An Orthodox Approach to Taijiquan?
Elsewhere, we have said that Taijiquan is a sort of practical, physical Daoism. We have also stated that Taijiquan as a martial art is grounded in the idea of responding to violence without violence (alternatively phrased, to force without force). And we have also mentioned a number of things about “Top Down” approaches, Western understandings, Neurobiology, Evolution, and a wide variety of other concepts that are not typically brought up when discussing Taiji.
So, is this an orthodox, traditional way of understanding Taiji and how it is practiced? And do all these things actually relate to each other in a useful way? To answer these questions, we’ll turn to the foundational texts of Taijiquan, collectively known as the Taiji Classics. We’ll focus much of our interest on the second of these documents, the Treatise on Taijiquan, attributed to Wang Zongyue and thought to be written in the 18th Century. Along the way we’ll address how passages from these documents relate to the understanding of Taiji we are attempting to present, and how these passages connect to our way of explaining Taiji.
Our first claim is that Taiji is a kind of practical Daoism and one of bringing Wu Wei, effortless action, into a martial context. This is perhaps not a very controversial statement, but one that still warrants some attention, because this relates very strongly to the importance of mindset, attention, and intention in Taiji.
One of the defining qualities one encounters in the Dao De Jing (Tao Te Ching) and the writings of Zhuangzi (Chuang-tzu) is the idea of equanimity. This refers to maintaining a level, calm state of mind regardless of whether things are good or bad, difficult or easy. Further, it means not becoming caught up in things, or in labeling the situations we find ourselves in as good or bad, until we can fully comprehend their consequences. Thinking we know what is important and trying to impose our will on the world–to control outcomes–is the simplest way to diverge from the Way. We can shape events without undue consequence only by working with them, within them, without judgment or attachment to particular outcomes. This is the idea of effortless action.
So, we should find some passages that relate to this in the Classics! Consider the following, from a recent translation of the Treatise, found in The Heart Treasure of Taijiquan, by Master Ren Gang (translated by Mattias Daly):
Taiji. It is born of wuji. It is the mother of yin and yang. When it moves it divides, when tranquil it merges. Not exceeding, not insufficient, it follows that which curves and cleaves to that which straightens.
Also:
When movements are swift, I swiftly respond; when movements are slow, I slowly follow. Though changes are myriad, this principle is the one thing that threads through them all.
And finally:
The foundation lies in giving up the self and following others.
The authors/translators, Master Ren Gang and Mattias Daly, spend considerable effort unpacking each sentence of the Treatise in their book; we will only do so briefly here. The first passage above is exceedingly Daoist, invoking the processes of separation and unification; Taiji and Wuji give rise to the 10,000 things which are one thing (which are no thing).
The second passage then applies them to the practice of Taiji itself; note that we are not discussing an opponent here! There are movements, the movements are part of a system both we and the opponent belong to. If we find this system is moving fast, then we move fast so as not to disturb it. If it is slow, then so too are we. Further, it states that no matter what shape things may take, our job is not to disturb that shape! This is the underlying principle.
This is stated again, in strong terms in the final section of the Treatise: give up the self and follow others. Does this mean to capitulate to their desires? No, clearly not. Other sections of the Treatise clearly discuss self-defense (though not self-defense through mere strength of arm and bullying violence), so the intention is not that we should allow ourselves to become victims. Instead we are directed to be mindful of the shape of the situation and to minimize the extent to which we disturb it, to not impose our will on it too much.
But how do we do this?! Well, like a Daoist sage, we maintain our equanimity. Or, in less high-falutin’ terms, we don’t light up. So we start to see what “don’t light up” means. This means that we don’t let ourselves be riled by the situation, we don’t judge it, seek to escape it, or become invested in the interaction. Nor do we try to win, to control, to dominate. Our attacker/partner/opponent may do these things, and our refusal to do so can allow them to experience the often interesting consequences of behaving in this manner.
Now, let’s turn our attention to the second claim: Taiji as a martial art is characterized as responding to violent force without having to rely on violent force. We have begun to address this claim already: we don’t light up. But what else do the Classics have to say on this matter?
From the Treatise:
Look at the phrase “Use two hundred grams to uproot 500 kilograms”–it is obviously not strength that wins! Look at the physique of an octogenarian who can defend himself against a mob–how could he be quicker than they are?
Immediately prior to this passage we encounter a somewhat more cryptic section.
Though they differ in form, none of these doors lead beyond the bullying of the weak by the strong and the capitulation of the slow to the quick. Those with strength pummel those without strength, slow hands succumb to fast hands–this all comes from ability we are born with, and is unrelated to that possessed by those whose strength is learned.
These examples illustrate that Taiji is not about the application of violent force. They are, in fact, quite dismissive of what are often called “hard style” martial arts! Hard style approaches are compared to bullying and the victimization of those without gifts of strength or speed.
What sets Taijiquan apart from hard styles? In many hard styles a block is also a damaging blow to the opponent’s limb. In Taiji we seek to join with an opponent’s attack so seamlessly that they do not even feel our hand on their body! Unlike the meeting of force with force, the core of the art is the careful application of energy in opportune moments that are created by following the intention of the attacker, from a state of equanimity; we listen, and we don’t light up. This allows us to neutralize, control the opponent’s balance, and issue energy.
