The Taijiquan Sword Form

Below is an excerpt from a post at The Tai Chi Chuan Pedagogic Center regarding the myths and legends of the Taijiquan Sword Form. The full post may be read here.

Each of the Yang Family forms embodies the core principles of Taijiquan, yet each has a different flavor. In practicing the Sword Form, or Taijijian, we are told to show light and flowing movement.
The need for such lightness can be seen in the distinct nature of the names of the postures. Of the 67 named postures, more than 40 of them refer to flying creatures, wind, or sky. While the hand form calls for measured steps and sharp distinctions between empty and full, the Sword Form invites us to fly and flow more with our outward movements. Judging by the names of the sword form postures, we must wield our sword as if following the movements of wasps, swallows, geese, and falling leaves. At other times, we must “Embrace the Moon” or chase it like a shooting star or comet.
In order to enrich our practice, we must engage body, mind and spirit. Giving thought to the images the posture names can help guide our movements in the proper way. Many of the names are easy to understand, but others are not so familiar to those with limited familiarity with Chinese culture. The purpose of this article is to explore some of these images and their possible relevance to our practice.

STARS

Early in the Sword Form, we meet two star postures, Da Kui Xing and Xiao Kui Xing. For want of precise equivalents, these can be translated as the Big and Little Dipper. It turns out that “Kui Xing” can be seen as a reference to the four stars that form the bowl of the Big Dipper and particularly to the star at its tip. “Kui Xing” could also be understood literally to mean the “Chief Star.”

This “Chief Star” is associated with the God of Literature, who is often depicted as standing on one leg, waiving a brush over his head with one hand and holding an inkwell before his body with the other.

The reason he stands on one leg is unclear, but it could be because his persona has merged with that of a legendary one-legged mountain monster of old. This monster’s name is spelled with a different character, but has the same pronunciation, “kui.” In this meaning, the sounds of the name “Kui Xing” would evoke the sense of the “the Star of the One-Legged Monster.”

One tale about Kui Xing is as follows. One year, a scholar came in first during the civil service exams that were the road to fame, fortune, and respect for the elite in traditional China’s imperial society. Unfortunately, this scholar was so ugly that the emperor shied away and failed to accord him the customary honors. Humiliated, the scholar tried to drown himself in a river, but was saved by a sea beast that carried him up into the heavens. There, he became the god of the star at the tip of the big dipper and the patron god of literature and scholarship.

The next time you perform these postures, make sure to copy Kui Xing’s pose and show enough spirit to scare off an emperor.

DRAGONS

One flying animal that is named again and again among the postures is the dragon, but the Chinese dragon is not quite like the dragons described in European tradition. Dragons in the west are often conceived of as evil dinosaurs with bat-like wings. They breathe fire as they fly around, devastating the countryside. The Chinese Dragon, however, is usually considered an auspicious being. Most types do not have wings, but often fly by virtue of their magic power. This power is sometimes represented by a pearl that the dragon clutches in its claws. Unlike the Dragons sometimes depicted in the west, Chinese dragons have snake-like bodies and use coiling motions familiar to anyone that has witnessed a dragon-dance performed for the Chinese New Year.

After the posture Casting the Fishing Rod or Waiting for the Fish (Deng Yu Shi), there is a posture that has two alternate names. One is Poking the Grass to Seek the Snake, and the other could be translated as Dragon Walk Posture. While the first name seems self explanatory, “dragon walk” might seem to present a puzzle. The answer becomes clear if we remember the zigzagging coiling motion of the dragon dance. Rather than advance head-on against our opponent and violate the principles of Taijiquan, we advance with a sinuous motion, alternately flowing right and left as we parry and thrust with the sword.

Later in the form, we meet some specific dragons of myth and legend. First there is the “Black Dragon [that] Sways its Tail.” Later on, a “Black Dragon Twists Around the Pole/Pillar.”

Limb Destruction in TaeKwonDo

Below is an excerpt from a post at Traditional TaeKwonDo  Techniques Blog. It has to do with limb destruction, attacking the limbs.

The original post may be read here, where there is an accompanying video.

Limb Destruction works a treat. It's easy to learn. You're not risking breaking your fingers on the hard corners of his skull. And most people can generate a lot of force by the shearing of both arms working away or towards each other.

I had a former golden gloves boxer come to my school about a dozen years ago, saying he wanted to learn 'something useful,' and how he's not seen anything worthy from the other schools he's visited. So I decided to show him how basic blocks could be leveraged against a grabbing or striking arm. Almost immediately he started to flinch from the pain shooting up his arms. Well, he did ask for it.
Our conversation following talked about the difficulty of teaching an absolute beginner how to punch. Not just throwing a balled up hand in the air. But using a punch as a tactical weapon. And yes, we both agreed that it'd take about at least a half year to make an adequate weapon that would function well combatively.

