Formosa Neijia

Tom has made a series of long comments on my post about large vs. small Yang frames. These comments are so substantial that I feel they deserve to be made into a separate post rather than being lost in the comment section.

I want to state up front that I don’t fully agree with everything that Tom says in these comments. So my making them into a post doesn’t count as an endorsement. But his comments are insightful and well-thought out. I think lots of people can learn from them. Here they are:

As promised, Dave, you added fuel to the fire. I’m afraid there is no way to specifically respond without possibly upsetting some folks, including wujimon. What follows is nothing personal directed against you folks. Perhaps it’s best considered as simply adifferent understanding and experience in how taijiquan works.

First, Zheng Manqing originally learned the extended large frame taught by Yang Cheng Fu in the late 1920s and early 1930s (Zheng produced the 1934 book by YCF). Zheng brought that large frame with him to Taiwan, as shown in the photographs from his “Cheng Tzu’s 13 Treatises,” like the following:

http://www.wuweitaichi.com/images/Book%201-A%20Cheng%20Tzu’s%20Thirteen%20Treaties.jpg (note: link doesn’t work)

The more contained, “sunken” frame which Zheng’s American students picked up on seems to have developed later . . . hard to say exactly when, although Tao Ping Xian, Ben Lo and William C. C. Chen seem to have learned it, which would place its development in Taiwan during the mid- to late-1950s . . . Zheng’s Malaysia students learned something like this frame when he made a six-month visit there ca. 1957. Did it maybe reflect earlier influence from Zheng’s gongfu brother, Ye Dami, in Shanghai, or perhaps Zheng’s six months or so training with Zhang Qinlin? Only Zheng could truly say, and he only acknowledged YCF as his teacher.

But I don’t consider Zheng’s “American edition” frame to be “small”. Sunken, perhaps, conducive to poor posture, definitely, but not “xiao” as I understand it. However . . . I think Zheng’s disciple Huang Sheng-shyan understood some aspects of small frame, judging by writings of a couple of his disciples in connection with extension and compaction of the spine in the form and in tuishou. That may have come from Huang’s previous Fujian baihequan training; I don’t know. It is one unique aspect of Huang’s line from Zheng that does not appear in other ZMQ lines, as far as I know.

Next, I question J. Justin Meehan’s real understanding of martial intent and usage as it relates to form. I know his teachers, but don’t need to get into his personal background. I think the analysis in that article (which has been hanging around on the Internet for a long time) is based on a superficial examination of the exterior appearance and apparent structural dynamic of Yang Zhenduo’s and Zheng Manqing’s forms, rather than a real understanding of how they work.

And, without raising Zheng on a pedestal, why on earth would anyone use Yang Zhenduo as a paragon of how taijiquan, even Yang style, should be trained for martial usage? Zhenduo never had to use his taijiquan in a fight. It shows in his form correction, it shows in the comparatively rare examples of application he gives, it shows in the teaching of his grandson Yang Jun. In a bar or in a dark alley, I’d rather have Zheng Manqing than Yang Zhenduo (for one thing, he could probably hold his liquor better, and he knew how to use a knife).

As far as generation of power, it’s a fallacy to think that more power can be generated from a longer, deeper stance or a wider base. That is the pushing-the-car model of taijiquan. It contributes to the static, lead-footed taijiquan usage which is all I’ve ever seen in Da Jia guys, Chen or Yang. And the most powerful applications of taiji I’ve seen have been from Hao and Zhaobao styles (sharing a common small-frame root in Chen Qingping).

But more importantly, it shows a misunderstanding of the nature of “power” in taijiquan. Taijiquan is about handling the force/power of the opponent, much more than it is about generating fajin. Taiji is about adjusting to and exploiting the opponent through simultaneous change between yin and yang, empty and full, dynamically and all the time. Your opponent falls on emptiness and is hit back at an unexpected angle largely by the return of his own force. There is power aplenty in a competent small-frame practitioner. That power is generated by changing from empty to full in a much smaller space and much faster than a Da Jia exponent can, without any “gathering” or obvious wind-up. The power is generated in large part by the return of the opponent’s own force through the small-frame structure, accomplished through the quick change from 0% to 100%. Sun Lutang trained only small-frame taijiquan from Hao Weizhen and could push his students through the heavy wooden doors of the training hall, breaking the cross-bar. Hao Weizhen taught Sun the use of power in taijiquan; it’s not simply something that Sun adapted from his prior xingyiquan training. Hao’s grandson, Shaoru, threw people out of the ring using a 10-foot-staff and the leverage/power generated from a small-frame stance.