In other words: we may apply energy, but we are not using violent force. This is what the somewhat obscure idea of “learned strength” that occurs repeatedly throughout the Classics refers to: applying strength in the moments when the opponent has become so absorbed by the consequences of their actions (which you have allowed them to discover) that they are unable to respond, and in fact will not even be aware of your strength until they find themselves falling down or the like. This is what gives true masters of Taijiquan an almost magical quality, and applying it in the face of genuine violence is quite a rare skill.
One of our other claims has been that we can learn about how Taijiquan actually works by paying attention to evolutionary biology, neurobiology, and other such scientific fields. Can this claim be supported by traditional teachings or writings about Taiji? Let’s investigate.
As we have said, the root of not responding to violence with violence is not having violent intentions, not seeking to dominate and force our will on the situation. The key to this, as we have said above, is to not light up, not lose our equanimity. So then, how do we not light up in the face of violence, in practical terms?
A good start is by not doing the Angry Primate Dance. You know this particular dance very well, and if you watch any group of teenage boys (or rich and powerful men) long enough you will see it. There will be exchanges of tension, insults, posturing, threats, possibly an exchange of blows. The point of all of it is to establish dominance. This can be accomplished via words and social manipulation, and if that fails through force or at least the threat of it.
The truth is that this behavior is not at all limited to primates, and is in fact common among mammals and other animals. It is a very ancient behavioral set, and has been researched and written about at length. A rich literature of neurobiology and behavioral studies in many animals explores these kinds of systems. There are many excellent essays and books on the topic by Dr. Robert Sapolsky, for instance.
Like it or not, we carry around automated systems in our brain that will leap into action at a moment’s notice to do this dance and many others like it. Think of them as the social equivalents of the Righting Reflex (which attempts to prevent us from falling, or to at least fall well).
What happens when we do this Dance, what is the experience of it like? The main characteristics of the Angry Primate Dance are a narrowing of attention, feelings of anger or fear, increased heart rate, and the activation of what we refer to as the Fight Reflex System. This system is an incredibly fast, instinctually driven set of behaviors that can drive our behavior without much (or any) conscious awareness. This system is important and helps keep us alive and in one piece by detecting threats and responding to them faster than we can consciously choose to act. It enables us to leap out of the way of an erratic driver, duck a punch without thinking, and in truly dire circumstances, fight back against a deadly threat.
Fascinatingly, this system applies just as strongly to social situations as it does to physical violence. Challenges to social dominance and upsetting of hierarchy can trigger this system in those invested in maintaining that hierarchy. It is sufficiently sensitive that even aggressive intentions from another person can set it off, merely through subtle cues in posture and facial expression. The Fight Reflex System is discussed in much detail elsewhere, but we are concerned with it here because when it activates, we become Lit Up. This will tend to begin a cascade of call-and-response behavior.
There are various ways we can avoid an uncontrolled activation of the Fight Reflex System and lighting up. One way is that we can adopt a mindset that simply refuses to participate in the Angry Primate Dance. In other words, we can work to retain our equanimity. We can also employ something like the skills of acting to treat the situation as if it were something else, which is the core of techniques like “Greeting a Friend” that short-circuit the opponent’s Fight Reflex System by denying it the responses it expects.
What do the Classics have to say about this kind of thing? There is of course the very common ”Qi follows Yi (Chi follows I)”, meaning that everything flows from our intentions. This is among the most common pieces of Taiji wisdom, and many variants of it exist. One of the key elements of the Fight Reflex System is that it tends to seize our attention and drive action without much thought on our behalf, but with clear and unambiguous intentions! Fight, assert dominance, control the situation. Or, alternatively: Get away, submit, relinquish control of the situation. These intentions can be glommed onto by the Taiji player and manipulated into unexpected outcomes for the attacker.
Other places go into more detail. The first passage of the “Five Character Secret” (Calm) (Translated by Ben Lo et al. in the book “The Essence Of T’ai Chi Ch’uan”) contains the following:
The mind should be calm… The entire mind must (also) experience and comprehend the movements of the opponent. Accordingly, when (the movement) bends, it then straightens, without disconnecting or resisting. Do not extend or retreat by yourself. If my opponent has li (strength), I also have li, but my li is previous (in exact anticipation of his). If the opponent does not have li, I am also without it, but my mind is still previous. It is necessary to be continually mindful; to whatever part is touched the mind should go. You must discover the information by non-discrimination and non-resistance. Follow this method, and in one year, or a half-year, you will instinctively find it in your body. All of this means use I (mind), not jing (internal force). After a long time the opponent wilI be controlled by me and I will not be controlled by him.
This passage contains virtually identical information to what we have written above! In the face of attack, we remain calm and join with the attacker seamlessly, we listen and do not light up. If we develop these skill well enough, we are free to act when attacked, and cannot be controlled by attempts to use dominating force and violence.
This has of course been just an introduction to dealing with the basics of the ideas that we use when teaching Taijiquan, but hopefully you can see that while our approach may seem unusual and not particularly traditional (and indeed, in many ways this is an accurate observation), it is in fact strongly grounded in the traditions of Taiji, and addresses the art in a way that aligns very well with the core writings about Taijiquan and the essence of it as a martial practice.