Energy Realized
Here in the states we celebrated Independence Day marveling at the patterns and colors bursting above New York’s skyline. Fireworks are a great example of chi, the universal life force energy intrinsic for high level health and martial arts.
At first, a firework is an inanimate cylinder, though filled with potential. When ignited, energy streams up from the blackness. The full force of the dormant power does not fully present itself until it reaches its zenith and bam! A dazzling cascade of energy bursts forth.
Similarly, TanDao Mindful Movements are about generating and releasing our hidden energy within for mental and physical power. To some, practicing our Energy Snacks and martial movements are simply calisthenics for maintaining health and fitness. However, for those practitioners who continue to practice and refine the postures and movements, you may, in time, make a wonderful discovery — chi is real.
Keep practicing — and if you are just watching our videos, start following along! Check out A Burst of Quiet and Freedom in our entertainment section and Power Waves in martial arts. If you are interested in more on chi, please read an article excerpt below. Lawrence wrote it when he was Far East Editor for Inside Kung Fu. Written in August, 1976, the debate over chi continues.
Lawrence and Toni
“The Quest For Chi” by Lawrence Tan
The quest. What was the ”philosopher’s stone” to early alchemists, or the ”Holy Grail ” to knights of the Round Table, is “chi” to martial artists. Chi: that mysterious energy with magical qualities is one of the highest goals to attain for Kung Fu practitioners. To cultivate chi means to transcend the physical limitations of the body, to pierce into a rarefied realm and to achieve extraordinary power.
Kung Fu tales describe the wonders of chi. Defensively, chi makes the body impervious to injury or pain from powerful blows - some believe, even against bladed weapons. Offensively, chi can be directed to inflict injury by a mere touch - some believe, without bodily contact! Such colorful claims, stretching from the astonishing but credible to the further limits of the imagination that most would regard as fantasy, provide mystique to the art of Kung Fu and, no doubt, appeal to our thirst for esoteric powers.
What is chi? In Chinese chi means breath, air, gas, etc., but is also a metaphysical notion that means cosmic energy or the life force that, according to Chinese philosophy, pervades the universe comprised of Heaven, Earth, and Man. As a philosophical concept, chi is not unique to East Asian thought; it is found in other world philosophies: in Hinduism it is ”prana,” in Greek it is ”pneuma,” and in Judaism it is ”ruakh.” Although Greek and Hebrew thought -which laid the foundation for Western civilization - have similar concepts, many Westerners, who regard it to be superstition or scientifically invalid, do not readily accept chi.
In traditional Kung Fu, chi is a reality. This life force energy is a psychological and physical force - a combination of breath, blood circulation, adrenalin and nervous system controlled by mental intention. Certainly this vague definition is one reason why this notion has not been taken seriously by the Western empirical mind. Yet if chi is so elusive to define, it is even more elusive to attain - if it does in fact exist.
In martial arts, those who cultivate chi to a significant degree seem to be an anomaly. Still there are stories of ”old masters” who perform amazing feats like extinguishing a burning candle from a distance using chi. Unfortunately, few people have the fortune to witness these deeds and it is usually an exaggerated version that reaches our ears. There are also the “circus stunts”- breaking cement blocks on the body of someone lying on a bed of nails, or breaking bricks or ice with a soft strike - passed off as demonstrations of chi. Many stunts do not require internal powers and can be explained by physics (the bed of nails stunt was performed by muscle men in the West who never heard of chi). Other so-called feats of chi have been specially ”prepared” prior to the demonstration (such as tampering with ice or bricks). These demonstrations are not critically viewed; sometimes the audience’s secret desire to believe abets in the credibility of these bogus demonstrations.
Even in ancient dynasties, when military training was at its zenith chi or inner strength was not very common. Many were also awed by the feats of chi power. Often, warriors wanting to explore the frontiers of the mental and physical aspects of the fighting arts, sought to cultivate intrinsic energy. They sought monks or retired military experts, who had forsaken society to return to nature. Fighters enticed by stories of these masters who knew the secrets of chi, traveled paths up mountains seeking a Taoist or Buddhist temple, or a hut swallowed up by the landscape, or a secluded cave that had become the abode of such a master. Here the seeker - if accepted as a disciple - stayed with the master to study the life force energy.
