A Lost Martial Art

Today we have another guest article by Jonathan Bluestein. Enjoy.

The Lost Art of Buddah’s Guardian

By Jonathan Bluestein

Among the many arts taught by late master Zhou Jingxuan was a style called ‘Shaolin Jingang Bashi’, or ‘The Eight Posture’s of Shaolin’s Buddha’s Guardian. This rare martial art, now almost lost, is an exquisite tradition that I have had the privilege to study in part from master Zhou. Here is the story behind it.

A secret history

The Shaolin Monastery as we know it today is a modern invention, sponsored by the Chinese Communist Party. The original temple, which existed for several centuries, was destroyed and later rebuilt several times. A focal point for martial arts traditions from its early days, the temple first became well known for its staff techniques and later for empty-handed martial arts. The monks, being Buddhist, hold to a faith that forbids violence. However, the circumstances of occasional visiting bandits, thieves and armies forced them to adapt their practice for survival. Following many years of civil unrest and internal conflicts in China, the location of the temple was nearly deserted in the 1970s and 80s, when the Chinese Government decided to invest in it and introduce many new monks to rejuvenate lost traditions. Yet the motivation was anything but religious. The place, now famous worldwide because of various books and films, was growing into a tourist attraction, and the government recognized its money-making potential. Thus, over the next few decades and to our present day, the Shaolin Temple gradually became the ‘martial arts Disneyland’ of China, with countless other competing ‘theme parks’ masquerading as ‘martial arts academies and schools’ popping up in the nearby mountains and valleys of Hebei and Shandong. These places now offer school-boarding conditions and sometimes even hotel-like accommodations for those souls searching for a self-made fantasy of being a Chinese warrior. Frankly, what is being taught is the athletic and sports-oriented modern wushu, with the traditional arts long forgotten.

Fortunately for everyone, the original arts of Shaolin were not all lost. Throughout the centuries, once in a while a monk would leave the temple, a process that had been accelerated and multiplied whenever the temple’s population was under great duress. The monks, who spent a lifetime training in the martial arts, often did not neglect their practice, and taught what they knew to layman they met on their path. This is how the Shaolin arts spread far and wide. Back in the day, such arts were commodities of great use. They helped maintain people’s health in an age with less advances and not readily available medicine. Their practice aided in building strong bodies, and teaching independent farmers and villagers how to defend their territory from raids and enemies. Such valuable knowledge, people were willing to pay much for, or at least offer the teacher living arrangements to teach them.

Then it so happened that a traveling Shaolin monks met with a local man from Tianjin city, whose name was Shi Yushan. This was likely in the early 20^th century. The late Shi ended up learning a special martial art from the monk, whose name was lost to us – Shaolin Jingang Bashi (少林金剛八势). This art is no longer practiced at the Shaolin temple, although poor modern imitations of its most basic movements are occasionally demonstrated by some monks. These were likely copied from books or similar, and are not the original art. The art, it should be noted, was quite rare to begin with, because it had been an ‘inner-court style’ – a more advance level art, that was only taught to experienced monks. In fact, back in the day it did not even have a formal name. It was simply called ‘Nei Yuan Quan’ – ‘Inner Material’. 

Jingang (金剛), known as Vajrapani in Hindu, is the bodyguard of the Buddha. The original name in Hindu means (one with) Lightning in Hand. Jingang in the context of Shaolin and its religion is a combative war-mongering deity that is always portrayed with angry and intimidating expressions and postures, and is considered the protector of the temple. The statues of various Jingang are common sight in Buddhist temples throughout China. His very existence demonstrates well the departure of many Chinese Buddhists from their original pacifistic Indian origins, and their embracing of violence as means to an end under dire circumstances. The worship of the Jingang shows that the Chinese Buddhists who created its image were keen on receiving aid from a god of war – and for good reasons. To this day, the imagery of the Jingang can be found in various Shaolin-derived martial arts – even Chen style Taiji Quan.

After the art of Jingang Bashi ceased to be taught at the temple, it seems to have survived in only two lineages. Great master Li Ruidong (1851-1917), who created a very expansive system of Taiji Quan, have somehow managed to learn this art, and incorporated some of it into his Taiji. Sadly, in the process he also ceased to teach Jingang Bashi as a whole, and little of it survived in his line. Shi Yushan, a contemporary of Li Ruidong, was the only one who managed to keep the art alive.         

In the picture:  Master Tian Jinzhong, top disciple of Shi Yushan, with his spear.

Following his years with the Shaolin monk, master Shi returned to his native city of Tianjin. There, he became famous, and known by the nickname ‘Iron Luohan’ (铁罗汉) for his ability to effortlessly absorb powerful strikes to his body at will. He subsequently became the manager of the ‘Tianjin’s 11^th Chinese Martial Arts Academy’, a respectable institution intended to spread the arts publicly (a new social theme at the time).             
 

During that period, Shi was hired to teach a child – young Tian Jinzhong (田金钟). As common in traditional Chinese education, Tian’s wealthy family aspired to provide its children with many private tutors, to instruct them in the various arts, traditions and sciences of the vast Chinese cultural heritage. Tian excelled in his studies of the art and inherited master Shi’s complete system, becoming famous for his skills with the spear. After receiving a complete transmission, 

Tian also became a student of Wu Xiufeng, who is said by many to be the greatest teacher of Baji Quan to have lived during the 20^th century, and whose art is considered a branch of its own: ‘Wu-style Baji Quan’. This art too, Tian learned fully.

