Need some more ideas to think about, to get your head around the philosophy of the Tao, of Yin and Yang and all those other spiritual goodies that can make your life more unified and complete? Would you like some more ways to see how opposing elements actually can and do make up a unified One? Let’s make some more connections, then.

We can’t get any more polar opposites than straight lines and circles, can we? Often, Wing Chun is described as a linear system, because we emphasise protecting the centreline, because we use a straight vertical punch as our main weapon, because we always tell people one of the advantages we have against the opponent is that we want to keep the straight path between the opponent and us for ourselves, thereby forcing the opponent to take a curved, or longer, path to reach us. Straight lines abound in Wing Chun theory, with plenty of drills and exercises for us to understand and explore them through our training in the kwoon.

Yet, for as many places we drill and practice straight lines and linear expressions there are just as many circular concepts that we use for counters, deflections and redirections. It is often heard in Wing Chun circles (no pun intended here), “there is a counter for everything”. We’ll train a drill where A learns how to do something to B, after which B learns how to counter A’s intent, delivering a counter to the attack. A then learns how to counter B’s counter, and so on and on. When two well-trained Wing Chun exponents “play” Chi Sao (sticking hands) it’s a joy to watch as one move flows right into the next, time and time again as attacks are countered, counters are redirected and new attacks begun, that are then again countered and on it goes.

The objective here is not one of winning and losing, rather than of finding the balance between an opponent’s energies and forces and your own, from which openings and opportunities will present themselves to those who tune into the flow. We “play” Chi Sao to learn to keep flowing, to become like water, like the Tao, so that any opportunities that come from the flow can present themselves, but also so that we learn to understand the follies of trying to stop the flow. Stopping the flow here is meant when we have an OSF* (for those new to this discussion, please refer to Parallels, my blog entry on 28 April), and freeze up for even a millisecond, causing our muscles and our mind to lock up, allowing our training partner/opponent to set the trap. The “rewards” of such actions are usually a punch in the nose or a fat lip and sometimes a black eye.

The balance of the flow was interrupted, causing a disruption of harmony and guess what? One got overpowered and defeated by the other. Too many circles and not enough straight lines, or an over-reliance on linear responses and not enough circular energy; ‘good’ Chi Sao where things seem to flow, comes from achieving that balance between the straight lines and the circles. Let’s take an example from our training to see how this works.

A perfect place to start is with our ‘basic’ Daan Chi Sao (single-arm) drill. By its nature, this drill encapsulates the essence of balance, of Yin and Yang working together and many dismiss the great value that this ‘basic’ drill instils in us, emotionally, mentally and physically, underrating this exercise in favour of its more highly touted cousin, Seung Chi Sao (double-arm) and the games that come with it.

All that we need is truly in this wonderful training tool; much like the Wing Chun system itself, the single-arm drill is so subtly simple, yet truly complex in its scope and meaning. Its essence comes from some of the “young ideas” that took root when we learned the Siu Lim Tao/Siu Nim Tao form, Wing Chun’s foundational first set. One of the translations of this set (of which there are many, and could be the topic for another post down the track) is said to be “the way of young ideas, or little thoughts”, by which the young or little referred to in translation might be interpreted more as new – maybe new not only in the sense of unfamiliar to you (you are learning physically to do things very different, and therefore new, to your body), but also in the sense of how you think upon your encounter with an opponent – is it you against him/her; is it about winning and losing. So many of us look at fighting and physical encounters through such perspectives, and maybe our first training set offers us some young and new ideas from which to gain some differing and maybe better ways to handle an encounter, an opponent, or an obstruction.

Let’s begin with the basic set-up of the single-arm Chi Sao drill. For those who have little or no Wing Chun background, the following terminologies may confuse you as I will not really go into detailed explanations in this post, wanting rather for readers to get the general gist of what can be found within the training of this essential drill. If you want to understand better, please come in for a trial lesson or find a good Wing Chun school in your area (nudge, nudge, wink, wink).

