Still Mountain Blog

To Be a Tiger: Breathe Deep and Find the Root of the Earth

Post Date:March 05, 2010 | PermaLink | Comment

The image of a tiger evokes strength, nobility, energy, and courage.  As the year of the Earth Ox plods into the past and the year of the Metal Tiger has sprung in, we might imagine that the new year promises a radical shift of tone and energy.  Fortunately, the year is supposed to offer some welcome relief from the suffering and difficulty of the past year.  Overall, the year of the Tiger is marked with tumultuous energy--frenetic and perhaps difficult at times—that should result in a positive upswing over the last year.
    Nevertheless, even though we have entered a new lunar year, we should not expect our own yin energy to swing immediately to full yang.  We are still within the last throes of Winter--which we should perhaps measure in feet of snow instead of weeks given the temperament of this prolonged and snowy stretch of February.  This period, though,  leaning toward the Spring equinox at 1:32 P.M. on the 20th of March, should be one of rest,  recuperation, and storage.  In other words, this last stretch of the winter season seems to resemble more the Earth Ox than a leaping Tiger. 
    While such a period of rest may seem antithetical to our conception of the Tiger, it reveals an often overlooked and significant aspect of the Tiger's character.  The Tiger is usually depicted as poised to spring into action.   In other words, the tiger is latent, pure energetic potential.  The energy of the Tiger is coiled inward ready to unfurl in a devastating pounce.  Like a Tiger hidden in the swaying grass—ever vigilant and poised to respond—we need to be reminded that we need to “recharge” ourselves Tiger so that we too are poised for the coming yang seasons of Spring and Summer.
    During this time of year, it is vital that we rest and restore our depleted energy resources through such activities as Chi Kung (qigong), meditation, and the attention to our breath.  All of these activities focus our attention inward, and the emphasis upon the breath is used to lead Chi to our Dantien, our battery, in order to replenish and store energy. 
    In Taoist scriptures, such breathe techniques of longer inhales/shorter exhales are known as “yin” breathing exercises, which are associated with the Tiger as well.  As Chang San-Feng, the famous Taoist hermit credited with the creation of T’ai Chi, writes,
 
    It is said that when you breathe out you contact the Root of Heaven and experience a sense of openness, and when you breathe in you contact the Root of Earth and experience a sense of solidity.  Breathing out is associated with the fluidity of the dragon, breathing in is associated with the strength of the tiger.

With the beginning of the year of the metal tiger, it is vital to be poised for the vernal equinox by focusing upon the breath of Earth, the inhalation, which mirrors the inner strength of the tiger.  Turn the attention inward and cultivate the energy of the Tiger—ever vigilant and vibrant.  Hopefully in the new year, all of us can remain true to the root of earth—to breathe deeply and manifest the energy to ride the tiger throughout this entire year—prepared to deal with whatever it may bring.

The Tao of Ethics: Part One, Wu Wei

Post Date:January 27, 2010 | PermaLink | Comment

It is not correct to imply that there is an “ethics” of “chi.” Quite simply, chi is chi; it is energy that is neither good nor bad; it simply is.  Chi can stagnate, which Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) conceptualizes as the root of illness and disease.  That is, if chi does not flow properly, a blockage occurs that creates an imbalance in the body, and illness occurs.  Similarly, if there is an excess of chi, the body’s harmony is disrupted as well.  But to say that Chi has an ethical component is like saying that electricity is inherently good or bad.  It is only our perception that creates that judgment.
    Nevertheless, Chi does play a vital role in ethical conduct, and impacts the Taoist principles of Wu Wei (non-doing) and Te (virtue).   My claim that there is a connection between Chi, wu wei, te, and ethics raised that hackles of one editor who had requested that I write an essay on the relationship between T’ai Chi and spiritual practice.  Needless to say, the essay (Two Mountains—the Spiritual Legacy of T’ai Chi Chuan) did not appear in his magazine, although it can be read at CloudWater Zendo’s website under “Internal Arts” practices:  www.cloudwater.org/index.php/internal-arts. 
    The editor’s main objective was largely in response to my assertion that wu wei (literally, non-doing) must embody ethics.  In brief, wu wei is acting wholly in accord with or natural to a particular situation—a knowing when to act and when not to act.  Some people misread this “non-doing” as doing nothing whatsoever and parallels apathy.   In my essay I draw upon a passage from the famous sinologist Holmes Welch in order to chart the bridge between wu wei and ethics.   The quote that I used comes from Welch’s Taoism: the Parting of the Way, wherein he makes an explicit connection between ethics and wu-wei:

