Martial Arts and Longevity

Below is an excerpt from an interesting post at Budo Journeyman. The full post may be read here.

 ... I did my own survey of available dates for deceased masters of tai chi and bagua, a total of 47 individuals going back into the 18^th century.

After crunching the numbers, the average lifespan came out as 76 years old, with just one person hitting the 100 years mark and only four making it past 89. The bagua people seemed to live much longer than the tai chi masters.

76 is okay, but it’s not world breaking. Certainly, as far as I can see, all that antioxidant green tea and ginseng, plus the magic herbs, did not really make a jot of difference.

Another study which happened after Covid said that those who kept their body and soul together during lockdown through tai chi exercise increased their lifespan. My thought on that; if you had enough motivation to get yourself out of a chair and actually do something then there must be a quite potent force of positivity about you – but it doesn’t have to be tai chi, it could be anything moderately active. Those types of people do far better than others who might be inclined to slump into negativity, it’s common sense really.

After looking into this and trying to establish some kind of truth, it started to look ridiculously complicated and unlikely to find any definitive truth. The main problems seem to be:

·       How can we trust the claims of people who say they have lived beyond a feasible lifespan? Evidence for the advanced age of Li Ching Yuen is really unconvincing, because in his time, records were chaotic or just non-existent. Claims of extended lifespans in Japan seem to come out of flawed statistics (some people even illegally claiming pensions for dead relatives, which has skewed the data) and besides any health gains that Japanese people used to be able to claim have been ruined by the introduction of the western style diet. Recent studies have suggested that in Japan prostate cancer has risen from almost zero to western style highs because of the heavy involvement of dairy products that hardly ever featured in the Japanese diet.

·       How do we know that long life isn’t just a result of lucky genes?

·       How do you account for just bad luck, catastrophic disease, wars, famine etc?

From the martial arts perspective; just reading around the subject I come across all kinds of medical pseudo-science, involving claims of ‘massaging of the organs’, boosting the endocrine system, ‘nurturing internal strength’ etc. etc.

Human health is much more complicated than this hocus pocus would like us to believe. But, I suppose we have to just keep trying.

As you read this post I am practising my pigeon-walk at this very moment – but, I have to be honest, it’s making my neck ache.

 

 

Yin and Yang in Our Personal Training

Below is an excerpt from a post at Zen Sekai - Japan 2 @ 70, regarding the authors's reflections on his many faceted approach to his own personal training. The full post may be read here.

 

I always enjoyed Kali, working with a partner, feeling the rhythm, the practical flow.
When I first took an interest in it, it was back in Los Angeles, not far from the Tai Mantis school I was training at. 
The Kali Academy, founded by Danny Inosanto, had a reputation. Mostly because of the students who wanted to be the next Bruce Lee; he had taught there, Jeet Kune Do.

There was a friendly rivalry between our schools. Someone once asked me, “What do you want with that stick-fighting stuff?” 
I laughed, because I already knew the answer: the same thing I wanted from everything, understanding through motion.

Chiang Mai , The Yearly Return

Recently, during my yearly training pilgrimage to Chiang Mai, I made a pleasant discovery: a Kali school tucked away in the same city where I usually study Wu-style Tai Chi.

I started Wu Tai Chi years ago after learning it was more internally focused than Yang, yet still retained combat practicality…a kind of bridge between stillness and application. Another big plus in Chiang Mai is that my teacher speaks English, and I have partner to train with. That might sound small, but it makes a world of difference.

Even when I work with my own students, the experience is different. Their foundation is built on what I taught them. When training in a new style or under a different system, I have to dial back both skill and ego. That’s often harder than learning a new move.

Keeping the cup empty, that’s the real discipline.

 

 

 

Is Budo Relevant Today?

Over at The Budo Bum, the author gives his opinion on the question of whether Budo study is still relevant in our modern society. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

How can budo be relevant in the 21st century, especially koryu budo, those arts established before 1868? It’s not as if anyone is training for combat with swords and spears. Close combat now is rifles and grenades, with drones quickly making even those look a bit out of date. What’s the point of training with archaic weapons, besides acting out fantasies of being samurai?

Each generation of students is responsible for understanding how their art is relevant to the world they live in. My teachers did it in their time. I did it. Now it is my students’ time. No one can do it for them.