Moving on, we have one with arm outstretched in the tan sao position, palm facing up and fingers flat and together; the other, on the outside of the first one’s arm in the fook sao position, fingers curled and relaxed. Inside and outside, on top and underneath, left arm to right arm – what better ways to introduce the aspects of Yin and Yang to a novice practitioner; that the one has no value without the other?

Some of the ‘benefits’ of the single-arm drill are: to develop sensitivity in one’s arm, so as to become relaxed and yet aware when pressure and force is applied to the limb so that one can blend with such energy and find weaknesses and openings by interaction; to develop spring force, or forward energy intention, so that one can take advantage of  such openings and weaknesses; to stress test parts of one’s structure so as to understand their value and give one reason to re-train the way one moves the body. There are more we can bring up, but these will suffice for the moment.

Wing Chun is known as a practical, efficient and economical martial art, famed for its close-range fighting skill. One of its core principles that embody those qualities is that of simultaneous attack and defense. On a quick aside, yet another great example of the Yin and Yang concept, and of the oneness of the Tao is demonstrated here. One has to think of attacking to defend, of defending by attacking; can you see that little spot of light in the dark half of the Yin Yang symbol, that little spot of dark in the light half? Other core principles are to protect the centreline and take the shortest path to the target.

We get to practice these core principles while developing our bodies to move more efficiently and reflexively through the single-arm drill. We can first see how the system makes it ‘easy’ for us to understand that very basic concept of using an attack as our first and primary means of defence by the initial set up of the partners’arms. Whether the opponent’s arm is on the inside of your arm, or on the outside of your arm, your first and best option if he/she tries to strike you, is to strike as your defence. Before we get into the interactions the drill can create using more force and energy, if both parties begin by moving their elbows toward the centre of the other’s mass, and with no or very little force and intention, both partners can see the potential that their punch has the capability to defend the other’s attack. To train this way, we must first let go and get a new perspective, a young idea from which we can find other ways to solve a problem.

At this point, theoretically we have two straight lines bisecting each other, with the one outside being on top of the other, which is on the inside. Now to add more meaning and a new stimulus to the energy here, the outside arm starts to ‘squeeze’ the elbow, sinking toward the centreline while striking forward, and if the other does nothing to resist and only travels forward, then the inside arm will get deflected away from the centre, heading toward the opposite shoulder. The outside arm is beginning to train the fook sao and also the jum sao concepts by squeezing and sinking the elbow.

Often at this stage, the inside arm realises that it is getting deflected and will “lose” if it doesn’t do something and the common error here is to attempt a linear ‘correction’ to push back against the sideward deflection to keep focused on the target of the opponent’s centre of mass. To do so is to fight a greater force with force, a definite no-no for a Wing Chun practitioner, and the problem is compounded by changing the direction of the force from forward to the opponent and the target to sideways and across. If the outside arm let the inside arm go at this stage, the inside arm’s energy would fly sideways, not striking the other but more grazing the target with a sweeping motion. The outward energy would also move the arm away from the centre, also exposing the inside arm’s torso unnecessarily.

To continue thinking only of winning and losing here usually means that one can get stuck here for awhile, fighting and wrestling with his/her partner, trying to regain the centreline. How long one works in this inefficient and incorrect response depends on how long he/she tries to freeze this point and try to make it such that his/her fist/palm stayed aimed at the other’s centre. Instead of thinking of one’s elbow aiming at the centre as well as of feeling what the energy of the flow between the two arms is ‘saying’, one can sometimes get frustrated and stuck here for sometime.

By letting go, and going with the flow, one learns where the point of no return will come, that place after which one’s arm does get redirected and the attack neutralised. One can begin to see where a change must occur if one is to continue to apply pressure (or be offensive) while maintaining a forward force toward the opponent (partner) and still be able to defend the deflection of the other’s attack. By letting go, one gets a new perspective (young idea) on the problem at hand.