Wu wei does not mean to avoid all action, but rather all hostile, aggressive
action  . . .  It is because of this law [of aggression] that the Taoist practices Wu Wei.  He sees spreading around him the vicious circles of lying, hatred, and violence.  His aim is not merely to avoid starting new circles, but to interrupt those that have already been started (33). 

The individual of the Tao is obligated to not only understand the dynamics of virtue (i.e., not lying, not being violent, not embodying hatred) but to perpetuate virtue through proper action, which is the heart of wu wei.  Sometimes a student of the Tao must interrupt the circles of hatred, violence, and lying—acting with what Holmes Welch calls “regrettable necessity,” which directly implies that there is an ethical imperative—a redirecting of energy—when the situation is not in keeping with the natural harmony of the Tao.
    The individual must not disrupt the natural order and flow of things, and to act wholly in accord with the moment requires that that action is not driven by the individual’s ego, desires, and emotions.  Consequently, abiding by the principle of wu wei necessitates a clear comprehension of ones “essence” and intentionality.  The goal is to discontinue disruptive patterns that are extensions of ones Ego—the desires of the self.  To remain within the Tao is to be beyond desire and ego, and to remain in alignment with virtue (te) and energy (chi). 
    Passages from various ancient Taoist texts emphasize this inextricable weaving of ethics and wu-wei as well.  For example, the famous Ancestor Lu writes,

Real constancy should respond to people:
 In responding to people, it is essential not to get confused.
When you don’t get confused, your nature is naturally stable;
 When your nature is stable, energy naturally returns.
 
The individual must not act from a place of uncertainty, but rather be aligned with the “essential”—the Tao—which requires a clear understanding of ones intentions and to keep within ones natural “essence.”   If intentions are clear and virtuous, then one can respond with wu wei, which stabilizes “nature” and generates “energy” or chi.  Moreover, such energy feeds back into to the system and might be imagined as a flow chart wherein:

    Energy →situation → outcome [and then] outcome → energy

The energy going into a situation affects the outcome, and the outcome is the manifestation of the energy.  [Part Two:  “The Tao of Ethics:  Chi” addresses this relationship of energy and ethics in much greater detail.]

    Wu wei is responding—not ignoring or being apathetic.  It is the responsibility of responding.    As Chang San-Feng, the famous Taoist Monk and the person often attributed with creating T’ai Chi, writes:

If you do not respond to people, then you are empty and silent, an open absence, when they come to you, you ought to respond, then let the thing pass when it’s past.  Be clear, upright, and magnanimous, and you won’t be confused.  Your true nature will then be clear and serene, while your original spirit will solidify and crystallize. 

The individual has a responsibility to respond without attachment to outcomes—“letting things pass when its past”—to do what needs to be done without concern for reward, honor, or even punishment.  What powers ones response is being “clear, upright, and magnanimous,” and wu wei rests upon these virtuous principles.    Wu wei emerges out of ones ethics and virtue, which Taoism calls “Te.”  More, those virtuous qualities both generate and are the manifestation of ones equanimity and the marks of original spirit.  Only with such virtue at the core, can a person truly actualize wu wei.  Only when the individual is aligned with such virtues can that person encounter his or her original spirit and truly be on the path and be at one with the Tao.

