Tag: Chung-jen

me - Brian C. Allen, qigong, t'ai chi

My T’ai Chi Lesson on March 30, 2014

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rootengineballoon

I had a lesson with my T’ai Chi teacher on Sunday, March 30, 2014. It was raining and my training partner was the one driving. He made a wrong turn, and we ended up being 30 minutes late. Chung-jen was kind enough not to count that against us, so we still had a full two hours for our lesson.

For about the first 40 minutes of the lesson, we did jibengong (basic exercises). In the past six months, I have been working more on specific skills and less on my physical conditioning. As a result, my legs gave out from exhaustion several times. This has only happened to me a few times before. I usually get to the brink of that each time, but I manage to hang on. This time, I could not. Though these are called basic exercises, they are grueling. Always, within about 10 minutes, I break out in a light, full body sweat, and I do not sweat easily. This time, Chung-jen added something new, something to help loosen the shins and ankles. It is a great exercise, but is extremely difficult for me. I will only be able to practice that with the help of someone else, though Chung-jen does it fine by himself. I also sought clarity on one of the exercises, and Chung-jen offered corrections on a few others. When we were done with the jibengong, my heart was pounding, my breathing was noticeable, my body was sweaty, my thighs felt thick and heavy, but I was ready for the rest of the lesson.

In general, there are 3 main things regarding trying to improve skill that are at the heart of every lesson I have with Chung-jen: 1) more emptiness; 2) better structure; and 3) less doing. Each of those topics are rather deep and are outside the scope of this article, so I will not be touching on those here. I only mention the list because this lesson was no different in that regard. However, the context in which those ideas are presented have varied among the lessons.

I mentioned in a recent article that I both wanted to and needed to get back to basics and work on my foundation. After all, the better one’s foundation, the easier it is to do things that depend on that foundation. One can know how to do high level things, but without an equally high level of foundation, the success rate of one’s techniques will be less than desired, particularly when one has an opponent or training partner that is not being direct with his power or purposely feeding his center.

The first thing I requested that we work on was root. I am still a bit baffled by Chung-jen’s root. I understand, at least on some level, how to root, and in training situations and with people of lesser skill, I appear to have root. However, when Chung-jen softly pushes on me, my root is not there, and my body cannot help but to resist. My mind does not appear to be pushing back, and I know that I neither want to nor intend to be pushing back, but I can clearly feel my legs and / or other parts of my body engaged in resistance, pushing back into him. He tells me that I am pushing back. I almost laughingly say that it is not me pushing back, it is my body doing it; I do not want to do it, but it is doing it anyway.

When I asked about root, he said, “Oh, that’s easy. Just drop off.” The “drop off” is an exercise that he gave us to do several years ago. Practicing that and getting some skill with that is responsible for quite a bit of the T’ai Chi martial application skill that I have. However, over time, because of using it in application, I got away from the original intent of the exercise and came to depend on at least a small amount of movement in order to start the process of the application. It is that small amount of movement that has been causing a reaction in my training partner or practice opponents, which I was then able to borrow and use to complete the application. It is that small amount of movement that someone song (relaxed) such as my teacher interprets as me pushing or moving. I now have a better sense of just how still I must be in order to actually be still. No external or visible movements means just that, not a tiny movement that people miss because of the larger movement that follows. So, I was using the drop off to move people instead of using the drop off to increase my root and level of song (relaxation). In those cases, my drop off, and therefore my root, only had to be good enough to be better than my opponent’s errors when engaged in a drill. Through my seeking clarity, Chung-jen mentioned that dropping off is the same as releasing or song(ing), and that it should be happening during both the “roll up” and the release. “Roll up” is what we call it when the intention of tailbone is causing the lower abdomen to sort of roll up on the inside. Release is when we let that go. However, in letting that go, things should still remain “rolled up.” All the while, dropping off is happening. It is a very subtle process and if one involves one’s conscious mind to keep track and check up on any one aspect, the whole thing gets messed up. As usual, Chung-jen said that to work on this skill, just practice the sequence; it is all in the sequence. Yes, it is all in the sequence if I do it the way he taught me. So, I must not forget that dropping off is root. When he demonstrated on me, Chung-jen was perfectly still, touching me, but not pushing into me at all, and off I went, simply from him dropping off. I have been aware of this phenomenon for some time, but in my haste, I started to jump ahead before fully developing it, depending upon other skills to make up for my lack of root.