Chi is usually related to internal systems, in contrast to external systems. This dichotomy of inner and outer is a traditional method of categorizing systems, based on the way of executing the technique and generating power. Internal systems rely on chi as opposed to external systems, which utilize muscular strength. Proponents of these internal systems claim they are superior - though more difficult to master - then external, since the practitioner is not subject to the limitations of his personal physique for power. A smaller person can deliver as devastating a force as a stronger man who otherwise would win out of sheer size and strength.
In my quest to find chi, I went to Hong Kong. Instead of trekking up mountains bathed in mist to find a master, I ascended the roof of an apartment building. I seemed to have transcended both the magnificence and squalor of one of the world’s most crowded cities. Here l could see the blue sky, mountains of Hong Kong, and the harbor with ancient junks and modern ships side by side - a sight one misses in the bustling streets below.
This master’s rooftop abode was similar to a mountain retreat. The walls lined with trees, flowers, and weapons. There was the sound of chirping birds and two German shepherds wandered around. A diagram of the pa kua was painted on the floor. I entered a small room with calligraphy and paintings hanging between shelves filled with books. Here I met a smiling Chan Yick Yan. He is master of Six Combinations and Eight Methods Kung Fu; he is also a master of chi.
Master Chan appeared to epitomize the romanticized master: kind, learned and humble. He answered questions simply yet thoroughly neither bragging nor overwhelming with his knowledge - a habit of many masters. Occasionally, when words were inadequate for explaining detailed or subtle points, he demonstrated on me. A day earlier, Kam Tung, Chan’s favorite disciple, demonstrated some of their style’s techniques and I was impressed. But this time I was amazed.
Now I could compare the movements of a top disciple with those of the master. I could ”feel” the difference between one who is highly skilled with one who has mastered the system. While Kam Tung and Chan Yick Yan ‘s techniques were precise and deft, there was a gulf. Master Chan’s refined motions were impeccable. When he blocked, I could not detect any muscular force - as apparent with Kam Tung’s powerful blocks - and my blows just simply fell short from their targets; Chan used the barest amount of energy to deflect. Once his arms, sensitive to all my motions, came in contact with mine, they seemed to stick and I was unable to penetrate his defense to hit him. Throughout this free flow exchange, his hands and arms remained relaxed and soft - yet when resting on my arms they felt heavy. l felt the tremendous inner power exploding through his arms; fortunately for me, he unleashed this force only occasionally against my shoulders.
What was happening? According to internal strength theories, everyone has chi in their bodies. How a normal person differs from one who has practiced an internal system Iike Tai chi is that one who practices daily for many years is able to cultivate the chi and consciously circulate it through the body. The more experienced the practitioner, the more he is able to nurture and harness chi. A master such as Chan Yick Yan has developed an excess amount of chi which is stored in the tan-t’ien, the center of the body about two inches below the navel. After years of training, the master learns total control over this life force and can regulate it.
Training the muscles and body to be soft and relaxed is necessary to utilize the chi for combat. When soft and relaxed, the master can ”interpret” or ”feel” the direction and force of the opponent’s body. Because the master’s arms have a relaxed sensitivity, he can detect the slightest force before the technique has built up momentum. Only a minute force in a circular motion is needed to redirect the blow. Ideally his block will disturb the enemy’s balance and enable him to ”borrow” the attacking force to be used against the attacker. Since the master’s arm is relaxed, his speed is increased. The master’s energy shoots from his tan-t’ien through his arm like water gushing through a hose, penetrating into the enemy’s body. This may sound simple but it is a high level skill.
While impressed, I wasn’t satisfied. After all, if I looked at it skeptically, there are numerous masters who could approximate his motions without chi. I still wanted to witness chi. Due to Master Chan’s humility, it did not seem as he was going to display his famous ability. Luckily, some of his friends coaxed him into demonstrating. Master Chan told me to punch him.
Again my skepticism arose: big deal! Many martial artists, boxers, or just powerful guys can stand there and take a punch; chi ’s got nothing to do with it, having muscular “abs” got everything to do with it. But what the hell . . . l struck with my best reverse punch but it ended ”not with a bang, but with a whimper” (to quote Eliot). There was no hard impact! It was a strange sensation; it was not like hitting someone in the stomach. It felt as if my fist was swallowed up in JelIo or bean curd.