Here, if one accepts the information of the interaction of arms and the direction of the energy flow, one can see that to push back, or to use a linear response to a linear attack, is certainly a futile gesture and one that requires a force-against-force response. If the person whose arm is on the inside here, understands what the chi sao is ‘telling’ him/her, the answer becomes quite evident. The answer must come from a circle.

If the inside arm imagined it had a cog, a toothed gear on its forearm, it might make it easier for you, the reader, to understand.  Now, when the outside arm starts its forward travel along with the squeezing deflection to take the centreline, the inside arm’s forward travel causes that cog to rotate the forearm section, borrowing the opponent’s energy (another core Wing Chun principle) and returning it to him/her as the shape of the inside arm becomes the bong sao, with the elbow still moving only in a forward direction (not a lifting one), and still aimed at the opponent’s centre of mass. Although the shape of the inside arm changed here, its intention to defend by attacking to the centre of the mass never changed. Note that it also took a circle to harmonise with a straight line – two supposed opposites- smoothing out a change instead of needlessly and inefficiently fighting against a probably greater force.

When done properly, the inside arm’s response here of rotating forward from the palm strike to the bong sao takes so much less effort on the practitioner’s part than of trying to push back against the inward deflection of the outer arm’s travel. Too often the practitioner thinks something must be wrong – no pain, no gain, right? WRONG!

Still at this early part of the single-arm drill, another important concept is trained here; one learns one of the core principles of maintaining proper structure under greater duress. The Wing Chun practitioner learns here that if one’s structure (the palm strike from the tan sao) is under threat of collapse due to forces stronger than the structure, then the structure must change (from palm strike to bong sao) to retain the benefits of the structure.

The outside arm’s deflection/punch is now neutralised, being redirected away from one’s centre and now the inside arm has a barrier from which to apply pressure to the other’s centre of gravity and balance.

We have seen in just this first part of one of the first and basic partner drills in Wing Chun, that one must harmonise with one’s opponent in order to achieve a correct outcome, and we’ve seen that opposites are the reason for this harmony occurring. All parts of the Tao… Yin and Yang?

What parallels in your home life, your work life, your love life, your academic life can you make from this post? I’ll leave that up to you. And while you’re at it, the outside arm is upset now because it didn’t get to “win”. How does he/she counter the counter? The answer may already have been written. Think about it and we’ll see in my next post.

I started these ‘musings’ to offer up my take on how kung fu training and the ‘deep’ esoteric philosophies surrounding them are just as valuable and relevant to one’s everyday life experiences and situations. I’ve touched lightly already on places where one might see the parallels between what is done within the kwoon (training hall) and what is done in the rest of our everyday, mundane and routine lives. I’m being slightly facetious here, of course, saying such only to poke some fun at how people can sometimes create an unnecessary difference in how they view ‘parts’ of their lives, making them separate, not allowing for the harmony of all the facets of their lifestyes to make them ‘whole’ and unified.

It was interesting to find, while I was thinking of adding some of the other martial arts terms for a ‘training hall’ to the sentence above to make it more universal and not just aimed at students of Chinese martial arts, a term that really hits the nail on the head. The Japanese term for a martial arts training hall is called a dojo, a term I’m sure many of you have heard before. Even my own students will refer to the classroom sometimes with the Japanese term, “dojo”, and not the “kwoon”, its use in common language is now so familiar.

When I Googled  “dojo” , I was taken to Wikipedia’s site where I found this definition: A dojo (道場 dōjō^?) is a Japanese term which literally means “place of the way“. I never knew that before, and I’m sure a lot of people both within the martial arts and without would probably say the same.

But doesn’t that definition help us to understand that all of this mysticism and holistic references we often put forth in philosophic discussions of our training ‘leading us to higher places or levels of consciousness’ might just be getting in the way of us getting to those ‘higher places’?

