Three Treasures and Six Harmonies
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Xingyi Basics
I've been working daily on the five elemental fists (wu xing quan) and three treasures (san ti shi) of Hebei xinqyiquan as taught by Shifu Zhang Yun.
San ti is the basic fighting posture of xingyi; one practice is to hold that posture for extended periods of time, taking care to set up contradictory intentions in the body – forward/back, up/down, and left/right. From my previous Gao lineage baguazhang practice, I had been exposed to a little bit about san ti. Su Dong Chen's EOE uses it as well. I had been attempting to incorporate directional training in my standing practice, but some of the internal windings I was visualizing in the body were not as efficient as what Shifu Zhang showed me.
A simple thing I noticed this morning is how easy it is to begin to lean backward as one puts more weight on the rear leg of a stance. This causes the body to naturally uproot itself. In contrast, by dropping the weight of the body, I have slowly been able to begin keeping my spine more erect as I shift my weight forward and backward in a fixed stance. This may not seem like much of an accomplishment – and in many ways it is not – but it was a big revelation for me considering I had been playing with these ideas for some time.
Suppleness and Change
I continue to work with my colleague Ben Lawner on refining the modern goshin-jutsu
Gao bagua's 64 linear tactics themselves are a synthesis (developed in Tianjian) of bagua, xingyi, and taiji. So, in my personal practice lately I have been playing around with the idea of more directly exhibiting the xingyi and taiji I know within them. For example, when beginning in san ti, or finishing with benquan or paoquan, I have been practicing the Hebei Xingyiquan movement. I've also played with drilling the taijiquan heel kick at the end of each Gao kicking sequence before the final paoquan movement. Since I am not teaching these arts, only practicing them, I want to somehow meld a firm presentation of their skills in my body so that if I were to use them in an unscripted environment, I would have a cohesive presentation of these arts in my body. This is not entirely novel of an idea, in that the kicking series (usually the sixth house) for different lines of Gao bagua are different. In a while, I will go back to the original way I was taught of doing the sixth house of the Gao linear tactics to see if I notice any different sensations when doing them.
Breath and Movement
I continue to work on my breath and posture as part of my martial arts practice, to help develop connection between the different parts of my body. In yoga, I continue regular breathing practice to purify and energize the body – helping prepare it for meditation. I view my hatha yoga practice as a spiritual pursuit: I engage in asana (yoga posture) practice to balance out the body and bring my awareness to the way in which my breath can unify body and mind. Doing so, I am aiding the development of my Buddhist practice.
Regarding martial arts, one common refrain seen in practitioners is a quest for greater amounts of power – by this I mean psycho-spiritual willpower or strength of personality but also the more prosaic ability to move fast, be strong, and resist damage and pain. Maybe a place to begin in discussing this general topic is to consider what working definitions of strength, energy, and power are.
We notice energy not always by feeling it directly, but often visually by watching its effect and inferring its source. Often, that inference is mistaken. For example, we see someone throw someone, and when there is a big movement resulting, we instinctively believe there was a great amount of power exhibited by the thrower. Wanting to be able to do the same, we might try to get stronger by lifting weights or working on our technique. However, some displays of skill are so profound (e.g., the clips of Shioda Gozo or Wang Peisheng I have linked to before) we begin to wonder if, in a superstitious way, there is not something more involved.
While qi or prana figure importantly as an organizing metaphor in both Taoist ideas of transformation and healing, as well as esoteric practices of transformation and self-realization, one does not in any of these traditions look upon the ability to use prana or qi in external ways as the beginning motivation for or end goal of one's practice. When we practice breath work, we develop certain internal sensations of what we perceive as energy moving through our bodies. If we assume that energy can manifest itself external to our selves – rather than just being our own physical sensations of cultivating circulation of the blood, enervation of the nerves, and pressure and stretching and conditioning of the body – we will direct our focus and intention outward instead of developing an inner awareness of force and structure. We need to develop an ability to listen to our bodies so we may improve our ability to experience those sensations. In doing so, we can make our body more and more integrated and connected. We are then able to exhibit more efficient posture, relaxed movement, and skillful absorption and discharge of force. But that force is entirely physical – the product of an increased integration of body and mind.
The required method of development in this area is quite foreign to many martial artists. It involves an inner awareness and slow and steady training of the body to perceive the forces acting on it. One hopes to gain the ability to convey forces through the body's structure in a very efficient manner. To do so, we must also define and improve this structure. This is far from blind extension or contraction of a single muscle or muscle group. It is also far from simply coordinated movement of the body, although a great deal of coordination is required. Merely recruiting more joints and muscles into a movement does not allow one to reproduce the higher levels of internal skill in martial arts. That is the start, not the finish. Rather, we need to replace our original instincts about how we stabilize the body, how we respond to, and how we generate, force. A great deal of the effort involved is dealing with the nervous system – how the reflexes of the body work when the body is enervated and when relaxed. Qi, if energy, is potential energy – the ability to do work, not mass or kinetic energy in and of itself.
At first, when we engage in breathing practice and do a moving meditation, we cultivate sensations in our bodies and can make our martial arts practice feel much more vibrant and alive. But without knowledge of how to apply the force of the ground through our bodies in a relaxed manner – the simple normal force in response to a push against a fixed structure like the ground in the sense of static analysis – we can feel enervated by our breathing or qigong all we like, but it will do us little benefit in a martial encounter. In essence, if we do not know the path we are attempting to walk, and are not being properly guided, we can delude ourselves into thinking that we are more "powerful" because of our breathing or stance-training or meditative practice, but we cannot put that "power" to use. Not knowing any better, some people rationalize these internal sensations as a presence external to their own body. They then don't have a mechanism by which to apply the little sensation they do feel in a constructive manner.
There can be energy or stress/strain within the body as well as potential energy from the weight of the body. There is also the normal force of the ground acting back on the body's structure or form. Force issued or momentum imparted in an opponent, when a product of these three ideas, can be said to be "internal". Proper application of internal force is not felt by the issuer – it is transmitted completely into the target of a push or strike. Any force felt by the issuer is force that was not conveyed along a pure path into the other person – inefficiencies in direction or guidance caused, like friction, the force to act on ourselves instead of the other person. The most profound applications of correct technique I have to date succeeded in (limited and as rare as they were), during execution I have always felt absolutely nothing. In the most profound applications of correct technique I have ever felt – the forces involved have been an order of magnitude more powerful than what I could imagine possible. This points not to some other-worldly development but rather to an integrated use of the body in a very specific and refined manner.
In that neijia such as bagua, xingyi, taiji develop the body in specific ways, and thus the body's ability to manifest qi, they are said to be a form of qigong. Conversely, some forms of qigong are actually standing martial arts practices in disguise – yiquan is a good example, as well as people who practice taiji exclusively for health. So, qijong and neijia are related. There are also Taoist religious practices, called Taogong or Neigong, which are physical-spiritual efforts to transform the body into an immortal state. Qigong is a fundamental part of these practices as well, but they go far beyond the ideas I describe above in the context of martial arts, and are a path into themselves.