Attitude is Everything, So Empty your Cups

Post Date:January 05, 2010 | PermaLink | 1 Comment(s)

There is a famous Zen story (although I have seen it told as a Taoist parable as well) about a young Scholar, who has decided that he should visit with a Zen Master and declare his wishes to be the Master’s student.  When the young scholar arrives at the Master’s hermitage, he tries to impress him with the intricacies of his knowledge of Zen.  The Master listens patiently and invites the scholar to have some tea.  The young man sits down and continues to prattle on about how much he knows about Zen, while the Master pours tea into the scholar’s cup until it overflows and even then the Master continues to pour.  Finally, the scholar notices and yells “What are you doing?”  To which the Master responds, “How can I teach you anything when you are already so full?  You must first empty yourself of what you think you know, otherwise any teaching will be like this tea spilling onto the table and floor.”

We experience so much of the world like the young scholar—unable to encounter anything as unique, beautiful, and for the very first time because we are in the way.  We bring our expectations and values and filter everything through that frame and opportunities to truly experience something are lost.  Master Suzuki, the great 20th Century Zen Teacher, recognized this problem and encouraged people to cultivate “Beginner’s Mind.”  That is, we should approach everything as if we are encountering it for the very first time.  In that respect, we cultivate the wonder of a child’s outlook.  Unfortunately, we all too quickly “grow up” into our Egos and lose the freshness that generates astonishment.

It is important to emphasize “Beginner’s Mind” since so many people come to meditation or T’ai Chi like the young scholar.  They have read books.  They have seen DVDs.  They have worked with other teachers.  Or, they have devoted time and energy to other body practices such as Yoga or hard-style martial arts. And since T’ai Chi shares qualities with Yoga and other martial arts, often those individuals think that they are already “advanced” and knowledgeable, when in reality, they are so full that there is no room for any other teaching or any other experience except for that which has been preconceived.  In other words, there is no room for T’ai Chi!

After all, T’ai Chi is not yoga.  T’ai Chi is not Kung Fu or Karate.  T’ai Chi is based on entirely different philosophical, spiritual, and even medical principles.  To overlook the unique qualities of T’ai Chi and to filter it only through ones experience of Yoga or Kung Fu or Karate or anything else, for that matter, is akin to erroneously thinking that a college degree in Psychology is the same as a degree in Engineering.  While a person learns important tools through attaining a college diploma, the content level of expertise is not the same from discipline to discipline.  All of us would agree that given the choice between driving our car over a bridge built by someone with a degree in Psychology and one built by an engineer, we would choose the one built by the Engineer. The same applies to the philosophy and practice of T’ai Chi as well, and to see only the rudimentary similarities with other disciplines is to overlook what is amazing about T’ai Chi in and of itself.

When we bracket ourselves off in this fashion—creating a fortress of our ego—nothing is experienced beyond our Ego.  What a small world our egos inhabit—and what an even smaller view of the world our egos offer us.

One of the most important lessons in meditation and T’ai Chi must be to expose the small world that we create and inhabit, and to go beyond such a finite world to one of infinite possibilities.  We must empty our cups.    To do so requires an attitude as open as the sky and not as small as if one is peering at the sky through a key hole.  Only then will we learn real freedom. 

The Fundamentals of Returning to the Source: Embryonic Breathing

Post Date:December 10, 2009 | PermaLink | Comment

Embryonic Breathing is an ancient Taoist meditation technique of generating Chi (Qi, energy of the body) and melding it with Shen (the spirit, mind) for health and spiritual cultivation.  The benefits include minimizing stress through deep diaphragmatic breathing, bolstering the immune system, and cultivating Samadhi (Prajna, sustained mindfulness).  This technique requires consistent practice in order to maximize all of the benefits.  The following materials comprise a thumbnail sketch of how to practice this meditation technique.  As Ancestor Lu writes, “It is necessary, however, to seek elevated Real People to indicate to you the hidden subtleties in order that the proper results be attained.”  This sketch of the fundamentals is meant to be used only in concert with instruction from an Internal Arts expert.

