The Weakest Of All The Predators.

In my early kung-fu training, I studied a village style of praying mantis kung-fu, emphasizing deep horse stances, tremendous kicks, and very little actual, ‘mantis’, techniques (at least in the fundamental aspects of the system). My teacher emphasized the basics, foundation training, and no nonsense, hardcore conditioning. Although the actual usage of the famed, ‘mantis hook’ (the hand formation that is unique to, and instantly identifies, the Northern Praying Mantis systems), was very rarely seen in the foundation forms and basic training I encountered during my practice. However, when we practiced combat, my teacher would always expound the fundamentals of the Praying Mantis system, saying, ‘A mantis fighter does this…’, and, ‘In praying mantis, we do this…’ and so forth. While the forms I learned appeared to not have any obvious, ‘mantis’, hand techniques, they were, in fact, there, but hidden. I would always ask my teacher, ‘when do we learn mantis? Where are the mantis techniques?’, he would always tell me that the mantis is there, it’s just that it is hidden, you need only apply the techniques as they are performed under the principles of the mantis systems, and not as they are seen in the form. In many traditional systems, the techniques are aesthetically hidden to protect the secrets of the style, and so that the non practitioner cannot identify the actual usage of a technique by just casual observation, and potentially, use it against them. I would always come away from my questioning filled with frustration, wondering when we were going to do the flashy mantis moves that I had seen in countless kung-fu movies, and demonstrations over the years. In time, I learned to stop asking questions (as it is rude for a student to ask questions that venture outside the realm of technical application, and as my first teacher had a very bad temper and would sometimes punish me with painful conditioning exercises, beatings, and sometimes not speak to me for weeks at a time after wards) and just practice what I was taught, waiting patiently for the mantis renaissance to bloom. I was, after years of training, finally able to apply several mantis techniques with great skill and accuracy during combat, and in essence, learned more mantis than I had thought I had, but I was still not satisfied, and in my mind, felt as if I was anything but, a mantis fighter.

Years later, I encountered the Seven Star Praying Mantis system, a cousin of my original style, and was finally exposed to the elusive, ‘mantis’, as I had imagined it. While the mantis ‘hooks’ were slightly different than what I had encountered (My original style’s mantis hook being formed with looser fingers, and more extended index and middle fingers, while the seven star hooks are formed with only the index being slightly exposed with the thumb pressing into the middle of the index, in comparison) the mantis was, aesthetically, ‘there’, in an obvious sense of things. When someone performs a seven star form, a casual observer can immediately identify that the practitioner is, indeed, performing, ‘mantis’. The seven star style is much more, ‘systemized’, than a lot of other northern mantis systems, in that they have an essential set of training drills, standardized fundamental forms, partner drills, and less, ‘hidden’, performance aspects. I took to it quickly, and thoroughly enjoyed the obviousness of the, ‘mantis’, performance elements. Every attack was matched with a stance, one step, one hit, making it a very direct, masterfully coordinated, ‘one hit finish’, combat system. The footwork is very linear, most sets being performed in a straight line, back and forth several times, as opposed to some styles that have footwork that travels in many different directions. It should be noted, that a true northern mantis fighter, regardless of the style, would rarely attack a foe head on, preferring to attack at 45 degree angles, from the side, or while retreating, or advancing, unpredictably. My personal combat experience consists of, primarily, fights in bars, the street, alleyways, and executive protection settings, usually fighting single, hyper aggressive opponents, or groups of attackers, with very little space. While I enjoyed the seven star system in many different ways, I knew that straight line footwork, ‘one hit finish’, techniques, would not be realistic, or serve me well in a real life street encounter (I should note that this is only how the forms are demonstrated and not how the actual application is used. It would be ridiculous to say that seven star fighters only attack in ‘one’s’ and never in combination.) Real life street encounters required me to be able to launch a barrage of attacks at very high speed, and be able to change directions instantaneously. While I found the seven star system invaluable, and regard it as one of the greatest systems in use today, at the time, I was unable to, ‘see’, the true combat elements that I sought after.

I studied the seven star system for a year or two, but didn’t get into the higher levels of the style. Again, I was frustrated with my search for the elusive mantis I had been hunting for so many years, and practiced what I could. While I practiced several other styles, primarily softer systems like tai chi, ba gua, qi gong, even a little hsing yi, I still longed for the mysterious predatory insect combat methods, and kept it on the back burner while I focused on other disciplines. Finally, after several different styles and teachers, I decided to give my hunt one last go, and find another mantis teacher. At this time, I had relocated to San Francisco, from China, and sought out the Tai Chi Plum Flower Praying Mantis style, taught by Master Chin at Fort Mason. I dug up his email address on several different websites, verified it was correct, sent him an email, and waited… He responded fairly quickly, letting me know that he was, indeed, the mantis man, and that he also taught the Northern Shaolin system (if I was interested). I replied and let him know, that I had greater desires than just regular practice, and that I wished to become an instructor of his particular system of mantis combat. He let me know that it was possible, and would take me a few years to learn the required curriculum that was required to be bestowed with the honor of the title of, ‘teacher’. I was ecstatic, to say the least, and moved the mantis pot to the front burner once again. I rallied two of my kung-fu brothers, who I had taught some white eyebrow kung-fu, to come with me, and went down to Fort Mason for our first encounter with master Chin.

The class was made up of older Chinese men, in their 50’s and 60’s, and two younger Chinese youths in their teens. Everyone was friendly, and seemed to have their own agendas as far as practice went, it being more of a ‘club’ than a formal ‘class’ setting. Master Chin was humble, and refused to let us call him, ‘Master’, or, ‘Sifu’, even though he is one of the highest level practitioners of anyone alive today (in my opinion at least), insisting that we call him, ‘Arthur’, and not otherwise. We respectfully complied, even though my traditional kung-fu values were screaming at me to call him, ‘Sifu’, they were overridden by his request to be, ‘informal’. The first thing he asked me was if I had any previous experience, and in particular, mantis experience. I said yes, but very little, and only on a very basic, fundamental sense, if even that. I knew what he was going to ask next, and in lieu of it, I had prepared by brushing up on the mantis that I had learned previously, fine tuning the most common and universal mantis set (there being 3 original core mantis forms that all northern systems have), known as, ‘beng bu’, or, ‘crushed step boxing’ (‘beng bu’ being the first of the three, followed by, ‘eight elbows’, and, ‘chaotic intercepting boxing’). I took a deep breath, relaxed, and then vigorously launched into the seven star mantis version of beng bu, making sure to stomp my feet twice as hard as usual, when required, add as much extra, ‘snap’, and, ‘whip’, to my techniques, and projecting true martial intent that I seldom revealed outside of a real life combat encounter, or during a performance such as this one. Master Chin smiled and nodded, saying, ‘Oh! So you already know kung-fu! I don’t have to teach you the basics, you have them already…’ I was honored, and taken aback, at the same time. In my mind, I will never be able to escape the idea of being an eternal student, and starting each and every day as an absolute beginner (nor would I want to!).

