a member of the Canadian Taijiquan Federation  e-mail: stevehiggins@rogers.com

Spiritual Training and Meditation

"Elements of this article appear by kind permission of "T'ai Chi" magazine, where they appeared in vol. 21, #1, Feb. '97 or vol. 25, #3, June 2001."

TAIJI as SPIRITUAL TRAINING

1. Mind and Healing:

INSTRUCTOR STEVE HIGGINS (IN WHITE) PUSHING HANDS WITH STUDENT BOB JANZEN

Taiji has three classical aspects or functions:

1. healthful exercise system,
2. self-defense system and
3. spiritual training system.

Often meditation is thought of as the attainment of a dreamy, undemanding state of feeling at-one-with-the-Universe, rather than as an activity which demands unrelenting self-discipline.

The essence of Taiji is patient awareness and informed, alert concentration. This applies whether the practitioner has been drawn to the art for health, for martial or for spiritual reasons. The student must become one with the movement. He or she must let self-consciousness and the ego drop away. The object of meditation is to realize the "now-ness" of the present instant. The goal is a concentrated mindfulness. Positive results, whether at the level of Qigong practice, martial skill or spiritual training, are directly proportionate to the student's success in realizing this state.

As the practitioner commences the exercise the heart-rate and brain-wave patterns alter and the respiration becomes slow and regular. The attention becomes finely attuned to subtle variations of weighting, stance and movement. As is the case with most forms of meditation, relaxation doesn't really come into the picture other than at the purely physical level and even here the element of relaxation must have a lively and dynamic character. An image upon which the student can model his or her practice is that of a violin string. With no give it snaps; with no tension it lies mute and soundless, producing no beautiful music. To use another traditional image, the practitioner watches each aspect and second of movement as a cat watches a mouse hole.

Usually what is actually sought in Taiji practice is relief from the agitation of a troubled mind or heart. This agitation can be a reaction to external stimuli such as job stress, but is almost invariably a manifestation of psychic or spiritual pain: fear, grief, loneliness, anxiety, low self-image or self-confidence, the echoes of past abuse, etc. These agitations are the activity of the "Hsin" or "Heart-mind". The Hsin is that aspect of our illusory selves that we are referring to when we say that we are "down-hearted" or "light-hearted", or when we say that our heart is "heavy" or "troubled". The Hsin has an inverse relationship to the "Yi", or "Wisdom-mind", which constitutes the informed state of focused attention we perfect in Taiji practice. Hsin and Yi have an inverse relationship, like the arms of a goldsmith's balance-scale. When Yi is activated, the Hsin is quieted. This is the mechanism which generates the sense of calm which ensues on Taiji practice.

This state of enhanced calmness facilitates healing at both physical and emotional levels. On a purely physical level, old injuries may seem to reactivate (sometimes after the passage of many years) and the practitioner must once again have to deal with their pain. Sometimes this involves a second round of healing and the disappearance of residual effects of the original illness, such as scar tissue. On the psychic level certain exercises will often trigger old memories and traumas, and negative emotions may then rise to the surface and confront the student. Certain Taiji movements, for example the heel-kicks or "Draw Bottle Gourd", open the area of the sternum and heart. These areas often seem to store old pains and anguish. Thus it is not uncommon to have a student who is practicing these movements suddenly dissolve into tears. One of my students once asked me why it was that, although she was studying Taiji to feel better, it seemed to make her feel worse? The issue here, of course, is that we all expend a great deal of psychic energy carrying garbage around in our hearts and heads, locked away in muscle and bone and layers and layers of suppression and self-delusion that we have taken great time and care over the years in developing. But the garbage is still there, although we can pretend it isn't, and if we are serious about cultivating self-awareness we have to at some point get it out, confront it and deal with it. Taiji, by opening the body, also opens the Mind and the Heart. The results can sometimes be both unpleasant and disconcerting.

2. Concentration and Mindfulness:

When we meditate there are two different mental faculties which are involved. Both of these different faculties must be engaged if Taiji, as an act of meditation, is to be effective.

The first is "One-pointed Concentration". This is that faculty of consciousness which is intimately directed to the fine detail and intimate sensation of the present moment. When we step out in Taiji, this is the faculty which registers the details of the balancing act we go through, the delicate touch as we first place the foot and then the gradual contact travelling in a line from heel to toe up the centre-line of the foot as we actually shift our weight. Our attention to the detailed quality of the moment in which we are engaged is fundamental to the activation of "Yi", the attentive mind, as outlined in the article above. Without this activation "Hsin", the heart-mind, cannot be quieted and our meditation fails.

The second aspect of mind can be termed "Mindfulness". To better understand the function of Mindfulness, consider for a moment what transpires in practice (This analysis applies even more dramatically to quiet, sitting meditation.). You are performing the sequence of movements in your Taiji set. Suddenly you become aware that, rather than being fastened to your practice, your mind has wandered off somewhere and you are actually engaged in pondering a problem which arose today on the job; in other words, you suddenly become aware that your attention (Yi) has lost its focus and is no longer activated. Further, on introspection, you usually find that the thought process in which you have been engaged carries with it a certain emotional valence: it may even be somewhat upsetting to you. Essentially, when the activation of the Yi faltered, the Hsin reasserted its supremacy and the calming effect of the meditative process was destroyed by the moment of inattention.