But again, that is all the externally obvious and tactically less important aspect of “power” in taijiquan. Much more important is how the opponent’s jin is handled. That is the real internal skill in taijiquan. Hong Junsheng, Chen Fake’s longest-term disciple, talked about perceived power. Chen Zhonghua, one of Hong’s disciples, writes:

“Hong believed that the concept of power is an important distinguishing feature of systems. External systems develop physical power from the outside. Internal systems develop power from within. Further, the way power is generated distinguishes subsystems too. Taiji, Xingyi and Bagua are subsystems of internal system. According to him, Xingyi genuinely aims to generate internal power. So does Bagua. It is not the case with Taiji. In Taiji, there is no real power generated. Instead, it is a “perceived power” that Taiji is concerned with.”

When you can’t get a real hold on a taijiquan practitioner or you feel like your powerful blow leaves you falling into emptiness, your perception is scrambled and when your launched, it can seem like an incredible amount of power, but in fact quite a bit of it is your own force returned to you. If you have not felt this, than you haven’t experienced real taijiquan.

Large frame practice, besides intrinsic physical perils (I’ll save that for another discussion), confuses the body. It cannot move from its dantien when in the wide, splayed-out stances. Large frame overemphasizes the physical separation between empty and full, and trains and engages gross musculature (quads, et al.) to make the change between empty and full, and perhaps most significantly makes extremely unintelligent use of joints like the hips and knees. It’s just stupid training, from the point of view of physical therapy or martial usage. If you want flexibility and strengthening, there are far more effective, balanced and safe ways of cultivating those qualities in supplemental exercises.

I’ll close my ramble-and-rant with an observation about weight distribution. Where did the 70/30 or 60/40 percentages of distribution of weight come from? They are not in the Wu/Li or Yangshi “classics.” Yang Cheng Fu did not teach in those terms. They may have been introduced by later students. But even Zheng Manqing did not assign weight distribution percentages in his last book: the footprint diagrams showing comparative weights were added. It’s ridiculous to think that the masters of old went around with scales to step on in their practice.

But let’s consider the matter of weight distribution in a large-frame practice. Take two bathroom scales. Weigh yourself on one, then place the two scales so you can get into, for example, gongbu with 70% of your weight on the forward scale (standard for Yang). You’ll find yourself in a ridiculously extended stance. Get off the scales and assume that same relative stance. You’re just asking to be swept. I could take a nap and still move in time to tip you over with a light touch at the right angle as you struggle to drag your feet into a position you can move from. The proprioceptive sense of weight distribution trained in a large-frame form is a clumsy, gross-motor sensibility. And training slowly in a large frame is just going to overemphasize that clumsy sensibility.

You need to have a clear sense of weight distribution within the frame with which you fight, which is generally going to be closer to a small or medium frame. What trains a clear sense of weight distribution is paying attention to the changing from empty to full within a normal step. Sun’s follow-step is beautiful for that, actually. If you train your solo form focusing on getting the 70/30 or 60/40 or whatever distribution right, you’re training to stop dead in the water on the transition between 0 and 100. It just doesn’t make sense.

Zheng Manqing added a follow-step (tifang) in his tuishou, because the solo form he learned and taught did not correlate in important ways with the realities of engagement trained initially in tuishou and later in fighting. Neither does the solo form taught by Yang Zhenduo and progeny.

These are just the thoughts of a perpetual beginner, not worth much. Don’t distress yourself over such idle vanity. Move along, move along.

I don’t mind eating my words where I’m wrong or, as in this case, where my statement may have not been completely accurate. Yang Jun is quite good with Yang style. Yang Jun also knows and demonstrates applications (yes, I’ve personally seen and felt them). I’m not one of those who think Yang style has completely lost its way as a martial art.

But my point in the preceding post was simply that I see a number of serious disconnects between the way the Yang large-frame solo form is taught and practiced, and actual taijiquan usage in tuishou or a fight. There is much less of a disconnect between practice and usage, at least to my eye, in Sun Lutang’s form or in the Zhaobao small-frame style I practice.

