“Only those activities that are easy and pleasant will become part of a person’s habitual life…Actions that are hard to carry out, for which a man must force himself to overcome his inner opposition will never become part of his normal daily life.”

— Moshe Feldenkrais

Wu Wei is a famous Chinese expression meaning “No Effort.” Wu Wei does not mean that one takes no action, but rather that one’s actions have no trace of straining, pushing, forcing, or imposing. It refers to the ability to adapt to conditions and change according to circumstances without forceful insistence or striving.

From the outset, it is important to understand that, in Tai Chi practice, very little progress will be made through pushing and straining. Everything should be done in the most relaxed manner possible. Striving and struggling will not yield results in Tai Chi. This is one of the most difficult concepts for Americans to grasp. We are a nation of active doers who have an unconscious belief in “No pain, no gain.” Such an attitude is one of several negative habits that will have to be gradually shed during the process of mastering Tai Chi.

From the beginning, one should view Tai Chi as a pleasant experience.  If one understands and applies this principle, it becomes relatively easy to develop a lifelong habit of Tai Chi practice. Studies have shown that if one’s motivation for exercise is purely negative or goal-oriented (e.g. to lose weight, to build muscle) it is more difficult to persist than if one is motivated by the sheer enjoyment of the process. There is a steep learning curve in Tai Chi, but it should be fun at every step of the way. So please do not strain or push as you practice.

“First, you should have a proper mental attitude toward practice. What is this attitude?  Tell yourself that the time you spend everyday in practice is the most enjoyable and comfortable and pleasant of times.  Since we don’t spend that much time each day in practice, the time we do spend is precious…Do you feel practice is an obligation or a duty, or is it enjoyable? If you don’t find enjoyment in practice, it will be hard to continue…When you practice, think of it as a time without worries. Every other time there are difficulties to think about.  It’s like lifting burdens off your body and mind.  It should be a relief. During practice you let everything else go.”

— Sheng Yan , Chinese Zen (Ch’an) Master

by Wang Hai Jun, translated by Nick Gudge, edited by Mark Bernhard

The five most important skills for a beginning student in taijiquan are:

1. Fang Song– Loosen the body by relaxing the joints
2. Peng Jin– an outward supportive strength, the basic skill of taiji
3. DingJin– upright and straight
4. Chen– rooted
5. Chan Si Jin– Reeling Silk Skill

These are not skills that lead themselves to be grasped intuitively, yet all taijiquan is based around them. They are also not learned sequentially. It is not a “Step One leading to Step Two” type process. Rather it is a process of immersion that leads to understanding. The student does not completely understand fang song before starting to understand peng jing. Rather they are collective, with progress in each skill acting as an aid to progress in the others. A little bit more skill gained here and a little bit more there. Persistence in practice provides the opportunity for progress. The more your practice utilizes these skills the more progress you will make.

Fang Song

The first of these skills is fang song, sometimes abbreviated to song (pronounced “soong”). Song is frequently translated as “relax.”  While this is true, it does not really describe the process. The joints must relax, but as a consequence other parts of the body must work hard, particularly the legs. Loosening the joints is perhaps a better translation. The result should not be a body like a cooked bowl of noodles: rather it should be like a solid piece of rubber, strong but not stiff. The term fang has two meanings. The first is about something remaining under control, connected to both the mind and the body (in this case, not going limp). The second is to put something down, away from you. The combination of these two meanings provides the understanding needed. Stiffness is difficult to recognize, but the effects of stiffness are easier to see. As the joints stiffen, they rise up. As they are loosened, the body, particularly the hips and shoulders, sinks down. Once the joints are loosened, they will be free to rotate properly and to transmit rotation to and from other parts of the body. This is a fundamental requirement of taijiquan.

Peng Jin

The phrase peng jin has been the source of some confusion. The two characters (peng and jin) have several meanings in Chinese, and specific meaning within the context of taijiquan. Jin is itself is not easy to translate into English. It is translated variously as skill, strength and energy and the term incorporates all of these meanings. Peng is even more difficult to translate. It has been frequently translated as “ward off energy”. I prefer the phrase ‘outward supportive strength’ as a translation. Peng (pronounced “pong”) is not a natural or instinctive skill. It comes from a long period of correct practice. Without a good understanding of peng and then considerable training to transform this understanding into this skill in every part of the body, it will not arise. Peng will not be gained by accident. It is systematically trained into the body over time. When I was exploring writing this piece I considered making peng jin the first most important skill of taijiquan. However, while peng should be considered the most important skill, it is dependent on loosening the body (fang song.) It is an effective argument that Taijiquan is peng jin chuan because without peng there is no taijiquan. It is taijiquan’s essential skill. Peng is always used when moving, neutralizing, striking, coiling etc,. Through peng all other taijiquan skills are utilized.

Chen Fake taught that there are two types of peng jin. The first is the fundamental skill or strength of taijiquan. The second is one of the eight commonly recognized taijiquan jins (peng, lu, ji, an, cai, lieh, zhou & kao.) The first type of peng is the core element that is the foundation of these eight commonly recognized skills. It is perhaps best considered in English as a separate term from the peng that is listed as one of these eight skills. Peng is the fundamental basis of all eight jins.  From the outside peng has different appearances so it is sometimes called the eight gates (after the eight directions,) but the heart of all eight is always peng. It is the fundamental skill. A student cannot simply demonstrate and use peng just because they will it, however. It requires external posture training combined with internal training to be able to correctly express it.

The fundamental skill peng describes when the limbs and body stretch or extend while maintaining looseness or fang song. Without looseness (fang song) the body is stiff and peng is lost. If the body is too loose or limp then peng is also lost. Without stretching the body is not properly connected and peng is lost. If the limbs and body are over extended, they become rigid and peng is lost. So it is fairly easy to see that a “balance” must be maintained to retain peng. If any part of the body does not have peng, it is an error and must be remedied appropriately. Many form corrections are about regaining peng to various parts of the body, most commonly the knees and elbows. Typically peng is lost or lessened because the body has stiffened or not been loosened sufficiently, most commonly the hips and shoulders. For those who do not comprehend peng, it can be barely discerned in the surface of the forms. For those who do comprehend peng, its absence is clearly visible. In many respects the basic hand forms of taijiquan specifically works as a peng jin training arena.

Peng jin is not an “on / off” skill. While it is easy not to have it, once it is understood its quality can be improved. Like any form of understanding e.g. learning a new language, it is quite possible not to understand anything in the beginning. While learning there are many degrees of improvement or quality that can be sought and reached. From this understanding it is quite easy to see not only the importance of looseness (fang song) as an integral pre-requisite for peng – this fundamental skill of taijiquan – but also, that improving the appropriate looseness of the body will improve the quality or degree of peng skill. From inside the body, when peng is present any pressure is transferred to the ground (rooted). The stretching process connects the body in such a way that this happens without additional effort. It could be called a flexible structure inside the body. It is not rigid, but loose and flexible where pressure to any part is easily transferred across its whole structure.

When touching someone else, peng can been described as an audible (“listening”) skill because, not only does it allow the detection of fine motions of an opponent (as if through the sense of hearing,) it also allows determination of their structural weaknesses. When touching a person with peng it become possible to know the best direction to attack them as well as being able to comprehend what the other person is doing and even intending to do. Listening skill (ting jin) occurs through peng jin.

In taijiquan push hands (tui shou) the emphasis of peng is on leading and neutralizing an incoming force. When peng jin is present there is the potential for rotation. With loose joints the body becomes mobile and by stretching it becomes connected. So any pressure on the body causes rotation or motion. Peng is at the heart of silk reeling as we will see later. It is also the skill that allows for a rapid response for a rapid attack and a slow response for a slow offensive. In push hands practice, the student is said to have crossed the threshold only when they have learned the meaning and skill of peng jin. Beginners often take years to accomplish this. While practicing, not only the hands and arms but also any part of the body that comes into contact with the other taiji player, should make use of this outward supportive or warding force.

So, using peng, a skilled practitioner not only can detect what an opponent is doing, they can neutralize it, detect the direction of vulnerability and attack through it. When this understanding is reached it is easy to see why it is considered the core skill of taijiquan.

Ding Jin

The meaning and understanding of ding is not difficult to grasp, though the practice of it takes much more time. Ding means upright or straight and ding jin means upwards pressing skill, strength or power. When beginning to learn taijiquan, loosening the body includes loosening the spine. If the body is not held upright then there will be excess muscular activity leading to stiffness. Most people do not know what it is to stand up straight. They have the habit of locking their knees, causing a tilt in the pelvis, which in turn causes their body to lean backwards. This creates significant stiffness around the spine and across the lower and mid-torso and hips.

When the body is upright (ding) then it becomes possible to loosen the spine and the waist and then the hips. If ding is not present then most likely none of these can be achieved. When the student understands and maintains ding and consistently stretches without stiffening to produce peng in their body and movements, then the circulation of qi will become evident to them. As with all things in taijiquan, this is a process, with consistent and lengthy practice producing results. More importantly this upward stretching without stiffening has the effect of lifting excess stresses off the various parts of the spine and allowing them to move freely, similar to the way traction in hospital can free the back from inappropriate strains and pressures so it can move freely.  One additional result is that the circulation to the head through the neck is improved. Consequently the movement of qi around the body becomes more noticeable. There is a famous taijiquan saying “xu ling ding jin.” Its most common English meaning is “top of the head is pulled upward as if suspended by a string” at the bai hui acupuncture point (at the rear of the crown of the head.) When the head is as if suspended or raised upward, the resulting position of the head enable it to turn freely and aids the balance of the body.

Ding can be considered the principle that dictates stretching the spine upward to understand and maintain balance, reduce stiffness and to understand and increase both peng and fang song. This basic skill is frequently first grasped in standing exercises like zhan Zhuang, where the lack of motion allows the student to focus more easily on gaining the correct balance and looseness in the body. 

Chen

Chen has two meanings in Taijiquan. The first meaning relates to how the body must “sink” to connect to the ground. The second meaning relates to how the qi must be trained to always be sunk down. These two meanings refer to two separate but closely related skills. The skill of “sinking” the body is dependent on the skill of fang song. The joints must remain loose but still coordinated together. The body is allowed to compress, either using the force of gravity or a force applied from another person. This compression must be directed down the leg without causing stiffness.

Training the qi to remain sunk is more difficult to describe. The reference to qi is difficult for many people to understand and a directive to do something with qi brings even more difficulties. The dantian (or sea of qi) must move freely first. The qi moves naturally initially. Then, as the qi increases, it must be kept sunk and not allowed to rise out of control, e.g. getting excited or emotional. It must be sunk down to flood the legs and reach the ground. These actions can be felt clearly and unambiguously, in the body and legs, when the body and legs have been trained sufficiently and properly. The combination of these two skills produces a skill that may appear unbelievable, where a significantly bigger and stronger person is unable to push over a smaller, weaker person; where someone on their back leg can simply push backwards someone opposing them on their front leg. However it is a basic skill that can be understood and developed with the correct teaching and considerable practice.

Through the skill of chen, incoming forces are directed down the legs to the ground and conversely outgoing forces are generally pushed from the ground. It requires a mobility in the hips and waist that is difficult to describe and comes from long training in the correct manner. A student must be led to it by a teacher who not only understands the skill but also how to it. For strength to be connected to the ground it must first sink to the ground. In this respect chen is closely related to peng. Without a well developed peng jin, including a mobility of the dan tian a well developed chen or root will not be possible. The outgoing force which arises and pushes from the ground is not something mystical but the result of careful training, a coordination of peng jin, a certain type of leg and body strength, and control. The body acts like a highly specialized and controlled spring. When it is compressed, the pressure goes to the ground and when it is released it pushes from the ground. A good root is essential to neutralize and release strength effectively using the internal method of Chen style taijiquan.

Understanding and developing a root is initially developed in standing (zhan zhuang) practice. Through correct standing practice peng jin and ding jin are developed along with balance and an understanding of qi. Training the body and qi to sink and remain sunk under pressure is a major focus of taiji forms. In the beginning moderated and slow movement allows the quickest route to understanding and increased skill. Sinking at the start and end of each movement is part of the process of developing chen.

Relaxing the upper body and hips and strengthening the legs is fundamental to developing a strong root. More importantly, loosing the body (fang song), particularly the hips, so your qi naturally sinks to the legs and feet, helps develop a root. The intensity of practice and the strength required increases significantly as the qi sinks more to legs and a person’s root develops. After the skills of fang song, peng and ding are understood in the body and the mind, specific rooting exercises can be used to aid the development of chen.