The moment of awareness, the wake-up call to let you know that you were off-track, was the faculty of Mindfulness at work. Mindfulness is the Guardian of Concentration. It is Mindfulness which, when you are wandering from tree to tree through the woods, reminds you about what part of the forest you are actually in at the moment; Mindfulness stabilizes your mental activity and keeps it directed.

While One-pointed concentration is forceful and direct, Mindfulness has an indirect, delicate quality to it. Either faculty can be trained using specific meditative techniques

Of the two, Mindfulness is harder to master. This is why in Taiji it is provided with a powerful ally in the repetitive sequence of the traditional long form. In the traditional Yang-style "108", for example, one turns to the right and enters into "Grasp Sparrows Tail" on (depending upon the precise version of the sequence) six occasions; on five separate occasions one enters into "Step Up, Deflect, Parry and Punch" and there are roughly ten "Single Whips". This degree of repetition is designed to give the practitioner not only massed practice but the maximum opportunity for confusion. Every turn into "Grasp Sparrow's Tail" gives you another chance to get lost (If your mind-Yi has been wandering) and will therefore trigger the awareness of Mindfulness to help you get back on track.

It is for this reason that the basic "Long Form", whether in its Chen, Yang, Wu, Hao or whatever variation, remains the very soul of Taiji and the cornerstone of the art as a meditative discipline.

3. The Three Stages of Psycho-Spiritual Training:

There is little in the lives of the great Taiji masters of old China to lead one to think that they were 'enlightened". They were usually intent on self defence and transmitting martial survival skills to others. Some were known for their cruelty and harshness, even to members of their own families; some did not hesitate to kill and were even known to use opium. There is nothing to indicate that those masters of questionable morality were in any martial sense less realized than others of gentler character.

Nevertheless, perhaps because of the efforts of certain early formulators of the art to connect it to the Chinese spiritual tradition (see Lost T'ai-chi Classics of the Late Ch'ing Dynasty by Prof. Doug Wile), the practice of Taijiquan is today widely regarded as possessing spiritual implications. For a parallel situation it is perhaps instructive to compare the recent history of Taijiquan to the evolution of the Japanese martial arts in the 200 years subsequent to the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate (see Don Draeger's Classical Budo). Essentially, the old samurai combat arts came to be practiced as methods for perfecting states of meditative concentration. In fact, specific skills based upon medieval Japanese combat arts are today pursued as branches of Zen meditation; two of the better-known are Kyudo (archery) and Iaido (sword drawing). Significantly, the word denoting the "art" in question has been altered to reflect the new motivation behind its practice, Kyujutsu becoming Kyudo, the do being the Japanese adaptation of the Chinese dao or "way". A similar evolution seems to be occurring today in the world of Taijiquan, the old combative formulations giving way to practices directed more toward health maintenance, sport and meditation.

There is little agreement between different traditions on just what "enlightenment" means. Some Daoist schools apparently regard the essence of Daoism as virtually identical to Ch'an Buddhism, the mother of Japanese Zen. A cultural icon embodying the blending of these two streams can be discerned in Han Shan, the Taoist Immortal and Ch'an sage of Cold Mountain, who wrote that he carried with him both the Dao De Jing and the "sword of true wisdom / to cut down the thieves of senseless desire!" Other Taoist schools are more concerned with esoteric energy exercises which seem very similar to those of Indian Kundalini yoga; these qigongs can even be directed toward the strengthening of the soul so that it can survive the dissolution of death and exist independent of the material plane of existence. Such a goal is clearly antithetical to Buddhist theory or practice. Yet these differing approaches co-exist within the same cultural matrix.

In considering the potential of Taijiquan to serve a role in spiritual training, it is necessary to understand that such a role has nothing about it of the "mystical" in the negative sense of partaking of some kind of poorly defined, spiritual self-indulgence. The emphasis must be on certain results since spiritual training is usually only embarked upon out of some personal sense of unease or suffering. Many practice Taijiquan for strictly limited purposes; there is certainly nothing wrong with this since Taijiquan as an outlet for competitive or artistic instincts can generate very satisfying results. But the spiritual path in any great tradition requires motivation of another order.

Following models drawn from the Buddhist and Taoist traditions, the spiritual pursuit of Taijiquan may be conceptualized as consisting of three levels of self realization: therapeutic, psychological and spiritual.

1. The therapeutic level of practice is what we all seem to spend most of our time on. Initially as Beginners we simply struggle to remember "how to"; we fixate on sequence and mechanics. Once we survive this introductory stage (and most don't), we go on to the fine detail such as putting the foot out un-weighted, preserving central equilibrium, maintaining relaxation, etc. As the physical realization of improved balance, flexibility and co-ordination are gradually achieved, there is also a mental realization of enhanced concentration; this results in the attainment of a state of interior quietude where the sense of self-centeredness is reduced. Mind and body co-ordinate through practice; to paraphrase Yang Cheng Fu, the inner is coordinated with the outer, the result being a state of serene concentration.