Textual References

“If you want to understand the hammer and tongs of transcendence, you need the forge and bellows of an adept.”  Forty-Third Case, Blue Cliff Records

“Returning to the root is called stillness
Stillness is called return to Life,
Return to Life is called the constant;
Knowing the constant is called enlightenment.”
    --Tao-te Ching

“The energy of heaven is the higher soul, the energy of earth is the lower soul.  Return them to their mystic chamber, so each is in its place.  Keep watch over them and do not lose them; you will be connected to absolute unity above, and the vitality of absolute unity is connected to heaven.”  Huai-nan-tzu



The Physical Fundamentals

•    Meditative Posture
•    Breathing:  Taoist/Buddhist
•    Breathing:  Guardian Chi/Storing Chi
•    Appropriate Seasons and Times of Day:  Nourish/Release Chi

The Fundamental Techniques

1.    Calm Xin with Buddhist Breathing
2.    Locate Upper and Lower Dantians (yin/yang)
3.    Condense the Spirit with Taoist Breathing
4.    Lead Shen/Chi to Real Dantian
5.    Unite Shen and Chi at the Real Dantian
6.    Massage: straight right to left, circular, firm shake

With Due Diligence

Post Date:December 04, 2009 | PermaLink | Comment

In a recent interview, Master Ma Hailong, a Wu Style Grandmaster, remarked that he

“liked the jazz music [of] the 1930s and 1940s.  Their singing was very emotional and expressive.  Beautiful.  It is a little bit difficult for Chinese to sing jazz at that level.  So the main factor is the difference in culture.  This culture difference can make Tai Chi Chuan difficult to practice.”

Culture certainly informs the products of a culture.  Jazz evolves out of the African-American experience and history, and being an outsider may limit the possibilities of rendering that experience in music.  Artists such as Wynton Marsalis have made very similar claims about the authenticity of Jazz music.  Similarly, not being from a Chinese culture, according to such logic, would impede mastery of Chinese Internal Arts.

Since I have spent many many years dedicated to the Internal Arts, Ch’an (Zen) meditation, and Buddhist and Taoist philosophy and culture, Master Ma Hailong’s comment has puzzled me a bit, and I have spent the last few weeks ruminating up both his comment and my responses that Tai Chi Chuan is “difficult”—but not impossible—to master.

The great Taoist text Wen-Tzu offers a pointer:

“Rank, power, and wealth are things people crave, but when compared to the body, they are insignificant.  Therefore sages eat enough to fill emptiness and maintain energy, and dress sufficiently to cover their bodies and keep out the cold.  They adjust to their real conditions and refuse the rest, not craving gain and not accumulating much.”

People throughout nearly all cultures and history have been desperate for rank, power, and wealth, which runs counter to the goals of the sages to hone in upon the essential, which the Wen-Tzu makes clear is not rank, power, and wealth.  (It should not be overlooked that Wen-Tzu is chastising the people of its era—medieval China.)

In general, modern Americans, like most human beings, do not engage the “real” conditions and this is the source of the difficulty mastering an Internal Art such as Tai Chi.  Contemporary culture is predicated upon desire and attachments—rank, power, wealth—which we think constitute who we are.  Furthermore, we are often challenged by consumer culture to generate wants where such wants did even exist. 

This attachment to something more, something else, something beyond the “real” poses a large obstacle to address the essential of existence.  We are always on the prowl for the “latest” thing, which seems to place us in the process of always “becoming” a person defined by what object we think speaks the self.

Things do not bring us any closer to our authentic selves or our world.  Matter of fact, this process is one of infinite regress—since it moves us farther from ourselves and the real since we place energy upon the exterior instead of allowing the gaze to reflect upon the interior self.

