In April, 1970, I had been pursuing a rigorous program of calisthenics, running, and diet. I had read every book that I could on nutrition and health. An artist friend said to me, “With your interest in exercise and health, you should visit the T’ai Chi Ch’uan Association where I am studying calligraphy.” With little idea of what T’ai Chi Ch’uan was, I took my friend’s advice and went to Cheng Man-ch’ing’s school at 211 Canal Street, in Chinatown, New York City.
Canal Street was familiar to me, as I had frequented the electronics and hardware stores there hundreds of times and eaten in numerous Chinatown restaurants. As I looked for number 211, a remarkable incident occurred. A woman whom I did not know (but who, it turned out, was a student at the school) walked up to me, pointed upward, and said, “The T’ai Chi Ch’uan school is up there.”
When I walked to the inner door of the school, the first thing I noticed was a skillfully hand-lettered sign stating, “Please remove street footwear upon entering.” Immediately, a tall Chinese man greeted me and invited me in to watch.
I saw a number of people dressed in a non-uniform manner, doing movements that seemed very strange to me. Many of the students did not appear to possess much physical strength. Evaluating what I saw in terms of my emphasis on muscle building, I thought to myself that these “ridiculous” movements could be of some value if they were done faster, with a ten-pound weight in each hand. As a self-righteous weight-watcher, I looked with disdain at a few students whose bodily shapes I did not associate with a school for health and fitness.
The class ended, and a different class began in which all of the students had wooden swords. A quite stocky student in this class began doing movements with impressive grace, balance, and agility. My disdain suddenly disappeared, and I reasoned that, if a person that heavy could move with such extraordinary coordination, there must be something to this strange exercise. My curiosity fully aroused, I asked the tall Chinese man what benefit I could expect from studying T’ai Chi Ch’uan. He answered, “It is different for each person.” Not only did this answer intrigue me at the time, but I eventually realized the truth of it. It embodies an important Taoist precept: Defining things limits them.
It is impossible to convey what T’ai Chi Ch’uan is in a book of any length. The art must be experienced directly for a substantial period of time. The concepts of T’ai Chi Ch’uan, which have approximate parallels in physics, psychology, physiology, spiritual teachings, and religion, intertwine in a complex and mysterious manner.
Even though T’ai Chi Ch’uan is complex and is experienced uniquely by each practitioner, it is still possible to characterize it in certain respects.
T’ai Chi Ch’uan is Chinese. While no one knows exactly how old it is, it dates back, at the very least, to 1750 A.D. Certainly, its principles of action are rooted in knowledge and philosophy that have developed over thousands of years.
T’ai Chi Ch’uan encompasses the following five interrelated aspects. Each of these aspects will be treated in detail.
- It is a spiritual teaching.
- It is a form of meditation.
- It is a system of health and healing.
- It is the physical expression of the ancient Chinese philosophy of Taoism.
- It is a system of self-defense.
T’AI CHI CH’UAN AS A SPIRITUAL TEACHING
The main purpose in studying a spiritual teaching is to come into harmony with the universe. Many of us are out of harmony in some manner. Wars, poverty, and disease all stem from a collective lack of harmony. Addressing these problems by trying to get others to change is certainly valid. However, the basic assumption underlying most spiritual teachings is that we were placed in the world primarily for our own inner growth and, secondarily, to help others to grow. Thus, individuals must work to eliminate in themselves those attitudes that, on a world-wide scale, lead to war, poverty, and sickness. Through inner-growth, the individual makes a direct contribution to the harmony of the world but, also, influences others to change by example.
T’ai Chi Ch’uan emphasizes (a) becoming aware of the relationship of all the parts of one’s body to each other and to the environment and (b) moving these parts harmoniously under the direction of the mind. For most of us, complex movement, such as walking, was learned by trial and error in a haphazard manner. Without special training, our awareness of bodily parts and their interrelationship is minimal.
Learning to move harmoniously is much more than a physical exercise. Disharmonious bodily movement is a result of faulty messages sent by the mind to the bodily parts. With practice, the student learns to send messages that result in a fluidity of movement. While the vehicle is the physical body, the development is mainly that of the mind. Practicing the movements of T’ai Chi Ch’uan strengthens bones, organs, glands, and muscles, but, at the same time, the mind is diverted from its usual mechanical mode to one that leads to increased harmony. Soon the practitioner begins to cultivate a similar harmony when approaching other pursuits.
