without wuji there is no taiji…
For the past couple of weeks, since I had arrived in Johnson City, I have frequented Willow Springs Park for Lao Jia Yi Lu practice, and therefore, re-introduced myself to sweat and low stances. Fun. During this time, I decided I needed to re-read some literature, i.e. Chen Style Taijiquan The Source of Taiji Boxing by Gaffney and Sims, in order to review and refresh myself of the theories, principles, and practices of Taijiquan. Since I no longer have a teacher (who is physically present), I therefore must be more responsible and disciplined in my gungfu. I have been working hard on the forms, ba fa, and stepping techniques, but, among other things, I have failed to routinely incorporate standing meditation into my training. Closely guarded, and in some cases, withheld from public knowledge in China, wuji zhuang, the source of accumulating and storing qi, developing the skill of fangsong, and discovering and embodying peng jing, is one of the pillars, if not the pillar, of taijiquan training. “To train Taiji one must begin at Wuji.” In order to embody “the grand extreme”, one must embody “no extreme”. Simply put, in this martial art, in order to move one must learn to be still.
Being still is an affront to our popular culture, and not just physically still, but emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. With the advent and propagation of entertainment technology, we are simply overstimulated. It’s easy to change the channel when there is a commercial. We are able to listen to music, while we work-out, or while we read. We can chat with friends in other cities during class. Our cell phones rarely give us privacy, and constantly invade our conversations and time with others. All this comes at a cost. Like Frankenstein and his monster, we must be mindful of the effect that our creation has upon ourselves. We must not be so naive to think that all this stimulation doesn’t shape the pace of our lives. I have been mindful of these things for a while, but now these realities have new implications, especially since I am attempting to express an art that demands me to be still and quiet my mind. Not an easy thing to do, and maybe it never was, but there aren’t a lot of avenues in our culture that lead us in this direction.
This concept isn’t foreign to me, but the practice of being still, in all its capacities, has been somewhat inconsistent, especially in recent years. It took me a while to develop the habit of practicing my forms everyday since I had been out of competitive sports for a while. This will be no different, but I decided that I needed a little help. So, in order to change pace, I decided to change venues, and drove bravely into Carter County (ha, ha!) towards Stoney Creek in order to train for a few hours at Blue Hole Falls, a series of four waterfalls in Cherokee National Forest. Willow Springs is a great place to practice, but there are lots of distractions and not a lot of shade. Blue Hole is more secluded, shaded, and has the added meditative benefit of running water, hence the waterfall. For the next hour or so, I took advantage of this setting, and kicked off the very tardy committment to wuji zhuang.
There are some things in our world that help bring about silence, quiet, and stillness. One of these is being in nature. While the hustle and bustle of our lives, make us more noisy people, constantly overstimulated and distracted, it is refreshing to know (and experience) that the rush of a river, the pitter-patter of rain, the whistle of wind blowing through trees or the call of crickets are ripe with opportunity and can lead us, if we are listening, into stillness. This is why I ventured towards the Blue Hole. Without exertion or force, but with clear intention, I went to work and struggled against the busyness of my mind and body. With each breath, I was drawn into silence, and the trickling and splashing of clear mountain water beckoned to the pieces of a fragmented person to settle and be still. Without ego or pretense, the trees set before me their example, standing in stillness, stretching towards the heavens, yet reaching deep within the earth. This is a place where wuji exists.
I can’t always be in nature, but I am always training whether I realize it or not. This is where, at least for me, martial arts and life intermingle, mix and their separation blur. When am I training for Taijiquan and when am I training for life? It is so easy for all the demands of life to tug and pull, like an opponent, creating the anxiety and problems of feeling and being disconnected from the floor. While I initially needed a little help settling, and nature certainly did the trick, its also encouraging to know that stillness, and therefore, root, is only a few conscious breaths away.
