Shi Yongjun
Paths of Health Practice in Ancient China and Health Cultivation in the Traditional Internal Martial Arts
At the opening of the Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic (Huangdi Neijing), the Yellow Emperor asks Qibo about the way of nurturing life. Qibo answers: “The people of high antiquity who knew the Way modeled themselves on yin and yang and harmonized with the arts and numbers. They ate and drank in moderation, kept regular hours in rising and resting, and did not exhaust themselves recklessly. Thus body and spirit remained together, and they lived out their natural span, passing away only after a hundred years.”
The state the Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic pursues is that of the healthy, long-lived “balanced person.” In humanity's unremitting pursuit of health and longevity, one can say that several different paths have been taken, of which three have had a marked effect: first, the development of traditional Chinese medicine; second, religious practice, especially the exploration of the theory of inner alchemy; and third, the practice of the traditional internal martial arts.
In the course of history, these three paths developed in parallel while often intersecting. Among those who achieved success in ancient health cultivation, there were many who were at home in two of medicine, Taoism, and martial arts, or who cultivated all three—for example, Hua Tuo created the Five Animal Frolics, Wang Chongyang transmitted Quanzhen, and Sun Simiao wrote medical books. Taoist medicine is a typical combination of the first and second paths; its system differs greatly from that of traditional Chinese medicine, its methods and ideas are also often different, and it is marked by its overlap with Taoism. The second and third paths, because their transmission is by nature highly private and grounded in physical and mental practice, are now in danger of being lost.
In traditional Chinese thought, health cultivation belongs to the cultivation of life. In the development of religion, the second path inevitably flourished. Both Taoism and Buddhism have much valuable practical experience. Of course, judging by achievements in health cultivation alone, Taoism must be ranked first.
Taoist health arts are widely acknowledged to be the most effective. The first four patriarchs of the Southern School of Taoism, for instance, lived to an average age of over 100, the longest-lived reaching 137. Long-lived Taoists are too many to count—Zhang Daoling, Xu Xun, Sun Simiao, Chen Tuan, and others. For health cultivation today, drawing on ancient experience is wiser than rejecting it blindly; hence Chen Yingning said, “We must never belittle ourselves, destroying our own pearls and jade while praising others' broken tiles.”
Buddhism, of course, also has a transmission of life cultivation, as can be seen clearly from the secret process by which the Sixth Patriarch Huineng received the robe and bowl from the Fifth Patriarch (see “Chapter One: Origins” of the Platform Sutra). In both Taoism and Buddhism, the cultivation of life is treasured like a precious jade disc and is not lightly passed on to outsiders. As Mr. Xiao Tianshi said, “Since ancient times, the cultivation of nature has been easy to transmit and the cultivation of life hard to transmit; even if one meets a famous master, one can rarely obtain it with a single request.”
The development of the third path was much influenced by the second. The traditional internal martial arts drew on the achievements of religion in both theory and practice, especially the theory of Taoist inner alchemy.
In theory, the internal martial arts have always revered Taoist culture; the Taoist idea of overcoming the hard with the soft is the soul of the traditional internal martial arts, and the Treatise on Taijiquan has long been attributed to Patriarch Zhang Sanfeng. In practice, much internal kung fu comes directly from Taoism. Baguazhang, for example, one of China's three great internal martial arts, was founded by Dong Haichuan (1797–1882), who learned from a Taoist master, as is recorded in detail in the inscription on Dong Haichuan's tombstone.
Most practitioners of Taoist inner alchemy also acknowledge the close connection between the second and third paths. Niu Jinbao, a lineage holder of the Qianfeng branch of the Taoist Longmen (Dragon Gate) lineage, held that “tai chi and Taoist health exercises spring from the same source and fundamentally cannot be separated... they are all closely connected with tai chi, baguazhang, xingyi, and every school of boxing... This is entirely consistent with the requirements and effects of the Taoist exercises of quiet cultivation.”
This article focuses mainly on the development of the third path. Health cultivation through the internal martial arts is a practical path that is easy to follow and quick to show results. As the saying goes, “Tonifying with medicine is not as good as tonifying with food, and tonifying with food is not as good as practicing martial arts.” The first aim of internal martial arts training is health cultivation, especially in modern society, and this is reflected in the theoretical writings of China's main internal martial arts.