When rooted under pressure, the feeling is that the joints redirect in a downward direction and the joint itself may move down slightly. It should not be mistaken for lowering the body, crouching down, or simply bending the joints. To crouch down low usually provides improved mechanical leverage and requires greater leg strength. A lower stance will strengthen the legs but not necessarily develop the root. Initially the skill of chen is trained in a more upright position as it takes more skill to be lower and be rooted than to be more upright and rooted.

Chan Si  Jin

The type of motion required in taijiquan is called silk reeling or chan si. Although I list it as the fifth most important skill for beginners to pay close attention to, without chan si jin there can be no taijiquan. Chan si describes how the body must move to move the qi, to maintain peng jin and to co-ordinate the constant opening (kai) and closing (he) of the outside and inside of the body that taiji is composed of. Again it is not easy to describe or to understand in its entirety because it needs to be understood more by the body than by the mind. For the body to understand, it needs to be able to approximate chan si motion repetitively until its entirety is grasped. This is done through the continuous and repetitive practice initially of reeling silk exercises (chan si gong) and then, more importantly, forms (tao lu.)

For the beginner chan si gong can be considered the early training of taiji shen fa (body mechanics) in movement. By following the relatively simple choreography, in a progression from simple to more difficult, (first with one hand and then with both hands, first stationary then with steps,) the beginner will find how the body moves in circles and spirals. For the beginner the internal movement is not important. Paying attention to winding in (shun chan) and winding out (ni chan,) front circle (zheng mian) and side circle (ce mian), and normal direction (zheng) and reverse direction (fan) is sufficient. Try to move smoothly and without stiffness. Gain the skill of fang song by removing the blockages caused by stiffness in the joints. Aim to get all parts of the body to move in a circle and spiral.

This form of spiral movement not only appears on the surface of the skin, but also appears inside through the whole body. It causes every joint and limb to experience motion. Through repeated coiling and stretching in the training for a prolonged period of time, the body will naturally attain the resilient and elastic strength peng jin that is loose and yet strong at the same time. Chan si jin is the method that the body uses to move so as to retain peng jin.

In the mid 1980’s teachers from Chen Village, notably Chen Xiao Wang and Chen Zheng Lei, as well as others created silk reeling exercises (chan si gong.) These exercises were derived from important movements in the training forms to aid in the development of chan si jin. It became well established quickly as a means of teaching larger groups the basic grasp of movement in Chen style taijiquan, particularly helpful for those without regular access to direction and correction from a good teacher and whose practice time is too short to allow progress in understanding to be made immediately through the traditional forms. Although these sets of exercise may look different from teacher to teacher, they all train the same set of principles.

In this summary, I have described the five most important skills at the foundation of taijiquan for beginners. My hope is that those who wish to understand and gain the skills of taiji will be aided by these descriptions. There are three requirements needed to gain gongfu: a good teacher, good understanding and good practice. History has shown that all who have achieved a high level of skill had all three. These articles aim to help in understanding what taiji is and what its skills are. Gongfu may be translated as skill, but the idea of time spent is a more useful translation. Without developing the basic skills of fang song, peng jin, ding jin, chen, & chan si jin, progress will be limited.

In my own training with my teacher Chen Zheng Lei, these ideas were not explained to me in a theoretical way, but arrived at after long practice with regular correction and derived from experience. These were not ideas we first discussed but principles that grew out of my practice and the repeated correction from my teacher. It is important that the student understands this and does not neglect their practice. In the beginning, training taijiquan is like paddling upstream: as soon as you stop paddling you will move backwards. So train steadily and without a break with a good teacher and progress will come to you.

The following is an edited selection from Master Li Yaxuan’s Tai Chi Notebooks originally published as Essential Explanations of Yang Style Tai Chi Method, translated by Matthew Miller. Mark Bernhard has taken the liberty (had the audacity?) to make slight alterations and additions to reflect current concepts in the teaching of Grandmaster William CC Chen useful to his students.

When practicing T’ai Chi Ch’uan (TCC), one must carefully and attentively learn through experience and awareness, seeking to grasp the essential points of the form.  Usually, in a few months of doing so, one can gradually begin to realize the principles of TCC. The feeling of flexibility and agility (ling jue) in one’s body will also gradually grow stronger. This all comes from practicing on the foundation of relaxation and softness. When first beginning to study, it is difficult to experience the “flavor” (wei) of TCC but, if one is patient and persevering, after a period of time one will feel great delight. Then one can practice a hundred times without growing weary. The more one studies, the richer the flavor becomes. The more one experiences it, the more interesting it becomes, even to the point where it becomes an addiction, something one keeps for a lifetime. Thus one may attain life-long health without consciously striving for it.

In order to improve your form, you must ceaselessly reflect on its principles.  Every time you practice, you must ask yourself: How do I attain a state of relaxation, softness, and stability? How do I attain a continuous, unbroken flavor? How do I use mind instead of force? How do I maintain a centered and upright stance? How can my whole body become light and agile, as if suspended from above? How can I express energy that is relaxed and calm, yet strong? How can I express focused attention and take action without attachment to outcome, wherein “nothing is done yet nothing is left undone (wuwei)”? This is very crucial.

The reason for clearing and settling the mind is so that one may recover a state of a mind without thought, a state of body without action, a mind and body of wuwei. After wuwei, one’s heart nature becomes bright; after one’s heart nature becomes bright, perception arises naturally and spontaneously. This is what the Confucians referred to as liang zhi (intuitive, innate knowledge of right and wrong, good and evil). Liang zhi is discovered only after achieving absolute quiet; it is not found in the ceaseless chatter of thoughts and ideas. A mind rigid with thoughts is like a wall without a door: to go in or out one must break one’s way through. If I act in order to achieve some goal, then there will be a fixed opinion in my mind beforehand. In this way, I’m in danger of “being attentive to this while forgetting that,” “getting hung up on one thing while neglecting 10,000.” Thus I can be easily seduced by the exterior results of showy force, relying on the various tricks, techniques, and stratagems of the “hard” martial arts. But if you practice in a quietly observant and attentive manner, you will make much progress. It is necessary to understand this.

When practicing, you must be steady, calm, peaceful and at ease. The spirit must be composed and self-possessed. Listen and look inwardly in order to establish the union of body and mind. This is the proper attitude for practicing. If it is otherwise, although one outwardly appears to be practicing TCC, in truth of fact, one is not. The art of TCC is none other than movement and stillness, opening and closing, “falling asleep” and “waking up,” “no, no, no,” “yes, yes, yes.” But everything must be done on a foundation of steady calm; there should be no agitation, excitement, rashness or recklessness.  Although one is still, there is movement hidden in stillness. Although one is moving, there is stillness preserved in movement.  Movement and stillness: the two are rooted in each other. This is an essential principle of TCC. Continuous, soft, relaxed, like drifting clouds and flowing water, like the reeling of raw silk from a cocoon; constant and unceasing, like the incessant surging of a great river.

Before beginning a practice session, quiet the brain. Let go of all distracting thoughts, relax the body and mind, and release all tension. Only in this way can you recover that spontaneous and stable calm which is humanity’s natural state prior to being disturbed by external things. This stable calm is every person’s in-born source of inspiration. Once you are stable and calm, only then should you steadily and calmly begin to move. But while moving, you should still remain stable and calm. You should not allow this calm stability of body and mind to dissipate just because you have begun to move. This is important to remember. First relax the entire body, especially the arms. The arms should be like two ropes fastened to the shoulders, without the slightest bit of tension or strain. When beginning to move from the stable foundation arising from the passive compression in the big toe, use intention to gently raise the fingers toward their destination. This intention engages the waist and lower back and the entire body moves as a single unit to “fill the shape.” Throughout the entire form, the four limbs should never move of their own accord without the entire body moving simultaneously in unison. Without this, the body is awkward, uncoordinated and disconnected, with different parts moving independently in a fragmentary, disorganized fashion. This is not TCC but, at best, merely TCC exercise or dancing. If your movements are sloppy and undisciplined, your qi and mind will float upward and, even after a long time, one will not achieve the flavor nor receive the profound benefits of TCC.

A bowl of water spilled on the ground will spontaneously flow to the lowest point. There is no need to advocate the water flowing to any particular place.  If one advocates or holds a view that water should flow to such and such a place, this is tremendously unnatural. Do not use rigid force to push the qi down or in any particular direction. This will make the entire body uncomfortable and may even cause illness. Simply “allow” the qi to sink to the lower dan tian. How does one do this? Relax the mind, then relax the body. After both the mind and body are relaxed, the mind and qi can spontaneously and effortlessly sink. The human body is endowed with a natural tendency toward healthy function. The reason not everyone is healthy is because not everyone exercises their body in order to cultivate this innate health function. Furthermore, people trouble their minds with external things. This has destroyed their spontaneous health function. If you want to achieve health, you must first (here it comes again!) completely relax the body and mind. You must be as relaxed as a bag of bones. Only then can you respond spontaneously and unknowably to every condition. You’ll never be able to issue energy as long as you cling to any residual tension whatsoever. You must quiet the brain in order to recover the spontaneous nature of the body and mind and, thereby, regain your innate health function.

Do not just blindly exercise the external form (the body). Similarly, you also should not merely cultivate the interior (the mind) through meditating and nourishing the spirit like a monk. Give equal weight to movement and stillness. You must cultivate both the exterior and the interior equally. In addition, pay attention to daily cultivation and mastery of your spirit with positive attitude and compassion. Only then can you recover your innate health function. When practicing TCC, it is most important to relax your stance, to stabilize and calm the mind, to cultivate the power of the brain, to awaken wisdom, to deepen and lengthen the breathing, to allow the qi to sink. Every time you practice you must remember these principles. In the course of time you will make the body healthy. This is a very important point that all students must bear in mind.

Spontaneous inspiration (lingji) is our body’s most precious treasure. We rely upon this in dealing with all matters and circumstances, not just in practicing TCC or push hands. Spontaneous inspiration comes from the neurons of the brain, so TCC must first and foremost be practiced on a foundation of stable calm, in order to nourish the central nervous system. True stability and calm spontaneously arise after the heart and spirit are quiet and collected; this is not the forced, superficial calm that comes from simply restraining one’s movements. If one is merely forcing the body not to move, then one will appear stable and calm on the surface, but one’s heart one will not be calm. In this case, one is not truly calm — not at all. This false calm cannot nourish the central nervous system, and cannot produce lingji.

If one is stable, calm, peaceful and easeful, then one can cultivate the spirit. With long, deep breathing one can nourish the qi. In the course of time, the spirit and qi will naturally grow strong and substantial, and the health of the body will also improve. In TCC, “softness” refers to all parts of the body being evenly balanced, integrated, harmonized and coordinated. This softness is necessary in all aspects of TCC, both for health and fighting application. TCC is not about being able to raise the legs exceptionally high, or bend the waist to a great degree. This type of excessive flexibility lacks ling gan (spirit) and is inappropriate to the body’s natural physiology. Within the movements, one must achieve a balanced, calm and steady mental state, and a majestic, dignified qishi (posture). One must practice for a long time, building a solid foundation under the direct guidance of a teacher. Through a teacher’s analogies, demonstrations, descriptions and example, one can slowly come to realize this qishi. It is not something that can be conveyed in a couple words or described with pen and ink. This type of impressive and calm mental state arises from deep within the body and spirit; it is not something simply put on for show.

The principal way of practicing it is to use the mind/intention to move the qi, and the qi to move the body, thus your intention (yi) permeates the fingers. The four limbs must move freely. The kua is like the chassis of a car: it must be centered and upright. A relaxed, soft, sinking, stable posture, like a ship with a weighty load, heavily and steadily rolling on a river: heavy, yet at the same time, soft and flexible. Every movement is governed by the yi, no matter if one is extending or flexing, opening or closing, collecting or releasing, advancing or retreating, absorbing or sending out, containing or dispersing — all are initiated by the interaction of yi and qi. This is the difference between TCC and other martial arts. For example, when executing an opening movement, it is not only the four limbs that open, but rather the mind, yi, chest and spine must open first. When executing a closing movement, it is not only the four limbs which close, but rather the mind, yi, chest and spine must close first. All movements must begin inside and express or “flower” outward. This is TCC neigong (inner skill).

Tai Ji Secrets is a 1995 book by Patrick Kelly regarding the art and teaching of Master Huang XingXian (Sheng Shyan), himself a student of Cheng Man-ch’ing. It is out of print and copies are rare (one was loaned to me). A small book, it is dense with essential concepts for every practitioner of T’ai Chi Ch’uan. Due to the difficulty obtaining a copy I took many notes for later study. My notes form the basis of this brief presentation of the most salient points in the book. I hope you find it useful in your practice. I have tried to relay them as accurately as possible.