Many boxers or martial artists tense up to take a punch. Internal stylists say that a person with chi will do the opposite: relax. By relaxing, the opponent’s punching force will penetrate the body without any resistance - like punching the wind -and will be absorbed by the excess reservoir of chi stored in his lower abdomen which would consciously or unconsciously (depending on the master’s ability) channeled to the area being hit. Achieving this ability, one has reached the ”receiving energy” level or the ability to use chi to absorb the opponent’s blows.
Well, this was different, but taking a punch isn’t that spectacular. As if Chan was aware of my doubts, he told me to punch again. This time l ”cheated” a bit-for the sake of scientific inquiry and used a tiger claw instead of a fist. This way, perhaps I could get a better ”feel” of what was going on. After thrusting l grabbed his flesh. Then suddenly a surging force erupted from the depths of Chan’s stomach and my tiger claw came flying out! My hand ejected out Iike a missile.
Before I got over my amazement, Master Chan grabbed my forearm and pulled my tiger claw into his tan-t’ien. A force was generated against my tiger claw clutching his fIesh; Chan regulated the duration and intensity of the force - light, strong, medium, strong, etc. My arm bounced in and out. Finally the spasms became a strong surge pressing against my tiger claw. His grip prevented my hand from coming out of his stomach and created tremendous pressure; had he not released my arm - when he noticed my pain - my wrist would have been sprained or broken. He smiled and massaged my wrist. My skepticism was appeased.
This last demonstration of chi revealed that Master Chan had achieved an advanced level of internal strength that surpassed the ”receiving” energy stage. This ”returning” energy is the ability to return the attacking energy; in other words, if an attacker hits you with 200 pounds of force, his fist would automatically bounce out with the same amount of force. Upon reaching this ”returning” energy level, all self-defense motions of attack or defense are thoroughly unconscious; the body expresses these motions instinctively. At this stage, when the chi is ”in tune” with the external environment, the body will spontaneously and naturally respond to the external stimuli.
When one has reached such levels, one has little to worry about as far as fighting is concerned. But does that mean one’s quest has ended? If this were so, many masters like Chan would have forsaken the art long ago. The quest has no more ended for them as the quest for knowledge has ended for one who receives a doctorate degree. The real journey has begun. Seeking perfection in the martial arts is a microcosm of perfecting one’s self. And finding a master, cultivating chi and harnessing it for combat are but phases in the endless process of developing the self.
In the beginning, it is true, the quest for chi is usually directed towards less lofty goals - perfecting fighting skills. Once this basic need for self-preservation is fulfilled, and one has achieved confidence, a sense of well being and health, one does not have to dwell on lower aspects of the self. Therefore, the energies previously devoted to physical well being through self-defense can be channeled to higher elements of one’s self - spiritual development.
After attaining fighting proficiency with chi - provided it is accompanied by the equivalent degree of insight and maturity - then one realizes the search for chi within a fighting context has limitations. One no longer concerns oneself with conquering the enemy; one is now concerned with conquering one’s self - the true enemy is within. The search for chi in the martial arts context should bring one to such an insight at an appropriate point along one’s path of development. Thus, the martial ways of utilizing chi are but a temporary vehicle to find and reach the spiritual ways of chi.
For Master Chan, daily practice is no longer aimed at combat but is a spiritual exercise that has become a way of life. Practicing internal forms is meditation in motion. When Chan does a form, he relaxes his mind and body, his breath is slow, deep and rhythmic and he centers in his self - his ego is forgotten and mundane cares drift away. He is peaceful as if he is doing seated meditation but he is moving. Chi permeates his body and pours out into the universe where it flows between Heaven, Earth and Man, then it returns to him - a cyclical give and take exchange of the ”life force.” During this active meditation, Master Chan is dancing with the universe and playing with the energy of the cosmos. He is balanced on the edge . . ..
To the initiated, the alchemists’ quest for the ”philosopher’s stone” was not for the sole purpose of converting base metals into gold, but r a symbolic term for the alchemist’s endeavor for spiritual transformation. So too, the quest for chi is not only for the purpose of developing energy to beat the hell out of somebody, but for the martial artist’s spiritual growth. Similarly, King Arthur’s knights’ search to find the ”Holy Grail” was a spiritual expedition. Chan Yick Yan has attained astonishing martial skills with his chi, but to him, his journey has begun: he can use his chi to conquer an enemy, now he must use his chi to cultivate his self spiritually.
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4 comments July 9th, 2008