In his study of these two arts, master Tian saw many complementary elements. Jingang was very swift, agile, quick, flexible, unpredictable, light, crisp and mobile. Baji was very heavy, powerful, unified, unyielding, forceful, rooted, blunt and violent. By combining the strong points of both arts, master Tian was able to create a tradition that offered the best of both worlds. Although he maintained separate teachings of the two styles, each one of them had undergone renovations and innovations based on the unique skillsets of the other. Therefore, the successors of Tian Jinzhong, although their Baji came originally from Wu Xiufeng, refer to their art as ‘Tian style Baji Quan’ rather than ‘Wu style’.

Here is the only surviving video we (outside of China) still have of master Tian, demonstrating the Qing Long Jian (Green Dragon Sword) of Jingang. It should be noted that the performance is somewhat casual, also omitting parts of the form, as Tian was not interested in sharing his knowledge completely with strangers (a typical traditional Chinese mindset).

One of Tian’s gongfu brothers under Wu Xiufeng was master Zhao Fujiang (赵福江; - 2007). With a level of skill seldom seen even in China, master Zhao was able to create a new art, Yin-Yang Baji Quan, by combining his extensive knowledge of Baji Quan, Xing Yi Quan and Da Cheng Quan. Here is a very lengthy documentary about master Zhao. Those among you who do not understand Mandarin Chinese may feel free to skip to parts containing more action.

Despite being recognized as a great master in his own right, who founded his own system of martial arts, Zhao Fujiang always admired and looked up to his older gongfu brother, Tian Jinzhong. He admitted to have never achieved Tian’s level of skill in the arts.

Master Tian passed away age 74, in the year 1990. Through decades of teaching Tian too, like his teachers, became a famous figure in the city of Tianjin. His instruction was sought by many. Two lucky individuals were able to study master Tian’s complete arts:  Shen Jiarui and Sun Zhenyao. Sworn gongfu brothers, they continued to teach their arts together for decades. Master Shen was known to be the more heavy and powerful, and master Sun as the more light and agile. Together, they made a great team. Alas, about a decade ago master Sun suffered a severe hip injury and could no longer train. Master Shen continues to teach, but is not retired, and is currently in his 70s.

In the picture:  Master Sun Zhenyao (left), master Shen Jiarui (right), and master Zhou (behind them). Image is from the early 2000s.                

Masters Sun and Shen were able to transmit their arts fully so far to only one student – their top disciple, late master Zhou Jingxuan. Sadly, Zhou shifu passed away this year, age 50, from medical complications of a stroke. Click here for a short biography of his life and teachings.           
 

Late master Zhou became the embodiment of Jingang Bashi, and was the last inheritor of this complete system. So skilled and knowledgeable was he, that his manifestation of the art combined the strengths of both his teachers. That would not be surprising given the many decades master Zhou had spent studying the arts with countless teachers. Moreover, he not only received in-depth private tuition from masters Shen and Sun, but was also corrected and taught at times by Tian Jinzhong himself, and was a long-term student of his gongfu brother, Zhao Fujiang, whom I mentioned before. With such profound instruction, it was only natural that Zhou shifu would with time achieve a high level of mastery in this art. Because most of my own exposure to the art had been through master Zhou, from now on in this articles, examples and anecdotes would mostly be directly based on his teachings, which his photographs and videos illuminating this wondrous cultural asset of China.

In the picture:  Various martial arts practitioners and teachers from Tianjin. Master Zhou is kneeling on the furthermost left corner. Right behind him with the glasses stands master Tian Jinzhong. The nearly bald man standing aside Tian is his gongfu brother, master Zhao Fujiang. Image is from the 1990s.

As master Zhou’s fame grew far and wide, he gained access to studying and exchanging knowledge with many teachers. At one point in time, he developed an interest in Li style Taiji Quan. This system was developed by Li Ruidong (1851-1917), who practiced the Yang style Taiji of Yang Luchan and learned the entire Jingang Bashi system from an unknown teacher. Li incorporated much of Jingang into his broad, extensive martial arts system, but ceased to teach it as an art during his lifetime. Master Zhou located a group of dedicated teachers who practiced Li’s Taiji, and made an agreement with them – they would teach him their Taiji, and he would impart unto them all that he knows of Jingang Bashi. He was also accepted as an indoor disciple in that family under master Li Zhaoyin, student of master Li Ziqin (this was the seventh time Zhou had undergone such a ceremony and earned that kind of honour under a martial arts master). Zhou shifu managed to study most of their style, but how much they got from him remains unclear. This learning experience helped further hone his Jingang, adding the modified content taught by Li Ruidong, which was slightly different to what he had already studied with masters Shen, Sun, Tian and Zhao.

Master Zhou was technically my grand-teacher, but most of my Pigua Zhang and some of my Xing Yi Quan I learned directly from him. The rest I studied with my main teacher, shifu Nitzan Oren, a fellow Israeli who is late master Zhou’s top disciple. They are both family to me.          
 

