Tai chi chuan spreads its wings and captures Western audience

Press, 24 January 1986, Page 18

Tai chi chuan spreads its wings and captures Western audience

By

KEN COATES

The time is just before 6.30 a.m. Most of Christchurch is still asleep. Five men, aged from 25, to 61 — painter, forestry worker, semi-retired businessman, cleaner, and retired commercial fishing consultant — are limbering up in the early morning light in the playground of Phillipstown School, Linwood. Soon, all are exercising in a manner practised by millions every morning in China — in parks, beside rivers, in yards and open spaces.

They compile a series of slow, studied, and stylised gestures, graceful and flowing, making up the anicent Chinese fitness disciplane of tai chi chuan (or taijiquan in the latest Chinese Romanisation system).

Westerners aware of the danger of stress-related diseases have come to appreciate the benefits of an exercise form the Chinese have known for many centuries. More than 100 Christchurch people, including two doctors, are actively practising tai chi, which has been described as a kind of meditative callisthenics.

The early-morning group that meets daily in Linwood changes in size and composition. But always there, rain or shine, is the leader, Hu Luchi, a Chinese tai chi chuan teacher.

Lean, lithe, and unlined, his looks belying his 61 years, he wears a black beret and seems to float through the carefully controlled fluid movements with delicate hand gestures. Some of the striking, but slow, almost trance-llke movements, are known by references to birds and animals — hence, a stork spreading its wings and to repulse the monkey. Tai chi is good for physical and mental balance, says Mr Hu. He defines it as a series of slow and even movements, “like water running down without rush,” preferably to be practised every day. Gradually, with practice, a person develops a greater degree of self-control — of the centre of gravity; of the mind and emotions, and of energy. "It is not difficult to learn the form but will take years to achieve the last alm,” he says. Mr Hu explains that there are philosophical ideas to be learned. Mental exercise, he says, means that if the brain is relaxed, the body will function better.

In Western medicine, doctors tend to treat living persons as machines — if something goes wrong, they change the parts. The discipline of tai chi involves something similar to meditation. In some other forms of meditation, people are asked to think of nothing, to empty their minds, and this is difficult to achieve. In tai chi, one concentrates on the next movement, then the next, and so on, as the sequences flow from one to another. This brings relaxation. Tai chi chuan stems from the martial arts. One legend says that an emperor taught it to a hermit in a dream. Another story attributes it to a sage named Chang Shan Fung who watched a crane fighting with a snake. He marvelled at the snake’s flexibility and the lightning, swift movements of the crane.

Mr Hu says that research in China suggests the present form of tai chi orginated in Central China, in the province of Henan, in Chenchakuo county. Even when used for combat, tai chi chuan was defensive, rather than aggressive. Lunges and blows from an opponent were avoided by a swift sideways movement, or by a quick grab of an arm and turn, so that an opponent would crash to the ground from the force of his own thrust.

“Tai chi always followed the force and was never against it,” says Mr Hu. "Opponents felt the emptiness and gave up fighting rather than continue trying to beat the other down.” This deft avoidance of body contact led to the invention of the English term for tai chi — “Chinese shadow boxing.” Tai chi developed as a “soft” martial art as opposed to the more aggressive “hard” style of karate, tekwando, and judo. Centuries ago, says Mr Hu, some of those who practised the quick movement and strong, vigorous punches of individual combat realised that whoever won was quite unrelated to who was right and who was wrong. The loser was often killed and hate remained. The victor was

likely to die sooner or later as revenge was sought by relatives, or by later generations. With tai chi, the vanquished fighter would not hate the victor, but would blame himself, thinking he was not good enough to fight his opponent, thus putting an end to the feud. Tai chi chunan changed over the years; moves that required explosive strength disappeared, as did excessive foot stamping. Different styles developed, but there are five main schools of which the Yang school is one of the most popular. Historically, the secret of the effective method of fighting was jealously guarded by the Chen family, but a Yang, who infiltrated the household posing as a servant, learned the principles and philosophy of the art. “From the painful experience of the past was built the soft, sober, sensible, yet swift skills of tai chi chuan,” says Mr Hu. We sip Chinese tea at his Linwood home and, as if to

emphasise the alertness and swift reactions of the one-time martial art, Mr Hu directs a quick right-arm thrust at a lone house-fly settled on my knee. The swift scoop results in one fly less.

In a sense, Mr Hu’s personal experience mirrors the development of the art In Shanghai, where he was brought up, Mr Hu was rather wild as a youth. “I learned aggressive martial arts and was very hot tempered,” he recalls. He suffered from weak digestion and often did not feel well. “My father said I should learn tai chi chuan, and this brought a different attitude, with no fighting.” A skilled expert in commercial fishing technology, Mr Hu learned the business in China when his country was receiving United Nations aid to its fishing industry in the 19405. He served as the skipper of a tuna fishing boat and was assigned to work in Taiwan before the communist

take-over in China. “Sometimes, during a long trip of three months at sea on a tuna long-line fishing boat, fights break out and crewmen get killed,” he says. “But not once was there trouble like this on my boat. Shouting or scolding does not help. Tai chi helped develop self control, and I was able to sort things out before a fight started.”

He admits that in the cramped space aboard a fishing boat, especially in rough seas, practising tai chi can be difficult. "I used to lie in my bunk and think of the various movements — the mental discipline is more important than the muscular aspect. After 30 minutes or so, my thinking was clearer and I never become upset or lost my temper.” Mr Hu came to New Zealand in 1967 as a fishing gear consult-

ant for one of the first commercial ventures in this country, and later worked for government departments and for the F.A.O. in Jamaica. He first began teaching tai chi in 1971 when Peter Chen, also from Taiwan, organised a class at the Y.M.C.A. in Christchurch.

Now retired, from fisheries research, Mr Hu says tai chi can be taken up at any age. He produces a smiling photograph of his father, aged 90, still practising the art in Shanghai and looking fit and well, and vigorous.

The benefits of tai chi are more likely to be affected by perseverance and application of the student and the calibre of the teacher than the age of either. The “hard” martial arts all have grading systems, such as black belt for a certain standard. “Tai chi has no grading; you judge yourself,” says Mr Hu. Some people could learn the 36 movements (or 88 depending on how they are counted) in 10 days, while others might take two or three months. Ability to relax is all important.

Continous movement of the whole body, together with deep breathing, is designed to enable tai chi disciples to remain calm and balanced during daily business and personal inter-actions. For the last six years, Mr Hu has been taking classes at Christchurch Polytechnic, and on February 5 a demonstration of tai chi will be given in Hagley Park as part of the Summertimes programme. A Canterbury Tai Chi Chuan Association has also been formed.

No call for

revenge

Putting mind to work