Wushu, du côté des Nei Jia Quan. Dans mes cours, déjà il existe une différence : le Jiben gong/kung (« travail des bases fondamentales » … pour l’art martial) et les Daoyin (« travail sur la conscience de la geste » … mélange de qigong, assouplissements, Kung simple et technique pour les formes). On dit en anglais « If you can’t beat them, join them ». Encore une fois, pas d’accord. Je veux les changer, ces idées pernicieuses que Tai Chi égal formes. Alors, je propose une approche plus élargi dans laquelle on pratique le Nei jia chuan – en tant que « Kung Fu » et en tant que « Tai Chi ».