Shifu Nitzan studied with Zhou shifu on a daily basis for 7 years straight while he lived in the city of Tianjin. Indeed, since the days of Shi Yushan, all practitioners of this art were natives of that city. Initially, shifu Nitzan learned mostly Xing Yi Quan from master Zhou, who would on occasion supplement his studies with some Pigua Zhang, Baji Quan and the exploration of various weapons and their usage, as well as some Qi Gong practices (36 Methods Qi Gong, Ba Duan Jin, etc). After roughly 5 years of daily practice, master Zhou began to urge Nitzan to further and deepen his studies. He would often tell Nitzan that “he had nothing more to teach him as far as Xing Yi is concerned”, though unsurprisingly he would always have more methods, skills, techniques and corrections for him every week. The truth was that the clever master Zhou knew all too well that in order for Nitzan’s gongfu to become greater, he needed to gain inspiration from new studies. This sent Nitzan on two new paths. Firstly, at Zhou’s recommendation, he found a new teacher to learn from, master Wu Bingwen, who taught Song style Xing Yi Quan. Secondly, at the same time and also with Zhou’s encouragement, he began to study Jingang Bashi. Thus, Song style Xing Yi and Jingang Bashi became the focal points of Nitzan’s study during his last two years in China. 

He would also continue to study Jingang Bashi from master Zhou after that time on occasion, returning to China and having Zhou visit and teach us here in Israel. This continued until master Zhou’s untimely passing. Luckily, Nitzan was able to learn most of master Zhou’s Jingang Bashi, and also document almost all that he had studied on video, with clear instructions and demonstrations by master Zhou on everything.

I was also quite lucky and fortunate to have had the opportunity to study a little bit of Jingang directly from master Zhou. I was taught the eight basic combinations of the art, but also a very long segment of the highest, most sophisticated form of it, known as ‘Luohan Gong’. It remains an enigma as to why Zhou shifu chose to teach me that set of skills, which had never taught to anyone else; as even though I have been training in his arts for many years at that point, I had not practiced enough of this particular art to true appreciate and do justice to this long form. I suspect that Zhou was fearful that the art may become lost, and as he grew older sought to pass on as much of it as possible to whomever was willing to learn. Master Zhou and I were not close as friends because of the language barrier (my Mandarin is very basic), but we had a strong bond and understood each-other very well. 

I believe Zhou shifu always had faith in me, and in my ability to understand what he was trying to teach me. Thoughts of this almost bring tears to my eyes, as nowadays I am currently the only person actively and openly teaching his traditions (though shifu Nitzan will likely return to teaching in the future). This faith master Zhou had in me is a trust that I feel I cannot fail. I must live up to his high standards of excellence, and this article is a part of my genuine attempt to keep Zhou’s legacy alive and kicking.

Historic Clarification

There has been some confusion over the origins of Jingang Bashi that should be addressed. Historican Kang Gewu suggested a relationship between Jingang Quan and Bagua Zhang. This is easily mistaken to be related to the subject of this article, both because of the name and also since Jingang Bashi uses the Bagua theory and the Yi Jing’s 64 hexagrams as a framework for the structure of its curriculum – much like Bauga Zhang. However, this is misguided. Jingang Bashi is not the same art as Jingang Quan, and these two are among several Chinese martial arts that use ‘Jingang’ in their name. Also, while Bagua Zhang very much a Daoist art, Jingang Bashi is fiercely Buddhist, both in its origins and in the way it is practiced.

The skills of the Bodhisattva

Ever since its days as an inner-court style at the Shaolin Temple, Jingang Bashi was known as a ‘martial art for martial artists’. There are two main reasons for this:

1. The art is challenging to teach to beginners and assumes the practitioner already has some foundations built into his body through the practice of other styles.

2. The arts contains a truly vast arsenal of techniques and fighting methods, which provides ‘solutions’ to nearly any possible fighting scenario, with the sole exception of ground-fighting. In doing so, it can serve to fill-in technical gaps of knowledge in any martial artist’s arsenal.

The curriculum of Jingang Bashi interestingly resembles in structure the way various styles of Bagua Zhang created theirs. The ‘Ba Shi’, or ‘Eight Postures’, refers to the art being segmented into many groups of 8 combinations. Once a set of 8 separate combinations is taught, the next can be studied, and each of these groups builds upon and evolves previous material.

The art begins with the 64 Firm Hands (六十四硬手). First are taught the 8 most basic techniques, called Liu He Ba Shi – Six Harmony Eight Postures. These techniques are the jibengong of the art, are less focused on actual fighting applications, and are meant to forcefully stretch one’s body to an extreme degree with very elongated postures. These are later evolved into the eight Jin Gang Ba Shi , which illustrate how the first hands can be used in combat. The cycle of the basic hands continues to amount until the practitioner has learned eight different groups of 8 combinations – or 64 movements and techniques total in this group called the 64 Firm Hands. At this point, all of the material is still made of standalone methods, without any forms to connect them. Each stage of learning is meant, as stated before, to be an evolution of the previous one, and the similarities between techniques in both external shape and principle makes them easier to study and memorize over time.

Master Zhou would also teach beginners special Zhan Zhuang (stand post) methods for this particular art. Although Zhou had extensively studied Xing Yi Quan (with no less than 4 teachers), the Zhan Zhuang he taught in his Jingang Bashi system were of independent origins, likely borrowing concepts and methods from ancient Qi Gong practices such as the Yi Jin Jing (Muscle-Tendon Classic 易筋經) and Si Xui Jing (Marrow-Cleansing Classic 洗髓经). The Zhan Zhuang of Jingang require more internal stretching and twisting than those of other arts, and are challenging to hold correctly, especially since distinctive breathing skills are involved. Often, as a prerequisite for Jingang’s more specialized Zhan Zhuang, master Zhou would also teach Xing Yi’s Hun Yuan Zhuang (Cheng Bao Zhuang) for a few months. Here are a few examples of the types of postures that would be taught (there are several others not shown here). Shown Zhuang are very basic.