The blocks smacking against his arm though ... lol ... could be used almost immediately. Someone grabs you, you destroy their wrist. You numb their forearm. You render their bicep or tricep non-responsive. You hyperflex their elbow. AND you don't have to think too hard to get the job done. You just smash a part of the opponent's body between your two arms.

Shorinji Kempo Demonstration

Below is a short video which is a demonstration of Shorinji Kempo.

Chinese Swords

This came to my attention via the Kung Fu Tea blog.

Li Zhujun is a Chinese swordsmith who has deeply researched old steel forging techniques in order to make simply exquisite swords.

Here is a photo essay at Xinhuanet depicting his work. The pictures of the swords are spectacular.

Becoming AntiFragile

Antifragile by Nassim Taleb is one of my favorite books. 

Over at The Art of Manliness, there is a very good post that sums up some of Taleb's ideas. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

What’s the opposite of a person or organization that’s fragile?

If you ask most people this question, they’ll likely say “robust” or “resilient.” But philosopher Nassim Nicholas Taleb would say that’s not the right answer.

He argues that if fragile items break when exposed to stress, something that’s the opposite of fragile wouldn’t simply not break (thus staying the same) when put under pressure; rather, it should actually get stronger.

We don’t really have a word to describe such a person or organization, so Taleb created one: antifragile.

In his book, Antifragile: Things That Gain from Disorder, Taleb convincingly argues that this powerful quality is essential for businesses, governments, and even individuals that wish to thrive in an increasingly complex and volatile world.

If you want to succeed and dominate, to separate yourself from the pack and become the last man standing in any area of life, it’s no longer enough to bounce back from adversity and volatility – to simply be resilient. You have to bounce back stronger and better. You have to become antifragile.

First, some background.

Back in 2007, Taleb popularized the idea of “Black Swans” in his book of the same name. In a nutshell, a Black Swan is an event (either positive or negative) “that comes as a surprise, has a major effect, and is often inappropriately rationalized after the fact with the benefit of hindsight.”

The mortgage crisis of 2008 was a Black Swan event, as were both World Wars. Hardly anyone predicted them, they all had huge impacts on history, and they all seemed utterly predictable in hindsight.

Many folks walked away from reading The Black Swan with this takeaway: “Sh** happens, so don’t bother trying to predict things.” But as Taleb recently tweeted, that’s the conclusion “imbeciles” reach (one of the best parts of Taleb’s writing is that he doesn’t mince words). Rather, the main message of the book is this: “Yes, sh** happens. The trick is to put yourself in a position to survive and even thrive when it does.”

In his most recent book, Antifragile, Taleb offers some simple heuristics to help businesses and individuals thrive in a life swirling with volatility. Before he does that, though, Taleb makes the case that people/systems/organizations/things/ideas can be described in one of three ways: fragile, resilient, or antifragile.

Which category best describes you?

Your Martial Arts Lineage

Below is an excerpt from a post at Kenshi 24/7. While it was specifically written with Kendo in mind, it applies to anyone practicing a martial art. 

Your martial arts practice was molded in a large way by your teacher(s). Your teacher's martial arts practice was largely molded by preceding teachers. 

Knowing where you come from helps to inform your practice.

The full post may be read here.

I often get email from people abroad wishing to join Eikenkai or Yoseikai pracises when travelling through Osaka, and the odd email about people wishing to look for dojo in places outside of the Kansai area. The usual format is “Hello, my name is X and I am Y grade.” After that I may get more information, for example where they practise, the duration of their experience, and – less commonly – their teachers name. People with experience in training in Japan, however, find that when first entering a dojo they are usually asked these questions in the reverse order, i.e. the initial question asked is “who is your sensei?”

Over the net, if someone tells me their age, duration of experience, and grade I can make a pretty good guess of where I think they should/may be technically. Generally. However, this is just what it is: a guess. I can’t possibly know how they do kendo or – more importantly – their attitude to it. This is where telling me your teacher becomes very important. If I know your teacher – either personally, through word of mouth, or reputation – its a much better indicator to me about your method, style, and purpose for practising, which is arguably more important than simply how good you are. Even if you are not so experienced now, if your teacher is well thought of then I know that you are going in the right direction. These people – i.e. those I can easily profile – I am more inclined to spend more of my time to help out. In the same vein, I know that the initial treatment you receive when attending a new dojo in Japan can be affected (both positively and negatively) depending on your answer to the initial “who is your sensei?” question.