The term “kung fu” (功夫) actually means “hard work” or “skill/achievement”; the inference being that one cannot attain any levels of proficiency in martial arts (or in anything else) without putting in the time and sweat  – “the hard yards”. By consistently putting in time and effort to learn things that are often difficult and challenging, we make ourselves more ‘complete’ through the process. As Han, the evil character in Bruce Lee’s epic film, Enter the Dragon, said, “We forge our bodies in the fire of our will…”

Our pursuit of physical skill and excellence has a by-product of producing mental, spiritual and emotional excellence as well, because the body will only do what the mind tells it. That is the reason so many come to a martial arts school like ours, or sign up with personal trainers, etc; it’s because the trainer or the sifu or sensei will make you do what you want to achieve. So many of us want to do more than we currently seem able, but can’t; yet put us into the capable hands of a good instructor, trainer or coach and the results often always astound both those around us and ourselves. Look at shows like The Biggest Loser, where contestants tell us how they lack self-esteem or fell into habits that lead me to give up, etc, etc. Three months later, miracles occur for even the contestants that don’t win the big prize, and virtually all have lost at least three people’s bodyweight in the process, and yet, for the last x number of years…”I just couldn’t get the weight off… I just couldn’t do it.”

How do these ‘miracles’ happen? They happen because that trainer, that coach, that sensei, that sifu was able to push the contestant/student/client mentally and emotionally to do more than the person was previously willing to do for him/herself. The body was always shown to be capable of making the change, but it only ever comes when it engages with the mind and spirit. The ‘hidden talent’ or ‘latent ability’ is only revealed when all the rowers are steering the boat in the same direction, the one direction… the Tao…

Whether or not the stimulus for the mind, body and spirit to combine together happens through an external source like a trainer or coach, or from within oneself doesn’t matter; what does matter is that it must happen, if one is to move to a ‘higher’ place.

Again, our kung fu training helps teach us that it IS within our powers and abilities to reach those goals we set for ourselves, whether they be self-defense skills, job advancement skills or being a better husband or wife. Struggling to work out how to neutralise that combination attack from your training partner can also help you work out how to get around the difficulties of an unfair boss or the struggles of trying to learn material for an upcoming economics exam for your uni degree. It’s all the same, when you boil it down. Struggles and obstacles are necessary for achievement and success; pain is necessary for happiness; Yin must be part of Yang… it’s all the same.

What we do in the classroom IS the same as what we do outside. Like Wing Chun, the art itself teaches us; make your training (=life) less complicated, less cluttered – more economical. Take the excess off, like the sculptor. The work of art that is Y-O-U will come from stripping away all the non-essentials and of getting to the core – the hidden talent (qian li 潜力) – that lies within.

Musings by Sifu Dana P Wong is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

I’ve often said that what we do in the classroom is the same as we do outside of the classroom; in other words, that every aspect of our lives, no matter how different they might seem to each other, are all parts of the same thing. They are all parts of the One, or the Tao, if we want to make it all mystical and esoteric.

But part of what I’m trying to convey to my students through their Wing Chun training is that it is not just about fighting and self-defence. Their training is also about dealing with life; it’s about dealing with change and how such changes can and will shape the course of their lives. Whether they are for better or for worse can again, often be judged by what perspectives we choose to look at the consequences of those changes.  By looking at one’s martial arts training more as a lifestyle, and not just another “part” of what one does, a person can begin to look at all aspects of his/her life as a unified whole, and not just as pieces to be held together in a basket to be sorted out individually as one’s attention gets drawn to each piece.

By drawing parallels with what you train and learn in your Wing Chun class to what you experience in other aspects of your life, you can create a unified way from which you deal with Life’s ups and downs, a way that doesn’t create unnecessary distinctions that can distract you from the important and necessary elements of your life.