I should note, that in the traditional kung-fu world, you never ever ask your teacher, your kung-fu uncles or aunts, or even your older kung-fu brothers, or sisters, to perform anything. It is rude, crass, and ultimately, very disrespectful. You would never stand up on the middle of a college lecture and demand the professor to demonstrate something off the cuff. You would be expelled from the class, and justly so. The same applies to the traditional kung-fu world, but to an even more extreme degree. Master Chin, in his casual mentality, will perform any set you ask him to, and happily so. This was something I had never encountered before in my entire martial career, and I was pleasantly surprised. Master Chin powerfully executed his version of the seven star beng bu form (as there are several branches within the seven star family) and then went right into the Tai Chi Plum Flower Praying Mantis version of beng bu, something I had never seen before. Immediately, I noticed that the system utilized rapid fire combinations of techniques in a single stance, and heavily displayed the famous mantis ‘hook’ hand that identified it as a true mantis system. I also noticed that it had very dynamic stance work, and heavily favored knees, elbows and quick, deceptive leaps, known as, ‘monkey footwork’. The form did not adhere to the standard ‘straight line’ footwork patterns that almost all northern systems, mantis or not, usually conformed to, and in fact, attacked from all angles, and masterfully so. I immediately fell in love with the style, and became instantly infatuated with the ideas and concepts that it seemed to contain (even at a glance). This was the master I had been searching for after all this time, there was no questioning it. My brothers and I followed Master Chin’s lead and absorbed what he had to teach us. After some basic stance work, a monkey footwork exercise, and dynamic tension drills, Master Chin dealt us the first few motions of the beng bu form. We quietly practiced the motions he taught us, ingraining them into our subconscious until he came and asked us if we wanted to learn applications. We, of course, happily accepted his offer. While forms are an important aspect of any system, they are just the ‘skin’ of a style, the applications being the ‘meat and bones’.

Let me make another note, even though I have touched upon this before in previous essays, that most Chinese martial arts schools have strongly veered away from hardcore application, it being rare to find anyone who will put the essence of hardcore combat at the forefront, most schools leaning heavily towards the performance aspects of their systems. Master Chin’s expertise lies in locking, breaking, snapping and dislocating the various joints, bones and sockets of the human anatomy. While I had a crude, rudimentary understanding of locking and breaking the joints, I had never encountered someone who had such a vast and extensive knowledge of this particular discipline. He taught us a shoulder dislocating technique, its counter/reversal, and how to apply it with ruthless efficiency. We were aw struck, and completely enamored with master Chin’s genius understanding of the Chinese martial arts. We told him we would be back the next week, and every week to follow for the rest of his life.

Let’s flash forward to a year later, all of us still under his expert tutelage, and now, deep into the Tai Chi Mantis system he so generously handed us. By now, I had personally accumulated five hand forms, including the three essential, core mantis sets, as well as a rare sword and scabbard form, not to mention his elaborate freestyle method of locking and breaking the joints. Aside from our Monday night classes at Fort Mason, we had been blessed with weekly supplementary lessons taught in his backyard, an honor unto its self. My mantis had finally come to the forefront, superseded my previous martial education, and enveloped my entire martial practice. Master Chin invited me to exchange with himself, a few of his kung-fu brothers (my kung-fu uncles) and his mantis teacher/kung-fu brother, William Fong, an 8th generation mantis practitioner that had trained directly under the great grandmaster himself, Chiu Chuk Kai (Zhao Zhu Xi, in Mandarin), the founder of this particular style of praying mantis. While I was as nervous as I had even been, I was more than excited with the idea of meeting a living legend, and true, ‘hidden dragon’. Master Chin, while a long time top exponent of the Northern Shaolin system for nearly 45 years, under the instruction of the legendary, Wong Jack Man, had learned mantis from Master Fong while working alongside of him during his career as a pharmacist. Due to both of their previous experiences in different systems, they were more, ‘mutual exchange partners’, than, ‘master and student’, like Master Chin and I were. After a year of hearing about master Fong’s expertise and comprehensive understanding of the Tai Chi Mantis system, I was finally going to meet him.

Master Chin, one of his kung-fu brothers, one of my kung-fu brothers, and I, went down to Milbrae by car to another old school mantis practitioner’s house in the suburbs. Master Chin is a long time sword collector, and had an arsenal of various blades in his trunk, some of them dating back to 2,200 years (warring states period), and brought them out for his brothers, and associates, to examine. After an hour or so, Master Fong arrived. He was how I imagined, but more stylish and modern (as all of the photos I had seen of him were from the late 70’s), having a thin frame, like many hardcore mantis practitioners, and unusually strong grip, a sure sign of a locking expert. He was humble, polite, and immediately directed his attention to the priceless weapons my Sifu had brought. He was able to discern the time period of each blade instantly, knew exactly how each blade was fashioned, and exactly how it was used. On two occasions, he stepped away from the group and deftly carved the sword through the air with an unexpected level of skill I had seen only a few other times during my life (Master Chin being one of the other sword masters I was lucky enough to witness demonstrating such astounding skill). Finally, after a half an hour or so of sword discussion, my master came to me and suggested I ask Sifu Fong any questions I may have about the mantis system we all practiced. As nervous as I was, I swallowed my fear, and asked him the questions that stood out the most in my mind.

“Can you please explain the twelve principles of mantis, as dictated by the sonnet established by the founder of the Northern Mantis systems, Wang Lang?”

Master Fong first, and foremost, made it point to note that principles are just ideas, and if you got stuck trying to memorize and adhere to strict rules and concepts, regardless of the style, you would lose the essence of true pugilism. While the ideas and concepts are important, as far as a base combat system is concerned, you should let go of them, as in the end, they are not important as far as real life combat is concerned. A true mantis fighter should rely on one thing, that one thing being, ‘change’, and, ‘adaptability’. The one essential truth, as far as any system of combat is concerned, is, ultimately, that, ‘nothing is guaranteed’. If you rely on any one thing, especially a set of principles and ideas, during combat, you were indeed, hindering yourself in the long, and short, run of things. He explained that you should train in as many different spectrums of the system as you possibly could, as no one fight was ever the same. You must never rely on just one aspect (i.e: striking, throwing, locking etc.) of training, and diversify your combat training as much as possible. At the same time, he emphasized that in the end, you should chose something you like, and specialize in it (iron robe, iron palm, locking, striking, weapons, etc.). He told me that during his earlier years, he focused on doing as much damage as possible in the shortest amount of time. After he studied acupuncture/acupressure, his focus changed to that of locking and breaking, not wanting to do so much damage, but rather, lock, incapacitate and escape his opponents, instead of inflicting devastating, potentially lethal, damage. Learn from the principles, understand them, and then let them go. Do not let the ideas dictate the true reality of combat, which has no set of rules whatsoever, but rather, adapting and changing as needed.

I then asked him about the psychology of the mantis fighter, and what was required of the mind to truly execute the key elements of this devastating system. Master Fong made a point to mention that there tended to be a distinct difference between mantis fighters, in several different ways, in comparison to other kung-fu stylists. Mantis fighters, in general, tend to be physically weaker than a lot of other kung-fu exponents, and were not people who advertised the fact that they were hardcore practitioners of their system. This led him to another point about the actual insect its self. While the praying mantis is a devastating predator, unrivaled by any other insect, even those twice its size, it was indeed, a tiny bug that could be crushed by a child’s thumb. That being said, master Fong explained that the mantis excelled in fighting opponents with much greater strength, and relied on a sophisticated method of strange and complex fighting techniques that made it possible to overcome almost any opponent. He said that the grandmaster chose this insect above all other predator animal styles, understanding and utilizing its ferocious techniques with masterful and flawless precision. While the mantis is tiny, and ultimately, and insect, it is indeed, a predator. It relies on offense over defense, and will try to finish its opponent as quickly, and efficiently, as possible. A lot of modern day teachers expound upon their students that one should never attack first, and should always avoid combat, if possible. While this is true, it is not the ultimate reality of a predator. If one is being accosted, one should attack first, not allowing your attacker to have the upper hand, using the elements of surprise and deception, instead of defensive techniques and evasion. If you have incapacitated your attacker, what need is there to defend or evade? Strike first, strike quickly, and without mercy.