Because the topic came up, I also wanted more clarity on this dropping off / releasing. I asked if dropping off / releasing was always done the same, regardless of where I was being touched or what I was trying to do, or if I change it based on those parameters. Chung-jen stated that I should always do it the same way. I had suspected that, based on my previous experience, but I just wanted to make sure. I started to get a sense for it again, and Chung-jen warned that I not wait too long before returning for another lesson, or I would lose the sense again and go off in another direction again: off by an inch, miss by a mile. I will state at this point that the roll up and release while dropping off is the specific “internal engine” used in the type of T’ai Chi on which I am working. There are other internal engines out there, and jin manipulations can be done without a specific type of engine; one need only have open and loose joints and a certain degree of song.

The rooting topic led nicely into and was intertwined with the roll up and release topic, two of the three topics I wanted to cover. I then brought up the third topic, how to move my arms around. He laughed and said that I have been all along, but that I just needed to get better at it. I told him that I did not want to keep practicing incorrectly, so he got serious again and went on to explain. Up until this point, I have been moving my arms in a way that allowed freedom of movement and conduction of forces. Basically, I have been keeping my joints open and loose and releasing tensions in my torso that would otherwise form due to changes in limb positions. It feels like they float around where I want them to be based on what I think in regards to where they should be. You could say that I was hua (neutralizing) my own limbs and their movements. If someone put hard force on one of my limbs, I just did the same thing. It was no different than if my limb weighed more; I treated it the same. The connections from the limbs to the rest of body were from the sinking and hua. From an application point of view, this method seems to work well until I practice with someone who has better internal skill. Then, they perceive it as me using force, the wrong kind of force. My teacher uses the word fake: “Your movement is fake;” or “Your touch is fake.” Basically, I was not completely whole, somewhat disconnected.

So, how I am supposed to be moving my limbs? Well, it is tied directly into the internal engine that I mentioned above. Chung-jen used the word balloon quite a bit during the explaining. He has mentioned to me before about the head being like a balloon, but this was more inclusive. Although I am not sure they are the same thing, it brought to mind something that I have read on various internal arts forums that Mike Sigman writes about: the balloon man. Admittedly, I have not read his more in-depth expositions on the balloon man found in his blog. I will, however, be reading that soon. Although the internal engine behind his balloon man is a little different than the internal engine that I am working on, I think the balloon man aspect is probably very similar to the balloon that Chung-jen mentioned. Mike provides solid information in a very readable way, so I look forward to it, and I recommend his blog to you as well.

Let me get back to my lesson with Chung-jen now. He stated that the roll up from the tailbone, which connects huiyin (Ren-1 acupuncture point at the perineum) to baihui (Du-20 acupuncture point at the crown of the head), starts the “inflation” process of the balloon. At this point let me say that I have no doubt about this connection from huiyin to baihui. When I roll up, especially with an inhale, I can feel a sensation at huiyin that almost simultaneously “hits” the top of my head. Chung-jen instructed that as the balloon inflates, my yi (mind intent) should connect that to my fingertips (in the case of moving my arms). This will raise them and my arms to where I intend. During the lesson, I was able to do this, and I must say, it felt very different than what I was used to doing. It felt even more like I was doing less. I was psyched from that new experience. I was even able to do it against his pressure on my arms. This got me thinking.