For example, a typical class situation might have you learning a concept for dealing with a person throwing a straight punch to your face. Once you’ve learned the core basics of successfully defending that, the progression moves to the attacker then faking that first punch, then following it with a real punch, like a rear cross or a lead hook. When the student first learns the core concept of dealing with that first straight punch, the introduction of a fake, followed by a second punch will usually cause a moment of hesitation and of ‘freezing’ – what I call the “Oh S*** Factor, or from now on, OSF. It is that moment of hesitation that provides the opening for the opponent’s second, and real, attack to strike true, causing one’s anticipation of the situation to become a self-fulfilling reality. The pain in your face can lead to one of two choices; either you cringe in fear thereafter whenever a punch is thrown at you and hope that luck will pull you through or you backtrack, slow things down and reverse-engineer the encounter so as to learn where the adjustments need to be made, so that the proper skill sets can be learned. From there, you have taken the step of using an obstacle or a hazard to move you to the next rung up the ladder of kung fu achievement. In essence, you’ve taken a “bad” thing (getting faked out and then punched in the face) and turned it into a “good” thing (becoming better at successfully neutralising combination attacks).

Viewed in this light, how can you say the “bad” thing was really bad? It led you to take actions to better yourself and move to a higher evolution. Being so, wouldn’t you now say that that “bad” thing was actually a “good” thing? Or could it be that they are both just parts of the continuum that is your life – the flow of your Tao?

Experiences such as those occur all the time in one’s kung fu training, teaching one to accept such challenges and progressions as part and parcel of the learning and development of one’s skills and of one’s being. Acceptance of those challenges, through repeated and progressive physical encounters leads to a lessening of OSF, and therefore a lessening of attempts to stop the ever-flowing current of one’s life, of one’s Tao, which is an impossible thing to do. This is where much of the conflict in our lives comes in, when we mentally or emotionally try to stop moments in our lives. Sometimes we try to stop our life because we’re so happy, we’re in love, or we’ve travelled to a place that has thoroughly enchanted us and we never want our life to change because of that. More often, though, we want to stop our lives because of a tragedy or a perceived failure of some sort – the breakup of a relationship, losing one’s job after twenty years, or coming home one day to find your house burnt down.

In such situations, many can only see the “bad” and OSF sets in, leading to denial, a mental breakdown, depression, possibly a turn to drugs and/or alcohol to escape the reality of the change that occurred in their life. Our news, TV programs and other media are filled with such life tragedies everyday. But could they be lessened?

I believe so, and encourage you to think of these situations this way. To go back to the beginning of this musing, remember how I asked if any thought of the benefits of something “bad” happening to them, and of how most people don’t think about “bad” situations that way. For most of us, we tend not to think at all when our lives are “good” and all is well. But then when something happens and our life turns “bad”, we try to fix it, often thinking in all directions, envisioning the worst and often over-reacting, causing panic. Panic leads to a freezing of thought, of action, of decision-making and can make our solutions a hit-or-miss proposition.

Our Wing Chun training can help us learn to become more mentally composed, more emotionally neutral when a ‘disaster’ occurs in our everyday life, because we can see it as we do an opponent’s fake and combination attempt in class. Both are, in essence, only changes that are part of what we should expect to come. The repetitions and progression of training stimuli we face in daily training can help us translate the benefits of that environment into the other areas of our lives. Being more composed and emotionally neutral allows us to see more clearly the situation(s) we find ourselves in and the options available to us. This allows us to accept what is happening in such a way that we can look for the appropriate steps to take from there and to continue to move with the flow. Physically, we remain more relaxed, being more able to respond appropriately to the fake and the next move; emotionally we are not stuck in the mud and are thus able to work out options and a game plan to take us to the next phase. Our training is as mental and emotional as we think it to be physical; or at least, I think it should be.

If you can see the parallel tracks I’ve laid down here, perhaps there’s something of value for you when the next ‘disaster’ strikes, in whatever arena of your life it happens. I’ll touch on some concrete ways that our training does give us a well-rounded ability to cope with adversities in my next instalment. Until next time –  Happy Training!

“Repetition does not transform a lie into the truth” – Franklin D Roosevelt

Musings by Sifu Dana P Wong is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.