Indeed, none of the internal arts has free sparring, which is a type of competitive fighting and which is avoided in learning the internal arts. Rather, we box mainly with ourselves, and by learning the skill there is no need to contest it. George Mallory, who died on Mount Everest in 1924, once explained why men climbed mountains ("Because they are there") by asking, "Whom have we conquered?" and answering, "None but ourselves." Internal boxing is essentially a method of transforming the self. The traditional Doctrine of Three Layers (San-ts'eng t'ao-li) discusses this process of change in terms of Taoist philosophy, wherein it is thought that one's original state (hsu, or emptiness) is filled by a seed-essence (ching) at birth, and that this life essence is so transformed into intrinsic energy (ch'i) and further into vital spirit (shen) through practice that one returns to the original state of emptiness (hsu). It advises the student to change essence into ch'i, ch'i into spirit, and then to restore to spirit the original emptiness. Put simply, the boxing is at once the tool and the product of this creative process. Because it is creative, it cannot lead to destruction. True enough, the old masters met challenges. But more often than not they sent the challenger away a friend—happy because he had been soundly defeated, educated but not seriously hurt.
The most famous such match reportedly occurred in Peking between Kuo Yun-shen, the famed Hsing-i adept known as "the Divine Crushing Fist," and Tung Hai-ch'uan, the modern father of Pa-kua. Kuo tried unsuccessfully for two days to dent Tung's defense and on the third day was completely defeated by the Pa-kua master. The two became lifelong friends; indeed, so impressed were they with the art of the other that they signed a pact requiring students of each discipline to cross-train in the other. Thus, to this day, the systems are coupled, complementary, and taught together. In fact, the principles cited for Hsing-i in this book are equally applicable to Pa-kua.
Done correctly, Hsing-i strikes are extremely dangerous. That is why there is no sparring: if the punches are pulled or muted in any way, they are not Hsing-i. Thus, Western boxing and karaté cannot help the Hsing-i boxer to sharpen his skills. In this respect, Hsing-i is similar to the ancient forms of some Japanese martial arts, which have remained the same over the centuries because of their difficulty and intrinsically dangerous natures. If regulated, restricted, and made sportive, such arts, including Hsing-i and Pa-kua, lose their essence.
Hsing-i nonetheless proved its worth in regulated Chinese national boxing tournaments: its exponents led the winners of the tournaments held in Nanking (1928), Shanghai (1929), Hangchou (1929), and again in Nanking (1933). The most successful provincial competitions were conducted in Honan province by Ch'en P'an-ling, whose method we teach here.
Being a form of meditation, Hsing-i requires strong dedication to regular practice in a quiet place (Fig. 2). You must create for yourself a routine based on a quiet attentiveness, which may at first bore you. Ultimate skill comes from this quiet as much as from the physiological and psychological aspects of the exercise itself. When the silence releases its energy, a quiet mind is produced and your whole being becomes more active.
A system relying totally on body mechanics remains at the level of calisthenics and rudimentary fighting, Hsing-i trains the mind even more than it does the body. The mind wills and the body responds. There is a kind of reciprocity at work, for as the body is exercised dynamically and internally it returns health benefits to both itself and the mind. And the process continues, the mind being the master.
Springing from Taoist and Buddhist techniques, Hsing-i is cooperative, not competitive; it emphasizes being and becoming rather than thinking and doing. But it requires discipline and much hard work. Because Hsing-i gets little media reinforcement, you must motivate and sustain yourself. Progress will be slower than in the external arts, but since the skill you achieve comes from your mind and your internal organs, it will be deeper and will last longer.
HISTORY AND MASTERS
Traditionally, it is taught that Hsing-i was created by a general of the Northern Sung dynasty (960-1 127) named Yueh Fei; and some even credit its genesis to Bodhidharma, the monk who brought Zen from India to China in the sixth century—neither of these claims can be substantiated. Both are the stuff of legend.
What is known with certainty is that a man named Chi Lung-feng is the earliest recorded father of the art, but we know very little about him save that he was from Shanghai, excelled in spear-play, and learned .Hsing-i in the Chung-nan mountains of Shansi province between 1637 and 1662 from a Taoist hermit. Chi's top two students, Ts'ao Chi-wu of Shansi and Ma Hsueh-li of Honan, spread the art to others through whom the teachings have come down to the present in two lines of unbroken succession. Honan, Hopei, and Shansi supplied most of the great teachers, among whom were: Li Neng-jan, Sung Shih-jung, Chang Chih-ch'eng, Ch'e I-chai, Kuo Yun-shen, Li Cheng, Li Ts'un-i, Shang Yun-hsiang, Wang Hsiang-chai, Sun Lu-t'ang, Ch'en P'an-ling, Chang Chun-feng, and Wang Shu-chin (Table 1). Ch'en P'an-ling studied the orthodox Hsing-i system taught in this book directly from the great Li Ts'un-i.
Footnote
1 These internal fighting systems differ from the Shaolin and other external traditions in that they depend upon the practitioner's ability to cultivate and use ch'i rather than only outer muscular strength. Internal masters develop and use the sinews, ligaments, and tendons, whereas external masters concentrate on the larger outer musculature.
2
Theories Behind the Art
BREATHING AND BODY
Correct breathing uses the diaphragm, a large muscle that stretches from the lumbar spine to the rib cage, separating the heart-lung area from the digestive organs. Abdominal breathing articulates the intercostal muscles and ribs and efficiently positions the shoulder blades and clavicles, thus assisting coordination of the upper torso and supporting the head and arms. All movements are coordinated with the breathing, achieving, as master Sung Shih-jung wrote, "full calmness, full regulation of breathing, and full coordination of the body." Initially, breathe naturally without thinking of inhalation and exhalation. Breathe only through your nostrils, filling your belly. Keep your tongue on the roof of your mouth, your lips relaxed. Later, pay attention to your inhalation, sinking the ch'i (intrinsic energy) to your tan-t'ien (the psychic center just below the navel). Specifically, when practicing the forms, you should exhale through the nostrils as you apply the movement, but simultaneously, sink a part of the breath down to the tan-t'ien. If you reach the top level of the art, you will not be conscious of breathing. As master Kuo Yun-shen wrote: "There is no sound, no smell, and everything is empty."
Hsing-i enlivens your muscles by expansion and contraction, strengthens the ligaments and tendons, eases the circulation of both the blood and ch'i, and produces rapid, effortless movement. The muscles and sinews are made more elastic and lively while being strengthened in a process similar to that of the refining of raw iron into steel. Open your body: become familiar with the pull of gravity and with a precise, straight posture. Relax your shoulders: become aware of the position of the shoulder blades. Bend your legs: become aware of the way you hold the pelvis. Hold your neck straight: keep the head erect, as though it were being pulled up with a string, and look directly ahead. Relax your buttocks, holding the sacrum naturally straight.
These training principles bearing on the muscles are important, but if you pay attention only to the external musculature, the blood and ch'i will not be able to circulate freely—and ch'i is the foundation of the art. It must be sunk to the tan-t'ien, whence it circulates throughout the body. The ancients said that