Know Yourself: Tai Chi and Chi Kung as a Path to Self-understanding

It seems like every day there is new research showing how Tai Chi and Chi Kung can benefit our health. The latest include how Tai Chi may reduce arthritic pain and inflammation, how it may improve kidney and heart function in people with kidney and heart disease, and how Chi Kung reduces fatigue in survivors of prostate cancer. However, it’s important to realise that the benefits of Tai Chi and Chi Kung extend beyond improving such things as joint health and kidney function, important as such things are. Underlying these relatively tangible effects there are more subtle benefits, the sort of things which are not so easy to measure in scientific trials. For instance, they help us to understand ourselves better.

In the’ Art of War’, one of the classic texts of the whole Chinese martial art tradition from which Tai Chi springs,  the ancient Chinese general and philosopher Sun Tzu tells us “know yourself and know your enemy and you will be ever victorious”. It goes without saying that our enemy here need not be an actual opponent or military force; it could even be our own tendency to laziness, lack of self-belief, or greed. But anyway, before we think about knowing our enemy, Sun Tzu wants us to know ourselves.  A key aspect of Tai Chi and Chi Kung is that they give us the opportunity to do just that.

Of course we might think, or assume, that we know ourselves already, but it is likely that there is a way to go. Indeed, it is likely that there will always be a way to go, that our understanding of ourselves can progress and deepen indefinitely; and perhaps if we are not on such a journey, we will be at root frustrated or lost.

But how do we come to know ourselves better? This happens on a number of levels, the first of which is the level of the body. It may seem crazy that we do not know our own body – after all we have been living with, in or through it for all of our life! But the fact remains that a person’s body is often unknown territory, a mysterious landscape, an undiscovered country.  Knowing our body is more than just knowing a few facts about it, like where the sacrum is or what the trapezius muscle does, although such knowledge may help. Rather we need to know our body by being aware of it, and increasing and expanding that awareness as time goes by, and this is a cornerstone of the practice of Tai Chi and Chi Kung.

On a basic level we may learn that our wrists are not as supple as they could or should be, or that our leg muscles are not as strong as we thought they were. We might learn that our shoulders are stiff or our breathing is shallow. But as our practice loosens our wrists and strengthens our legs, we start to learn about Qi (Chi) itself. As we move through a Tai Chi form, or work on a Chi Kung stance, we start to understand what the Chinese mean by this word. We feel our flowing Qi; we come to know that we are more than just a lump of skin and bone attached to a brain; we learn that we are movement, energy, life - and we learn how to protect and nourish this Qi and thus how to protect and nourish our life itself.

On this level, also, is the natural world of which we are, modern living notwithstanding, an integral part. Through Tai Chi and Chi Kung we learn to breathe (once again, we may have thought we would know how to do that already, but it may not be so!). The process of breathing is of course an ongoing exchange between ourselves and the world around us, and so in learning to breathe we come to understand more deeply how we are inextricably a part of that world, and always will be.

It’s also interesting to notice that many Tai Chi and Chi Kung moves and positions are named after natural phenomena.  A Tai Chi form may include ‘White crane spreads its wings’, ‘Parting the horse's mane’, ‘Golden rooster stands on one leg’ and ‘Hands wave like clouds’. The ancients learnt from nature, the way animals, bird and even clouds move. Tai Chi and Chi Kung tie us into this awareness. In a way, we become the white crane, or the passing clouds, just for a moment. This returns us to nature and our place in nature, which we have, perhaps since the industrial revolution or even earlier, began to become alienated from. We need to know ourselves in context, as part of the natural world. This is a profound thing, a sense of oneness; it can be a tangible experience when we do a Tai Chi form, for instance.

On a more subtle level, perhaps, is the level of our habitual tendencies. Someone once said that a person is really just a collection of habits, and there is some truth in this (especially as we get older!). We learn about these habitual tendencies by coming up against boundaries, as we do with a Tai Chi form or set of Chi Kung exercises. It is our habitual tendencies that disrupt the harmonious engagement with the form, that disrupt the smooth flow of Qi. For instance we may have a tendency to be lazy, so if we are doing a Chi Kung stance which is hard work, we may be tempted to skimp. Of course it is important to practice with a teacher  and/or fellow students; left to our own devices we may be able to ignore this lazy habit, maybe even convincing ourselves that we are following the Tao in not pushing ourselves too much, when in fact we are just following the easy way out!  But once we are aware of this tendency, we can find ways to work on it when we are practising alone as well.

Similarly we may have a tendency to impatience. We may be rushing towards the end of the Tai Chi form, rushing towards the next move, even before we have completed the move we are doing now. That, of course, is not the way.  Why do we do that? What is so unsatisfactory about the present that we always want to be in the future? Such impatience disrupts the flow of Qi, and we learn to recognise when this is happening, what it feels like.