I then asked master Fong about his actual experiences training with the Grandmaster himself during the late 70’s in Hong Kong, and his own personal, pre-mantis kung-fu training.

Master Fong told me that his foundation style was Hung Gar, also known as the, ‘Tiger and Crane’, system. He learned this style from the legendary Wong Hoi (student of Lam Sai Wing), and from Wong Fei Hung’s wife, Mok Gwai Lan. He expressed that this system was superb as a foundational style, giving him what he needed to excel in his practice during his later years. After this system, he studied seven star praying mantis, giving him an introduction into the strange, yet highly potent, world of mantis combat. After studying the seven star style, he continued his mantis education with the great grandmaster himself, Chiu Chuk Kai, in Hong Kong, from the age 19, until he was 21.

I asked him what were grandmaster Chiu’s classes like, what did they practice, and what was the great grandmaster’s emphasis, as far as kung-fu was concerned?

Master Fong happily told us what the grandmaster’s classes were like. He said that there were a set of standard exercises that they had to perform before anything else happened, then grandmaster would have them practice a particular drill or technique with a partner for an hour, until finally, at the end of class, everyone would have to demonstrate a form or technique upon his request. He noted that grandmaster Chiu would ask them to perform many different things they had been taught, and if they had forgotten anything, they would not learn anything new until they had mastered what they already knew. This kept all of the students sharp, prepared, and on their toes. There was no room to forget or brush over anything casually, you had to know what you knew, and know it well. As far as the grandmaster’s personal skill level was concerned, Master Fong told me that his method of motion was very deceptive, appearing to kick you from one direction, and then, somehow, landing the kick from an entirely different angle altogether. Master Fong said that the grandmaster’s understanding of centrifugal force was astounding, and that he was able to throw anyone in any direction he desired at any velocity. The grandmaster’s original training was in a northern long fist system (Tai Zu Men, in Mandarin) that had no forms to speak of, only hardcore combat techniques and real life applications. As well as this system, he was also a master of archery (as well as mounted archery), a skilled equestrian, and versatile in many other combat, and non-combat, disciplines.

Master Fong made an important note about Grandmaster Chiu’s mantis system, in that it is totally unlike a lot of other mantis disciplines. The grandmaster took influences from several other styles, and integrated them into the foundational aspects of the style. He added a wooden dummy form (a wooden post with three wooden arms, and a wooden leg), several internal forms, and borrowed heavily from his foundation system, Tai Zu Men (great emperor/ancestor style). While the style is called, ‘Tai Chi Praying Mantis’, is, in fact, not a system of tai chi, in this instance, ‘tai chi’, meaning, ‘grand ultimate’. Amongst non-tai chi praying mantis systems, is simply referred to as, ‘Plum Flower Praying Mantis’. ‘Tai Chi’ Plum Flower Praying Mantis, is usually a term used amongst other mantis fighters, and often called, ‘Tai Mantis’, for brevity’s sake. While there are other variations of Plum Flower Praying Mantis, grandmaster Chiu’s is a hybrid of its original design due to the modifications, and adaptations, he implemented on his own accord. While it remains, ultimately, a true, ‘mantis’, system, it is not a, ‘traditional’, plum flower mantis system, technically speaking.

Master Fong then further continued his explanation of combat, mantis principles, and kung-fu as a whole, in greater detail. He made an interesting note about fighting at night, suggesting that you should try and make sure there is a light source behind you, as their shadow will appear before they are in range, and that having a light behind you can distort an attacker’s vision and drastically alter their depth perception (due to the fact that you will be heavily shadowed when viewed from the front). While many of my fights had been at night, I had never thought to try and make this a factor, but most certainly would, the next time I did have to engage in combat. Along the same lines of strategy, he said to go for your assailant’s eyes, disruption their vision and making it easier to attack, defend, or evade, if necessary. He noted that in the old days, many kung-fu practitioners were required to learn Chinese medicine in order to fully understand how the human body worked, how it could be taken apart, and if you were injured, how to fix it. With this knowledge, one was able to quickly destroy, and dismantle, someone with a minimum amount of force and effort, while dealing out the maximum amount of damage. One’s training was base, and limited, if the academic elements were not embraced. The practice of form, and aesthetic elements, was last on the scale of importance, and relevancy, as far as the greater picture was concerned, while today, it is almost exactly the opposite.

Master Fong made an interesting note on kung-fu in general, saying that within every system there is soft, and hard, and that no system is purely hard or soft on its own. Many people mistake, ‘stiff’, for hard, and, ‘weak’, for soft. This is a misconception, as it is merely two different kinds of energy, being neither a state of total relaxation, or total stiffness. One of the profound lessons he passed on to us, was this: ‘Making friends is a survival skill. If you want to destroy your enemies, make friends with them’.

Finally, Master Fong demonstrated some of his famed locking and seizing techniques on me. I was amazed at how accurate, powerful, and efficient his technique was. The next day my muscles were still sore where he had applied his techniques. When I first met him, and shook his hand, I immediately knew that if he decided to grab me, there would be no escape. He was able to explain everything I asked, as far as application, philosophy, and culture went, and even elaborated beyond the spectrum of what I could have even imagined. While I was an experienced street (and bare knuckle) fighter, there was no doubt in my mind that Master Fong would totally destroy me in a real life confrontation. While the praying mantis is tiny and weak compared to the tiger, its power is hidden, devastating, and elusive. Just as Master Fong remains a quiet, humble, soft spoken man, with a thin frame, he conceals his true ferocity and lethality, not revealing it until it is absolutely necessary. Just to have met him, was an honor unto its self, but to be able to question him freely, and actually exchange technique was beyond anything I could have ever dreamed of. Like my Sifu, Master Chin, William Fong is a true practicing master that epitomizes the essence of the saying, ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’, or, ‘One who does not show his or her power or skill, patiently keeping it hidden until the very last moment, when their true nature is revealed’.

Meeting the Dragons.

The next day, Master Chin, and I, made our way down to Campbell, about 45 minutes south of San Francisco, to meet with another well known master, Sifu Paul Eng (or, ‘Ng’, as it is sometimes spelled), a man who’s books about mantis I had been reading since I was 11, and another prominent master from New York. I had been to Master Eng’s school once before, having met him briefly, but it was well over two years ago, and I was sure he wouldn’t remember me. Master Eng is well known for his experience, and skill, in both seven star praying mantis, and tai chi praying mantis, being one of the foremost exponents of the style in the United States today. Master Ng’s school was a storage space that had been cleverly converted into a kung-fu school, complete with an office, a bathroom, and a barbeque grill. The school was a kung-fu teacher’s dream: large space, high ceilings (anyone who has tried to perform any weapon other than a dagger form, can tell you this is a luxury), at least five of every weapon, some well placed calligraphy, and two mounted wooden dummies (most kung-fu schools are tiny, crowded, and low ceilinged training halls tucked in between a row of storefronts, or nestled in a strip mall). A group of Sifu Eng’s students were already practicing and working up a sweat in the parking lot when we arrived, all of them wearing the same Ta Chi Praying Mantis t-shirts that Master Chin and I wore when we practiced, something I hadn’t encountered in many years. In most traditional schools, there is a standard t-shirt, which aesthetically serves the same purpose as the karate gi (the garment worn by tae kwon do, hapkido, karate, judo, jujitsu, and ninjitsu practitioners) in non Chinese schools, that serves as a uniform, and identifies that practitioner as a student of that particular school. These shirts are not worn outside of class, except while training, and cannot be sold to non-members for any cost. It is symbol of respect, honor, and privilege to be able to wear an established school’s shirt. In fact, wearing another school’s shirt, or uniform, would be grounds for expulsion, and deservedly so.