Of course there are many times when people mention instructors whom I don’t know, and at that time mentioning your teachers-teacher can be useful. Since I study mainly under a couple of teachers, one being relatively well known (in Japan) the other not so, I often qualify the other sensei when I go to a new place by telling a little bit about his background.

How many people actually know their teachers teacher and what qualifies as a ‘teacher’ anyway? These questions might seem sudden, but they are an important part of this discussion. Let me tackle these questions in reverse.

A teacher is someone you learn from and study under for a (somewhat long) duration. Someone – at least in the earlier stages of your kendo career – you simply copy. If they are a good teacher you will never outgrow them. They should hopefully also be someone who has reached a proper teaching level. It follows that I do not – and I hope you don’t either – consider someone my teacher if I do kendo with them at seminars once or twice a year, even if that spans multiple years or even decades (if they are Japanese then they almost certainly don’t consider me their student in that situation anyway, despite what I or you may wish to believe).

Your teachers teacher is obviously someone that your teacher spent many years studying under, and is possibly someone who you have never met. What good is it knowing about them anyway? If your teacher is serious he/she probably limited themselves to a small number of instructors and studied under them for a good many years. What they learned from their teacher is what they imparted to you. So your teachers teacher has, in effect, influenced your own kendo as well (fundamentally so). So when someone asks you “who is your sensei?” or “whats your experience?” its not only much more useful (to the experienced questioner) but may even be more ‘correct’ (in a traditional manner) to tell them not only your immediate teacher, but your teachers teacher as well (especially if your teacher is not well known). If you list a few dojo’s or multiple names (or heaven forbid, you can’t think of anyone who you would gladly call your ‘sensei), then I’d say you’ve not just gone of on a dangerous tangent, but you are not doing ‘Kendo,’ at least in an orthodox manner.

Kendo is – as I’m sure you don’t need a reminder of – a physical tradition that is taught not through websites, books, and certainly not through video, but is a living tradition taught and learned physically and verbally. If knowing your teachers teacher is to (start to) know your own roots, then it follows that not having a teacher means you have no base.

The Shinai: More Than a Bamboo Sword

Below is an excerpt from a post at Tozando Blog. It's about the history and meaning of the bamboo sword used in Kendo practice. The full post may be read here.

A ‘Shinai’ is commonly known as a practice tool replacing a live blade in Kendo and Kenjutsu. And yet, it goes beyond being simply a tool in that it’s treated with reverence. More than just being a bamboo sword used during practice or competitions, by standing in for a real sword, its usage vicariously approximates life-or-death duels. Naturally, given this state of mind, certain practices apply when, for instance, you place the Shinai on the ground. This includes not straddling the sword, not holding the sword with your left hand and pointing the tip to the ground when standing up, or even rolling the sword on the ground.

The kanji characters ‘木’ (read: boku, moku, or ki) and ‘刀’ (read: to or ken) are read as such – ‘bokuto’ (wooden sword). In contrast, Shinai (bamboo sword) combines the kanji characters ‘竹’ (read: take) and ‘刀’ (read: to or ken), but the reading – ‘Shinai’ doesn’t reflect that. One theory states that this word is rooted in ‘撓う’ (read: shinau), which means ‘to bend flexibly’, and that it gained this exclusive usage in Kenjutsu circles. Originally, before the Shinai was introduced, blunted swords or wooden swords were used during practice. In those days, practicing with such equipment would result in serious injury whenever practitioners made full contact, so it naturally followed that they shifted almost exclusively towards drilling forms. This meant that they’d stop their sword right before contact in paired forms or drills training, but a single mistake in gauging the amount of force would often result in unintentional contact; one misstep would place a student’s life on the line. Such was the type of practice back in the day.

The Dao De Jing, #71: There is Nothing Better Than to Know That You Don't Know

The Dao De Jing is not only one of the world's great classics, it is one of the foundations of Philosophical Daoism. A free online version of the Dao De Jing may be found here. Today we have #71, There is Nothing Better Than to Know That You Don't Know.

There is nothing better than to know that you don't know.

Not knowing, yet thinking you know—

This is sickness.

Only when you are sick of being sick

Can you be cured.

The sage's not being sick

Is because she is sick of sickness.

Therefore she is not sick.

Photo Essay: The Legacy of Huo Yuanjia

This came to my attention via the Kung Fu Tea blog.

Huo Yuanjia was a famous Chinese martial artist who was active around the turn of the 20th century. Some of his exploits were the subject of the Jet Li film, Fearless.

Huo was one of the founders of the Jingwu (Chin Woo) Athletic Association, which still exists today and remains his legacy.

Here is a link to a photo essay from Xinhuanet, which focuses on Huo Jing Hong, a fifth generation descendant and inheritor of Huo's system. Enjoy.