Once the Liu He Ba Shi are well drilled and the foundations of the style’s Zhan Zhuang are set, the 64 Hard Hands are taught. These are eight groups of eight combinations, which are very combat-oriented. With these, the experienced practitioner may notice that there are included in the art many techniques commonly found in Xing Yi Quan, Baji Quan, Pigua Zhang, Shuai Jiao, Fanzi Quan, Luohan Quan and other northern-Chinese styles. How this came to be is a mystery, since master Zhou did not make these up, and his Jingang teachers (and their teachers) did not practice Xing Yi or Pigua or any other arts apart from Jingang and Baji. Regardless, such similarities were a blessing for master Zhou, since he had studied several of the styles featuring comparable techniques before arriving at Jingang. This meant that to begin with, the art came very naturally to him, and he was able to transmit it with great depth.

https://youtu.be/TZUPa3SxlUU

As the 64 hard ones become second-nature, the practitioner will make a transition into the practice of their more advanced form – the 64 Soft Hands. These are also segmented into 8 groups of 8 combinations. These are built as set reactions to fighting scenario attacking or responding to attacks, and anticipating various reactions, providing elaborate ‘solutions’ to any tactic the opponent may come up with. 
 

There is more stepping and kicking involved, and the footwork should be akin to that of dancer – very mobile and swift, light and agile, almost hopping around yet remaining grounded. Although the mechanics are very different, the rhythm is reminiscent of good Western Boxing.        
 

Here at this stage are also first introduced more refined body mechanics which are often similar to those seen in the Internally-oriented arts. The practitioner here seeks to begin development of the art’s trademark power, which has a very snappy quality to it, and is unique to this style. This power combines the whipping character of Tongbei and Pigua strikes with the forceful nature of Shaolin arts. Also shown with the 64 soft hands is the higher-level footwork, which is key for the application of the art in combat. Jingang likes to surround the opponent with rapid and unpredictable stepping patterns, which require much lightness and agility. This calls for physical dexterity and flexibility of mind, too.

As a training aid in the mastery of the 64 hands’ intricate footwork, the practitioner will work on moving through the drawn path of a ‘magic square’. This type of drawing or diagram is known as the ‘Magic Square’ in Western culture, but has older roots in Chinese culture, going back many thousands of years to the famous Luo Shu 洛書 (ancient diagram; below on the left). This later became another notable Chinese symbol more similar in shape to the Western Magic Square, known as the Nine Palaces. The latter is used for the training of footwork in Bagua Zhang and several other Chinese martial arts as well, and is mentioned in Sun Lutang’s books. The purpose of this strange and counter-intuitive stepping pattern is to teach the body to be able to naturally transition around and into any obstruction and attack, being able to naturally evade and outmaneuver any threat. Sun Lutang wrote that a prolonged practice of this method has the capacity to “profoundly change the practitioner”.

Some of the 64 soft hands have been combined into a form known as ‘Mian Zhang’ (Cotton Fist). The Northern Shaolin origins of the art are very apparent in this form, which features many commonplace Shaolin techniques and footwork patterns. It is the first long form to be taught, and is excellent for cardiovascular conditioning. The latter ability is important for the practice and use of the art, since it relies on much movement in space as part of its overall combat strategy. In fact, the art is no less mobile than Western Boxing, and its footwork is more complex, too.

In Mian Zhang is first seen the Mandarin Duck Kick, which is also common in Chuo Jiao, Fanzi Quan and many other Northern-Chinese arts, and later appears in more advanced forms of Jingang as well (see second 35 in the video above). This kicks and many other movements as such require a great degree of flexibility. Below is an image of master Zhou training a child student to achieve that level of flexibility, which is key to learning many moves and methods. Interestingly enough, though many consider this to be an upward-driven kick, one aims to be hitting on the way down as well, which can result in a devastating chest blow.

The practitioner who is already familiar with the 64 soft hands and the Mian Zhang form would be encouraged to combine the hands at will, creating elaborate and novel combinations without a fixed routine. This is essential for learning true fighting flow.

Training will continue with learning the Lian Shou Quan (Linking Fist Hands). These are eight very short forms which are practiced explosively. The practitioner charges forwards in a straight line, executing the entire form with 10-12 steps and “in a single breath”. These linking forms add a strong anaerobic conditioning component to the training. Their purpose is to train one’s body and spirit to initiate and end a fight with a short, continuous streak of unstoppable action. One becomes like a string of firecrackers being lit and exploding in quick succession, issuing force and shaking hearts without letting one’s heart settle. The emphasis is also put on creating superior smoothness and transitioning from one technique to another.

Next in line on the curriculum are two complementary forms: Qing Long Quan (Green Dragon Fist) and Hei Hu Quan (Black Tiger Fist). These advanced hand forms carriy the ultimate fighting flavor of the art and are highly regarded. While most of Jingang Bashi is practiced at a walking pace or very fast speeds, these forms are traditionally also practiced at slow and very slow speeds, and in a flowing manner akin to Taiji Quan. The Green Dragon (Qing Long) teaches flexibility of motion through the idea of attaining a ‘Dragon Body’, while Black Tiger yields through practice a heavy power that can be issued sideways. 