Everyone was very happy to see my Sifu, warmly greeting both he, and I, with open arms, the classic, ‘ming’, kung-fu hand salute (the left palm pressed on top of the right fist held up at chest level), and endless smiles. I saw master Eng in the background patiently watching his students practice with his hands behind his back. The first thing about master Eng that I noticed was that he had aged considerably since he had published his books. I knew him as a youthful, black haired man in small black and white photos wearing a traditional, black Chinese frog button uniform, not as an older grey haired man wearing a fleece vest. But it was still him. It was the man who had originally sparked my interest in the mantis systems, with his landmark books on the subject, without ever knowing how profound of an influence he had had on me for so many years. There was a powerful, stoic air about him, complimented by humility, kindness and respect. It was hard to believe he was really standing in front of me. Master Chin introduced me to Master Eng with a smile. I felt as giddy as a child at Christmas upon meeting him, using all of the strength that I had to refrain from gushing my respects and how honored I was to meet him.

“Nice to meet you, I’ve read all of your books, since I was a kid. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” I said bowing my head, bending my knees, and saluting him in the traditional manner before finally shaking his hand.

He beamed a giant smile at me and ducked his head down, waving his hand at me, humbly dismissing my courtesy.

“No, no, no, no!” He exclaimed, laughing.

He was so humble that he could barely accept my respects, patting me on the back and shaking my hand with his claw like fingers. I wasn’t completely surprised to find that he was so reserved, for all of the mantis masters I had met in San Francisco were exactly the same: humble, modest, kind, and tremendously skilled. Master Eng was no exception. After meeting Sifu Eng, Master Chin introduced me to the remaining students, and began to teach one of them a tai chi sword form from the tai chi mantis system, known simply as, ‘Chiu’s sword’. My two kung-fu brothers, who had come along, began to exchange techniques with some of Master Eng’s students while I went and talked with a few of the other masters. One man I met, an elderly Wu style tai chi master from Hong Kong, had the same family name, ‘Yuan’, as I did. In Chinese culture, this is a fairly big deal, there being an expression, ‘100 years ago, we were brothers’. His Mandarin was as poor as mine, but we managed to communicate relatively well, considering. My Mandarin is limited, so our conversation didn’t go much further than where we lived, where we were from, and some basic kung-fu conversation. The rest of the evening I would find master Yuan silently smiling at me from a distance, nodding and smiling at me when he caught my attention. He offered to show me some of the Wu style when I had time, and I happily accepted his offer. The old school kung-fu generation was an invite only crowd, and it was an honor to be offered such a chance.

Master Fong arrived shortly after we did, and we immediately began to speak further on the subject of kung-fu. There happened to be a book in Chinese about the wooden dummy form contained within the tai chi mantis system that grandmaster had created himself after seeing Wing Chun practitioners practice with one. While the book was entirely devoid of English, Master Fong patiently explained endless details, facts, and history that I would have never been able to discover on my own. He seemed to know almost everyone in the book, and he too, was included in the end chapter, complete with a photo of himself with several of his students. I soaked up as much of it as I could before we put the book back and continued our discussion further. Finally, a visiting master, from New York, Master Chuy, who had studied with the grandmaster in Hong Kong, arrived. I had seen him on the internet performing applications, forms, and briefly discussing combat. He had a deep voice, was very quiet, and had the powerful martial presence that seemed to be the norm amongst these men. Again, my Sifu, Master Chin, persuaded me to ask Master Fong more questions about the tai chi mantis system. I went blank, but finally came up with a question that had been at the back of my mind for some time.

“Can you explain the application to the ‘ten successive strikes’ encountered at the beginning of the form, ‘Lan Jeet’ (the highest level hand set in the Northern Mantis systems), please?”

He said it was a question that could take a long time to answer, so instead, he had me demonstrate the first few motions of the form and give my version of what I thought the applications might be. I nervously performed the motions, all of the different master’s eyes upon me, as well as I could without vomiting.

“The first motion is a chin strike, right?” I asked.

“I see it as this.” Master Fong said motioning for me to strike at him.

I carefully launched a punch towards his face, making sure to keep my other hand floating in front of my torso. Master Fong deftly deflected my strike with the same technique I had done, but struck the soft tissue behind my elbow from beneath, instead of the chin, as I had imagined it. It worked perfectly, and the next few motions followed seamlessly.

“Ok, what about this motion?” I said demonstrating the 3rd strike.

He showed me that what I had envisioned as a grab and throat strike, was, by his interpretation, an arm lock that could be followed by a devastating elbow smash into the pectoral muscle, or solar plexus. I was awe struck. The diversity and efficiency of kung-fu had blown my mind for the thousandth time, once again. Master Fong then went on to discuss more about multiple opponents, real life application, and the mentality of being able to adapt to any situation at any time, martial, or otherwise. He then went on to demonstrate some brutally effective arm, wrist, hand, and throat locks, followed by take downs and finishing strikes. I was used to being the class demo dummy, and I always leapt at the opportunity to have a technique demonstrated on me. That’s how you really learned, by having it done to you, not by watching. At one point he struck my trachea, forcing my eyes to water, making my nose run, and almost sending me into a fit of coughing. I treasured these experiences, as they solidified my understanding the true martial applications of the system, regardless of how painful or unpleasant it may be.

At one point, Master Fong began to talk with Master Yuan about his experience with the Hung Gar system, and eventually, decided to perform some its techniques. While I had seen Hung Gar many times before, performed by many different practitioners, some of them good, some of them bad, I was eager to see Master Fong’s interpretation of the system, as he had studied under two different, very important, masters. He took his glasses off, went to an open space, and began to demonstrate the, ‘iron wire’, technique that is synonymous with the style of Hung Gar. While I had felt Master Fong’s applications, power, and skill on my own, I had never seen him actually perform anything. The iron wire technique is a dynamic tension exercise that develops dense muscle tissue, iron like bones, and tendons as strong as a piano string (the term, ‘wire’, meaning, ‘tendon’, in this instance). It was amazing to see this calm, passive gentleman, transform in a powerful, almost frightening performer, who executed the techniques with seemingly superhuman precision, and startling power, the likes of which I had never seen before. We all clapped and cheered after his demonstration. I made it a point to say ‘Your kung-fu is so good!’ in Mandarin, saluting him, and shaking his hand. He responded by saying, ‘No, don’t say that, no’ before bowing his head and turning away. As epic and profound as these masters were, and as much respect as they could command if they so desired, I was still amazed at how unbelievably humble they remained at all times.

After more applications and discussions, we sat down and ate, as it was not only a martial exchange, but a pot-luck barbeque as well. I had a beer instead of eating, as I had finished an 8 hour work day, and ultimately, just wanted to relax at this point. Like a good student, I sat across from my teacher and the other masters while they talked primarily in Cantonese, and tried to pick up as much as I could (having learned very minimal Cantonese 8 or more years ago). Master Fong made it a point to include me in the conversation, and they asked me about some of my real life combat experiences. I happily divulged the details of some of my more recent encounters with great detail while they listened and asked me a few technical questions. One question, brought up by Master Chuy, our guest from New York, was, ‘Have you ever fought a real martial artist on the street?’ It was a perfect question, and one that I could easily answer.

“No, no I haven’t, not ever, most people I fight are highly unskilled, angry, drunk, or in groups. I have never encountered another martial artist on the street, and I doubt (and hope!) I never will.”