I know in T’ai Chi, we are supposed to hua (neutralize) our opponents. Because they are alive and have nervous systems, they can be manipulated in ways that inanimate objects (such as a heavy box) cannot. Would the balloon hold up against inanimate objects? I asked if the balloon could be trained to become a very strong balloon so that you could lift or move objects with it, and he said yes. I also asked if that strong balloon could then be used to move a person as if they were an inanimate object, just moving their mass away from you with raw balloon power, and he said yes. Of course, that is not how he approaches things, and that is not how he teaches me. Remember those 3 things I mentioned above: 1) more emptiness; 2) better structure; and 3) less doing. Emptiness and hua should be the focus.

Still, I am going to isolate this balloon thing so I can get used to moving my limbs that way. After I get comfortable with that, I will add inanimate resistance to the training in order to develop a stronger balloon. I will still be working on emptiness and hua, trying to be as soft and subtle as possible, but it is good to have a backup plan.

I did ask another question about the balloon feeling just for clarification, and I think it is important to mention here. I told him that when I am practicing and I inhale, I can feel a sensation in my limbs as if they are being filled, and that when I exhale, that sensation dissipates. I asked if this was related to the balloon thing. He said, “No. That is just your feeling of things.” I knew just what he had meant by that because he had told me that before in other situations. He was letting me know that what I was feeling was just my mind’s interpretation of the qi sensation in my body that I have linked with my breathing. Qi in this sense has to do with the kind of qi used in healing or the channel qi in acupuncture. That is different than the martial qi talked about in T’ai Chi.

Time was up for the 2 hour lesson. I wish we would have done more. As is usual for us, we three continued with discussion over lunch at a Chinese buffet. I overate, partially because I like the food so much, and it is “all you can eat,” and partially because Chung-jen is able to eat so much and he jokingly remarks, wondering why we cannot eat that much. After lunch, we hugged and said our goodbyes. Chung-jen told us to not wait too long for our next lesson because he did not want us to lose the sense of correctness that we obtained during that lesson. I understand and agree. I would see him weekly if I could. I think I will try to see him again in the first week of May.

Overall, I am pleased with the lesson I had. As usual, I left there feeling like a dummy, knowing how little I knew (in my body) and how much I needed to work. I do remind myself, though, that it is relative. I am certainly not a beginner, but I am far from Chung-jen’s level. I gained some good clarification on rooting and the internal engine that we use. I will work a lot on this, however, I know I will encounter problems. When I isolate an internal mechanism like that, I tend to lose sight of all of the other things that my body is supposed to be doing correctly in order for the engine to be able to be expressed. If the engine is working but there are tensions in the body and forces are not conducting well, then the effects of the engine do not come through. Likewise, if I am just open and loose like I used to be, conducting forces, but with no real engine, I will be lacking and not doing what I am supposed to be doing. I have to combine those, and it is going to take some time. Those things are not new to me, but my understanding is a little different. Each lesson, things make just a little bit more sense to me. I also must work on awareness of the balloon phenomenon in regards to moving my limbs, and I must work that and the engine into the T’ai Chi form sequence so that I have a vehicle for regular solo practice. As usual, I will continue with my training partner so that we may test one another and provide increasingly difficult challenges.

me - Brian C. Allen, qigong, t'ai chi

My T’ai Chi Journey and How I Met My Teacher, Chung-jen Chang

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bca and cjc

Before telling the part of the tale involving my teacher, I have to start a little further back to put it all into context. It was 1990. I saw a flyer for a local kung fu school, and one of the styles that it offered was T’ai Chi. I already had previous martial arts experience, but I had always wanted to learn kung fu, and I was previously not aware of any local kung fu schools. This was great, I thought, and the fact that T’ai Chi was being offered made it even better.