After a student’s solo movements have been sufficiently corrected, a two-person exercise called push-hands is taught. In push-hands practice, two students face off and alternately attack and defend using four reciprocal movements from the solo form. One main idea of push-hands is learning to yield rather than clash when attacked. Yielding does not mean that the defender gives up. In fact, T’ai Chi Ch’uan is a very effective means of defeating a skilled attacker.
Push-hands practice not only provides a foundation for self-defense but teaches principles of harmonious action. Being in harmony requires flexibility in thought and the ability to release an idea or preconception arising from the ego or societal programming. Yielding involves being in the moment instead of reacting in a routine or haphazard manner. Acting routinely (the same way every time) and acting haphazardly (in a random fashion) both involve inattentiveness. Neither of these ways of reacting takes into account the details of any particular situation. Eliminating routine or haphazard actions and replacing them by thoughtful actions predicated on centuries-old principles requires a willingness to discover and eliminate one’s weaknesses. Through push-hands, practitioners become aware of their own imbalance, tension, resistance, and impulsive responses and are then able to correct them.
As students begin to see themselves clearly, there may be periods of alienation and isolation rather than connectedness to the universe as their disharmony becomes increasingly evident. Students may tend to blame themselves or others for their spiritual distress. Blaming ourselves makes taking responsibility for our actions painful. Avoidance of this pain leads to blaming others. But to blame others is to shun responsibility. This problem can be avoided by learning to observe actions without blame. Eliminating blame cultivates patience and the ability to forgive ourselves or others when we or they fall short of perfection. Push-hands practice develops a true spirit of cooperation that helps us to be objective and blameless when looking at our own or others’ shortcomings. The proper practice of push-hands greatly accelerates spiritual growth and leads to true harmony.
Patience and the curbing of impulsiveness are attained through the study of T’ai Chi Ch’uan because we learn to accept our own natural rate of change. The growth process is likened to water wearing away rocks. We know from geology that water acting over sufficiently long periods of time can cause mountains to be turned into valleys. While most of us are unaware of the daily progress of geological changes, we are occasionally impressed with the cumulative effects such as rivers and gorges. Similarly, after regularly practicing the T’ai Chi Ch’uan movements over a period of time, we may suddenly become aware of how much we have changed in our approach to the world. However, this change is so natural and gradual that it is often barely noticeable.
T’AI CHI CH’UAN AS MEDITATION
Most people associate meditation with sitting in a stationary position rather than being upright and moving, as is the case with T’ai Chi Ch’uan. Let us therefore consider what meditation is in terms of the operation of the mind.
There are two main modes in which the mind operates: the mechanical and the direct. The mechanical mode is the everyday, practical one. In the mechanical mode, language is used to process sensory data from the physical world. Language is extremely powerful because it contains a body of accumulated knowledge. Unfortunately, language also contains the distortions, prejudices, opinions, and limitations of ourselves and others. Of course, the mechanical mode and its corresponding use of language has a valid function connected with our important existence in the physical world.
The direct mode is that of being in the moment. In this mode, the mind experiences directly rather than characterizing through language. The direct mode is unencumbered by self-blame, preconceptions, thoughts of either the past or future, opinions, prejudices, and limiting characterizations such as male/female, married/ single, rich/poor, smart/stupid. Unfortunately, most people disregard and lose access to the direct mode.
During meditation, the mind shifts from the ordinary, mechanical mode to the direct mode for a period of time. The mind thus regains perspective by temporarily shedding the strong influences of the everyday world. In sitting meditation, the direct mode is attained by subduing the physical senses of sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste. This shift helps to eliminate thinking in terms of language.
Activities in which the mind is keenly attuned to inner natural processes such as breathing, tension of muscles, and circulation of ch’i1 encourage discovering and experiencing directly instead of through words. Such activities lead to a meditative state by subduing emotions, expectations, preconceptions, comparisons, and characterizations. That is why many types of meditation begin by turning the attention inward to one’s breathing or to the colors and patterns “seen” through closed eyes.
T’ai Chi Ch’uan differs from sitting meditation because it involves movement and emphasizes that which enters through the senses. However, practicing T’ai Chi Ch’uan helps shift the mind from ...