To practice Internal Arts requires a heightened internal awareness.  It is the recognition that what we are now is all that we need and all of the materials of the “real” are always present.    To practice in this way is to recognize that we constantly negotiate the process of constructing an illusion of the self, and our recognition of this process is the first mark of our penetration to what lies beyond the illusion.  What matters is the experience—not the idea—of awareness.

We have tools to help us on our journey—books, teachings, and teachers—but those tools are useless unless we wield them with proper intent.   Perhaps Master Hailong’s critique has to do with the inadequacy of those tools in American culture, although, it is quite clearly not the tools that are the problems but the inability of people to use them. What makes the Internal Arts difficult is not the lack of tools but the lack of diligence and discipline to do the work.  

To continue on this journey, we need to keep working.  Not resting.  Not giving up.  After all, Master Ma Hailong did not say learning T’ai Chi is impossible—just difficult.  Let’s rise to that trial—which is nothing more than the challenge of living a life of value.

The Healing Power of Mind

Post Date:November 30, 2009 | PermaLink | Comment

    Incense smoke coils about the twelve people sitting in meditation at the Mountain Wind Zen Meditation Center of Pittsburgh.  The candles beside the statue of Shakyamuni Buddha flicker and sway as each person focuses upon the dantian—the center of the physical body and the vessel of “Chi” or energy of each person.  The room pulses with vitality, and the intensity is palpable.  To an outsider, these people deep in meditation (or Samadhi) might been seen as seeking some power beyond the here and now—whether it is called enlightenment, transcendence, or divinity.  Yet people often do not realize that meditation seeks to tap the incredible potential to heal the body both psychologically and physically.  In fact, these people are healing themselves through meditation.
    The therapeutic benefits of meditation are gradually becoming more accepted in Western medicine and thought.  Published medical studies have documented the extent to which meditation eases pain, bolsters the auto-immune system, decreases stress, improves mental health, and helps alleviate the symptoms associated with chronic pain, anxiety, depression, cancer, and heart disease.  One meditation practitioner associated with CloudWater Zendo in Cleveland, of which Mountain Wind Zen Meditation is an affiliate, has even been able to cease taking psychotropic medication without any negative side effects.  For these reasons, numerous hospitals have initiated meditation classes and therapies for patients since the benefits are so enormous.
    Western culture is beginning to realize what has been known for thousands of years in China:  meditation keeps the body and mind sound and it has the potential to treat a wide range of ailments and diseases.  More, American culture has been paying attention to the fact that body and mind share a vital connection, and any imbalance or weakness or either the mind or body causes an imbalance in the other.  By training and restoring the balance of the mind, the body is healed as well.
    Traditional Chinese Medicine (often referred to as TCM) is built upon the interconnectedness of body and mind.  The foundation of the human body from a TCM perspective is comprised of Chi (or qi), the bio-electricity that surges through the cardiovascular and nervous system as well as through causeways called “meridians”; Jing, the essence of the body that is carried in DNA and manifests in all aspects of the human form—muscles, organs, bones, eye color, hereditary diseases, and the like; and Shen, the spirit latent in mind consciousness and awareness.  These three elements—Chi, Jing, and Shen—comprise the essence of a human being, and when they are balanced, the person is healthy.  When out of balance, those disharmonies can manifest in both the physical body and the mind.  For example, alongside the psychological symptoms of depression, a person also develops physical symptoms such as lethargy, fatigue, joint and muscle pain, and other symptoms.  To bring the mind back into harmony also revitalizes and mends the body.