The Dragon and Tiger have long been considered completing opposites in Chinese culture. The Dragon is the god of the East, and relates to the Wood element, spreading wide with dexterity. The Tiger is called ‘Black’ (Dark) because of its vicious techniques, but is actually based on the White Tiger, the god of the West, associated with the Metal element, being heavy and sinking in nature. In our lineage, the two gongfu brothers Sun Zhenyao and Shen Jiarui represented these two animals in their personality and spirit. Sun the agile and quick was like a dragon and excelled with Qing Long Quan, while Shen the strong and heavy tiger is known for his Hei Hu Quan.

Here are two separate versions of the Qing Long Quan by master Zhou:

Below is are videos of Shen Jiarui performing Hei Hu Quan (in his 60s at the time), and master Zhou teaching that form to his student, Ingus. Although it is written in the videos that this is a “Baji Quan form”, in fact our Baji tradition borrowed it from Jingang:

Once the Green Dragon and Black Tiger forms are mastered, weapons must be introduced before the final stage of training is achieved. The weapons of Jingang Bashi, the Spear, Dao, Guan Dao and Jian (in this order), are essential not only for their own sake, but also for the development of superior shen fa (body method). Each of the weapons has its own dedicated long form, but is first taught through separate exercises and drills. Each weapon also teaches a specific set of battlefield concepts. For instance, the Jingang Dao is unique in that often one hand holds unto the back of the blade, and the weapon is then used somewhat like a staff.     
 

Without the unique shen fa developed through wielding these weapons, the practitioner cannot gain the more advanced intricacies of the system’s minute body mechanics and Nei Gong. This is especially true for the Jian (straight sword) of the style, which epitomizes its splendid light footwork and coiling internal momentum. In second video among the following two, much of this is apparent in master Zhou’s teachings:

https://youtu.be/5uB0s6BGWVo

Another video of the Jian, by late master Tian Jinzhong, is included earlier in this article.

The Jian of Jingang utilizes the tassel to practical training purposes. With various methods and techniques, the movement of the tassel and the place where it lands relative to one’s body, are used as indicators of precision in body alignment and timing. In Jingang the tassel is therefore actually quite useful for these reasons, though in other arts it is mistakenly thought of and used as an ornamental piece.

The art culminates with an amazing form called ‘Luohan Gong’. This form is comprised of no less than 18 sections, containing 8 movements each (144 movements total). The walking pattern of the form has the practitioner advancing forward doing one section, then turning around in half a circle and continuing with the other section, and so forth. This walks the practitioner around drawing a very long snake-like path, which interestingly ends at a position quite far from the origin point. Rather than being a unilaterally balanced form that goes in all directions and end up where one began, the form has different training goals in mind. It assumes that those other attributes just mentioned should already be ingrained in the practitioner from the practice of other forms and methods over the years. This form now serves to catalogue the entire art in a single stream of techniques. Furthermore, the form is practiced very slowly, with little explosive power, unless a section of it is drilled independently. The focus shifts to advanced breathing methods, and the practice turns very internal and Taiji-like. Great softness is encouraged, and the form flows without interruption or stoppage. Much of the shen fa from the weapons is now incorporated into the hand methods, which together with newly-taught nei gong and breathing gains a whole new feel and perspective. The art then transcends its initial focus on technical prowess, and transitions into a practice driven by movement principles.

This is a video of Zhou shifu demonstrating the first 4 sections of the Luohan Gong form:

https://youtu.be/bkRedtRXQQM

Here is specified the art’s complete curriculum, in general terms. There are several additional methods and drills which I have omitted, but overall the following represents the bulk of the teachings:

64 Firm Hands 六十四硬手
Liu He Ba Shi 六合八式 Six Harmonies Eight Postures The Jibengong of the art												Jin Gang Ba Shi 金刚八式 Jin Gang Six Harmonies Basic martial applications
1			1			1			1			1			1			1			1
1			1			1			1			1			1			1			1
Wen Gong Ba Shi 文功八式 Cultured Skills Eight Postures Build a calm mind and strong tendons												Wu Gong Ba Shi 武功八式 Martial Skill Eight Postures Teaches the power issuing of the art
1			1			1			1			1			1			1			1
1			1			1			1			1			1			1			1
Xing Gong Ba Shi 行功八式 Effective Skills Eight Postures Shows how to link movements and execute them together												Zhuan Gong Ba Shi 转功八式 Revolving Skills Eight Postures Changes in direction are explored with these
1			1			1			1			1			1			1			1
1			1			1			1			1			1			1			1
Qun Zhang Ba Shi 群战八式 Group-fighting Eight Postures How to fight against multiple opponents												Gong Fa Ba Shi 功法八式 Skill Method Eight Postures Unites the entire scheme of the first 64 hands into a single framework
1			1			1			1			1			1			1			1
1			1			1			1			1			1			1			1
Zhan Zhuang  站桩 Standing postures intended for developing structure and working on some of the Nei Gong of the system.
64 Hard Hands 六十四刚手
8			8			8			8			8			8			8			8
64 Soft Hands 六十四柔手
Xun Huan Zhang 8			Fan Zi Shou 8			Zhi Chuo Zhuan Huan 8			Kun Shou Shi 8			Shun Feng Sao Ye 8			Shan Men Zi 8			Zhai Shen Huan Ying 8			Ning Bu Bo Lan 8
Mian Zhang Cotton Palm – A form
Learning free flow with the 64 soft hands
Lian Shou Quan Linking Fist Hands – eight short forms
1			1			1			1			1			1			1			1
Qing Long Quan & Hei Hu Quan Green Dragon Fist and Black Tiger Fist – two forms
Wu Hu Duan Men Qiang A spear form
Wu Hu Duan Men Dao A broadsword form
Jingang Dao A broadsword form
Jingang Guan Dao A halberd form
Qing Long Jian Green Dragon Straight Sword – a form
Luohan Gong One form, eighteen segments of 8 combinations
8	8	8		8	8		8	8		8	8	8	8	8		8	8		8	8		8	8