About 2 years prior, I was at a friend’s house watching a martial arts documentary, The Warrior Within. Masters from various martial arts were showcased including a few from various styles of kung fu. Of particular interest to me was the demonstration by Eagle Claw Master Leung Shum. Rather than demonstrating Eagle Claw, however, he performed Wu Style T’ai Chi. I had not seen anything like that before, and that combined with the hypnotic 1970’s styled deep-voiced commentary had me hooked. I needed to study T’ai Chi.

Back to the flyer: there it was, T’ai Chi at a local kung fu school. I enthusiastically signed up and studied everything they offered including various external styles of kung fu, many traditional kung fu weapons, and, of course, T’ai Chi. The T’ai Chi classes had much less attendance than the external style classes. It was not everyone’s cup of tea. As time passed, I became an instructor at the school, teaching both the external style classes, including weapons, and the T’ai Chi classes. At first, I assisted in teaching the T’ai Chi classes, and then later, I completely led the classes.

During that time, I competed in various tournaments, competing in external styles, both empty hand and weapons, and in T’ai Chi, both forms divisions and pushing hands divisions. I placed in every tournament I every competed in without exception. I thought that I was good at T’ai Chi and that I knew what I was doing. Hey, I even read the Classics. My T’ai Chi seemed to work well even in sparring against external styles. Even though I was not able to duplicate the feats attributed to masters of the past, I assumed that if I continued to practice what I had been taught, that I would continue getting better at what I had been taught, and that it would all come together. Little did I know that I could not get there from where I was. Unfortunately, that is just how T’ai Chi is: off by an inch, miss by a mile. Without a proper foundation, you will never do more than an external representation of T’ai Chi. No matter how clever and sensitive your moves, no matter how effective your techniques, it will still not be T’ai Chi. I, however, was blissfully ignorant. How could I have known?

It is time to introduce an important character in this story: Bill. Bill had joined the same kung fu school after I had already become an instructor. Initially, he studied both the external styles offered and T’ai Chi, however, in time, he had settled in with just T’ai Chi. He was my most dedicated student and took it all very seriously. He eventually plateaued and made me aware of my own plateau. At this point, I had been with that kung fu school over 5 years. The head teacher of the school did not seem to have anything else to offer in regards to T’ai Chi. Bill asked me if I could recommend another teacher that he could study with. I did not know of anyone in the area, but I gave it some thought. I remembered that one of the friends that I made at the tournaments, Al Jean, was an instructor under Yang Jwing-Ming. Both Bill and I were familiar with Yang Jwing-Ming through some of his books and videos. Though Al Jean did live in Boston, I knew at the time that he had recently moved to the Baltimore, MD area. I knew Al always did well at the tournaments, and I assumed that if he was an instructor under Yang Jwing-Ming, then he must have a decent set of T’ai Chi knowledge and skill. So, I recommended that Bill get in touch with him. I cannot recall if it was I or Bill who had found his contact information, regardless, Bill contacted Al Jean and had a fateful conversation.

Bill explained to Al who he was, how he knew me, and what he was looking to learn. Al decided to steer Bill in another direction. Al was under instructions from his own teacher, Yang Jwing-Ming, to seek out instruction from Chung-jen Chang of Bowie, MD while Al was living in Baltimore. Yang Jwing-Ming would have Chung-jen Chang teach various workshops at his school in Boston and thought highly of him, so he thought his own advanced student / assistant Al would do well to study with Chung-jen while he had the chance. Bill contacted Chung-jen and started studying with him in 1995.

For about a year while he was taking private lessons with Chung-jen, Bill would still work out with me regularly. He would show me what he was learning, which was a lot of basic exercises, no work on the form. Considering the T’ai Chi background that I had, this seemed strange to me, and the basic exercises seemed similar to ones that I had already taught Bill. Of course, my eyes only saw the outer shell of things because I did not know any better. Bill insisted, however, that Chung-jen was very knowledgeable and skilled.