They all laughed and agreed. There was no doubt in any of our minds that this was indeed, a nearly absolute truth when it came to the real thing. Unless you are a bouncer, or a criminal, as a martial artist, you pride yourself on not fighting at all. Just like Master Fong said, ‘Destroy your enemies by making friends with them.’ Master Eng, who had remained almost totally silent the entire evening (except for occasionally speaking in Cantonese with the other masters), piped in, ‘Unless you open a school, then people will CHALLENGE YOU!’ raising a finger in the air before bursting into laughter.

“Have you ever been challenged before Sifu?” I respectfully asked Master Eng.

Master Eng just smiled and shook his head, waving his hand at me again like he did when I expressed my respects to him earlier.

“William has!” Master Chin chimed in with a smile.

“Really? Here?” I asked.

“No, not here, in Hong Kong, but… it’s a little bit, ‘complicated’.” He replied.

I respectfully, left it at that. If he wanted to tell me, he would, on his own accord. To ask further would have been very disrespectful.

“It is not how much you learn, or how long, but more about ‘feeling’.” Master Eng said after being almost completely silent the entire evening.

He then performed a common hand technique known as, ‘butterfly palms’ (a technique where you pull an attacker to the side before striking them with both palms), still remaining in his seat.

“With ‘wu dip juerng’ (butterfly palms, in Cantonese), many people do it too stiff, or too soft! They have to find the ‘feeling’! The feeling is the most important, but it can only be learned after many years of practice.” Master Eng said performing the technique in a slow, deliberate manner, and then very quickly, from his seat.

I couldn’t have agreed more.

After we all finished eating, we said our sincere goodbyes, gave our appropriate respects to the masters and students alike, and then went our separate ways. This was my first encounter with these living legends, and I will cherish my time with the ‘Dragons of Mantis’ forever. I can only hope that one day, I too, may be lucky enough to posses even an ounce of their skill, humility, and kindness.

To breathe is to live.

A famous qi-gong master from Taiwan said the following statement:

"A human can survive for weeks, even months without food. Without water, maybe three days, or even a week if they are strong enough, yet, without air? Only a few minutes."

Today, the importance of these three vital elements of life, has been horribly reversed. When people think of health, in general, the first thing they think about is, what kind of food they should eat? Secondly, are they hydrated enough? To this day I have never heard anyone ever say anything to me about the quality or regulation of their air intake. When one reflects on the statement made by the Taiwanese master, this seems ludicrously backwards, and counter productive at that!

To emphasize this even further, I can speak from personal experience. I remember when I returned to smoggy Los Angeles after living in Shanghai, China, for two and a half years, one of the three most polluted cities in the world, and being amazed at how fresh and clean the air was. Shanghai is a rapidly developing and tremendously congested metropolis of 28 million people, and is accordingly polluted as such. There are almost no environmental regulations, and definitely not any sort of mandatory, 'smog check', that we all take for granted in the the United States. As a matter of fact, I got a mild respiratory infection as my lungs adjusted to the remarkably cleaner air of Los Angeles!

Breakfast Of Champions

The first thing most people think about when they wake up is breakfast, and possibly, coffee or tea. If we take the words of the master into consideration, we should think about these things last. When one sleeps, their body is usually still for most of their slumber, allowing putrefactive waste to settle in their stomach. This waste will remain in your stomach until you eat, or drink, something, and will hinder the digestion of whatever you intake. A remedy for this is to drink two glasses of water, dissolving, and washing the waste from your stomach and, 'waking it up', so that you may eat if you so desire.

Rather than eat, one should then engage in the practice of qi-gong, whether it be seated, standing, still, or moving. The water provides movement and energy to your bloodstream, and energizes your cardiovascular system, vastly improving the rewards of proper morning qi-gong exercises. Utilizing your diaphragm to push down on your stomach (a method of breathing, taught in almost every discipline of qi-gong, where one learns how to consciously control the diaphragm just like any other part of the body), and other internal organs, acts as an internal massaging method that helps expel toxic gasses that have become trapped in your intestines. You will be surprised by the amount of belching, and even flatulence, that is exhumed at the early stages of this practice. This is nothing to be ashamed of, and in fact, should be welcomed, as you are cleansing and rehabilitating your body.

Even if you only practice qi-gong, or meditation (which in its self, is a form of qi-gong) for 10-20 minutes, you will feel tremendously energized, clear and even happy, making your breakfast all the more enjoyable and beneficial. This is the true, 'breakfast of champions.'

No Breath, No Life

Only that which does not live, does not breathe, and vice versa. Every single living thing, animal or plant, must breathe to live. Even fire cannot exist without oxygen. I would imagine, being suffocated, asphyxiated, or drowning would probably be one of the most horrible ways to meet one's end. The importance of proper breathing is so important, yet it is not emphasized enough, and sometimes dangerously so. The first rule I implement in my classes (whether it is qi-gong, meditation, kung-fu, or otherwise) is this: 'Breathe in through your nose!'

As simple as this may seem, this is the one phrase I repeat over, and over, and over again. Breathing in through your mouth depletes your oxygen intake by 50 percent, and the quality of the oxygen, unless you have abnormally clean blood, is sub-par to the oxygen processed through nasal inhalation. The habit of oral inhalation during times of exhaustion is the number one reason for fatigue, being light headed, and even lapsing into unconsciousness. One must mentally command ones self to, 'breath in through your nose', no matter how badly you want to suck air in through your much larger oral cavity. Although your falsely programmed mind will beg you to breathe in through your mouth, you must fight this urge. It is a habit, and a bad one, just like smoking. You gain twice as much oxygen when you inhale through your nose, and twice as fast. Your heart rate regulates twice as quickly, as does your ability to process more oxygen.

Take A Deep Breath

Outside of an 'active', or, 'physical', setting, breathing properly, will save you from fits of anger, depression, anxiety and even confusion. There is a lot to be said for the old phrase: 'take a deep breath'

When a human being is upset, sad, or emotionally fueled in any number of ways, their brain immediately begins to consume tremendous amounts of energy. We've all had those moments when someone upsets us, and we immediately retort with something we regret saying later, as we were emotionally charged at the time. When angry, blood rushes to our limbs, while our jaws, neck, and shoulders clench. Veins bulge from our necks and forehead, and heat fills the upper parts of our body. At times we begin to perspire uncontrollably, trembling, or even shaking violently! When sad, disheartened, or low, it seems as if our energy sinks to our feet, or as people commonly say, 'my heart sank to the floor.' Oftentimes people become pale, their head hangs, and their posture suffers. As you can imagine, this is a tremendous way to waste a lot of energy very quickly, and foolishly so.

Why does this happen? This happens because humans will commonly revert to their reptile mind state, i.e: 'flight or fight' when they become enveloped in emotions, triggering your body's emergency response system. If someone needs to engage in combat, or flee, they're going to need extra blood flowing to their hands and feet (and their nervous system) as quickly as possible. How can we avoid this misinformed response? The same way one learns to unconsciously develop the ability to breathe in through one's nose when exhausted or fatigued. Practice, awareness, and habit. As a bouncer/body guard, I am constantly confronted with both verbally, and physically violent aggression, and would be assailants. Even when a situation has gone beyond reason or verbal diffusion, combat having become completely unavoidable, I always say to myself, 'take a deep breath.' And usually just in the nick of time. Instead of being winded, sweaty and disoriented at the end of such an encounter, I am calm, relaxed, and ready for more. Rarely do I break a sweat or need to catch my breath. This idea can be applied to almost any situation, in every different spectrum of one's daily life. Someone irritates you at work, a driver cuts you off, an aggressive crackhead verbally assaults you on the street, your significant other breaks up with you, etc. etc. 'Take a deep breath.' You'll find yourself reflecting on how well you handled the situation, instead of regretting your actions and wishing you'd behaved differently.