Clearly, though, there are Yang large-frame people who can fight. So what elements of their large-frame training build the gongfu that drives martial skill (and power)?

It does not–cannot–come simply from repetition of the Yang large frame as commonly/popularly taught. The focus of most Yangshi teachers is on the gross exterior appearance of the student’s posture and alignment. Even with alignment, many Yang style teachers offer poor correction.

There is verbal instruction and hands-on correction that, in my experience, produces the most progress–or the most potential for poor practice and injury– from the teacher-student interaction. It is the accuracy of the observation/correction and the content of the verbal instruction that most meaningfully guides the student’s own (hopefully) diligent practice. Many Yang style “teachers” never received sound, detailed instruction from their own teachers over how to properly move their bodies through the Yang large frame . . . for example, how to connect the torso to the legs through sinking into the kua. What happens then is that the “teachers” then either repeat the erroneous instruction they received, or haphazardly guess what the student needs correction on . . . or, as around here, take detailed instruction and principles from another taijiquan style and attempt to weave it into their patchwork knowledge of Yang style.

Around Seattle, for example, many of the more well-known Yang style teachers also gravitated to a student of Feng Zhiqiang who moved to this area in the late 1980s. The hands-on feeling of the teacher’s body as the teacher moved, the detailed corrections the teacher offered, the discussion of specific principles like dui la . . . all had a huge impact on their teaching of Yang style. It probably was the first time many of them had received that level of teaching . . . though many had been training and teaching in Yang style for twenty or thirty years. They did not drop their Yang style, though some of them did become students and then teachers of Feng’s approach to Chen style. However, many did attempt to incorporate what they learned from Feng’s student into their Yang style teaching. Feng’s Chen-based style is, however, substantially different from Yang.

It is disingenuous to say that all taijiquan styles are taijiquan if they follow the principles of taijiquan. That is true only at the most general level of “principle”; taijiquan styles differ significantly at the level of training specifics. “Dui la,” for example, does not work in the Yang form the same way it works in Chen. So it was guesswork on the part of the Yang style teachers attempting to incorporate principles taught in the context of a basically Chen Xinjia form and frame into the qualitatively different movements of YCF large frame.

The result? Often a compounding of errors. Some teachers managed to find three corners of the Yang handkerchief after Feng’s student showed them one corner of the Chen handkerchief, others . . .

I believe Yang Jun knew Feng’s student, but I don’t know that there was any “exchange” of skills to any meaningful extent. Certainly Yang Jun has been exposed to the full range of taijiquan styles and levels of teaching in the PRC. His grandfather would probably have been the major source of his teaching. But even Yang Jun has adapted training ideas from other styles that are not part of his grandfather’s teaching nor intrinsic to the YCF large-frame practice. In demonstrating tuishou or certain applications, for example, Yang Jun may roll his shoulders or fold his chest in a manner similar to Chen style, even saying, on at least one occasion, “like Chen style” (i.e., in the manner of Chen style). Both Yang Jun and Yang Zhenduo acknowledge Yangshi taijiquan’s roots in Chen style. Yang Jun’s manner of performance is not quite the same as his grandfather’s; who knows what direction his teaching will take in the future?

Public teaching of Yang large frame lacks significant elements that can contribute to the student’s injury in practice and confusion in motion in a fight. That’s been my own experience, and clearly is not offered as a statement of others’ experiences. But someone who seriously aspires to skill in martial arts needs to honestly look not only at his/her own effort, but also at what the teacher(s) offer . . . and not be afraid to change if they are headed in the wrong direction. Life moves too quickly: we can’t get stuck in a metaphorical Yangshi Da Jia gongbu.

When should a martial arts student know it’s time to change teachers? How can a student honestly evaluate their progress and direction with a particular teacher and style? How can one avoid becoming a teacher-hopping dilettante while also avoiding getting sucked into the black hole of teacher worship or the carousel of lack of awareness (the inertia of repeated mistakes)?

I’ll jump off this large/small frame thread with the preceding suggestion for another discussion thread. I’ll actually be away for awhile. Again, the preceding commentary is simply my own opinion, undoubtedly confused and misguided, but not intentionally malicious. I hope everyone’s practice is fruitful: watch those knees and hips, and remember to look both ways when crossing the street. :- )

Cheers.