Sifu Mark Bernhard

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Progress in T’ai Chi Ch’uan (TCC) is not in learning more techniques, no matter how esoteric, but from delving deeply into the few basic principles. It is in the depths and subtlety that the “secrets” are revealed. Master Huang: “To know 100% about one move is to know 100% about all moves.” On learning: “Fast is slow and slow is fast.” In Daoist philosophy: “Water the roots and the flower will appear by itself.”

The meaning of “T’ai Chi” (TC) comes from the Daoist philosophy of ancient China. Chinese characters can be interpreted in many ways. Some interpretations of TC are: Everything in existence; the Mother of all things; the Field in which Yin and Yang play; the Earth. It is often translated in its most literal meaning as “the Supreme Ultimate.” Ch’uan can be translated as “fist,” “exercise,” or “action.” It is usually translated as “fist,” indicating a fighting art. Master Huang said: “I don’t teach TCC, just TC, the practical philosophical system of self refinement and character transformation.” He believed the most important aspects are the ones that change ourselves, rather than those affecting someone else (like issuing energy or “Jing”). It is necessary for the self-defense side of TCC but not especially relevant in modern society. Huang: “If you want to defend yourself, buy a gun. Why spend 20 years just for that minor purpose.” Patrick Kelly adds: “I believe all the main benefits to be gained from TC could be attained without ever learning to issue Jing.” According to Huang, TCC has three reasons for being: 1) a physical exercise that goes beyond development of speed, strength, and endurance; 2) a martial art where yielding is the central principle and offensive force is returned to offender; and 3) a system of psychological and spiritual development that centers on the concepts of balance, naturalness, as well as transcending all concepts. All three use the method of refining, through strengthening and quieting the body, energy (qi), and the mind. This, in time, produces an alignment with Spirit that generates its own individual path.

A balanced approach to practice automatically encompasses all the valid reasons for studying TC­–health maintenance/improvement, personality transformation, and spiritual cultivation. The benefit from the effort to practice is proportionately derived from the level of motivation, attention, and intention.

Relaxation is the central basic requirement for success. The phases of “relaxation” are: 1) loosening in the popular sense of allowing muscles to release through stretching and simple swinging/shaking movements; 2) Sinking is more concerned with mind and similar to falling asleep; 3) Emptying appears as sinking nears completion.

Qi (energy/life force) is possessed by all living things but consciously refined by only a few. It should circulate freely in body and its accumulation in certain centers occurs completely naturally and spontaneously as the consequence of the correct use of Mind. The TC Classics states: “Concentrate on the Yi (Deep Mind Intention), not the Qi. To concentrate on the Qi leads to stagnation.” Yi is the active aspect of the mind. The passive aspect is awareness (Ting Jing = Listening Ability)–the awareness of changing sensations, first inside body, later in the surroundings. Along with the relief that permeates our life as a result of relaxation, this ever strengthening, expanding and more subtle Mind Field of awareness comprises the most important benefit TCC generates in the first 10-15 years of practice. After, with correct instruction, the intention aspect of the mind begins to assume at least equal relevance.

When “whole body listening” begins to take over, there are no longer just correct positions to arrive at or even half-way positions to pass through. Attention must shift to the process of changing continuously, so that each of the many thousands of small changes produce a new Mind/Energy/Body position equally as important as the final named posture. Motor nerves (efferent/outbound) that respond to the Yi, and sensory (afferent/inbound) are a biofeedback system. Each requires its own training but concentrating on the awareness and correctness of the constant flow of small changes within the Form trains both. Subtle awareness and subtle control are the two main aspects of TC developed by the solo Form. The greater our effort of deep awareness and careful intentional changing, the deeper our ability in these two will become. Roughness and carelessness of attention lead on a completely different path.

While a deliberate intention can be used to initiate a movement, holding the intention once the movement actually begins will interfere with the natural development of that movement. Don’t try to push the arrow once you have let it fly from the bow. Sudden expression of power is practiced thusly: From a quiet, concentrated state allow the awareness to move from the point of focused power in the body to the precise place of impact, creating a dynamic link between those two points, not always a straight line, and naturally capable of changing interactively with the position of the points. Next comes the most important but more difficult step. Allow all “wish to move” the real or imagined opponent to dissolve away, leaving only the faith that from this emptying state the correct movement and result will appear, seemingly under its own volition. Mostly and astonishingly, it will.

All fluids move in waves. Forces pass through fluids by the production of waves. Avoid hard Jing (tensing). Don’t “try to relax” just “don’t tense.” “When the body is under the influence of a force, its aligned structure tends to deform and any attempts to retain this structure requires producing resistance. It is clear this can be avoided when yielding, by moving the whole body out of the way, but then there are still the deforming forces produced by the inertia and momentum of the body. These forces can be considerable when movement is fast. Fluids of course do not attempt to retain their rigid structure, simply changing their shape while remaining connected.” In Form, the upper portion should feel like drifting clouds and the lower like flowing water. Consciousness is continuous and harmonized with movement. Natural and unified. No question of fast or slow.

Kelly teaches Form this way: initial movement occurs with the field of Mind or Yi. Then the Energy Body or Field of Qi protracts and stretches like elastic. This then pulls on the body, stopping, reversing, and then drawing it along. More practice makes it more real. Push Hands is the same but harder: when my Mind moves, my partner’s Mind experiences this pull although perhaps they are not aware of it. Their Field of Qi experiences both the pull from my Energy Field and from their pulled Mind. Their Body experiences both my movement and the pull from their Energy Field. The stronger my Yi, the stronger the effect on my partner. The more subtle my Yi, the less likely they will know what’s happening. But until you train it for many years, it will have no more substance than simple belief. Drop/drain/sink the body and let go of the arms as if they are no longer yours. Don’t think of going forward/pushing out but, rather, gathering and deepening. Get rid of every motivation to “move” the other. Huang: “Use the body to neutralize if possible, leaving the hands free to issue Jing.”

Yin and Yang are opposites, each transforming into the other naturally. To first relax, then tensing to deliver force, is the hallmark of external martial arts, not TCC. It is Yang springing from within the Yin, simultaneous to it, that produces, at that moment, a new type of force that is the solution and the basis of TCC and its power. The ideal is Jing (relaxed elastic force utilizing Qi and motivated by the Mind) that passes through the body in a wave of stretching while the practitioner, under the stress of an aggressive incoming force, is so internally relaxed that every muscle in the body elongates/stretches under that pressure, rather than contract and shorten in tense resistance. Patrick Kelly, observing Master Huang, writes that there was a delay between his hands making contact and the “push” and that at the moment of transmission of Jing his hand actually withdrew toward his own body while accelerating the opponent back! The Jing is motivated by Yi, energized by the Qi, issued from Root and transmitted through the body in a wave of stretching muscle. A stretching muscle is ten times stronger than a contracting muscle, whose force decreases with increasing speed of contraction, while the force of the stretching muscle increases as the speed of stretching increases. This is the secret and allows the most important thing to happen–mind relaxation.

Tai Chi Classics states the Jing is stored like the bending of a bow. The bow does not relax; it bends. The fibers of the bow resist this bending and are stretched, just as the muscles of the body are stretched. There is a big difference between the use of strength and the use of Jing. You want Jing that combines with stretching muscle to draw out the other person’s Jing rather than block it. This drawing out creates an unintentional tensing in the partner leading to their own contracting muscles throwing themselves off your firm, sinking, coordinated posture. Not relax, then tense (separating Yin and Yang in time) but, rather, separating them in space without tensing.

So, issuing power is not from muscular exertion/contraction or physically surging towards another person; this is merely coordinated brute force. Nor does it come from simply turning the waist or hips. TC Classics states that the movement about the central axis is correctly used to direct force, not generate it. This external horizontal circle can produce great power, but still is no different than that of many hard styles of Gongfu—it is not TCC. The vertical circle (through the floor) is the source of all power, an internal circle produced by the alternation of Yin and Yang within the Deep Mind. Huang: “When the Yang Body is still moving left, Yin Body is already going back to the right.” Kelly posits that the Yin Body is Yi-Qi (energy/intention) Body and the Yang Body is the physical body and that Yi (Deep Mind Intention) is the central player, the key to success, in TCC. Small errors in its use can prevent good progress.

The Relaxed Elastic Force is comprised of: 1) timing 2) direction and 3) sufficient supply. In Push Hands, the first two change constantly and are determined by our partner, not us. They involve the passive aspect of the Deep Mind (Higher Abstract Mind) from which issues the deep awareness. The third factor relies on the active aspect of Deep Mind, which provides the impulse for the generation of Yi or intention to act. The link between the first two allows the possibility of this conscious response. The three function simultaneously, each adjusting continuously according to changes in the other two. If you practice with reliance on strength or speed you will never arrive at this. Cheng Man-ch’ing stated that to go against someone like a ball and bounce them back is not correct—they must first be drawn in, only then bounced away. This principle concerns the forces from the partner that act through our own body and mind, not the weight of our own body. The theory of separating Yin and Yang is concerned with Neutralizing incoming forces. Yielding and Issuing require different methods, although the three may overlap or take place simultaneously: #1 Yielding  (Yin/Yin)  #2 Neutralizing  (Yin/Yang)  #3 Issuing (Yang/Yang). #1 draws in the partner’s mind, weakening their root. #2 changes their mind, entering their root. #3 follows their mind, returning their force to destroy their root.

When our partner forms an intention to move, his body becomes committed for a short time to generating the strength required for that move. Though his body may still be relatively relaxed, for that moment there is one direction in which we can generate resistance. But first there must be a slight withdrawal that allows his movement to fall on emptiness. When our partner’s mind experiences this emptiness, it immediately reverses its intention in a subconscious reaction. While attempting not to overshoot and fall into the perceived “hole.” Almost invariably the partner will extend his arms for support. This is what we have been waiting for and by sinking to lead this force from his arms to the ground, we form the connection through which our Relaxed Elastic Force can issue. This all happens in an instant.

The concept of Peng does not equal structure or framework (a similar Chinese character). If you base your taiji on this understanding of peng, your whole TCC will be incorrect. Peng Jing is over the whole body and is used to measure the strength and direction of the partner’s force (similar to Buckminster Fuller’s Tensegrity concept), but it is incorrect to offer any resistance. It should be lighter than a feather; like water that can equally support the weight of a floating leaf or a ship. Peng Jing is sensitivity. The movement should come up from the ground like a wave. Leading with Emptiness rather than Yi is the unconscious generation of Yi as a response to the changes in the surrounding conditions. In Push Hands, it’s the partner’s intention and action that combine with TC principles within us to produce the changes. Mind leads, body follows, but eventually there should be no intention but “the correct thing just happens by itself naturally, as in meditation.” In life, it is whatever occurs in a general sense impinging on our Deep Mind or Spiritual aspect that reflects a natural energy impulse according to our own Essential Nature. The whole circle of Yield, Neutralize, Issue is performed in this sense and ends with the person being thrown but with ourselves possessing no sense of having performed the throw and them feeling as if they have thrown themselves. “This is not to be confused with the simple automatic response of a trained technique that, while useful, is no greater an achievement than learning to ride a bicycle.”

The art of TC is based on four balances or equilibriums: 1) balance in the magnitude of the posture or movement such as both sides of the body must have a “balanced” amount of spatial displacement when moving, 2) accuracy or precision achieved simultaneously by all parts of the body, 3) bodily balance when moving or turning, 4) steadiness particularly when moving.

TC principles: Full concentration, no distraction. Three points of non-mobility: 1)head locked onto body, 2) hands don’t move of their own volition, 3) soles of feet still and rooted to ground. Steps are made without affecting or moving the body. Consciousness/Yi (intent) will lead Qi but turning begins in the waist and hips propelling the hands.

You reach the position of “non-self” where the whole body is the weapon and hands are no longer used as hands. Without mastering the essentials, there is no point in talking about application of the movements.

Students must start with understanding the Dao or philosophy, then the principles, then using the correct method, and finally putting in the effort. Rootedness will result and the method of practice will be understood. Being rooted and having internal force can never be observed externally. Joints must be loose but linked, whole body relaxed but not easily pushed. Distinguish substantial from insubstantial. Flexible and pliable like a snake—wherever he is attacked, the rest of him responds. It is easier to lift a 200 lb bar than a 100 lb chain.