About a year later, June 1996, the kung fu school at which I taught was set to perform during the Masters’ Demonstration at the 3rd World Wushu Games held in Baltimore, MD. Bill informed me that Chung-jen would be there performing as well. I was excited about getting to meet Chung-jen. During the event (when I was not engaged in conversation with Cynthia Rothrock), Bill kindly introduced me to Chung-jen. He seemed friendly enough, but I did not know what to think. I was anxious to see him perform.

Wow! I sure did see him perform. Though I did not really know the depth involved in what I was seeing, I could plainly see that it was qualitatively different than any other T’ai Chi performance that I had ever seen. His movements seemed very precise, very together, and very flowing. His stances were low, but he looked very relaxed. In the Yang style sword form that he performed, the sword was clearly an extension of his body, a part of the whole. The Zhaobao small frame (Hulei Jia) form that he performed, showed me a coordination, flexibility, and type of strength that I had never seen.

I was seriously impressed. About a month later in July 1996, I started studying with Chung-jen. Bill and I were taking private lessons together in Yang style T’ai Chi at the rate of about 1 to 2 lessons per month. After about a year or so later, I started learning Chen style T’ai Chi with Chung-jen on Saturdays in a class setting rather than having private instruction. During that time, I continued the private lessons in Yang style T’ai Chi at the same rate. I did not mind the 2 hour drive each way at all. It was worth it. This went on until November 1999 when I moved to San Diego.

I learned much during that time period, but I was never quite able to pick up what Chung-jen was putting down when it came to internal power. I found a good training partner, Jim Hogg, while I was in San Diego, and we worked out for hours at a time, usually twice a week. I also visited the East coast twice and had more private lessons with Chung-jen. Then, one day, in mid 2001, I got sick.

To say I got sick is an understatement. This would end up being a chronic illness that wasted me away, literally dropping my weight down to 106 lbs at 5’ 5”, an illness that lasted a trying 9 years. I had some type of dysautonomia which was never fully diagnosed let alone adequately treated. I had to stop the workouts. It took all of my strength just to finish Chinese Medical School, which is why I was in San Diego. During 2004, my last year in San Diego, I had just enough strength to start training again, but only for very small periods of time. At first, I would work out literally for just one minute. I was determined.

I moved back to Delaware at the end of December 2004. A few months later, I had regained another small portion of strength, enough to get my Chinese medical practice up and running. I also decided to teach T’ai Chi and Qigong. Honestly, teaching those two classes was the only physical activity I was capable of doing. Somehow, I was able to teach and do those 2 things and mostly feel OK while doing them, but nothing else. Have me walk down the street or up a flight of steps or carry groceries into the house, and I was beat. It did help that my students were mostly there for the health benefits and not for martial arts training.

I knew my skill level was not what it should have been. I was, however, blessed with a good memory, and so I continued practicing all that Chung-jen had taught me and did get better at what I had been doing, but I had truly plateaued once more. I knew I wanted to study with Chung-jen again, but I was embarrassed. I was a weak shell of my former physically fit, strong, flexible self. Then, one day, I got a new training partner. This was in March 2010.

He would work out with me a few times a week. I slowly started to build up stamina and strength from the workouts, and luckily, some of that extended to my activities outside of T’ai Chi and Qigong. I tried to get him to understand the inner workings of what Chung-jen was trying to teach me, but it was futile being that I did not have a good grasp of it myself. We did, however, get very efficient at what we were doing, but in the end it was still mostly external.

A few months later, my training partner declared that he absolutely must start studying with Chung-jen and that I must go, too. Though I was still feeling embarrassed and inadequate, I called Chung-jen and set up a lesson. I had kept in touch with him over the years via Christmas cards and occasional letters, so it was not quite like I was just calling out of the blue. Still, he was glad to hear from me, and we set up a private lesson for July 2010.

We showed Chung-jen what we had been working on, and he seemed interested that we had discovered a few things. That lesson, he taught us some things that made a major difference in my T’ai Chi. The door had opened. Chung-jen stated to me, “You have been in high school long enough. It is time to graduate and go to college.” I was totally psyched.