In conclusion, whether you need a better way to start your day, a way to enhance your daily practice or routine, or just a way to deal with your emotions and everyday stress, simple mindfulness of breath can save you a lot of pain, suffering, and even your life. Breathe, live, and be happy.

Six harmonies and the power of destructive intent.

'Kung-fu' (the contemporary term for any traditional martial art from China), is simply, 'applied human physics'. There is no secret, 'way', or, 'mysterious technique'. No. Everything in kung-fu can be explained with good old fashioned science and logic. Granted, it may APPEAR to be magical, superhuman, and even supernatural at times, but kung-fu is nothing more, and nothing less, than, 'applied human physics'.

Essentially, we're big bags of water floating around a skeleton. Some parts of our body are denser than other parts, some parts more elastic, and some parts are as soft as dough. It's our skeletal structure and our elaborate system of tendons, ligaments and muscles that makes it possible to be a human weapon. Look at a tiger for example, they are nature's perfect predator, a true killing machine from nose to tail. A tiger is so perfectly designed for killing, that it has a set of floating vertebrae, razor sharp fangs, claws, and even a tail for counter balance! We, on the other hand, are probably one of the most pathetic and helpless species of mammals on the PLANET. As far as I'm concerned, there is a huge chunk of information missing in the story of human evolution, because basically, a medium sized dog can best the average human when I comes to combat. We're hopelessly, and strangely, inept at combat as a species. We have no claws, no huge incisors, and no thick hide to cover our easily torn skin. Usually, from my experience of having to engage in combat with humans on a sometimes daily/nightly basis (try working in a nightclub if you want to get some real life, 'combat', experience, you won't be disappointed, promise...), people usually close their eyes, put their heads down, and swing their arms like two meaty helicopter blades, and when that fails, they latch onto each other, hold their breaths, and squeeze each other until one, or both, of them runs out of gas. It's a sad, yet thoroughly entertaining, display of ridiculousness.

If not for our big juicy brains, which allows us ways of compensating for our wretched natural fighting ability, we'd be eating the leftovers of larger predators and hanging out by the edge of a forest or jungle somewhere huddled up in big groups waiting to be killed. Plain and simple. Yet, somebody in ancient India figured something out. They then took what they learned, and went to China. The man responsible for bringing this bizarre human, 'technology', to China via India, is know as, 'Bodhidharma'. He was a prince from southern India who was the patriarch of what is now, commonly known as, 'Zen', Buddhism. I will not go into the details of his history, Zen, or the endless amounts of topics concerning him, as there are books upon books written on these subjects. I will, however, point out that he brought a set of yoga based health exercises with him that he taught to the monks of the Shaolin temple. Now, a small amount of background is needed on the Shaolin monks if my point is to made crystal clear. The Shaolin monks, as much as people would love to believe, were not a bunch of saints. Yes, a few were, and these days, generally speaking, are good guys. But this was NOT true in ancient China (actually, up until 1911 if you ask me). In ancient China, if you were a murderer, a rapist, a thief or any other sort of wicked bastard, there was a loophole you could dive through to escape persecution. You could join a Buddhist, or Daoist, monastery and be completely exempt of any, and all, punishment. What? Yes. The thinking behind this is as follows: When one joins a temple, of any kind, you become a new person. You change your name, shave your head (or grow your hair out if you're a Daoist), you get a new name, and PRESTO! No more criminal. He, or she, ceases to exist! It was just that easy. In the China of old, pre-gunpowder, knowing martial arts was essential for self defense and even survival. There was no such thing as police in rural China. You hired a bunch of kung-fu bad asses to hang out in your village and stomp the guano out of anyone who messed with your tribe. You needed people like that to protect you, because there were guys just as skilled waiting on the edges of society for an unsuspecting caravan, or villager, to wade away from the safety of their protectors. Every once and a while, they'd go to far and get hunted down by bounty hunters, a vengeful family member, or even the government, and have to take flight. When they had run out of places to hide, they'd, inevitably, have to get, 'holy', and become monks. So you ended having these massive, untaxable, 'holy', refugee camps full of some of the nastiest bastards to have ever walked the earth.

Basically, monks have not a whole lot to do other than chant, read, eat, sleep, meditate, pool their mental resources and combat experience, all day long. It was like a meeting place for evil geniuses. This is why, today, Shaolin martial arts remain one of the hugest, elaborate, and most extensive systems of martial arts, and, can be attributed to being the, 'mother', of hundreds of styles still practiced to this day. Not to mention, the Shaolin monastery is somewhere between 2,500-5,000 years old. So, as you can see, they've had some time to think about it. Just a little bit. So, aside from being a cesspool of badmen, the Shaolin monks had one particular weapon that permanently altered the face of ALL Asian martial arts systems. This thing was Bodhidharma's, 'muscle/brain/tendon/sinew/bone washing classic'. It was/is simply a set of yogic health exercises that completely transforms the human body, inside and out. He taught these exercises to the monks of Shaolin because he found that they were unable to meditate for long periods of time due to weak physiques, and a lack of general health. The exercises utilized dynamic muscle stretching and strengthening, and by doing so, cleansing and purifying the human body all the way down to the bone marrow by simply promoting proper blood flow and in turn, cleansing the body of toxins. Plain and simple. Now, the wicked monks of old found that these healing techniques could be applied to combat. As they say, 'he/she who giveth life, can taketh away'. Who better knows a way to end a human life than a doctor? Exactly. So, they played with these concepts, applied them to their furious arsenal of techniques and lifetimes of combat experience, and developed an unrivaled system of whoop ass that is still holding it down to this day.

One of the things they figured out, is that the human body, when bent and tweaked just the right way, is capable of delivering, and even withstanding, a single strike so powerful that it can end a human life. This method, or theory, is called the, 'six harmonies'. Six harmonies? Yes. Six harmonies. Allow me to enlighten you. There are three, external, 'harmonies', and three, internal, 'harmonies'.

'San Wai He' ('Three External/Outside Harmonies'):

1- Shoulders and hips.

2- Elbows and knees.

3- Hands and feet.

'San Nei He' ('Three Internal/Inside Harmonies):

1- Thought/understanding/comprehension.

2- Intent/mental projection.

3- Breath/energy.

The basic idea behind the six harmonies principle is that if you have your body perfectly aligned, understand what you're doing, are able to coordinate your entire muscular/skeletal system, are able to project your thought, or, 'intent', beyond the actual striking area, AND, time it with your breathing, you are able to deliver a fatal, or at least crippling, blow. Phew! Seems like a lot of work! Well, yes, it is an extremely difficult set of concepts to even grasp, let alone apply! But, like anything else, with practice, it can be done, even effortlessly, at that. Once it is learned, it's like riding a bike, you may get a little rusty, but after a hundred feet or more, you're back on the saddle like you never got off. Another interesting point about this system, is that it only gets more and more powerful the longer you practice/apply it. I've seen ninety pound withered old toothless Chinese men launch 250 pound brutes sixteen feet backwards with a simple pat on the chest. As a matter of fact, I've had it done to me personally. While it seems magical, it can be explained, learned, and applied.