The point here is that our mental states, habitual ones especially, are reflected in how we hold and move our body; so Tai Chi and Chi Kung can reflect back to us not only what is going on in our body, but also what is happening in our mind. (Although from the point of view of the classical Chinese tradition in which they have their origin, the distinction we are accustomed to make in the west between mind and body does not hold in any rigid sense.) One way this works is that as Tai Chi or Chi Kung loosens any tightness or constriction in our body, corresponding emotional blockages may also start to free up; by working on our body, we liberate our mind.

         To read more about how Tai Chi and Chi Kung can help you, go to www.lifestyles-hma.co.uk.

The Benefits of Slow, Coordinated Movement for Health

When we think about exercise, we probably think of moving fast as being the thing; we might even think that the faster we move, the harder we push, the greater the benefit. But hold your horses! There are compelling reasons why spending some time on slow co-ordinated movement, such as in Chi Kung or Tai Chi, can bring benefits that we don’t get from going quicker.

One of these reasons is that when we move slowly we can move more accurately and with a much greater sensitivity to the actual experience of moving; we can have a greater sense of what is actually happening anatomically.

For instance, it may be that there are some movements which we are no longer able to do, that the range of movement of our limbs is restricted, possibly in ways which we are not even aware of. We may have come habitually to avoid certain movements, or shades of movement, without even realising it. Maybe we never completely flex our shoulder anymore; maybe we never turn our head 90 degrees to the left, maybe we never externally rotate our right leg. We probably used to be able to do these things, at least when we were a child, but gradually we have seized up in certain places, some muscles have become too tight whilst others are a bit weak and underused.

In fast moving exercise we don’t have a chance to notice these restrictions; we might even be under the impression that we are, say, fully flexing our shoulder when if we watched ourselves in a mirror we would notice that we only get to about 160 degrees, and that our arm is pulling out to the side a bit as well. When we are moving fast our sense of proprioception (which gives us our knowledge of where various parts of our body are in relation to each other) is not so accurate. Also, if we do try to push through the restriction with a fast movement, we will probably injure ourselves; our body is avoiding a certain movement or position for a reason, after all.

Slow movement, however, gives us a precious opportunity to explore our range of movement, to become aware of these areas of restriction, even subtle restrictions, and work on them. When moving slowly, we are much better equipped to exert the appropriate level of force, enough to push a little further into the restriction but not enough to sprain a ligament or strain a muscle or tendon. We can gradually restore our range of movement without injuring ourselves. Moving slowly we can feel where the restriction lies and gradually open it up.

This is perhaps particularly important as we get older. It is shocking how much movement many people lose as they move through middle age and beyond, but it does not have to be that way. Slow, deliberate movement is the way to maintain and even enhance our range of movement as the years pass. The Chinese have a saying about a door hinge not rusting if the door is repeatedly opened and closed, which is taken to mean that if we keep putting our joints through their natural movements, they will not seize up. We can do this most efficiently by moving slowly and mindfully, exploring any restrictions and gently working on them.

Moving slowly, then, gives us a precious learning opportunity; we can get to know our body quite intimately, a whole lot more intimately than we do with faster movement. As well as being quite useful, moving slowly is also surprisingly satisfying. The human body is really a rather amazing thing. Even what seems like the simple act of flexing the shoulder is a minor miracle of bio-mechanics and co-ordination. The enhanced sensitivity of slow movement can also make it intensely pleasurable.

This brings us to the more psychological (or we might even say spiritual) benefits to slow deliberate movement. I sometimes even notice this when doing something as simple as walking to the shops. Like many of us, I am habituated to being in something of a hurry, and so will probably walk relatively quickly even when there is no reason to rush (or rather, not many reasons to rush!). However, occasionally I wake up to the fact that I am hurrying for no real reason, and slow down.  Suddenly a whole new world opens up to me, a world I take for granted. This is the world of the sky above me and the solid earth beneath my feet; the world of the wind in my hair (and maybe even the rain on my face!) It is the world of my body moving, muscles tensing and relaxing in marvellous harmony with each other. Suddenly I am not walking to the shops; I am walking the earth, as my ancestors have done for millennia, a minor miracle of the evolutionary process. This might just be an occasional experience, depending on my remembering not to be in such a hurry, but with a regular practice of Tai Chi or Chi Kung, it becomes a gateway to a wholly different, and more satisfying, way of being.

Slow, deliberate exercise opens up this kind of experience for us. The adrenalin rush of fast intense exercise is pleasurable, but if we don’t do any slow movement exercise we are missing out on a more deeply rewarding kind of joy.

If you would like further information about learning the ancient arts of Tai Chi and Chi Kung, either to improve your health, enhance your sport or simply to combat stress, please visit www.lifestyles-hma.co.uk.