As we continued with private lessons, I was finally catching on to what Chung-jen had been trying to teach me previously and what I had been working on for so long. There were times when Bill, who introduced me to Chung-jen, would attend the private lessons with us as well. My training partner and I worked out several times a week, a few hours at a time. Also, during this time period, my health situation changed for the better rather quickly, and though I am now still not 100%, and I still must avoid certain activities, I am doing much better. I completely credit the “new” T’ai Chi that I was learning from Chung-jen and practicing regularly with my training partner. We got what we thought was really good, really fast. However, each time we would go for another lesson, Chung-jen effortlessly showed us the great divide between our skill level and his. He did not do this explicitly. It would just become very obvious during the course of the lesson. This went on until September 2013 when it finally sunk in about how to judge myself and what it was I needed to do in order to continue to acquire more and more skill. I felt like a total dummy leaving that lesson, but within a week, I realized that in many ways, it was my best lesson yet.

It is now March 2014, and I have not had a lesson with Chung-jen since that September 2013 lesson. Worse yet, circumstances have changed, and my training partner and I do not have the same access to one another like we used to have. Workouts have been infrequent. During this time period, I have once again started focusing on basics. I have been trying to build a better root and work on being more song (relaxed). This is what Chung-jen kept trying to tell me. The “higher level” stuff, mostly involving yi (mind intend) that I was doing would fall apart against someone with skill because I did not have a good enough physical foundation behind it. I am, however, glad that Chung-jen answered all of my questions, humoring me, showing me how to do higher level skills. This kept me motivated; I felt like I was getting somewhere, having something to show for my efforts. It got me healthy.

Now, though, it is time to really get down to business. I have a lesson this coming Sunday with Chung-jen, a long overdue one. I really just want to work on zhan zhuang (standing), song (relaxing), and how to properly move my arms and legs. I cannot emphasize just how important those things are. The first 30 minutes of the lesson are going to be jibengong (basic exercises) as usual, and it scares me to think about it. Honestly, it is like you have to train to get into shape to just be able to make it through those exercises with him. Then, I am going to feel wasted for the next 30 minutes, as I try to get my body to behave after that initial gauntlet, if you will. It will be worth it though, because the rest of the lesson will be chock full of basics, just like I want, just like I need.

So, that is my T’ai Chi story, up until now. I hope you enjoyed it. I know I have.

Level 1, me - Brian C. Allen, t'ai chi, t'ai chi handouts

My Taijiquan Lineage and the Zheng Manqing (Cheng Man Ch’ing) Form

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I first want to discuss my lineage. My teacher is Chung-jen Chang, originally from Taiwan, now currently residing in Bowie, MD. He studied with several different teachers in Taiwan, but he considers Lin Ah Long, from whom he learned Yang style taiji and sword, to be his primary teacher. Chung-jen never speaks of his lineage unless I ask specific questions, and it has been very rare that he ever brings up one of his teachers other than the rare occasion that he mentions Lin Ah Long. His focus is on the teaching itself, and, by far, the most emphasized part of the teaching is “emptiness.”

I also almost never speak of lineage. I wrote this article to serve as a reference for my students and to serve as a reference for inquiries from the internet and elsewhere because the question of my lineage does comes up from time to time, and I do not have all of this information memorized. Now, I can just give people the link to this article when they ask me.

Here are the various lineages leading to Chung-jen Chang based on my own research regarding his own teachers. Any errors are not intentional, and if you have more accurate information, please bring it to my attention.