Body and character are trained together as is the acquisition of the Dao and the art. Dao is likened to Yin while the art or skill is Yang. Yang is evolved from Yin at Yin’s completion. Being relaxed, stillness and being rooted become Yin components. Neutralization of force forms the basic foundation where no strength is used. Stillness is like that of the mountain. No change is seen, but it is capable of infinite change. “Dao is the basis, the art is consequential.” Acquire Dao by learning not to resist, for only then will the body learn to be obedient. In attacking and defending, one must understand the method, then acquire insubstantiality and quietude. Only then will the defense be solid. Attacking will be successful as one is naturally comfortable. In Push Hands, achieve non-resistance and stickiness. With stickiness comes neutralization. With adequate reserves, neutralizing ability is applied with an involuntary exertion of internal force.

Yi is intention or will. In modern usage it is mind. Heart/mind or subtle awareness commands the Yi, the Yi moves the Qi, the Qi the body. Qi generally refers to energy of the Etheric (Energy) Body. It is within and surrounding the body, like a penetrating cloud. But Qi is a passive player and in TC it is the activation of Yi that is central, at least in the beginning stages. There are three overlapping phases of Yi-Qi coordination:

Phase 1) Relax the mind and body to some extent, releasing constrictions on energy pathways and allowing smooth and natural flow and circulation within the energy body, with positive benefits to health. This is useful for those practicing meditation or other psycho-spiritual methods where the stress induced by the necessary step of confronting their inner conflict can grossly distort their energy field.

Phase 2) Occurs after 4-10 years of TCC practice (or the student may just continue to repeat phase 1 for 30 years!) In phase 1, the Yi has been passive and sense of body has been building up. Now what is required is the active use of the Yi to stimulate the flow and concentration of the Qi within and closely surrounding the body and to motivate the movement of the body itself. Must not emphasize observation over activation, tension from issuing Yi from the shallow part of the mind rather than deeper part, or Yi that is too passive due to emphasizing the connection into the emotional feeling of the movement rather than simply into the sensations themselves. Every part of TCC requires the resolving of the dilemma existing between: control and letting go; concentration and emptying of the mind; softness and coordinated strength; leading and following; Yin and Yang. The solution is not more or less Yin or Yang but introducing the Yin-Yang, a new creation generated at the point of correct balance of two independently existing opposites.

Phase 3) The ultimate phase of Yi-Qi coordination (arising, perhaps, after 20 years, but glimpses can be seen from day one) in which every movement becomes an intelligent response to the perceived situation. Yi seems to disappear and cognition spontaneously produces the appropriate action (Daoist ideal). Perception is through the five senses and, of those, touch connects most closely to Qi; the other senses being modifications of “touching” the environment. It is the training in the awareness of the sense of being touched at every point of the body, internally and externally, that allows the inner being to project a more correct model of its surroundings and respond to it in a more subtle way. Phase 3 occurs when the subtle trained awareness of sensations and subtle trained Yi disappear within each other. At this stage one merely becomes subtly aware of the stimulus and an intelligently appropriate spontaneous response occurring at the same moment, containing no intention of doing the action.

It is important to differentiate between the immaterial Qi and bodily sensations generated by its circulation and concentration. Heat and tingling are generated when the flow of life force through a channel is blocked, like resistance in a wire. Mind/Yi is applied voltage while the current is akin to flow of Qi/energy. So sensations, often taken as remarkable, merely indicate areas of restriction. In time, the gentle heat will burn through the problem areas, establishing the ability for free and potent energy flows.

“While Spirit is ultimate, it is the Mind that must travel the Way.” Spirit is already there and the body, including the brain, is merely the tool of the Mind. At death, nothing dies. The Mind simply abandons the body. Energy follows the Mind and the Body is left de-energized. Spirit is never in the Body and does not have to leave it; rather, the Body existed within Spirit.

By Milton Huang, M. D.

Originally published in the Santa Cruz Sentinel, Monday September 6, 2004

The world seems to get more hectic and complex every day. We are being bombarded by a multitude of different ideas, different cultures and different conflicts. New technologies change our jobs and our relationships with instant messages, instant demands and instant expectations. Everything seems to keep accelerating, moving increasingly faster.

These are the feelings that bring people to my door and keep me busy in my job as a psychiatrist. Everyone is stressed, even in “laid-back” Santa Cruz.

Part of my job is to help people find relief from that stress. Although some relief can be found through herbs, medications or other substances, I find that more lasting relief comes when people recognize patterns in themselves that contribute to their stress, then engage in a sustained effort to redirect those internal forces.

This is not easy, and is sometimes even stressful in itself, but it is a lot healthier and allows greater flexibility in the long run.

Understanding Stress

Stress is not a one-way street that the outside world uses to make deliveries to our door. It is a dynamic response to the conditions of our lives. When we feel stressed, we often make it worse by worrying about it, blaming ourselves for not being “good enough,” or simply tensing up and carrying the tension around in a defensive stance.

I have learned this not only through talking to my patients, but also through my own experience. Stress, and specifically anxiety, is a visceral body reaction. Few other emotions remind us so directly that mind and body are inseparably connected.

We feel our anxiety in our clenched guts and thumping hearts. We get physical aches and pains. Our hands get cold or sweaty. Yet, this connection between mind and body is generally automatic and unconscious.

When we are able to look at ourselves and perceive how these body reactions are tied to our feelings about our lives, one is struck by the fact that mind and body are not only connected, but connected in a way we often cannot control.

Anxiety reactions can seem to come out of nowhere or appear completely disproportionate to any rational assessment of the danger of a particular situation. Learning how to manage these reactions is difficult and sometimes counterintuitive. I find it a constant personal challenge, as well as a professional one.

The Mind-Body Connection

Although I have been trained in multiple therapeutic techniques and theories, I constantly look for ideas and approaches to better manage and resolve anxiety. In the last year-and-a-half, I have explored one such approach in t’ai chi ch’uan, or tai chi.

This ancient discipline can teach a broad range of self-awareness and self-connection skills that help a person understand and manage many physical and emotional issues.

So what is tai chi?

Those with a passing acquaintance immediately visualize a group of people moving in slow motion in a park in the early morning hours. My earlier impressions were primarily derived from such images, as well as various readings in Chinese philosophy.

Yet, tai chi is not simply beautiful, slow movement. It is a highly refined and sophisticated martial art and self-development discipline. My current understanding comes from regular training with a local teacher, Greg Brodsky.

A martial artist since 1960, Brodsky studied with two of the most renowned tai chi masters in the United States, Cheng M’an-Ching and William C.C. Chen.

Now in his 60s, Brodsky’s emphasis is on practical body mechanics with exquisite awareness and practical cultivation of energy through the body. He always employs a characteristic gentle and humorous style, emphasizing the mental and emotional aspects in every lesson.

Mind-Body Mechanics

One of these basic lessons is called “rooting.” In this part of tai chi, one seeks to develop a solid grounding of self to the earth, keeping your feet on the ground, your feelings open and your mind clear and focused.

Attention moves through the body from earth to foot to legs to center to hands. You begin to be aware of the constant relationship of how you physically support yourself, how different parts of your body are interconnected and how your efforts and intentions can hinder or enhance that support and connection.

You also become more aware of the natural flow of motion and energy through the body and how these flow through our connection to the world around us. The physical background for such lessons is practice of the form – a series of 60 movements that takes 10 to 15 minutes.

As I move through these steps, I maintain awareness from moment to moment of where I am and how I am moving. Such attention has shown me how unconscious tensions are always present in different places in my body.

Although being aware of how tense I am often makes me even more tense (since I know that I “need to relax”), the process of being immersed in the flow of tai chi helps reduce the tendency to make those judgments and self-criticisms.

Brodsky and his wife and co-teacher, Ching, work to create a training space where there are no “good” or “bad” moves, encouraging their students to just recognize their self-generated stress patterns and cultivate new ones.

These efforts have taught me that the main barriers to a comfortable inner state and competent tai chi practice are emotional. It is through learning your own emotional “root” and center that you can begin to recognize your own strengths and boundaries and feel a greater comfort in letting go and relaxing.

This in turn allows us to release the energy we waste in defensive stances and to better connect with everything around us.

This process creates an energized and dynamic relaxation that is not passive, but rather alive with a power that comes from our connection to the energy all around us. Although I am only a novice in learning these skills, I can understand what Greg means when he quotes his first teacher, Cheng M’an-Ching: “Stillness while in motion is true stillness.”

Push Hands

These lessons become even more clear in another part of tai chi that is not as widely known: Push Hands.

Push Hands practice extends the body awareness and connection developed in solo practice to a situation in which one interacts with another person.

In this exercise, two people face each other and, within safe boundaries, attempt to push each other off balance.

As in form practice, one strives to maintain a constant grounding and balance, as well as a smooth and natural flow – this time in coordination between two different individuals.

To be successful, one must pay close attention to their partner’s actions and intentions. You quickly learn that single-minded pursuit of the idea of pushing with aggressive force makes you vulnerable because your force can be used against you.

It is from knowing and blending with your partner’s moves that you can learn how to recognize and redirect them in a natural and flowing way.

Tai chi practitioners call this “listening.” I find that, with Push Hands as with the tai chi form, anxious emotions create the greatest barrier to progress.

I have become acutely aware of how I tense or overreact when I sense a push coming, thereby wasting energy or making myself more vulnerable.

I also see how I inhibit my own pushes and reflexively become passive, failing to push when I should. These are the same emotional reflexes that I always carry with me, whether I’m playing with my kids or working with a patient.

In the exercise of Push Hands, I have a dynamic arena where I can learn to recognize and change unconscious patterns of behavior – an essential part of growing to be a better father and therapist.

Less Stress

Personally, I have found my work in tai chi to be challenging, yet an important path that continues to provide me opportunities to grow emotionally.

The emotional self is always difficult to change, as it resists with a legion of deceptive devices. Obvious symptoms such as stress activate us and draw us into looking for immediate relief, sometimes leading us to miss the larger patterns of how we become trapped in our lives.

I always encourage people to look to the larger picture and not rely on the quick fixes that are becoming all too easily available in modern society.

The healthiest ways to reduce stress are the ones that last. Stress is often a sign that we are challenged by the task of uniting our physical, intellectual and emotional selves.

It is from discontinuities between these selves that we often create our personal lifelong traps that can repeatedly drain us.

Recognizing these traps and resolving these discontinuities form an ongoing, lifetime work that is essential for health and for living fully.

Each person is unique, with unique background, unique talents and a unique path to tread.

Some find assistance in such a task through spiritual practice. Others through psychotherapy or disciplines like tai chi.

If you seek new ways to find how to connect to your mind and body, you should consider finding a teacher or “sifu” and discover what this ancient practice can do for you.

Copyright © 2008 Milton Huang All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2008 Milton Huang All rights reserved.


By Gene Ervin

This article appeared in the Santa Cruz Sentinel on August 25, 2002

It has been over a year since I started my journey to learn this art. I am surprised that it happened at all.

At 65, I have had a hip replacement, smoked cigarettes for years and tended bar at local landmarks like the Catalyst, Tampico Kitchen and the legendary Club Zayante. On paper, I’m an unlikely candidate for something like t’ai chi.

As a former Marine and lifelong athlete, I have intermittently practiced hard styles of martial arts since 1968. All my previous training taught me to ignore pain and push through mental resistance to meet life’s physical challenges.

This is different.

Today, you can see me in the park playing the slow, beautiful moves of Greg Brodsky’s Yang style t’ai chi ch’uan (pronounced tie-jee juen). I’m breathing deeply, at peace with myself and having lots of fun. I no longer smoke and no longer crave it. My energy has doubled, and my strength has increased by at least half. The chronic back pain I suffered for years is gone. The weakness in my leg from the hip replacement is gone. The dull aches that I used to have upon arising every morning are gone. My mind is more clear than it has been in decades.

All because of t’ai chi.

Who would have known that such a subtle art could do so much in such a short time for an old warhorse like me?

It turns out that medical researchers know it. In studies by the American Heart Association, National Institute on Aging, and American Geriatric Society, the practice of t’ai chi by seniors lowered blood pressure, reduced the risk of falling by nearly 50 percent, increased strength, improved balance and flexibility, and sped up people’s reaction time.

“You better believe we were surprised by these results,” said researcher Dr. Deborah Young from the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine. “We expected to see significant changes in the aerobic exercise group and minimal changes in the t’ai chi group.” As it turned out, the t’ai chi group reduced their systolic blood pressure almost as well as did the aerobic exercisers.

Sifu Brodsky’s students (Sifu means teacher) don’t need to measure blood pressure to know about healthy results.

“For the first time, I can feel harmony in my body,” reported a classmate of mine, a woman in her 40s who had tried t’ai chi before, with mixed results.

T’ai chi involves slow, smooth, balanced movements, but it challenges you both mentally and physically. Deep relaxation is one of the benefits, but you can raise a healthy sweat while learning this art.