The Treatise on Taijiquan states clearly: “May the heroes of the world prolong their years and lengthen their lives, and not aim merely at the trivial matter of combat skill.” The Song of the Thirteen Postures of Taijiquan likewise says: “Examine closely—where does the purpose ultimately lie? In lengthening life and prolonging years in an unaging spring.” Baguazhang's Song of Application describes this idea as: “Rising, sinking, opening, and closing train the inner skill; in the dantian (elixir field) is a treasure of endless wonders. Practice the art with care to seek its subtleties; realize and awaken to this Way and gain long life.” The great internal martial arts master Sun Lutang summed it up: “The root of cultivating the self and the way of returning to the origin lie, in short, in nothing other than the principles of xingyi, tai chi, bagua, and the other arts.”
Some Misconceptions in Practicing Internal Martial Arts for Health
The first aim of learning the traditional internal martial arts is to pursue health and longevity; only then come self-defense, combat, and other functions. This can be said to be the conclusion of long practice of this form of health exercise. For various reasons, however, the practice of genuine internal martial arts has not become widespread. Lacking correct guidance, many practitioners, though they have invested much time and energy, have not achieved the results they hoped for. As a result, some even begin to doubt whether the classic writings and insights left by their predecessors are correct, which is very misguided. Practitioners of the internal martial arts should do their best to avoid the following common misconceptions:
1. Training the Skill Versus Performing Routines
Many enthusiasts of the traditional internal martial arts are in fact not training the skill but performing routines. Talk about tai chi, and they will tell you that whether it is the 24-form, 83-form, 56-form, or 108-form, they know them all—even the Chen, Yang, Wu (Wu Yuxiang), Wu (Wu Quanyou), and Sun styles. Talk about baguazhang, and they know both the old eight palms and the new routines, and the frames of the Yin, Cheng, Liang, Shi, and other branches. Some have practiced for a long time, won gold medals in competitions, and even hold high-level duan grades awarded by the state. But ask them what inner force is, and you will get no accurate answer. Wang Xiangzhai put it well about such enthusiasts: “Often after decades of pure effort, they remain outsiders in the end.”
Even many famous masters admit they took detours. The noted contemporary baguazhang master Liu Jingru once said: “I have practiced baguazhang for more than 40 years. In the first 30 I took many detours; only in the last 10 have I gained some real understanding of baguazhang and made a little progress. I have come to realize that only when the qi truly sinks to the dantian, the six harmonies return to one, and one has developed the inner force of baguazhang, and then through training mastered its combat characteristics and variations, can it be called an internal martial art. Otherwise, however lively and beautiful one's practice, however many gold medals one has won, or however much one feels the skill has taken hold in the body, it is only skin and hair and cannot count as an internal martial art.”
In fact, practicing boxing, especially the internal martial arts, pursues the great Way of utmost simplicity and reveres the principle that the Tao follows what is so of itself, and conforming to nature. You need only bring some of the sensations of daily life comfortably into the state of practice. Sinking qi to the dantian, wood floating on water, bent legs wading through mud, the three centers hollow and empty—are these not all like this? The internal martial arts seek to develop extraordinary skill by ordinary means, and consider this the mark of true mastery. In the course of training, the internal martial arts work by subtraction, “in pursuing the Tao one loses day by day.” When all the clumsy strength in the body is removed, one arrives at non-action (wuwei). Only after non-action can there be nothing left undone.
2. Inner Force Versus Strength
Martial arts novels describe inner power in miraculous terms, leaving a deep impression on many people. But these are merely the authors' subjective assumptions and imagination. In fact, inner force and strength are not the same thing at all.
I belong to the Yin branch of baguazhang. By chance I got in touch with a fellow disciple of baguazhang who had entered the art earlier, though we have never met. He came from a professional wushu team and had studied baguazhang with a famous master for more than 20 years. He told me on the phone that when he practiced baguazhang he moved with such ferocious force that it was frightening. Hearing this, I could not help feeling sorry for him. Why? Practitioners of the traditional internal martial arts who have truly mastered inner power have extremely soft, supple bodies and absolutely show no strength outwardly. Especially when practicing at the advanced stage, their movements are light and slow and their breath soft and smooth. During practice they embrace the spirit in stillness and can expel every last trace of clumsy strength from the body, reducing energy consumption to a minimum—so how could they frighten anyone?