The art of Shaolin Jingang Bashi is a treasure of Chinese culture, the work of many generations perfected into a superb fighting system. In it is contained a knowledge from countless styles and an experience based on a lifetime of exploring them. My heart aches thinking that this amazing martial art is now almost extinct. I have hope for the future though, as the art remains safe in the body and mind of my teacher, Nitzan, who is worthy of its keeping. May we live to see many excellent practitioner come to learn this special art from him, so it could continue to benefit future generations.

______________________________________________

Jonathan Bluestein is best-selling author, martial arts teacher, and head of Blue Jade Martial Arts International. For more articles by shifu Bluestein, his books and classes offered by his organization, visit his website at:    www.bluejadesociety.com

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Training with Taijiquan Master Ben Lo

Below we have a guest post by Scott Meredith. Scott is a well known taijiquan teacher from the Bay area and has published several books on training methods. I recently posted an excerpt from one of his articles here.

Scott maintains both a website and blog. Please pay them a visit.

Scott is a student of the renown taijiquan master, Benjamin Lo; himself a senior student of the famous Cheng Man Ching (Zheng Manqing). 

Scott's article is about his training under Master Lo. Enjoy.

BENJAMIN LO and ENERGY-CENTRIC TAI CHI

By Scott Meredith

You hear about kung fu killers living amongst us, non-descript, disguised as beggars or building maintenance guys, but I think you sense right away when you’re in the presence of a true master of the arts. At least I knew it immediately the moment Benjamin Lo walked out onto a Bethesda, Maryland YMCA parking lot at 7 AM one sunny Saturday decades ago. There was an intro speech by Robert W. Smith, but I had eyes only for Ben, standing modestly and self-contained to the side.

When Ben began teaching his first thing was “you have only one leg”. Without much preamble he demonstrated that by dropping into the Zheng Manqing Tai Chi pose “Snake Creeps Down” (蛇身下勢 in most styles). He dropped straight into that, with his back totally upright. But that wasn’t the demonstration of  “only one leg”. He then, while fully squatted, lightly raised up his forward, extended foot a few inches from the ground, with no more exertion, and no more distortion of his overall position, than you or I would put into crossing our legs while sipping coffee at a table in Starbucks.

The photo below isn’t exactly what it was (here he’s making a related point, in another pose) but it gives the essential flavor of the moment.

Remember that this was thirty-plus years ago. Nowadays we see a lot of bodyweight conditioning books and DVD’s, I don’t know what they’re called; maybe ‘Death Row Alpha Bad Boy Bulk Up’ or whatever - all kinds of para-military and convict-culture branded programs where the muscle-bound instructor will pop out what they call pistol squats or one-legged squats. And to them and their students, that’s no big deal, just an everyday calesthenic. So don’t think I’m trying to make a grandiose claim for physical attainment here. It wasn’t that, but it was a magic moment to me. For one thing, he did it so calmly, so easily. He stayed relaxed, he kept talking with an unvarying pace throughout, and he stood up on the same one leg as easily as he’d gone down. It was so quiet, gentle, totally unruffled. That’s what would differentiate it even today from the San Quentin Macho Muscle Madness type of current training programs.

I realize seeing that would not have the same effect on everyone. It’s a mystery why one person will glom on to teacher X while another swears by teacher Y. I don’t want to make any absolutist claims. I’m just explaining how I got drawn into working intensively under Ben for the following decades.

That, and more along those lines, was the morning session. It was devoted to form work (but in practice it was mainly exploring a few deep principles by means of only a handful of poses, rather than speeding through a whole fancy sequence). 

The afternoon session that day was held at a local Bethesda dance studio. Here the student crowd was much large, I would estimate 40 attendees.

Smith introduced Ben again very briefly and Ben immediately indicated that we were all to line up abreast against one long wall. Have you ever heard of those chess tournaments where the grandmaster plays 50 games at once, blindfolded? This had a little of that vibe. Ben started at one end and gave everybody a chance to play against him, do their very best to toss him back or down. There were some very big guys there too. In recent times, in my own extremely limited experience, I haven’t seen so many big-name teachers do this kind of relatively free work with every person present. Sometimes they’ll cherry-pick one guy, often their own student or the local host, for some demo freestyle work, more often they’ll just work patterns and drills. This was fixed step push hands, so it wasn’t ‘anything goes’ freestyle wrestling, or full sparring. But I was still impressed with his openness. Of course, this was the era before cell cams could instantly ‘out’ a teacher struggling with some big student the way they can now!

Anyway, I was well past the middle, towards the end so I got to watch as he worked down the wall. Every single person, at the instant they touched him anywhere, any way, was instantly blasted back without reserve, let, or hindrance and bounced bang off the slightly spongy wall.  Every single guy, big or small, it was as though they were all the same person. Ben didn’t say much, sometimes he’d ask somebody to try again, or say push me harder, try harder! But it was pretty methodical and mechanically efficient. 