First, let me break down the three, 'external', harmonies. When your hips and shoulders are lined up properly, you've got a base structure for your skeletal system that allows from maximum reinforcement, shock absorption, and power distribution. The same goes for you elbows and knees. When you have these parts of your body lined up, you now have a way of further distributing force. Furthermore, when you coordinate your hands and feet with these two things, you've just made a perfect tool for applying human, 'physics'. When issuing a strike, one must first initiate the technique from the ankle, through the calf, leg, hip, shoulder, elbow, and finally, the hand. This is taking advantage of your entire body. Most people, at best, even when properly trained, strike from the shoulder. Some are able to distribute power from the hip, but I seldom ever see this. I would say that most street fighters strike from the elbow, and even worse, the hand. How much does your arm, shoulder or hand weigh? Not that much. Basically, when you strike this way, you're hitting someone with about as much force as the particular point of origin (i.e: the actual limb its self), weighs, whether it be the shoulder, elbow, or hand. When you figure out how to coordinate a strike all the way from your ankle, you are now issuing a strike that weighs as much as you do (however much you weigh, even if it is ninety pounds, I would NOT want to get hit in the face, or anywhere else on my body, for that matter, with a ninety pound weight at one hundred miles per hour!). That, on top of velocity, makes for an astonishing amount of destructive force.

The the three internal harmonies are not as perplexing as they seem, yet are hard to grasp if not explained properly. I learned them in Chinese, even with my toddler-like level of comprehension and expression, which didn't make it any easier, I was able to, 'get it'. The first thing you have to grasp is what you are actually doing, how to align your body, articulate the proper coordination and visualize. Simple enough? The second part is nothing more than follow through, like a baseball bat. You don't hit the ball, you hit way past the ball, making it possible to send it hundreds of feet into the air. Aiming at the ball its self allows for a very small amount of power distribution, and seldom sends the ball very far from it's point of impact. This is called, 'intent', as far the six harmonies are concerned. When you strike something, you don't think about striking the surface of the target, you literally, 'aim', several feet behind it, or more if so desired. Someone who has large muscles, iron robe techniques, or just good old fashioned conditioning will dust off a surface strike like a gnat. However, when you apply this method of, 'follow through', or, 'intent', all the muscles in the world can't stop the destructive properties of this particular method of, 'thinking'. The final part is simply, 'breath'. Energy, and life, begins with breathing. You stop breathing, you die. Plain and simple. Energy enters the body when you inhale, and exits the body when you exhale. When you time your strike with your exhale, you are able to channel all of your, 'energy', through a single part of your body perfectly. This is how a tiny little old man is able to launch a football player like a rag doll in a, seemingly, 'magical', manner.

So, with the understanding of the physics of your body, proper muscular/skeletal coordination, follow through, or, 'intent', and proper breathing, you too, can use and apply the, 'six harmonies', of Chinese martial arts. It's not rocket science, it is, simply, 'applied human physics'.

Tumbling fists, leaping feet and the guest people.

To even begin to understand the development, variations and flavor of different Chinese martial arts systems, one must first understand something about the vast, and often times, perplexing, variations of China, and the Chinese people in general. When someone says, 'I am Chinese', I immediately ask what province they are from, then what city, and then I ask if that's where their parents are originally from (as Chinese are not only immigrants in solely foreign countries, but also, and commonly, their own). As outsiders (to China), we think of China as just, 'China'. To me? China is massive, and made up of twenty seven provinces, three of them being SAR's (Special Autonomous Regions, i.e: Tibet, Guangxi, and Inner Mongolia, being primarily ruled, and at one time, primarily inhabited by non Han Chinese, who make up 98% of the Chinese population worldwide). I have been to every province except for Yunan, Ji Ling (which borders North Korea... ahem), and Inner Mongolia. China is bewildering, strange and cannot be classified strictly as a single country. It would be like saying Europe and the eastern block countries are just one country. That's ridiculous right? Exactly. China has THOUSANDS of dialects, and with each dialect comes a completely different way of thinking, history, and even culture, that changes by the kilometer! You could travel to another village, maybe just three kilometers away, and not be able to comprehend anything they are saying due to the enormous linguistic variation caused by such a small amount of geographical separation. China is physically, a very large place, larger than the United States I believe (although I am not 100 percent sure, I believe this is true), and has almost every kind of climate and terrain you can imagine. One thing that greatly effects the enormity of cultural variables, is that China is tremendously mountainous. Not only that, once you get past the central mountains, you have this forbidding expanse of desert that seems to stretch on forever, and THEN, another massive chunk of mountains once you get to Tibet. Geographically, China is a rough place to live, harvest and migrate. Somehow, Chinese people always make the best of it, work with what they have and plod on without complaint (well, most of the time anyway). My second master once told me, 'You are born, you go to school if you can, you work, you have a family, and then you die. You DON'T ask questions! THIS, is the Chinese way'. I got that, but it wasn't until I spent two and half years of my life in China that I truly began to even understand what he meant by this.

When I meet Chinese people for the first time, I immediately tell them I am Shanghaiese. This way, they can instantly identify my Chinese cultural experiences, what I've seen on an everyday basis, what kind of climate I was used to, what kind of food I ate on a regular basis, what kind of political climate surrounded me, how I relate to China historically, general stereotypes about people from my particular region, and most importantly, if they like me or not. Chinese people hate Chinese people. Basically, if you're not from their village, you can go straight to hell. When I tell someone I am Shanghaiese, and THEY, are Shanghaiese? It's like meeting a long lost relative. We both leap up and down, hug, throw out a few Shanghaiese greetings (in the very strange Shanghaiese dialect that has to be heard to be appreciated in it's unadulterated and bizarre glory), and beam like idiots who have just won the lottery. This is especially true in San Francisco (and the United States as a whole), where, 80 percent of the population is Cantonese, and even then, usually from the Tai Shan (Toi San) province. In New York, most of the Chinese are Fujianese, and in Paris, Wangzhounese. This is why most Americans think Cantonese is the major dialect of China, when in FACT, only two percent of the Chinese population in China speaks Cantonese (although many are familiar with Cantonese due to popular Chinese and Hong Kong cinema and music)! As you can see, being Chinese, is a broad, and foolishly generalized statement. Yes, Chinese people are just, 'Chinese', to westerners, but never to a child, or descendant, of the ancient, and tremendously varied, 'Middle Kingdom'.

So, as you can see, as diverse as Chinese people can be, so to, can their martial arts be, as well. Generally, most people agree that there are three major geographical/cultural, 'schools', of Chinese martial arts. This is true in a very, very broad sense of things, but it goes so much deeper than that. I will first, touch upon the popular, generalized, contemporary opinions of Chinese martial arts. The three major, 'schools', are:

Northern: Martial arts from the north east of China, generally from the Shandong, Henan, and Hebei provinces. These styles are usually very low framed (meaning, low stances), utilizing nearly acrobatic footwork, lots of high and aerial kicks, and large exaggerated arm movements (sometimes called long fist, or, big circle styles). These styles were generally developed for the battlefield. Some famous northern styles are: Shaolin, Praying Mantis, Lost Track Boxing, Monkey, Ba Gua, Black Tiger, White Ape, and Ba Ji.

Southern: Martial arts from the Fujian, and Guangdong, (a.k.a: 'Canton', also including Hong Kong) provinces. Characterized by having less kicks than their northern counterparts, usually being higher framed, upright, and favoring hand techniques over high/aerial kicks and often times utilizing smaller, less exaggerated movements ('small circle', and/or, 'short power', systems, as they are sometimes called). These styles were usually developed for city, mountain, and even boat, combat. Some famous southern styles are: Tiger Crane, Wing Chun (or, 'Yong Chun', in Mandarin), Choy Lei Fut, Five Families, Fut Gar and White Crane.

