Village Training

Our class gasped and then clapped after a stunning movement demonstration of a sequence Grandmaster Chen Xiao Xing was teaching us. He graciously acknowledged our accolades and then through his translator said,“My demonstration does you no good!”  We all laughed, knowing what he meant as he playfully waved us back to our lines on the floor and said, “practice.” We searched for the flows within ourselves and Grandmaster moved through the room like a tiger moves, attentively observing our patterns, softly adjusting a weight shift, an arm position. We repeated sequences in this way for hours at a time: Master Chen demonstrating, us observing him carefully and then looking for the movements in our own bodies, receiving gentle corrections along the way. Outside the traffic was noisy, but inside the dojo was quiet, save for our slow breathing and the ceiling water pipe dripping condensation onto the floor. We were soaked too, both dojo and practitioners sweating. By this time most of us were several days into our training with Grandmaster, each passing hour finding us deeper into our breath, our legs and our courage. We call this style of training “Village Training.” A term not simply used for marketing purposes; this is exactly how Taijiquan is taught and practiced in the Chen Village since its inception. Even after all the research about learning methods modern science has discovered, Village Training is still the most useful, successful and durable over time.  

The workshop, as with all trainings with Grandmaster Chen, was a huge success.  They are fun but not easy. The pragmatic elements of Taijiquan seem innocuous: settle the hips back and soften the knees, keep an upright posture, breath abdominally, pay attention to your feet and to your weight.  Move from your waist. Relax. Yet when we spend hour after hour, day after day returning ourselves to this simplicity, it is deeply challenging. We subject our bodies, minds and egos to re-evaluation. People who have not had this type of an experience wonder why we spend good money, take time off of work and family for these workshops. Yet we who know the experience know exactly why we do. There is little else that this quickly allows us to leave the divisions our mind and modern society create within our body. There is little else that this directly gives us insight into our selves and a clear method for balance and growth. There is nothing like it.  And so it draws us back year after year.

A week or so after the workshop I visited the Apple Store at the U-Village in Seattle, a trip I normally enjoy, however this time I became immediately uncomfortable.  As I was shopping I checked in to my body to see if I could identify the discomfort. I looked around and saw a rainbow of Patagonia puff coats, mine included, weaving through isles looking at the tables hosting myriad devices: macro, mini, micro-mini. Arms extended from each coat sleeve looking, playing, assessing and then finally, reaching into a wallet, pulling out a card and charging to it a new device.  I realized I looked just like that too and in a way it shocked me.  The Village Training feeling was still in my body and realizing that, I felt very out of sync with my present moment in that busy store. “Your computer, now 5 years old, will officially be vintage next year,” the sales rep said to me, “it could crash anytime!” Her words reached in and hooked the exact part of my mind that is tethered to my wallet. I tried to listen to her logic but the word vintage kept bouncing between the context of my five-year-old computer living on my desk and that of the rich organic Taijiquan flows living in my body. “Thanks so much,” I politely said, “I’m not ready just yet.”

Later I realized the discomfort I was feeling was that of being hurled out of the Village and into the reality of our culture at this time. Five years is vintage? And this is somehow really, really bad? I left feeling it wasn’t just my computer that might crash any minute but my entire life too! I was reminded how in such an alarmingly accelerated way we have so clearly diminished the value of Time. We chase the new, over and over and have become incredibily out of sync with our natural rhythms doing it. Taijiquan and Qigong practice in a very real way brings me face to face with this issue more often than I want, within myself, my culture and even within my own art. Taijiquan is becoming popular and most think its pretty cool when they first hear about it, like a new device and, honestly, the advertising and marketing about our art doesn't help.  Short forms, sold to be “learned quickly,” are becoming the norm. People acquaint themselves with them for a few weeks, “learn” them (and even teach them) and then move on to the next cool thing. These forms and this approach meets the expectations of our culture as it is evolving. It is not easy or profitable to uphold a tradition that develops skill over time in an environment that does not value time.

My own practice and my practice of teaching always deepens after Village Training. I learn more, my students learn more so there are more places to dive in. Thankfully I am further reminded of the old traditions, the ones that are truly sustainable.  Most importantly I am reminded how much I value this. I go to great lengths to live a life that serves this core value. My practice is not my hobby. It is not something that I move on from. It is how I choose to spend my time, it is with whom I choose to spend my time, it is what I invest in. My practice is the lens through which I see and study life and if my practice fails on any given day, there is no replacing it with another one, there is just getting up and practicing again.  “Feel your feet,” I started class later that day, relieved to be in my quiet training hall and grateful to be among people who value, as I do, this tradition.