It seems that internal kung fu is indeed as the martial artist Rong Huafeng said: “Martial arts fill every hall across the four seas, yet true masters are all too rarely seen. No one judges the middle, high, and low; grades without substance lead the young astray.” The line in baguazhang's Song of Turning the Palms, “The palm methods of the former masters have come down to today, yet few in the world obtain their truth,” expresses just this meaning.
The drawbacks of one-sidedly pursuing strength without a good method of entry are obvious. “If one is eager to perform routines as a dance, uselessly using violent force to seek the beauty of speed, then all who use sudden violent force glare and frown, stamp their feet loudly, first hold their breath and then exert force, then after holding it let out a long shout and a sigh, not knowing that they have already gravely harmed their original qi.” (Wang Xiangzhai, “On Using Force” in The Correct Path of Yiquan (Yiquan Zhenggui)) Many martial artists like to pursue outward strength and use sudden violent force in practice. If they do not control their breath well, qi stagnation and breath-holding will naturally occur, and over time will inevitably cause illness.
3. Practicing Versus Reading Books
Zhang Boduan, the first patriarch of the Southern School of the Golden Elixir, “from childhood loved the Tao and read widely in the scriptures of the three teachings, extending to law, calculation, medicine, divination, military formations, astronomy and geography, and the arts of fortune and misfortune, life and death—there was nothing he did not study in detail.” Yet even with such intelligence, until he met a master at the age of 82 who transmitted the oral formulas to him, he had not fully grasped the secrets of inner alchemy. Moved by this, he wrote: “Even if you are cleverer than Yan Hui and Min Ziqian, without meeting a true master do not force your guesses.” (Awakening to Perfection (Wuzhen Pian), heptasyllabic quatrain no. 14) But it would be wrong to think that inner alchemy is so very complicated. Chen Nan, the fourth patriarch of the Southern School, said: “Everyone possesses the great Way of the Golden Elixir, but it must be transmitted by mouth and received in the heart.” (“Pearl Curtain—For Bai Yuchan, the Master of Hainan” in Chapters of Emerald Emptiness (Cuixu Pian))
The traditional internal martial arts are similar. Tai chi has the saying “Entering the gate and being shown the way requires oral instruction; practice without ceasing, and the method is self-cultivated” (Song of the Thirteen Postures of Taiji), and baguazhang the saying “The wonders within lie deep and mysterious; the palm lies in the master's transmission, the learning in dedication” (baguazhang's Song of Practice). Both speak of the importance of a teacher's correct guidance. Someone might ask: if I redouble my efforts, can I master the traditional internal martial arts on my own, without a teacher? My answer is that the probability of success is close to zero, because the development of the traditional internal martial arts depends on the continuous accumulation of several, even a dozen or more, generations.
In the history of tai chi, Chen-style boxing was scarcely taught to outsiders before Yang Luchan. Only after enduring countless hardships did Yang Luchan learn tai chi from Chen Changxing of Chenjiagou in Wen County, Henan, and he went on to make it famous throughout the land. Hence the saying “Chen boxing still needed Yang boxing to spread it”; the later Wu, Wu, and Sun styles all derived from the Yang style. Before learning tai chi, Yang Luchan's martial skill was already very good, and Wu Yuxiang, Wu Quanyou, and Sun Lutang all had skills of their own before learning tai chi. Sun Lutang in particular, “in the spring of 1886, set out alone on foot on a grand journey through eleven provinces north and south, visiting Shaolin, paying homage at Wudang, and climbing Emei; whenever he heard of a skilled person he would call on him, and in contests with others he never met his match.” He long wanted to learn tai chi but could not. Only at the age of 52, when he met Hao Weizhen, a lineage holder of Wu-style tai chi, did he learn tai chi; in the end he merged the three arts and created Sun-style tai chi.
From this brief historical review, we can answer a question beginners often ask: “I have books and videos—can I learn the internal martial arts on my own?” The answer is both yes and no. Yes, in that practicing according to the forms does no harm; at the very least it exercises the body and pleases the mind. But if you want to understand what true internal martial arts are, and what traditional internal culture is, practicing from books and videos alone will not do; you must seek out an enlightened teacher (not necessarily a famous one) and receive the true transmission. To put it more plainly, receiving the true transmission is a necessary but not sufficient condition for mastering the traditional internal martial arts. Other subjective and objective conditions are needed too, such as diligence in thinking and in practice, and a group of like-minded companions—after all, “it is hard for one person alone to climb the green cliff.”