The focused presence and body awareness it produces are wonderful for the adult mind. The leg strength, balance and physical alignment one achieves are revitalizers. And the cultivation of that mysterious force called qi (pronounced chi), which is mental and physical energy, is a marvelous experience.

Once you feel your qi move, you find yourself in touch with your essential vitality. In describing the personal rejuvenation coming from his practice, another 50-something student states, “I move, stand and even think differently.”

Greg Brodsky, 60, has been doing t’ai chi since 1964 and is the student of two grandmasters: Cheng M’an-Ching and William C. C. Chen.

A martial artist with over 42 years of experience and a former practitioner of Chinese medicine, Brodsky built his art on sound body mechanics and t’ai chi principles. Having experienced considerable bodily damage in his harder training days, topped off by being hit by a runaway car in 1984 while standing at the airport, he teaches in a way that creates spinal alignment, physical power and effectiveness, and mental and physical well being.

Because of his own injuries, the worst of which is a vertebral break in his lower spine, Brodsky developed a method that improves the mechanics and quality of movement regardless of the activity involved. When doctors told him in 1985 that he would require spinal fusion, Brodsky instead developed an approach that was inspired by ideas from Pilates, Alexander, and Feldenkrais, along with basic back stabilization training. He works out 3-5 times a week in a gym doing weight training and aerobics.

While he has to manage his back carefully, an orthopedic specialist observed that he was “doing things that most people can’t do even after the surgery.”

An avid gardener, he digs, weeds and prunes on weekends.

Greg has also taught some of his methods to his 90-year-old mother and 82-year-old mother-in-law, who had become wary of stairs after falling down and breaking her wrist. After a few short lessons, she now takes flights of stairs with confidence.

“You can often see my mom on West Cliff Drive,” Brodsky said, “peacefully standing in meditation as she gazes at the ocean. She uses her martial arts skills to go shopping.”

T’ai chi ch’uan means “supreme ultimate boxing,” but few practitioners actually box. Practiced in China for centuries, the art now enjoys a world-wide following. As a martial art, it employs the principle of neutralizing aggression by yielding to an attack and using the attacker’s own force against him. As a health-building moving meditation (the area most students are interested in), it teaches principles of relaxation and self-cultivation.

Brodsky’s Yang style T’ai Chi involves 60 movements that are practiced in a sequence known as “the form.” Mastering the form is a lifelong undertaking, but in four to eight months you can become familiar enough with the basics to play it on your own, which takes 10 minutes.

Greg teaches on Monday and Wednesday evenings and Saturday mornings in Santa Cruz.

He opens his class to new students three times per year: January, May, and September.

For more information, contact Greg Brodsky at 427-1467 or visit http://www.santacruztaichi.com

Gene Ervin is a writer and t’ai chi and qigong student and teacher living in Santa Cruz.

by Greg Brodsky

This article appeared in the Santa Cruz Sentinel on May 28, 2005.

Imagine that you are driving on a four-lane highway, approaching a sharp, descending curve to the right. Traffic around you moves at a brisk pace. As you enter the curve, you realize that you are going a bit too fast, so you slow down. Holding the wheel in both hands, you turn it to the right and steer into the curve. Which way do you lean your body?

Do you make the effort to lean to the right, to the left, or not at all?

Most people say “right.” They lean into the curve when making a sharp turn, and lean further when going faster. This can be a costly mistake.

If this describes you, your instinct to lean into curves might come from a desire to keep your sense of balance and stability. But unless you weigh about a thousand pounds, your body weight doesn’t do anything to keep the car more stable on the road. This habit actually makes you less sensitive to the physics of the car’s movement, and potentially less skillful in negotiating the turn. This is because you are pulling yourself up and away from the car’s “root,” disconnecting your senses from where the rubber meets the road.

The leaning habit can also include some jaw clenching and muscle tightening that restrict your breathing and inflict stress on your body and mind. Chances are that you also find yourself excessively tensing your hands, arms, back, and abdominal muscles while trying to maneuver your car, a habit for which you pay a price during your time on the road. When you eventually get out of the car, your knotted neck and shoulders provide evidence of the tension you build up through driving patterns like this one.

You wouldn’t do this if you were practicing t’ai chi.

Using t’ai chi principles for driving, you can relax and put some of your attention to feeling your car’s root: its wheels on the road. This is where the car’s stability occurs and where your comfort and safety begin. As you go around curves, a little attention enables you to feel the connection of the car’s root to your body’s root, which in this case is your butt in the seat. By securing your sense of connection to the road, you don’t have to lean at all, but instead can settle yourself into the seat to better feel the car. Rather than pulling away from your foundation by tensing and cringing up and to the right, you let gravity sink you deeper into the seat. Then, you can sense the car’s road connection on its left side, which is where the weight of the car goes during a right turn, and let your body weight settle along the natural line of force produced by the turn.

Your Root Helps You Relax

Skiers use this principle on the slopes. They concentrate their weight in the outside ski when turning because that is where the root is; turn right and your weight goes to the left ski. T’ai chi players use it, too. They develop a stable, relaxed root and use it to generate power. When you see someone doing that nice, slow movement in a t’ai chi class, for example, they are sinking their weight into the ground and building leg stability that enables their intrinsic power to flow naturally while their upper bodies relax. Neck and shoulder tension dissipate as the root becomes reliable enough to support you.

But, can you practice t’ai chi in a car? Considering today’s road conditions, you have to.

The U. S. Department of Transportation estimates that Americans spend 3.5 Billion hours (Yes, that’s Billion.) stuck in traffic each year. While none of that presumably includes zooming around curves, the built up frustration it causes influences how we take curves once we get the chance, plus how we pass other drivers, react when other drivers pass us, change lanes, accommodate pedestrians and bicyclists, and deal with road rage. The next time you find your biological, I’m-gonna-be-late clock ticking because the light just turned red in front of you, wouldn’t it be nice if you had some personal tools to cool you down? A deep, relaxing breath might provide a good start. By breathing to calm yourself down, you are practicing t’ai chi.

Cell phones point to another consciousness-raising reality. According to researchers, cell phone use while driving “poses the same level of risk as driving with a blood-alcohol level at the legal limit.” Think about the number of drivers talking on their cell phones, and you can realize that defensive driving isn’t enough any more; we need something that goes deeper, something that helps us manage ourselves when we are the ones on the phone.

But, t’ai chi? Isn’t that a form of moving meditation? Yes, it is. It’s also a martial art that teaches mental and physical focus, high-sensitivity response to subtle and sudden changes in your training partner, and deep relaxation under pressure. More than ever, we need these skills when driving, working, shopping, and reading any recent newspaper. Since your car is moving among many others, and both you and the other drivers represent considerable danger to each other, you might as well be practicing a meditative martial art.

Easy Steps to Meaningful Goals

The next time you get in your car, consider setting two goals. Make the first one arriving at your destination safely, having made the trip without incident. Make your second goal to be arriving in a state of body and mind of your own choosing. Instead of letting yourself be the product of traffic conditions, choose the way you want to feel when you arrive. Imagine a positive state and set yourself a goal of cultivating that state while behind the wheel. While you might not get to Nirvana, when you arrive at work you won’t be in knots. Instead, you will have had a successful exercise in inner management that can set the tone of your day.

As the car starts, visualize your two goals: getting there safely and cultivating the state you want to be in. Keep these goals in mind and start to breathe accordingly. Breathing can be your primary self-management tool, so use it well and often to relax you. Chances are that you want your desired-state breathing to be full, easy, and complete; no breath-holding, for example.

Next, feel your body’s current state of relaxation. Whether you are commuting over the hill or driving a few miles from home, picture how relaxed you want to be. As your brain prepares to drive, let gravity settle your shoulders, chest, and elbows. Physical tension typically means fighting gravity, and relaxation means going with gravity. With every exhalation, get yourself to let go a little more of the gravitational fight. Let your neck be long and your shoulders relaxed by thinking about gently increasing the distance between your ears and shoulders. This will come in handy while you navigate those curves, or traffic, or finding a parking spot. Let looking, listening, and feeling your root be associated with relaxing.

Presence Relaxes You

Along with breathing and relaxation, the third essential component to attaining your goals is presence: paying attention. You might be surprised to find that you will be more calm and energized at the end of the trip if you were paying attention during the entire trip. Spacing out, while in some contexts might seem like relaxing, actually gets you more tense by the end of a driving experience. This is because of the startle reflex.

Everybody has a genetically built-in startle reflex. Babies exhibit it when you are holding them and start to put them down too quickly. Their eyes fly wide open, their necks and backs stiffen, their hands and shoulders jump up, and they gasp air. We all do the same thing when surprised. But we don’t notice the hundreds of times a day in which small, jarring events invoke mini-startle reflexes in us: the phone rings while you are deep in thought; or somebody interrupts you in a significant conversation; or maybe the driver in front of you suddenly hits the brakes. Where do your shoulder go? They go up!

Spacing out behind the wheel, whether through music, cell phone conversations, or just not paying attention sets you up for getting startled into reality by unexpected events. You are better off staying attentive to the road the whole time, and your body can prove that to you in one or two commutes. You will find that steady presence taxes you less than occasional presence. Meanwhile, you can relax your shoulders.

This does not mean that you shouldn’t listen to the radio, or enjoy a pleasant conversation while driving. It means that you will do yourself a favor if you practice presence while driving. Whether commuting with a group or alone, on the phone or into the radio, you can practice presence. I suggest listening to something that helps you relax, like books on tape, good music, or talk radio that doesn’t exploit and promote your anger. Also consider turning off the radio from time to time, and just listening to your surroundings and thoughts while you drive.

The whole experience becomes increasingly pleasant when you become more sensitive to the movement characteristics of your car, which will behave according to its mass and center of gravity when you turn, accelerate, decelerate, or stop. You feel all of that much better when you are rooted in the seat, sensitive to the wheel, and relaxed. Relaxation lowers your body’s functional center of gravity and enables you to feel your car’s base on the road. The more you feel of your car’s movement on this base—its root—the more you will be able to relax.

Breathe, relax, and stay present while you are driving and you are playing t’ai chi. Just remember your root.

The web provides some interesting reading about stress and other factors that can improve your driving experience. Here are a few:

http://www.drdriving.org/articles

http://www.autoworld.com.my/Motoring/Review/listing.asp?awCatId=RT.ATC.TIP.DRV

http://www.greener-driving.net/site/home.html

by Greg Brodsky

An earlier version of this article first appeared in T’ai Chi Magazine in August 2004.

Everything about t’ai chi ch’uan is paradoxical. This enigmatic art teaches that relaxation cultivates power, slow practice enables speed, and a few ounces can deflect great force. We yield to attacks instead of resisting and push our opponents without pushing. We try hard to sense and differentiate energies that can only be sensed when we stop trying. If we are to meet the endless challenges that t’ai chi presents to our minds and bodies, we who choose this path must become comfortable dealing with paradox.

Breathing presents us with an especially rich paradox. All t’ai chi practitioners use breathing techniques to cultivate energy, power, skill, health, well being, and even personal transformation. We all believe our breathing methods to be effective. Many of these methods are based on principles that have been passed down through generations and represent hundreds of thousands of hours spent in trial and error. They all deserve respect, and the greatest respect for any principle is to use, test, and refine it over time.

In this article, I invite you to explore breathing from a mechanical perspective. Rather than focusing on traditional ch’i or jin (internal power) development, I address a model that generates power in the body through compression. My intent is to present the breathing paradox in a way that respectfully challenges conventional wisdom regarding breathing in t’ai chi forms, with proofs that can be tested on the training floor and in every aspect of daily life. My hope is that experimentation with these proofs will open new, useful pathways to t’ai chi practitioners, for cultivating both health and martial arts effectiveness. While gaining considerable benefit from this model myself, specifically following a car accident that severely injured my spine, I make no claims about having developed superior abilities. My only claim is that if you objectively experiment with the concepts presented here, you will discover ways in which breathing can transform your practice.

Assertions that Shape the Paradox

1. During slow movement such as form practice, the practitioner can root, relax, and cultivate power more easily by reversing the typical breathing model. According to that model, one inhales in order to “load up” and exhales as you “apply” each movement in the form. When playing form, I propose releasing air in between moves, and inhaling gently as each move arises.
2. At speed, the release of air that occurs when pushing or striking is not a true exhalation; it is a by-product of compression. If you relax and don’t hold your breath, there is no need to think about exhaling.
3. When moving slowly, the prevailing breathing model might actually inhibit the level of relaxation you can achieve by causing you to breathe against your natural body mechanics. We will explore those mechanics below.
4. While breathing plays a significant role in generating power, the more significant role belongs to your ability to accelerate along a single line from root to target. Alignment with gravity, relaxation, compression, and congruent movement provide the foundations of this acceleration. Whether a movement is large, as in a kick, or indiscernible, as in an internally generated repulsion, acceleration is the key.