At that time, I had a lot of background in Mantis, Northern Shaolin, Western boxing, Tae Kwan Do, and other stuff. The usual pedigree for any martial arts geek of the time, I’m not claiming any special depth. But mainly, I had done a lot of Tai Chi and push hands. A short period with Smith himself as a very young teen, then later I’d learned several Tai Chi form of hundreds of moves each, Tai Chi weapons, two man sets, all kinds of stuff including a lot of push hands experience, both patterns and free style, fixed and moving step. So, naturally, total idiot that I was (and still am) I figured well these guys just don’t have my serious background, but when Ben gets to me I’ll give him a run for his money!  Yeah right. Like I said, a total idiot. He got to me, I put out my arm, and just from his touching my arm - yes not even my body - BLAMMO I found myself bouncing off the wall. Just that touch. And I wasn't even qualified for a rematch in his eyes. As he moved crisply along to my neighbor, he very briefly looked back at me and said, “You’re stiff as a board, just relax.”

Probably he’s say the same today. I’m not claiming there’s anything inherently extraordinary in any of the above, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure anybody who’s done deep Tai Chi work would have something similar, or much more spectacular, to say about meeting up with their ‘real’ teacher. But that day formed my very subjective, very personal first impression of Ben.

I was hooked and moved to San Francisco not long after to pursue ‘full time’ training with him (every weekday evening, yes I did have a job!) The more I trained under his exacting physical specifications, the more non-physical (internal) energy I felt. That was weird because in every other quasi-athletic thing I’ve ever done, the instruction improves your physical performance but I began to experience things that went way beyond anything I’d ever felt, even beyond the bit of internal/qi stirring I had known from other Chinese training.  What I realized was that Ben’s extremely rigorous training method, which seemed so excruciatingly physical from the outside, or to a beginner, was a purely internal training protocol, designed to get us to understand without a lot of talk and philosophy that power comes from the legs. But he didn’t mean physical power or strength!

That is the hardest thing for people to get. They hear about Ben’s patented Torquemada-style training regimen, of standing in the true, absolute form of the ZMQ poses, five minutes of which standing, in any single pose is far more tortuous than a full hour in other forms of standard Zhan Zhuang, and they assume that if it was so physically arduous, physical endurance and strength must be the point of the training. Or maybe, at most, some mental correlate of those physical qualities, like learning to ‘tough it out’ phsychologically. But I began to feel in myself that this wasn’t at all his point.

I slowly began to feel his covert ‘point’ explicitly, whenever I stood correctly. His hidden teaching was that the internal power pervades the entire body from the feet and legs upward, just as the Classics say. That’s why you don’t need to use arm strength. Not that you become a powerless noodle, but that something else fills your upper body – arising from the feet and legs. ZMQ standing helps you develop that - it isn’t for Gold’s Gym sexy thighs. And this point is also what truly distinguishes Tai Chi from garden vareity Qi Gong methods, which tend to emphasize arm waving and twisting.  I felt this core teaching of Ben, in myself, for real. It was, in its odd way,  a totally non-physical conception and teaching, masked by the fact that visitors would tremble, faint, vomit, and generally need to sit down after just a few minutes sampling the rigor of Ben’s regular form class.

The weirdest thing was, Ben himself never explicitly taught or even acknowledged these energy effects, sensations, any of that. He did not deny anything, but he just kept insisting on his basic five training points, which appear “more or less” physical. But the energy harvest was totally blowing me away.  To this day, Ben does not discuss the kind of wild energy effects that I present in my books (though I have his blessing to have published them). His idea is that everything emerges naturally from the correct basic training framework of his five principles. That’s how it worked for me after all. And he feels that talking about wild energy experiences will just over-excite and distract people from soberly working the basics. I am, of course, very sympathetic to that view. He is my teacher after all!

So then why do I violate that deep wisdom so outrageously and flagrantly in my books? Good question. I just looked around at so much Tai Chi instruction of the present time, which, while not bad at all, never seemed to touch on what I know to be at least the beginning of the real inner potential of the art. Either they never mention it, or they talk about it as distant, abstract philosophy, and they make such a huge deal out of how many decades it will be before the student gets even a toehold with the real internal.

That’s ok, it’s not bad. But I thought, is there no room for somebody who simply tries to lay it out openly? There is a great quote from the classic internal writings (Xing Yi actually) where the guy phrased it really well, saying: The Dao is not far from people; it is people who distance themselves from the Dao by their actions. That line kept gnawing at me, I thought how sincerely, and with how much effort, people practice, shouldn’t they get at least a glimmer of one guy’s view of what’s possible? And as I said, Ben doesn’t mind it.

That now begs a new question though, what is possible, can any of this be useful in the real world? What is the overall point of it? This existential thing is a serious quandry for me. I talk a lot about what you’ll feel. But what is the use of that? People say Tai Chi is for “health”. You hear that a lot. But I feel health is a complex dynamic hairball of karma, genes, diet, emotions, and regular exercise. Tai Chi could be in the mix, but anyway you don’t need to pursue the bizarro experiences I have written about just to get a little better balance as a senior.

