Walking the Circle

At Zen Sekai's blog, there was a recent post about yet another martial art the author is studying and how he sees all of his practices come together. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

There are worse things one could do in one's retirement. I admire his efforts in his continuing and expanding his studies.

For myself. as an essentialist, I find myself going more deeply into fewer things.

Training Beyond Combat …

Over the years, I have touched BaGua Zhang only in passing.

My main studies have been Shaolin, Northern Praying Mantis, and Tai Chi, with occasional contact with Xingyi and BaGua. Not from lack of interest, but from lack of the right teacher.

There is an old saying: when the student is ready, the teacher appears.

What is less often said is that the teacher rarely, if ever appears in the way, place, or time one expects. As shown in my recent contact with my Shakuhachi Sensei.

Many years ago, my Shaolin Mantis Shifu taught me a BaGua “form.” It was long and complex, and it took me fully two years to complete. Yet when I finished, I felt unfulfilled. I had learned a form, but it felt empty. Over time, I forgot it. What remained were fragments: basic circle walking and a few foundational ideas. I practiced these occasionally, analyzing the movements, but something was still missing. It felt unbalanced, ungrounded.

Later, much much later, I went to Thailand to study Theravāda walking meditation. I wanted to understand its intention and purpose. Deepen my own Buddhist practice. . I found it interesting, but, if I’m honest, somewhat boring. Mechanically sound, spiritually sincere, logical, yet lacking richness. While practicing, a thought kept returning: BaGua could serve the same ends, but with more depth and dimensionality.

Eventually, I found a BaGua school in Osaka with teachers that came periodically from China. The location was perfect, close to home, and I thought, finally, this is it. Right in my own backyard. But after several contacts, and requests for a visit to talk, being side-stepped, it became clear the focus was more on membership and affiliation than on transmission. I let it go.

Next, I found a teacher online in Europe. Access was easy. I learned walking palm changes and expanded the “vocabulary” of what I already remembered. I studied, added, and practiced. Still, something felt incomplete. The movements were there, but the depth I was seeking remained elusive. The timing was bad for group Zoom class, so I accepted what I could…

Then, almost accidentally, I came across a school in Thailand. At first, I dismissed it. It was in Bangkok, a city I felt no pull toward. Too urban, too crowded. Big cities are big cities, not my thing. Even though I was already traveling to Thailand for Taiji, Kali, and Buddhist studies, BaGua there in Bangkok didn’t register as a priority. I enjoyed Chiang Mai I could learn and relax.

But the school kept appearing in my feed. I watched more closely. I read the philosophy. I observed the training videos. What truly caught my attention was a short section about a woman in her seventies, living in the UK, who traveled yearly to Thailand to train. Her story, combined with the teacher’s principles and approach made me pause to pay attention.

Curiosity ripened into a contact.

We connected online. Distance training, post-COVID, is now normal. I decided to try an online private session, with the idea possibility of supplementing it later with in-person training during a future trip to Chiang Mai. A short flight. Affordable. English instruction. Warm weather. Good food. Physical and spiritual cultivation. It felt… doable and complete.

The first Zoom session was immediately beneficial, far beyond BaGua in my head vision alone. What was being taught was not “more movements,” but foundation. Principles rather than choreography. Almost instantly, these ideas transferred in my mind to Kyūdō, Tai Chi, and Buddhist practice. Also surprisingly to Shakuhachi. Although in Zen we say there is no duality. Still it is a bit surprising to see it in real time.

Gold had been found.

A Shared Axis

It became clearer that BaGua, Kyūdō, Tai Chi, and Chan are not separate paths, but different ways of walking the same ground. This was something I felt, understood already, even with my small understanding. In Chan/Zen there is no duality, as I said. Now this became more concrete. Tai Chi teaches balance through continuous yielding. Kyūdō reveals stillness in a single, unrepeatable release. Chan points directly to what remains when nothing extra is added. BaGua moves between them, asking the body to change direction without losing its center. There is no straight line toward understanding…only responsiveness. The bow, the step, the turn, the breath all arise from the same quiet place. When the center is stable, movement becomes effortless, and direction is no longer a problem. “Movement within stillness, stillness within movement.”

“Form is emptiness, Emptiness is Form”…Zen Heart Sutra.