A Few Definitions

Acceleration refers to the rate of change in speed with respect to time. Where moving the body is concerned, this means going from near zero (virtually no tension or movement) to 100% (absolute hardness along a single line) in the shortest possible time.

Congruent movement means everything in your body is moving together to produce a single force vector (the sum of physical forces moving through the body) combined with a minimum of contradictory or unnecessary body tension. This is a cornerstone of all martial arts. We practice the same moves thousands of times to hard-wire pure movement into the body/mind: focused, aligned to one purpose, without mental or physical “static” that contradicts our actions.

Compression, which we shall explore here in detail, is absolute hardness along that same force vector, the “needle wrapped in cotton” that occurs while everything inessential stays relaxed. Although muscles must contract to move our bones into place, the compression we seek is passive, as if it were a response to incoming pressure rather than an active or aggressive action. Whether we are aware of it or not, we compress the body whenever we issue power.

The breathing paradox begins with the realization that we don’t have to inhale when “loading up” and exhale when discharging energy. As long as we don’t hold the breath we can compress from root through dantian to target while we are anywhere in the breathing cycle.

In this article, I hope to prove these assertions. I also advocate testing them in a variety of environments. Let’s begin, paradoxically, by delving into one of the most common errors for beginners: the tendency to hold the breath when trying to be strong. Our starting point is seemingly the farthest point on Earth from t’ai chi practice: the typical weight room in a gym.

What Makes Johnny Hold His Breath?

If you walk into any gym in the world, you’ll see the same sweaty scene: Here’s young Johnny, struggling to lift a heavy barbell, red-faced, veins popping, holding his breath. Along comes an experienced trainer who instructs him to exhale on the exertion. This way, he won’t break blood vessels or otherwise hurt himself by excessive straining. So goes conventional bodybuilding wisdom.

It’s good advice, but it doesn’t go far enough. Taken at face value, it implies that the young lifter can hold his breath at the “bottom” of his exercise. If, for example, he’s on his back doing a bench-press, he will inhale as he lowers the bar to his chest, then hold his breath while he works to get it moving upward, and exhale explosively as he pushes the bar toward the top of his movement. This is better than holding his breath the entire time, but still dangerous in the aneurysm department and an inefficient use of Johnny’s potential power.

If he wants to develop maximum power and optimal health, he should never hold his breath during weight training. Instead, if he coordinates his breathing and movement in a fluid, non-stop pattern, he can quickly raise his level of performance. This is because integrated movement leads to optimal power; when he holds his breath, he locks up much of his body, restricting his fluidity. Also, when he holds his breath, he limits critical biological processes like oxygen/carbon dioxide exchange, making his workout less aerobic, and even dangerous.

But there is an important reason why Johnny holds his breath in the first place. The most direct way to understand this mechanism, one that you and I share with Johnny, is to try a simple experiment. Before you read into the next paragraph, just stand up and sit back down. Do it twice and pay attention to everything you do. Don’t just read on; please try it. You might be surprised by what you discover.

Compression: The Pneumatic Backstop

Did you, at any time during this action of standing and sitting, hold your breath? If so, why? I’ve asked dozens of people to try this experiment and found that 90% of them hold their breath somewhere in the process. What do they gain from it? Where does this habit come from? Similarly, why do people hold their breath when opening a tightly capped jar of peanut butter? Or lifting a heavy object? Or bending over?

Consider the idea that people hold their breath at moments like these to create a brace: a pneumatic backstop for the torso. By holding our breath and simultaneously tensing our muscles we change a loose torso into a single, solid unit against which we can apply leverage. Whether opening the jar, lifting the heavy object, or standing up, this backstop for the torso provides a foundation from which we can push.

The pneumatic backstop works on compression. Compressed air in our lungs presses against the abdomen, internal organs, and spine. When getting up, the tensed-torso unit acts like an automobile air bag, helping it to hold its natural position against the powerful forward pull acting on our lower or lumbar spine. We contract and compress while holding the breath, then exhale once we no longer need the support. And voila! We are standing. It’s not elegant, but good enough for average humans who are still learning to stand erect. By studying this primitive instinct to inhale and hold for leveraged force against the spine we can learn how pneumatic/muscular compression works in our bodies.

Lifting a 22-pound weight with knees flexed and torso upright produces about 300 lbs. of force on S1. Lifting with straight knees and trunk flexed forward takes it into the 700-pound range. The force required to smash this disk is somewhere between 1,000-1,800 lbs., but it is believed that the disc can take loads up to 2,600 pounds.

The disk can do this for two reasons. First, the force is distributed through the disk itself. Then, the trunk as a whole acts to relieve the pressure on the disk. This most common relieving action is called Valsalva’s Maneuver: holding the breath and blocking the orifices of the body. This raises thoracic cavity pressure, causing the torso to act as a rigid beam, reducing stress on the 5th lumbar disk by about 30% and stress on the 12th thoracic disk by up to 50%.

But Valsalva’s Maneuver is a primitive instinct with a huge downside: It creates cerebral venous hypertension, decreases venous return and pulmonary blood flow, raises pulmonary vascular resistance, and increases cerebral-spinal fluid pressure. Held over several heartbeats, its counter-pressure also inhibits the heart’s ability to expand and refill with blood. (Imagine packing your heart in bubble-wrap, then expecting it to expand easily in between beats.)

Where ongoing stress is concerned, habitual breath holding also conditions the body to sustain a baseline of unnecessary, chronic tension. Where t’ai chi is concerned, habitual and unconscious breath holding can severely limit your development by keeping you from experiencing meaningful relaxation. For these reasons, it is very valuable to replace Valsalva’s maneuver at virtually all times with a conscious and appropriately timed breath cycle.

Principle: Never hold your breath to brace your torso. You can develop even more support by exhaling naturally whenever flexing at the hip joint (bending over) and inhale abdominally whenever extending the hip joint (straightening up). This practice can enable you to support your spine with a dynamic “air bag,” rather than the static, and stress-building practice of holding the breath. This provides a way to attain spinal support, flexibility, and increased power in all movement.

Try a Different Pattern

Let’s take our experiment further. I’ll ask you to stand up again, but this time:

1. Tilt forward, as if you were going to fall onto your face on the floor. This will cause you to flex the kua (hip joint). Gently exhale without blowing out forcefully; just release the air and “fall” forward to shift your weight from seat to feet.
2. Don’t try to stand right away. Continue “falling” forward until your weight sinks into your feet and you are bent forward, spine long, looking at the floor.
3. After completing this transfer from seat to feet, inhale and push your feet into the floor and extend (straighten) your kua to stand erect.
4. Let yourself exhale again after you are standing.
5. Reverse the process to sit down. Exhale to flex and inhale after you are seated.

Virtually everyone with whom I have tested this has found it to be a more natural breath pattern. By exhaling as you flex (bend) and inhaling as you extend (straighten) the kua, you support your spine and replace Valsalva’s unnecessary, static tension with a more dynamic and timed compression. This is compression breathing.

Consider compression breathing from the standpoint of a small child. A toddler, when losing balance, falls by sitting; air is naturally released from the child’s body, because the mechanics of sitting include flexing the kua and a bump on the bottom. Similarly, if you suddenly passed out from a standing position, as you slumped to the ground, what would happen to the air in your lungs? You would release air. If you regained consciousness half way down, you would inhale to help yourself stand again. If you carefully study your movements during the day, you will find that as long as you are relaxed, your body naturally wants to inhale every time you initiate an expansive (extending) action and to exhale every time you fold your frame. By recognizing and refining this natural instinct, and by carefully eliminating breath holding from your behavioral pattern, you are practicing compression breathing. This is useful day to day, especially if you have chronic back pain or high blood pressure. And by applying compression breathing to your t’ai chi practice, you can revolutionize your experience.

I have tested compression breathing in my own body, with bodybuilders pushing considerable weight, with my t’ai chi students and colleagues, and with people who are well past their physical prime (ages 80-100). The results are consistent: exhaling upon flexing the kua and inhaling upon extending the kua adds more fluid power with less chronic tension than breath holding. Incidentally, if you pay attention to your breathing during the day, you might be surprised to find how many times you hold your breath. Eliminating this habit can be worth several blood pressure points as well as some interesting training discoveries.

With that introduction into compression breathing, let’s look at compression itself.

To summarize my first points:

• Breath-holding, as an adjunct to movement, is a primitive habit that is meant to support the spine. It works, but is dangerous and self limiting.
• This habit can be replaced by a well-timed breathing cycle: exhaling when flexing the kua (bending) and inhaling when extending the kua (straightening). 
• These are more natural actions than the ones to which we might be habituated. 
• Changing these habits can enable the healthy use of compression and decompression in t’ai chi, which we will now address.

Unhealthy and Healthy Compression

Compression is critical for any physical movement, and especially meaningful in t’ai chi practice. In t’ai chi, we need to resolve anything that unnecessarily slows us when we need speed, tightens us when we need to relax, drains us, limits our range of movement, dulls our ability to sense and respond, or keeps us from cultivating inner well-being. Misuse of compression has all these negative effects.

Right now, for example, with a quick scan you can find some muscles that you are tensing that you don’t need to tense in order to maintain your position. These are results of chronic holding patterns that you, along with the rest of us, unconsciously maintain. Such patterns could be anywhere in your body. As you take a breath and let a few muscle fibers relax, you decrease the unhealthy, habitual compression that you unknowingly impose on yourself. It’s a low-cost solution to a high-cost and stress-promoting pattern, and probably part of why you started t’ai chi practice in the first place. You might also notice that you actually relax when you exhale, not when you inhale. This signals a clue about how to bring your relaxation baseline down a little more. We all tend to breathe within a range that maintains a familiar baseline of tension in our bodies, and without realizing it, habitually restrict part of our breathing. A gentle sigh shows you how easy it is to interrupt this pattern and release that unconscious yet confining habit. As we let go of our breathing and relax, we feel less pressure within. This is decompression.

Tension and Gravity

T’ai chi principles teach you to consciously relax and loosen our joints (sung). Sung occurs as you become increasingly sensitive and responsive to gravity, a powerful but often ignored force that never stops acting on us. Aging and gravity produce an earthbound sort of compression that bends our spines, shrinks our vertebral disks, and accentuates the effects of our chronic holding patterns in ways that distort our bones and cause us stiffness and pain. Conscious sung, on the other hand, enables us to root our feet to the earth as we raise the tops of our heads skyward and gently liberate our spines. We learn to align with gravity and use it to enable more graceful and economical movement. As our muscular strength declines with age, our actions become more efficient and effective. This occurs because we improve our relationship with gravity. As t’ai chi practitioners, we slowly replace chronic tension throughout the body with the conscious and purposeful use of tension (compression, activation, energizing) and relaxation (decompression, release, loosening). As we replace raw strength with thought-driven movement, we also distinguish static compression (being generally tense) from dynamic compression (conscious contraction of appropriate muscles), which accompanies subtle pressure changes in the dantian.

Pressure and Release

The world’s leading proponent of compression in t’ai chi ch’uan is Grandmaster William C. C. Chen. He describes compression this way:

“All the movements of Tai Chi Chuan are activated by pressure changes in the lower abdomen. As the pressure increases, the arms flow outward or upward. When it decreases, the arms move inward or downward. The arms never move by themselves.”

This is consistent with the T’ai Chi Classics, but the classics don’t address compression. To understand compression, let’s compare throwing a punch to opening our previously mentioned jar of peanut butter. With the jar, you need appropriate compression in your torso as you apply torque to the lid with your hands. When you punch, you need optimal compression in the dantian as your fist reaches its target. While the punch is still accelerating toward the target, your foot, knee, pelvis, torso, arm, and hand must align so that your energy moves in a congruent direction. This line from foot to hand—the force vector—must embody absolute hardness as the fist arrives or the punch will have little power.

At the moment of contact and in response to the contact, your compression will be at its relative maximum. Just as it would make no sense to tense your fist when preparing to punch, then going limp as you arrive at the target, it would make no sense to decompress at the moment you need your backstop the most: at the instant of contact. Decompression occurs afterward as you complete the follow through and prepare for your next action.

With this moment of contact in mind, decompression characterizes your resting state. In motion, you relax and tense as needed and where needed. In your daily life, you are relaxed most of the time and able to generate explosive hardness in an instant and along a specific force vector. You don’t practice for 70-80 years so you can live your life primed like a bomb, compressed and ready to explode. You just want power, and therefore that hardness, to be available when you need it, and to be in a state of relative relaxation the rest of the time. This applies equally to martial arts, daily living.