Koryu budo training hasn’t changed substantially in hundreds of years. Through the practice of carefully developed kata, students learn and master structure, movement, timing, spacing, techniques, and refine their mental abilities so they can move and act calmly and smoothly even under extreme pressure. People throw criticism at the training method because it doesn’t emphasize competition. I’ve written critiques of competition in budo before. I won’t repeat them here. Informal sparring was always part of koryu training, even if it was almost never considered important enough to codify.

Sparring doesn’t make budo relevant. Knowing how to punch, kick, throw, choke, hit with sticks, and cut with a sword aren’t particularly relevant skills in 21st century industrialized societies. I don’t know about anyone else, but I can’t think of many lifestyles where you might expect to need those skills. We’re not all going to be police officers, bouncers, or soldiers. What makes koryu budo relevant is all the stuff that made it attractive to samurai during the 250 years of the peace enforced by the Tokugawa Shoguns. It’s not techniques that win in conflict, it’s all the other stuff. The Taisha Ryu masterwork, Kaichu, found in Unravelling The Cords - The Instructions of a Master in the Tradition of Taisha-Ryu says a little about techniques, and a lot about the mind. Takuan Soho’s The Unfettered Mind has nothing to say about technique at all, and yet it has been prized by the swordsmen of Yagyu Shinkage Ryu for four centuries.

So how do you make koryu budo ryu that are hundreds of years old relevant in the 21st century? The difficult part is learning koryu budo. Making it relevant is the easy part. No, we don’t fight in the streets with swords and spears and staves and naginata. We still fight though. Conflict is inherent in life, and the conflict we are most likely to encounter is the same kind of conflict that samurai throughout the Edo Period in Japan were most likely to encounter: social conflict. The Edo Period was more than 250 years of peace in Japan. Close combat skills were not in high demand. The mental skills and strengths that good budo training develops were though; and are just as useful when people aren’t physically attacking you as they are when your opponent is trying to physically demolish you.

Budo training is not just technical. My budo training turned out to be useful in all sorts of places I didn’t expect. It helped make me a better negotiator in business. In the dojo people regularly try to throw me to the ground, choke me unconscious, or beat me with sticks. Sometimes they succeed. People I deal with in business relationships get upset, yell, pound the table, and get right up in my face, all in an effort to intimidate and bully me. After getting used to real physical consequences in the dojo, people who get upset and emotional in meetings come off like a 2-year-old having a tantrum. It is sound and fury, signifying nothing. I wait for them to get tired, and then we do it my way.

 

 

The Round and Square Forms in Taijiquan Practice

At his Classical Tai Chi blog, Jim Roach has some interesting thoughts on two modes of practicing the taijiquan form. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

My own teacher, Stephen Hwa, Ph.D., did seminars for Jou Tsung-Hwa's students and he told me in an email that Jou Tsung-Hwa was “…someone who was in search of the truth in Tai Chi, and I would like to meet him…”. Master Jou was the author of The Tao of Tai-Chi Chuan.  He used the analogy of a film to explain the movement of Tai Chi. He stated that when viewed as individual, static poses, the movements make no sense. The proper motion and meaning are only perceived when the "frames" are put together and performed fluidly as a continuous sequence. The "Film" analogy teaches several core concepts of Tai Chi practice that can aptly be applied to Classical Tai Chi. 

In the numerous styles, there is really only one that has a “round” form and a “square” (fang) form. The Wu Style, with all its own derivatives, often surprises people with the direct opposite requirement between Square and Round.

The direct opposite requirement is not unique, however:

I am echoing Master Hwa as I relate my own experience. Just think how one learns the art of calligraphy. My own teacher echoes this in the video link. My own experience had me learning Chinese Calligraphy, how to write in print form (brush and ink, of course). Then I studied a smidgen of cursive calligraphy. The differences between these two writing forms are analogous to the differences between those two Tai Chi Forms.

Square Form is analogous to the block printing of (pinyin) Kai Style, or what is called “Kai Shu”. The round form is analogous to Tsao Style or "Tsao Shu/Cao Shu" or the cursive script.

In Square Form, as in calligraphy, movements occur along relatively straight lines between points (the start and end points of inflection). The Round Form, with its curves, has the curves passing through those points. The Square Form is like a template for the Round Form. As you see, the curves go through the points where the lines meet.

Again, merely echoing my teacher, who was a Ph.D. engineer and scientist at Xerox Corporation.  Like the Calculus of Mathematics; however, I would point out that the Round Form is like the calculus, which integrates a tiny segment of a curved motion as a straight line to form the curved motion. A Square Form is like taking one of the small straight lines and expanding it into a straight movement. The way of the universe uses principles that govern everything that appears unrelated.