   This training in concentration can be seen as the perfection of Yi (attentive concentrative awareness) with a corresponding calming of Hsin (the "heart-mind" as in "my heart is troubled", "I'm heart-sick", "heart-sore" or "down-hearted"). Yi and Hsin have an inverse relationship. When one is stimulated, the other is allayed or negated. Thus, since an over-excited Hsin manifests as mental agitation, it's easy to understand why our Taiji suffers when we allow ourselves to fixate on personal difficulties at the expense of our practice. Similarly, if we practice concentratedly, the emotional impact of stress-inducing circumstances is reduced. This accounts for the sense of expansive calmness experienced by many practitioners upon the conclusion of their practice. For a more thorough examination of this dynamic relationship, see T'ai Chi Vol. 21, No.1, Feb. '97.

2. The attainment of concentrative awareness (or shamata in Sanskrit) can be regarded as an end which itself becomes a means. While the state of concentrated awareness exists as an end in itself for the beginner, it becomes a means to other ends for the more advanced practitioner who embarks on mental or psychological training. This practitioner must make an effort to direct the searchlight of the concentrated awareness upon the object of enquiry. At this secondary level the object of enquiry can be the stressful circumstances which have been disturbing the practitioner's equanimity. The goal is to understand and assimilate the nature of these stressors in such as way as to free oneself from their negative or afflictive influence.

   Suppose for example that you have been obsessing about a development at your place of work. You have been telling yourself that such-and-such or so-and-so upsets you, enrages you, makes you angry. The afflictive emotions color your perceptions and may upset your digestion, disturb your sleep and influence the way you act to those around you. Perhaps you are tense and irritable with your spouse and short with your children; thus the emotional values associated with the stressor spread out and gradually poison your environment. The key is to understand that these negative values are proceeding, not from the stressor, but from you! You are yourself the stressor! Your situation is empty of value until you attribute a value to it. Contention, anger, discontent are not inherent in the event or the thing; they constitute your reaction to it and therefore proceed from you. Understanding this can reconcile you to something that you thought was externally afflictive. The issue is therefore not it but you! How are you reacting to it? In your own reaction is the root of your suffering.

   Since the sense of anger, frustration or unfairness that you were attributing to the object is clearly coming from your own mind, it's also clear that it's going to be difficult to assimilate this in any deep way using the mind that is under the influence of this same negativity. The spacious sense of calmness which follows Taiji practice gives you a breather from the afflicted state. With the mental agitation temporarily allayed, one is for a while really sane. This breather allows you to look at the external circumstance with a calmer and wiser gaze and see its essential emptiness. This state of mindfulness (vipassyana in Sanskrit) is profoundly therapeutic. It allows you to qualitatively redefine your relationship to your world. You no longer contend against it. In Daoist terms you have realized "wu-wei", or the way of non-contending; in Buddhist terms you have seen the emptiness of things. Taijiquan is just an enabling technology.

   This level of enhanced awareness can be termed the "psychological" level because it establishes and redefines the relationship between self and external reality. It harmonizes the inner with the outer (to paraphrase Yang Cheng Fu) and replaces pathological perceptions with modes of awareness which are calmer and less subject to neurotic fixation.

3. The third or spiritual level is most difficult to describe because it is experienced, not only in an intensely personal way, but in a manner individually consistent with the structure of spiritual beliefs within which you are operating. Since your previously distorted perceptions and afflictive emotions have been revealed by the searchlight of the concentrative awareness to be nothing but the products of your own mind, it makes sense to investigate the nature of the mind which so easily produces such delusions. Therefore, you take the searchlight of meditative concentration off the events or circumstances that have been your concern to this point, and focus it on your own mind! In the Buddhist/Daoist classic The Secret of the Golden Flower this is what is called "turning the light around". Essentially, the distorting factors which have had such painful consequences come from within yourself. They are things of which you have probably been largely unaware, although you have felt their effects. The process of emptying yourself of these things can be conceived of in terms specific to the spiritual tradition from which your understanding or sensibilities derive. In Buddhist terms you may be seeking a realization of the emptiness of the self; in Daoist terms you may be seeking to throw off the red dust of the world and to become one with the Dao; in theistic terms (as in Islam, Judaism or Christianity) you may be seeking to empty yourself of sin so as to become a more fitting receptacle for God's grace or a more perfect instrument of God.

This path of progressive realizations may seem superficially simple. The problem is that the second and third stages are not objectives or goals, but ongoing processes. What is involved is a matter of refining, of ongoing struggle and redefinition till no definitions are left.

In all spiritual traditions there is agreement that true understanding is not just the result of intellective reasoning, but consists of personal realization. "Realization" refers to a mode of understanding that is intimate, immediate, intuitive and overwhelming. It is also confirmable by reference to spiritual tradition. Reference to spiritual authority is useful in determining what constitutes genuine realization and what is actually only the self-delusion of an overheated spiritual sensibility. If you are lucky, you may have a spiritual advisor or friend to provide reality-checks. But to have access to this kind of input you may have to supplement your Taijiquan practice by investigating one of the great spiritual traditions.