Your breathing pattern supports your ability to find this balance. In our experiment, you found the usefulness of inhaling to compress upon standing and exhaling to decompress as you sit. This supports the conclusion that in practicing your form, you can inhale every time you want more compression in the dantian and exhale when you want to decompress with similar results.

Here, we arrive at the central breathing paradox: When practicing your slow form, you gain optimal compression by gently inhaling into the dantian with every activated move (moves that you could apply—the actual punch, push, ward-off, etc.) and optimal decompression by exhaling with every deactivated move (the “negative” aspect, transition, or in-between state). This is exactly the opposite of what most people practice, unless they are doing some interpretation of prenatal breathing which they do more for esoteric reasons, and not for mechanical ones as described here.

So, how should one breathe in the practice of t’ai chi ch’uan? Your answer is best found through your own straightforward experimentation. If you test the patterns described here—flex-relax-exhale, extend-compress-inhale—in consciously observed, day-to-day movements outside of your orthodox training context, you will be increasingly convinced that this is a natural, healthy, and productive pattern. (While she was living, it enabled my 93 year-old mother to get into and out of a car, for example.) If you then test the applicability of this pattern when playing t’ai chi form, you will find yourself more able to relax in the transition between moves (gently exhaling during the relative yin phase, as you step into place or set up each move), and more able to feel compression and the hard vector line as you apply your moves (gently inhaling during the yang, energizing phase).

Pressure and Release at Speed

This doesn’t mean that you should inhale as you fajin (issue energy) or when you throw a fast punch. Paradoxically, when you punch at speed, air must leave your body. But, this doesn’t have to be because you are trying to exhale; it is because you are compressing to energize the punch while letting the air within you move naturally, according to the physics of the movement. You are: 1. Contracting the muscles that move your hand and body along the vector line 2. Compressing the dantian 3. Neither holding nor controlling your breath 4. Arriving or visualizing arriving at a target that has mass; the amount of mass will determine how much compression you actually need.

In a fast punch, the rapid vector/abdomen contraction will push out some air. You do not, however, have to exhale in the same way as you would if consciously attempting to blow out air. This is what a kiai (percussive shout) accomplishes. If you practice kiai as part of your art, you know that, mechanically speaking, your shout derives its power from abdominal pressure. The kiai releases air under pressure. As your punch arrives at its target, and you achieve relative maximum compression, the tension in your abdomen connects and energizes the line from foot to hand and back to foot while the degree of compression is dictated by the mass of the surface you are striking. If you try to blow out your air at this moment, you actually diminish the amount of compression you can achieve, like deflating an automobile air-bag at the moment of impact. In this example, your release of air is a by-product of the rest of your actions, which are in turn energized and substantiated by compression. Deliver a strike, and your vector line compresses into absolute hardness. Immediately after the move lands, everything relaxes as you sink into preparedness for the moves to come, with air entering or leaving your body as your body mechanics dictate. Flex at the kua, and air leaves the body; extend the kua, and air enters. Compress, and pressurized air escapes. As long as you aren’t holding your breath, conscious breathing at speed is neither necessary nor productive.

A Convincing Demonstration

I first saw these mechanics in action when meeting Grandmaster Chen in New York City in 1964. I was a young student of Professor Cheng M’an-Ching. Because I was about to move to Europe I sought extra help to complete the form ahead of schedule. Professor Cheng handed me over to the recently arrived William Chen who gave me three private lessons per week for several months. I remember his gentleness and politeness being so remarkable that I naively worried about his welfare in the Big Apple. I also witnessed some demonstrations. On one occasion, I was in his apartment on Manhattan’s West Side when he demonstrated his art to a group of visitors. While explaining his theories, in a single movement he dropped into a crouch and threw three straight rights to the abdomen of three different observers. I heard three distinct sounds as his fist arrived at each man’s belly, but I could only see one punch. Although I was standing no more than five feet from these men, I couldn’t see the three contacts that I heard arrive, each with a resounding pop. There is no time for inhaling and exhaling in movement like this. Nor is it possible to move this fast while hold one’s breath. Grandmaster Chen demonstrated release, then contraction then release in a lightning sequence that was driven by compression. As he explains it, “The force of a technique depends on the speed and magnitude of the pressure change,” which here I have called acceleration. As the quintessential body mechanic who lights up when talking about boxing, he doesn’t elaborate on the ch’i aspect. “Just get there”, he declares.

Breathing Distinctions

Since you are not holding your breath, we can say that you are always either inhaling or exhaling. It is useful, however, to make a distinction between inhaling (taking in air), exhaling (expelling air), passively releasing (air is free to leave but you aren’t trying to exhale) and compressing (tensing the dantian while air either enters or leaves your lungs according to your speed and mechanics). These distinctions help bridge the breathing paradox. “The steam whistling out of a teakettle is not the same as an exhale.” Grandmaster Chen states. “The exhale occurs when you open the lid and the pressure escapes.” Air leaving your body under compression is analogous to steam escaping the teakettle under pressure. This is what happens at speed. In resistance training (with weights or having someone resist your moves) you need compression. If you are standing up or lifting a 2-pound weight, you can easily inhale to achieve compression. If you are lifting 100 pounds, you might exhale right away, but you will have more full-body power if you initiate a tiny inhalation first to compress the torso, then exhale through the lifting cycle. This takes practice and I address it at the end of this article.

When playing slow form, you can energize each move by inhaling to compress. Releasing and exhaling in between energized moves enables you to relax. At speed, there is no time for conscious breathing, and you must relax; if you are relaxed enough, you can let your movements “breathe you.”

Compression Breathing in Hawaii

One sunny morning while researching this topic, I called my friend, Howard James, on the Big Island of Hawaii. Howard is a seasoned t’ai chi instructor and first-class boxer. I had emailed him this article a few days before, and he was excited to talk about it.

“Do you experience compression the way I’m describing it?” I asked.

“Let me see, it’s kind of like your description, but I feel that my breathing connects the whole body. To me, compression feels like connection and intention, not tension.”

“How can I communicate that to a reader, especially the breathing part?”

We stumble over words for a while as the morning chatter of Hawaiian birds provides a nice background.

“Wait a minute,” Howard says, shuffling the phone about. “Can you still hear me?

“Yes. Loud and clear.”

Then, pop-pop-pop-pop-pop! The phone conveys the report of an impressively fast five-punch combination as Howard pummels the heavy bag hanging on his back porch. He repeats it several times, trying to exaggerate his breathing so I can hear it. But, the action comes too fast.

Howard describes his internal experience. He maintains abdominal pressure throughout the combination, but releases his kua and arms completely between punches. During this release, he lets air naturally leave his body, not by consciously exhaling, but through the natural flexing of his kua. He doesn’t “blow out” the air. We conclude that, at speed, one will compress the belly on impact and the lungs will release a little pressurized air. This release is like steam escaping from a teapot. It’s the loose-to-compressed-to-loose pattern that creates acceleration and therefore gives power to the combination; and it’s the natural release of air as his body flexes at the kua and the intake of air as he extends it that keep Howard oxygenated. As long as Valsalva never rears his breath-holding head, no conscious exhale is required. One never needs to blow out the air, and one never needs to think about inhaling, just compressing and decompressing and letting the air move in and out naturally.

Breathing in the Form—Tangible Examples

The same principles apply while one is playing slow form. Instead of organizing your breathing around the acts of inhaling and exhaling, you can organize it around compressing and decompressing. In time, your breathing will naturally adapt. Let’s consider some tangible examples.

In the opening move of virtually all t’ai chi styles, you inhale as your hands first rise. That initial inhalation gently compresses your dantian, as you sink your root and let your mind’s eye envision where you want your hands and fingers to go. This is intention, connection, and compression together.

In Yang Style, that first active move is Raise Hands: wrists up first, elbows relaxed, filling the dantian. As your wrists reach shoulder level, your fingers extend in front of you and you reach fullness. You then exhale, decompressing and letting gravity help you draw your hands into position near your shoulders. Inhalation-driven compression then activates the fingers to move upward again. (This sub-move can serve as a block against Strike Ears with Fists. Professor Cheng eliminated it from his form. William C. C. Chen includes it.) Decompression allows your hands to slowly fall to your sides. Raise Hands is now complete.

You now turn to the right as your right hand rises to your shoulder and your left sweeps past your groin to “hold the ball.” Is this an active application or simply a preparatory move for the upcoming Ward Off left? Since I personally consider it a three-possibility application, I inhale, sit into the left foot, and gently compress to throw both hands into place. The three possibilities are:

• Deflect a push or strike from the front by drawing the right hand upward to stick to the attacking wrist. 
• Deflect a kick to the groin by turning and sweeping the left hand across the body. 
• Strike to the rear with the right elbow.

At this point, I have completed an active application. The fact that both hands are now in position for the Ward Off left that follows is part of t’ai chi’s elegance. If I had been moving at full speed, there would have been compression but neither conscious inhalation nor exhalation. While I would surely release a little air, breathing would be instinctive and unconscious. Steam from a teakettle…

The next action is to soften and decompress as I sit into the right foot, letting the empty left foot fall into place for the bow stance to come, sinking the left knee over the foot and letting air escape naturally. As Ward Off left arises, I gently inhale, compressing the dantian, and further sinking the substantial root of the left foot. I must pay attention to the line from root to hands, inhaling downward into the dantian and slightly back toward the kidneys and spine, while tracking both hands as they fulfill the picture in my mind of the completed move. As they do, the insubstantial rear foot adjusts.

And so it goes. One determines how to play the form by your interpretation of the moves. Any move that you consider being an active application or imagined point of contact deserves compression and a clean, rooted line from foot to hand or shoulder/elbow or kicking foot. Any action you consider being intermediary or preparatory, calls for decompression and complete relaxation as gravity sinks you into place to set up the next active move. Playing the form this way, one energizes each applied move via inhalation and compression, and sets up every move through exhalation and decompression. As the mind becomes quiet and the breathing cycle softens, one can relax through both inhalation and exhalation and tune one’s sensitivity to internal power. Here, everything feels connected and in transformation. The spirit rises up the spine, making the meditative transition from thought to ch’i to spirit to emptiness a sweet journey.

My Personal Experience with this Approach

I’ve been a martial artist since 1960, and trained several hours a day for many years. A car accident in 1984 changed all my priorities. As a pedestrian, I was hit between two cars and sustained a serious back injury that forced me to stop many aspects of my practice and look at life in new ways. My t’ai chi practice turned away from application, and I just played the form as a moving meditation, with my purpose simply to cultivate spinal health, peace of mind, and the ongoing refinement of my spirit. But, my spine had been compromised, and many acute episodes kept me marginally disabled. Since the numbers surrounding “inevitable” fusion surgery were not promising, I kept searching and experimenting. After 18 years of chronic instability and pain, my efforts came together. I had ventured into a combination of back stabilization training, regular gym workouts, Rolfing, Pilates, Feldenkrais, and Alexander lessons to learn how to stabilize my spine. I experimented with the breathing and compression methods described in this article, both with my own body and with others: senior citizens, people with chronic back pain, and unsuspecting bystanders. I interrupted serious bodybuilders in the gym and asked them to try compression breathing, then got reports from them about what results they experienced. I helped a surprising number of people and learned from them all. The results have been meaningful. The breathing and tension/relaxation patterns described here have enabled me to do things with my body that several physicians told me I would never be able to do.

By coordinating breath and compression in the form, the congruity of body/mind I experience sometimes approaches the ecstatic. Every inhalation signals an expansive rising of ch’i from foot to hand and through the top of the head. Every exhalation accompanies a relaxation that feels like slow, conscious falling in harmony with gravity’s gentle pull. The sine wave of energy passing through my body sometimes feels like freedom beyond reasonable expectations. The use of compression to protect my spine throughout a wide variety of activities has been a lifesaver. While I don’t claim to represent Grandmaster Chen’s theories in the same way that he would, my own experience with his teachings of compression show this model to be supremely useful for activating all the movements of the body. To me, the gentle compression of t’ai chi is simply a more subtle and sophisticated version of the same pneumatic backstop I use in planting and pruning in the garden, resistance training and aerobic conditioning, and leading a physically active life in my mid 60s. I hope that you find these ideas useful in your practice.

To Summarize:

• The prevailing t’ai chi breathing model, which is based on inhalation and exhalation to store and discharge energy, can be challenged by a compression and decompression model and its empirical results. This model reverses the breathing pattern in slow form practice and reframes the breathing model during fast application. 
• The compression/decompression model focuses on mechanical effectiveness and spinal support going from relaxed to tensed along a force vector rather than the buildup and discharge of ch’i. 
• Testing the mechanics of exhaling to flex the kua and inhaling to extend the kua during daily activities will prove the usefulness of the compression model.