4. Softness and Hardness
Tai chi is very popular today, and in the mornings and evenings people are often seen practicing it in parks. This is a good thing, showing that people's awareness of health cultivation is much stronger than before. But practice should be scientific. If elderly people in their seventies and eighties go in for hard, fierce issuing of force, they are damaging their own bodies. This brings us to the relationship between softness and hardness.
Everyone knows that the internal martial arts emphasize overcoming the hard with the soft. But some may ask: the internal martial arts can also injure people, so how does that work? The hardness of the internal martial arts is hardness within softness, not the brute strength of stretching the muscles of the arms and chest. “Steel must be refined pure before it can cut the hard.” The hardness of the internal martial arts is the pure hardness of inner force refined from softness. This brings us to how inner force is refined, which is also the most secret part of every school and branch of the traditional internal martial arts. To put it more bluntly, the hardness of the internal martial arts is refined from softness; it is the accumulation of softness. “If one merely displays outward force—however imposing, eyes wide and glaring, feet stamping loudly on the ground, panting like an ox from exhaustion, exerting great strength—yet nothing is required within to accompany it, then it is practice in vain.” This saying hits the nail on the head.
5. The Health Practice of the Internal Martial Arts
It is true that, on the surface, the traditional internal martial arts are richly varied, and each has its own merits for health. Of the three great internal martial arts, bagua, tai chi, and xingyi, the masters of old summed them up as “bagua in the feet, tai chi in the waist, xingyi in the rising and falling, drilling and overturning, and the points of contact.” Personally, however, I believe that if we consider only the training of the legs' agility for beginners, baguazhang is more direct in its benefits and more marked in its training effect. The essential foundation of baguazhang training begins with walking in circles with the mud-wading step, and baguazhang skill is also acquired through the seemingly simple circle walking; this circle is called the “circle of mysterious workings.” The legs are the source of a person's vitality—otherwise why would the Yongquan point be located in the center of the sole? Mr. Nan Huai-chin held this view too.
When Dong Haichuan, the founding master of baguazhang, was alive, he often stressed that a hundred kinds of practice are not as good as walking. Baguazhang begins with training the legs. Zhuangzi's saying that “the Perfected breathe through their heels” makes sense: if one can sink the qi to Yongquan, one's skill will be unimaginably good. Someone will ask: how can the heels or Yongquan breathe—does that not violate the most basic common sense? To this I would say: “What is called breathing is not breathing; therefore it is called breathing.” At the advanced stage of internal practice, one feels that every pore of the body is breathing. This is a phenomenon that really exists, but ordinary people cannot experience this state. Once one truly enters the gate of the internal arts and experiences its joys, one will practice without stopping for life.
Although the three great internal martial arts each have their own features on the surface, in essence many key things are similar. All, for example, seek better rooted striking: tai chi says “striking root to root is the true thing,” bagua says “slip away and change shadows without leaving a trace,” and xingyi says “there is no point in the whole body that is not a spring.” So the masters of old summed up and understood the characteristics of the three great internal martial arts this way: xingyi is good, bagua is clever, tai chi is nimble. I believe that at the advanced stage the three great internal martial arts are in essence one and the same thing and pursue the same state; they simply climb toward the summit from different directions.
Chapter 55 of the Tao Te Ching says: “One who holds virtue in abundance is like a newborn infant... Its bones are weak and its sinews soft, yet its grip is firm; it does not yet know the union of female and male, yet its member stirs—this is the height of essence.” Is not the highest state of the internal martial arts just this? If a practitioner of the internal martial arts can restore his body to the state of a newborn infant, so that every movement of hand and foot is commanded by an extremely fine inner force, he has reached the ultimate state. In fact, the key to judging the level of an internal martial artist is whether the practitioner has fine inner force, and whether he controls his opponent with force in push hands. Without this, it is of no use how many routines or how many forms one knows. Those whose skill has reached a certain level in the traditional internal martial arts can tell a practitioner's level just from the opening movement of his form.
(Shi Yongjun, Guangdong Institute of Public Administration)