Yang Style Lineage:

Yang Banhou ⇒ Miao Lien ⇒ Li Shoujian ⇒ Xiong Wei ⇒ Lin Ah Long ⇒ Chung-jen Chang

-and-

Yang Shaohou ⇒ Li Shoujian ⇒ Xiong Wei ⇒ Lin Ah Long ⇒ Chung-jen Chang

Li Shoujian in the Yang style lineages above is a recognized disciple of Yang family taiji. He did not study the large frame method of Yang Chengfu. He learned from an earlier generation, studying a small frame method which emphasized tight movements, explosive power, and firm, deep stances. He studied directly with Yang Shaohou. He also studied with Miao Lien. Miao Lien studied both with Yang Banhou and some Daoist Wudang line of internal arts. I do not have any information about the Wudang line, but I do know that it had some influence on Li Shoujian’s taiji.

I have seen Lin Ah Long and some of his students play the Zheng Manqing form and part of another Yang form. Chung-jen Chang plays the form with a slightly smaller frame and with some minor variations in the specifics of the choreography.

Zhaobao Small Frame (Hulei Jia) Lineage:

Chen Qingping ⇒ Li Jingyan ⇒ Yang Hu ⇒ Chen Yingde ⇒ Wang Jinrang ⇒ Xiong Wei ⇒ Chung-jen Chang

There is a lot of controversy regarding this style of taiji. It is different than both traditional Chen style taiji and Zhaobao style taiji from Mainland China. To top it off, Xiong Wei plays the form much differently than his teacher. Xiong Wei has more obvious tight spirals that are very smooth and require much more relaxed flexibility and relaxed strength. The explosive power looks softer and reverberates in several fast successive waves out of the body. Additionally, Xiong Wei developed a set of 12 exercises known as Taiji Daoyin which were derived from the form itself. The set and the form develop full body connection with tight spirals, coordinated breathing, and a soft explosive power. Additionally, athletes and dancers from all over the world have traveled to Taiwan to study the Taiji Daoyin set to improve their flexibility, strength, and performance. Oddly, though the movements of the daoyin set are from the Zhaobao small frame form, the inspiration for the method behind the set came from Xiong Wei’s recognition of the power in the limb rotations of his Yang style teacher, Li Shoujian. The development of the daoyin set informed Xiong Wei’s changes in the Zhaobao taiji form.

Also, after my teacher moved from Taiwan, Lin Ah Long (his Yang style teacher) studied the Zhaobao small frame (hulei jia) method from Xiong Wei, from whom he also previously learned the Yang style. While residing in California, I was lucky enough to meet and visit with Tim Cartmell who also studied this form, though he studied it with Lin Ah Long rather than from Xiong Wei as my teacher did. Of note, Tim Cartmell spoke highly of Lin Ah Long’s fighting ability as an internal martial artist. My teacher, of course, seconds that.

I also want to mention that Xiong Wei studied Hao style taiji.

Hao Yueru ⇒ Zhou Zhenglin ⇒ Xiong Wei

My teacher did not learn Hao style from him, but I must note that the Hao style also uses a small frame method. I bring this up because of the large amount of small frame influences my teacher has had.

Chen Style (Laojia) Lineage:

Chen Fake ⇒ Pan Wing Chow (Pan Yongzhou) ⇒ Chung-jen Chang

-and-

Chen Yan-Xi ⇒ Du Yu Ze ⇒ Chung-jen Chang

My teacher studied Yilu with Pan Wing Chow. I have seen Pan Wing Chow do laojia yilu and my teacher’s version of the form is a bit different. My teacher plays the form with a bit smaller frame, deeper stance, and more obvious spiraling. My opinion is that this is from the Taiji Daoyin influence from Xiong Wei. I also want to note that Pan Wing Chow practiced and taught small frame Chen style also, but that it was the large frame method that Chung-jen had studied with him.