A Closing Comment to Johnny

What is a better way for you to breathe in the gym? Try this: Instead of just taking a single breath for each repetition, try exhaling at both the bottom and the top of each rep. That way, you get to inhale, and therefore have the turbo-boost of compression when you start moving the weight either up or down. This is when you need it. You can then naturally release your air as you move toward the bottom and the top of your moves. This will give you greater control and smoother movements. For a while, you can concentrate on the double exhalations and let your inhalations come by themselves. When you feel ready to focus on the inhalations, direct them down to your abdomen in the initial moment of each move. Start adding weight when you are comfortable with the coordination.

You can gain at least 30% more power this way. If you try the standing-up experiment, make sure you root your feet before trying to stand. If your toes peel up from the floor, you are too far back in your heels. If you want to teach Grandma how to get out of her chair, read The Mechanics of the Three Nails on my Web site first (http://www.santacruztaichi.com) and teach her to sink her root. It makes a big difference. And, never, never hold your breath for power.

Greg Brodsky wrote this article with 9/11 in mind. It appeared in the Santa Cruz Sentinel on 12/10/02

Daily language often gives us insights into ourselves that we might otherwise miss. The term “interrupt driven,” for example, now a part of the standard business lexicon, refers to activities that people engage in because someone stops them from doing something else: the phone calls that pull us away from our tasks, the suddenly-called meeting that burns precious hours, the lack of time for purposeful thinking because we have to attend to emergencies. Instead of organizing our actions around our professed goals and values, we let our behavior be driven by these interruptions.

In fairness to ourselves, we have no choice. With increasingly complex and variable lives, the demands to constantly respond to unexpected events make this just the way things are.

On a larger scale, it could be said that we live in a Time of Disruption. Along with the frenetic pace of our days, the 9/11 attacks disrupted our life patterns. For some, it was the ultimate disruption. For the rest of us, each new warning, event, or burst of information disrupts us again. To adapt, we have to get used to regaining our balance in an unpredictable, erratic, rapidly changing world.

Some personal tools can be especially useful right now. Good tools will help us absorb new information quickly, think clearly, respond with poise and maybe even grace, and act according to our deepest values and purposes amidst surrounding turmoil. In my experience, a few tools have shown themselves to be especially valuable.

Self-Management Tools

As adults, our first responsibility is to manage ourselves. Before we can bring our resources to the stream of unprecedented situations that challenge us, we have to manage ourselves mentally, physically and emotionally. Along with our moral principles and spiritual guidance, we accomplish this management with our instincts. Fortunately, since we have made it to adulthood, chances are that those instincts are pretty good. If only we can gain access to them when we need them!

Access to our finest instincts means remembering who we are and being aware of what we are becoming. After all, our essential character is evolving, becoming something more developed all the time. If we are in charge of our lives, what we become is less a product of our environment, thank goodness, than our own, self-cultivated inner states. By inner states, I mean our mental, emotional, and spiritual sense of being.

Here’s a simple procedure that can help keep us in touch with our inner states and cultivate the best of them when we need it most:

1. Breathe 
When people become anxious or afraid, we tend to hold our breath. Most of us don’t realize that we restrict our natural breathing pattern much of the time. This is especially true now, when every news bulletin might cause us to gasp and cringe. This common habit produces a tense, anxious, and energetically drained state in us. We would avoid much of this if we breathed fully and deeply all of the time.

As soon as we are aware of a tense holding pattern, we can immediately soften our muscles and make ourselves more comfortable—and resourceful—by taking a deep, relaxing breath. Most of us do this instinctively, as long as we think of it, when we want to relax. In a very natural way this simple, deep breath brings us a little closer to our natural selves. When feeling pressure, we can take another deep breath, and another, as we take charge of our immediate well being. It’s easy and simple, but surprisingly effective.

Disciplines like yoga, martial arts, and meditation have taught for thousands of years that purposeful breathing can serve as a powerful state-changing tool. Anyone can use it and find it always available. Breathing is an entry way to our inner selves, the states of mind, body, and spirit that we need to cope with things. What can you do? When you want to get a moment of freedom from chronic tension, take a deep breath, relaxing your whole body as you exhale. Then, do it again.

2. Relax
 Of course, we’re tense. Opening the mailbox, watching TV, traffic going too slowly, traffic going too fast, money worries, the latest threats, and uncertainty are making us tense. But tension doesn’t help us deal with things; it just makes us brittle. We need to relax.

In the martial art of T’ai Chi Ch’uan, we practice a basic technique in which you push your opponent a little, which causes him or her to tighten up in the effort to keep balance. Then, you let up for a second and suddenly push much more powerfully. Because your opponent tenses up with the first push, you can easily topple him or her with the second one. If the person would only relax and yield to both pushes, you wouldn’t have anything to push on. We call this trained response “neutralization by relaxation.”

Life has been pushing harder on us and with increasingly shocking bursts. The more we relax our bodies, the more we can neutralize the effects of these pushes. Letting the shock waves pass through us without resistance, we can find calmness and poise. We don’t have to be pushed over. We can practice neutralization by relaxation.

As hard as it seems for many people, relaxation calls for nothing profound. It doesn’t require that we first solve our problems, just that we de-tense our muscles when we need to. As we exhale that deep breath we just took, we can soften our muscles and release our hold on ourselves. Then, gravity will help us relax. This powerful natural force will draw us earthward and the tension we feel in our necks and shoulders and jaws can melt toward the ground.

Try it. When you want relief from your tension, just give up your fight against gravity for a moment. Breathe in and out and let your shoulders sink. Imagine all your tension dropping into the ground. Then, breathe again and relax some more. After a few of these breaths, you’ll feel a nice release.

3. Stay Present 
When we are disrupted, we are distracted. Instead of thinking about what our kids are doing or saying, we are thinking about our work or bills or problems. Instead of attending to our spouses, friends, and co-workers, we are worrying about various threats. When we need to be aware of our own behavior, our minds go elsewhere.

We aren’t good at being present: being in the moment, paying attention here and now. This long-standing problem for human beings has produced whole systems of self-development that require a lifetime of practice in becoming more present. Whether we practice or not, when we absolutely have to, we can be exquisitely present. Each one of us has proven that many times. Now is a good time to practice this skill.

Staying present means noticing what is going on around us and within us. We accomplish this by remembering to be mindful, and that our attention is important to everyone in our lives. Meanwhile, as the government issues warnings to be alert, people ask, “alert to what?” They feel that they don’t know what to do with a vague admonition to be on the look out. Well, why not be more alert in general, aware, attentive to ourselves and our surroundings?

Why not simply pay more attention? It’s just a form of presence. It will enable us to be more effective, creative, and, surprisingly, happy in the moment. When you want to be present, tell yourself to look, listen, and attend to your immediate surroundings. Pay attention to yourself as well. Give the people around you the gift or your presence, from the inside out. They will thank you.

Use this little algorithm: Breathe, relax, stay present. We can practice this a hundred times a day: in the car, at work, at home, in the community. We don’t need incense, music, or bells and whistles to help us; we just need to remember to breathe, relax, stay present.

“Tai Chi Chuan, the great ultimate, strengthens the weak, raises the sick, invigorates the debilitated, and encourages the timid.” – Cheng Man-ch’ing

GENERAL BENEFITS: TCC develops inner strength, increases muscle tone and flexibility, boosts immunity, reduces stress, increases energy and body awareness, and improves balance and coordination…Men’s Health Magazine, 8 Mar/Apr ’93 p. 66-69. More: https://bmjopensem.bmj.com/content/7/1/e000817

PHYSIOLOGICAL BENEFITS: TCC increases heart rate and urine noradrenaline excretion and decreased salivary cortisol concentration during practice. Relative to baseline levels, test subjects reported less tension, depression, anger, fatigue, confusion and anxiety; they felt more vigorous, with less total mood disturbance…Journal of Psychosomatic Research, 1989 V. 33 (2) 197-206.

MENTAL HOMEOSTASIS: Psychological homeostasis refers to emotional control or tranquility. The biological function of human emotion and repression is primarily homeostatic. A feedback relationship exists between forms of homeostasis, and the body-mind type of therapies (including acupuncture and TCC) that have a combined physiological, physical, and psychological effect. American Journal of Chinese Medicine, 1981 Spring V. 9 (1) 1-14.

 IMMUNE SYSTEM: A study conducted in China indicates that TCC may increase the number of T lymphocytes in the body. Also know as T-Cells, these lymphocytes help the immune system destroy bacteria and tumor cells. Prevention Magazine V. 42, May 90, p.14-15.

BREATHING, ACHES, BLOOD PRESSURE:  Study participants observed a “big increase in breathing capacity,” a disappearance of back and neck aches; those with high blood pressure claimed a drop of 10 to 15 mm Hg systolic at rest, and all participants claimed to have more energy in their daily work. Hawaii Medical Journal – V. 51 No. 8 August 92.

MENTAL & PHYSICAL STRESS: Mind & body exercises based on a series of progressive choreographed movements coordinated with deep breathing, such as TCC are increasingly replacing high-impact aerobics, long distance running, and other body punishing exercises of the 1980’s. Mind/body workouts are kinder to the joints and muscles and reduce the tension that often contributes to the development of disease, making them especially appropriate for high powered, stressed out baby boomers. Unlike most conventional exercises, these forms are intended to stretch, tone, and relax the whole body instead of isolated parts. Working Woman Magazine V. 20 Feb. 95.

BEYOND TRADITIONAL CARE: Health practitioners encountering clients who are faced with problems that do not seem to respond to traditional health care may employ some of the health traditions of other cultures that view the body and mind as a balanced whole, such as massage, acupuncture and TCC, which focus on the mind/body connection to facilitate healing through relaxation, pressure points, and movement. American Association of Health Nurses Journal, 1993 July, 41 (7) 349-351.

RHEUMATOID ARTHRITIS: No significant exacerbation of joint symptoms using TCC was observed. TCC appears to be safe for RA patients and weight bearing exercises have the potential advantages of stimulating bone growth and strengthening connective tissue. American Journal of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation, June 1991, 70 (3) p. 136-141.

PSYCHOLOGY: “TCC is a natural and safe vehicle for both clients and staff to learn and experience the benefits of being able to channel, concentrate and co-ordinate their bodies and minds: to learn to relax and to neutralize rather than resist the stress in their personal lives. This is an ability, which we greatly need to nurture in our modern fast-paced society.” Dr. John Beaulieu, N.D., M.T.R.S. Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital, N.Y.C. [Refer to the TCC book “The Supreme Ultimate” for full text]

CARDIORESPIRATORY EFFECTS: The data substantiate that practicing TCC regularly may delay the decline of cardio-respiratory function in older individuals. In addition, TCC may be prescribed as a suitable aerobics exercise for older adults. Journal of American Geriatric Society, Nov. 1995, 43 (11) p 1222-1227. TCC lowers blood pressure almost as well as moderate intensity aerobic exercise, according to a study presented at a meeting sponsored by the American Heart Association. The scientists studied 62 sedentary adults, aged 60 years and older, assigning half to a program of brisk walking and low-impact aerobics and the other half to learning TCC. After 12 weeks, systolic blood pressure (the first number in a blood pressure reading) had fallen significantly in both groups, an average of 8.4 millimeters of mercury (mm Hg) in the aerobic exercise group and 7 mm Hg in the TCC group. “You better believe we were surprised by those results,” one of the researchers, Dr. Deborah R. Young, MD, from Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine in Baltimore, said in a statement. “We were expecting to see significant changes in the aerobic exercise group and minimal changes in the TCC group. “It could be that in elderly, sedentary people, just getting up and doing some slow movement could be associated with beneficial reductions in high blood pressure.” High blood pressure is a risk factor for stroke and heart attack. Young cautions that the results of her research need to be confirmed by studying a larger group of people. This was subsequently done and confirmed in a February 2024 JAMA article on a research project with pre-hypertensive adults over a 12-month period.

SUPPORT GROUPS RECOMMENDING TCC: Multiple Sclerosis, Fibromyalgia, Parkinson’s Disease, Lupus, Migraines, Chronic Pain.

The excellent Qialance blog has a lengthy list of health benefits with linked sources here.

For a more complete presentation and discussion of the many medical research studies that have investigated TCC, please refer to The Harvard Medical School Guide to Tai Chi: 12 Weeks to a Healthy Body, Strong Heart, and Sharp Mind (Harvard Health Publications) by Peter Wayne.