So what is the point? People talk about fighting and self defense, but there too I feel most of the talk is unrealistic. I’ve covered that elsewhere and a lot of people disagree with me. But I feel that of the people who are good at ‘fighting’ with Tai Chi, first, they don’t usually have an out-of-art fight record (a few do) and, second, they are mostly big, tough guys who would have been good fighters anyway no matter how they trained. And Ben often says that even Zhang Sanfeng, levitating in the sky, could be brought down by any average skeet shooter.

This is where I myself struggle to make a case for the energy–centric approach (almost arguing with myself!) I often say: art for art’s sake. I don’t know how to put it any better. Isn’t it intensely interesting to explore this incredible potential of feeling? Just from working the Zheng/Lo postures, using the Ben Lo principles, I began to feel, to a far greater degree than just the usual tingly palm stuff, the overwhelming presense of the INTERNAL POWER in its three main varieties: as wave, as stream, and as state, which can be experienced both during and outside of practice, while awake or asleep. It’s just so amazing to me that people don't talk more about this. Well,  many teachers have of course – I don’t at all mean to sound boastful like I discovered it or anything. In fact, my books bend over backwards to cherry-pick the most perfect and precise past evocations of this as an actual felt experience, which are semi-hidden, sprinkled all through the writings of the past masters. I have tried to cast all my re-treaded stuff in the light of that tradition.

What Ben did for me was (1) provided the training framework for it to startup (which I’ve tried to build on in my own work, some people would call it building down I guess – i.e. muddying the purity. I hope they’ve gotten better results working in the more standard way; and (2) demonstrated the true Tai Chi mastery.

More about that demonstration thing: I said Ben doesn’t talk explicitly about the energy. Furthermore, he won’t Tase you with some kind of inner zap when he touches, nor will he throw you with no-contact. You feel a bare touch and you go out, that’s all. His demonstrations are subtle. But me it’s inspriing to see him apply such a gentle contact with such outsize effects.

After working with him for a decade, after hearing him say No strength! to me how many thousand times, I still recall with a thrill the day I really ‘got it’. Nothing special he was demonstrating on a big tough football player type of guy what the real Tai Chi should look like. First he launched into the guy physically, as most of us do, with no effect at all. Might as well push on Mt. Everest. Then he backed off and said “Now here is Tai Chi”. Very lightly he contacted the man’s chest - WHAM the guy was thrown 10 feet back. At that moment, it hit me: Oh! No strength! Why didn’t he ever say so… !? Ridiculous I know. But that’s the moment I got it.

From then on my push hands improved greatly. But again, this article is not the usual me, I’m not trying to ride my high horse here. I have my bad days and my tough opponents. But as they say, I’m my own opponent. When I still have trouble with anybody, it’s not because of anything about them. My internal power is more than enough to toss quite a wide range of partner types at this point. But I still have trouble sometimes, and that’s because I’m fighting myself – my own fear, pride, tension – all these things block the full expression of energy. So I’m well aware that you can have all the great inner experiences you want in your solo training, only to see it all self-nullified in a instant of tension, distraction or ego.

The challenge never goes away. But despite the impossible nature of this inner cultivation task, I don’t think we benefit by basically giving up and saying well real internal power, as explicitly described by the old masters, either doesn’t exist at all, or else must be understood as a pre-scientific metaphor for things we now totally undestand, such as fascia tissue, or mechanically efficient torque or better nerve conduction or whatever is the flavor du jour of explaining away the old masters’ plain words. It’s real and even though it’s of limited use in daily life, and won’t always function perfectly for you even in the hothouse Tai Chi training context, it’s still fascinating to pursue.

My favorite Ben story of all time is what he told us once during a break at the rundown Mission Street studio he held for a few years in the 90’s. He was talking about his recent trip to Israel, where he’d done some big seminar. He said there was a professor of dance in attendance, an older woman, said to be famous in her field, accompanied by her young female grad student. It seems one of the many accomplishments of this distinguished professor was that she’d invented a revolutionary system of dance notation for choreography, said to be able to precisely capture any human motion. During the form class, this distinguished  academic sat and watched, notating everything she saw on her pad. During the break, she came to Ben with her student, a young woman who’d never been exposed to Tai Chi before that morning. Holding the notes before the grad student’s eyes, she had her pupil perform the entire sequence to absolulte perfection. The prof asked: Ben, is there any mistake? Isn’t it perfect? Haven’t we captured Tai Chi entirely in one set of notes? Ben said: Yes it is perfect, but it’s not Tai Chi. He signalled the biggest guy in the room - army vet, overall tough guy, bouncer etc. - over to him. He told the guy, Stand strong and don't let me move you even one inch. Ben touched the guys’ arms lightly and sprawled him back several yards. He turned to the Prof and her student and said, “Where is that in your notation?”

Ben remains for me the greatest Tai Chi master I’ve met, along every dimension. I realize how totally parochial that sounds. I’m really not as nutty as I sometimes come across, I’m more rational than you may think. The Professor himself said that none of his student was his own equal, that “Liu Xiheng got my water skill, and Lo Bangzhen got my fire”.  Thus, a partial transmission.  There’s probably something to that. Certainly Ben himself is extremely modest and consevative in making any claims about anything, especially himiself. So read this article with a big grain of salt. I can only hope it’s an interesting bit of kindling to stoke your own Tai Chi fire.

Iaido Documentary

Below is a documentary about Iaido.

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An 86 year old Shodan performing the Shotokan version of the Bassai Dai Kata.