My teacher studied Erlu with Du Yu Ze. This was large frame Chen style laojia erlu. Of interest, Du Yu Zu’s teacher was Chen Fake’s father. Therefore, Du Yu Zu learned Chen style taiji before any of the changes were made to it attributable to Chen Fake. Du Yu Ze also practiced and taught hulei jia (see above in the Zhaobao section), but this is not what Chung-jen Chang learned from him. I bring this up to note that Du Yu Ze also practiced a small frame method. I have seen Du Yu Ze play laojia erlu. My teacher’s erlu frame looks similar to that of Du Yu Ze’s, however, my teacher moves more smoothly and has a slightly smaller and more obvious spiraling. Again, I think this is an influence from the Taiji Daoyin of Xiong Wei.

What did I study with Chung-jen Chang?

I have learned (and am still always learning more, of course) Yang style taiji via the Zheng Manqing form and Yang style taiji straight sword along with a very large body of jibengong and partner exercises. Where the Yang style sword form comes from will have to be a topic of another article. I have also learned Chen style yilu and erlu, though that is not the main focus of my practice. Additionally, I have learned part of the total set of Taiji Daoyin.

As previously mentioned, I do not talk much of lineage. I see the value in it, but I also know that good lineage does not guarantee that a student of that lineage will automatically acquire good skills. Also depending on the teaching abilities and disposition of the teachers in that lineage, some information might not even be taught due to secrecy or inability to articulate and transmit to a willing and apt student.

Also, I did not learn from anyone in my lineage except from my teacher, so in essence, my taiji comes from him, Chung-jen Chang style. I do experiment a lot with the things that I learn with my excellent training partner. I also have been exposed to a lot of taiji and other internal martial arts literature and videos. I have seen many live demonstrations and have been to some workshops. Therefore, though Chung-jen Chang is my teacher, ultimately, my taiji is just my taiji, for better or worse. I do work and will continue to work to try to get down all of the skills my teacher has to offer.

Why do I do the Zheng Manqing sequence?

Well, the short answer is that it was the form that I was taught. Goodnight.

Seriously, though, I have wondered this myself. Upon asking my teacher why his teacher taught that form, he stated that it was because the form was very popular in Taiwan. People liked the idea of a short form.

What are the implications of all of this, then? As you can see above, Zheng Manqing appears nowhere in my lineage, and I have never made claims to Zheng Manqing’s taiji lineage. Claiming such is not important to me, either.

So, can it really be said that I practice and teach his form? I do not know. Perhaps I should say that I teach the sequence. The form that I practice and teach is the same group of movements in the same sequence as the 37-Posture Zheng Manqing short form. I do know there are some stylistics differences in the choreography. My form looks different than my teachers form, also, though not for lack of trying to copy him. I am just not there yet. His form looks different than his teacher’s form, too, as I explained above. I think that it is probably more important what your body and your mind is doing on the inside that counts as long as the outside is not blatantly violating taiji principles. Especially for beginners, the outside shape is, of course, very important, but what makes it an internal art has to do with what the body and mind is doing while in those shapes and what the body and mind does in order to get those shapes to change.

I use the form as a vehicle to practice taiji. While practicing, my body has to be shaped like something, and then if I am doing moving practice, my body has to change into another shape, so a common sequence of movements, such as the Zheng Manqing 37-posture short form, makes for a convenient vehicle for practice.

I want to make it clear, though, that I am also NOT claiming that I am doing the same thing that Zheng Manqing is doing on the inside. I have no idea what he is doing on the inside. I never looked into it, and I never received instruction from him or any of his students. At this point in time, it is not important to me. I am, however, trying to duplicate what my teacher is teaching me to do, internally speaking. If I can get his skills down, I will be ecstatic. Chung-jen speaks very highly of his teacher, Lin Ah Long, and has recently stated that now Lin Ah Long is doing something different yet. I suppose that there are different internal engines that vary by differing degrees. At some point, I would like to study with Lin Ah Long in Taiwan, if only for a short time, but I still have a lot of work to do with my teacher here.

So, there it all is. I have stated my lineage to the best of my knowledge, and I have stated why I practice and teach the 37-posture Zheng Manqing short form. Now, enough of all of this, and let us get back to practice.