    As Dr. Yang, Jwing-Ming, a famous T’ai Chi and Chi Kung Master and one of my teachers, once remarked, the Western approach to illness is to treat the physical symptoms and not the root sickness, which may reside in the person’s mental processes and emotional responses.  It is vital to heal the mind—whether the issue is depression, stress, anger, grief, or other overwhelming emotions—in order to eradicate the residual traces or catalysts of an illness.  Meditation trains the self to be more aware of those processes and responses and not to allow the seeds of potential sickness to germinate and grow.  Or, in response to an illness or disease already present, meditation addresses a malady by reintegrating the balance of body, mind, and spirit, thereby healing the whole self.
    Despite the recognized and documented therapeutic potential of meditation, the idea of remaining in a stationary posture for a prolonged period of time is a daunting if not impossible task for many people, but there are other means to obtain these same benefits.  T’ai Chi, the slow and gentle Chinese martial art, is also known as “Moving Meditation” since its graceful movements are coordinated with deep abdominal breathing and sustained awareness of body and breath.  A knowledgeable and conscientious T’ai Chi teacher recognizes that in order to tap the immense health benefits of T’ai Chi, the mind must be trained in conjunction with the body to attain a state of meditative awareness.  T’ai Chi and Chi Kung (or qigong, the therapeutic or medical side of T’ai Chi), are regarded as a vital branch of Traditional Chinese Medicine.  For this reason, T’ai Chi should not be perceived as merely a dance or a slow version of Kung Fu, but, under the guidance of a competent and authentic teacher, T’ai Chi is a means to restore the balance of body and mind.
    My approach to teaching T’ai Chi is heavily flavored by my experience as a Zen Monk and the Resident Instructor at the Mountain Wind Zen Meditation.  Yet all T’ai Chi classes should stress the meditative and mind training aspects in order to remain faithful to T’ai Chi as it has been practiced and taught in Buddhist and Taoist monasteries in China for thousands of years.  Remaining true to these roots maximizes the ability for T’ai Chi to rectify body and mind imbalances, cultivate spiritual awareness, and provide a means of strengthening the physical and psychological self.
    Western Medical attitudes toward the therapeutic and medical benefits of T’ai Chi have been slowly changing in a more positive manner much like that of meditation, and many published medical studies document the extensive benefits of T’ai Chi.  (For those who may be interested, an extensive published medical bibliography is included at http://www.stillmountaintaichi.com/benefitsoftaichi.php).  My own experience over the last few years speaks to the shift in acceptance of T’ai Chi and meditation as healing practices.  In the four years since moving to Pittsburgh and establishing a T’ai Chi School,  Still Mountain T’ai Chi and Chi Kung, I have lectured on T’ai Chi and Traditional Chinese Medicine at Allegheny General Hospital and the University of Pittsburgh’s School of Pharmacology, been invited to present on T’ai Chi and Chi Kung at the National Ovarian Cancer Symposium,  have given workshops and seminars at MaGee-Women’s Hospital, UPMC’s Cancer Caring Center, the Dean Ornish Program at Allegheny General,  Shepherd Wellness Center,  Gilda’s Club, the National Hemophilia Foundation, and the Mid-Atlantic Healing Weekend for persons with HIV/AIDS.   As T’ai Chi and meditation become more prominent and accepted in our culture, more people are discovering the healing benefits of these two thousand years old practices and turning to T’ai Chi and meditation as effective healing strategies that complement Western medical practices.  
    To provide others with access to meditation, T’ai Chi, and other branches of Traditional Chinese Medicine has long been a vital aspect of the Buddhist tenet of extending compassion to others.  As a famous Buddhist mantra emphasizes:

    May all beings be happy and have the causes of happiness.
    May all beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering.
    May all beings never be separated from the great joy beyond   suffering.
   May they always remain in the great equanimity beyond attachment and aversion.

T’ai Chi and meditation are paths to happiness, joy, and equanimity, and to guide others along those paths so that they can eradicate suffering and heal the body and mind is very important spiritual work.  Matter of fact, to extend compassion to help another person to heal is to heal oneself as well.   In this respect, the path of mindfulness and meditation is entwined with helping others revitalize the body and mind and discover the great joy that permeates all aspects of the world.  To recover the joy of life is to heal oneself and the world in which we live, and in this respect, meditation is an extremely potent medicine.