Hakka: 'Hakka', means, 'guest people', in Chinese ('Ke Jia', in Mandarin). These people are believed to be, originally, from the south western parts of China, although this is disputed, and to honest, no one really knows for sure. They have their own dialect, and are prominent in Guangdong, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Indonesia, and even the United States. Their styles are, in my opinion, the strangest of all of the Chinese styles. They tend to be very upright (high framed), are almost completely made up of hand techniques, use strange shuffling, and/or hopping, footwork. They are famous for, 'short power', techniques, and being, aesthetically, the strangest of all Chinese styles. They were also developed for mountain and city combat. Some famous Hakka styles are: White Tiger, Dragon, White Eyebrow, Iron Ox, and Bamboo Forest Praying Mantis.

Now, this is so general, it's borderline ridiculous. As westerners, we only know what we're exposed to. Who are the people who have migrated to the United States (and other western countries)? Malaysian Chinese, Southern Chinese, North Eastern Chinese, and Hakka Chinese. Hence, we believe that these are the only styles that exist. When, in FACT, there are so many other styles, groups of styles and completely random systems that we have never even heard of. I personally teach/practice a style that is only taught by three other people, openly, to my knowledge, in the entire WORLD! It's a northern style, but only by geographical default, and is, in fact, a system that cannot truly be classified as, 'Northern', due it being a style of Ba Gua (A style of martial arts that utilizes circle walking as a training method, unusual footwork that allows you to get behind your opponent almost effortlessly, using almost no closed fist strikes, and is also being the style that spawned/inspired Aikido). We often neglect the central, and southwestern regions of China, where epically profound styles such as Ta Ji, E Mei (or, 'O Mei', as it is sometimes called), Hop Gar (which is from Tibet I believe), and Tong Bei. While these styles are popular and well know in the West, they cannot be classified into the general groups of, Southern, Northern, and Hakka. Geographically, it would be completely incorrect.

This leads me to another point. No one can say that southern styles are all completely high framed, hand dominant, and are without acrobatic kicks and footwork. At the same time, you cannot say that all northern styles are low to the ground, use huge exaggerated arm movements exclusively, and use tons of kicking techniques over hand attacks. That would a foolishly generalized, and even, ridiculous statement to say the least. There is a style from the southern province of Fujian called, 'Dog Style', that is fought while laying on your back, and uses almost primarily, locks, sweeps and traps with the legs! Seven star mantis (a northern style) has kicks, but is definitely a hand oriented combat system. So, as you can see, these broad generalizations tend to fall far from the mark with certain styles. As far as Hakka styles go, I have only had major exposure to two (and am currently teaching them), and have only briefly been shown a few elements from another. Hakka styles are much easier to characterize in a general sense as they all seem to stem from one system, and are all, 'cousin', styles in my opinion. Many of the stances, footwork, and hand techniques are almost interchangeable. My current master teaches White Eyebrow and Dragon, and the primary foundation posture/stance is identical. Yes, the energies, mindset, ideas and methods of attack are very different, but the general structure of the two styles compliment each other marvelously. In my eyes, it is obvious that they really are, 'cousin', systems.

Another interesting point is that many of the so called, 'northern', systems are tremendously popular in the south! Just as Taiji is most popular in the northeast (even though it was created in central China), southern styles dominate the western world, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Vietnam. But, for the laymen, and in a folklorish sort of way, I suppose there is nothing wrong with calling a style, 'northern', or, 'southern'. It's really more about where it was created, propagated and developed, more than anything else. It is true, however, that the north is more vast and expansive and better suited for leaps, bounds and dynamic footwork. This sort of terrain allows for huge, exaggerated arm movements that would be used most practically against attackers of horseback, i.e: Mongolian invaders. It is also true that southern China is hilly, mountainous, urban and where it is not so heavily populated, covered with dense forests and jungles. The Hakka have lived in southern China for a long time, and have adapted their techniques to fit their environment, having just been mountain people themselves before their mysterious migration east and beyond. Having a style that relied on hand techniques in crowded, less navigable terrain like cities, mountains, jungle and even boats, would make a lot more sense than having an arsenal of jump kicks (which were originally developed to take people off of their horses, not for street combat!). But, there are always styles that break the stereotypes imposed by the old term, 'Northern feet, southern hands', whether they were created by a northern, southern, or Hakka Chinese, every style is as unique as any one culture, dialect or individual person. So yes, technically, it would be correct to label a particular style this way, but foolish to characterize a style's techniques based purely on geography. The old kung-fu expression: 'Southern hands, northern feet', isn't always as true as it seems.

Lien quan, bu lien gong, dao lao yi chang kong!

"Lien quan, bu lien gong, dao lao yi chang kong".

Literally translated: "Practice fist (another way of saying: 'style', or, 'system', in Chinese), no practice skill, arrive at old age, the one thing you will have is empty (or, 'nothing', while this is not the usual word for, 'nothing', it means just that in this instance)"

More elaborately translated: "Practicing (or, learning) a style's superficial, or, 'surface', elements (just the forms/routines, the showy aspects, and the parts that are not physically, and/or mentally demanding), without practicing the hard, unpleasant, or, 'bitter' (as painful training is often referred to by the Chinese, and appropriately so), aspects of martial arts training, will leave you with no real ability, skill, or power, at the end of your life/training".

Quick and easy? It translates like this: "Practicing martial arts without ever practicing (or embracing) the essential painful/difficult/boring basic parts of training, is a total waste of time".

I have had three different masters who independently used this phrase over and over again. As a matter of fact, I have it written in Chinese on a post it note and folded up neatly in my wallet. It's just that serious.

These days, students are usually rushed into the complicated and challenging forms that a student from forty or more years ago would learn after a few YEARS of practice, not the first WEEK. Today, students learn a handful of sets (routines/forms) in the span of a year! Why am I so shocked by this? Allow me to enlighten you. Traditionally, Chinese martial arts are broken down into three major groups of techniques (excluding weapons):

-Footwork (or, 'Bu Fa', in Mandarin): Basic stepping patterns, kicks, and static stance training (a single stance would be held for an hour or more at times!).

-Body movement/coordination (or, 'Shen Fa'): Using the body in coordination with footwork, aligning the shoulders, hips and spine for maximum structural integrity.

-Hand techniques (or, 'Shou Fa'): Grabbing, locking, striking, pushing/pulling etc.

Usually, the modern day student learns the hand techniques first (especially in the west), rarely the body movement skills, and usually touches upon the footwork to a very small degree. As westerners, we're traditionally a society of boxers and wrestlers. The last thing we think about when we're about to get into a fight is our opponent's footwork. We put our hands up, straighten our legs and hammer each other about the face and head until one person falls. When one, or both, of the combatants is inept (which is nine times out of ten!), it goes to the ground. This is usually because one (or the pair) does not want to be hit anymore, and when you engage in a grappling/wrestling situation, it immediately (and greatly) lessens the chance of this happening. It is very difficult, without proper training, to land powerful blows on someone when they're holding onto you. Striking works best from a distance, wrestling cancels that out. Another aspect of this is purely psychological. Humans are attracted to movement, the hands are incredibly fast, we use them all the time, and, without them, we are basically helpless. A person naturally takes to hand techniques because they are something that seems practical, and immediately, useful (and, at first, superficially, are, against an average opponent). When someone says, 'hey, let me see your kung-fu', the first thing someone usually does is wave their arms around, shoot off some punches or hand patterns. No one ever hops about, shuffles around and then drops into stances. That's not something that the human mind finds interesting, or can even comprehend, functionally speaking, without some sort of real understanding/training. Most people would laugh at you and roll their eyes.

Traditionally, footwork was the first thing you learned and practiced for years. You would have had to have mastered stances and stepping patterns until they were second nature. Then, and only then, you would move on to learning how to coordinate your torso, shoulders and hips along with your footwork. Once that was mastered, you'd finally begin to develop your hand techniques. There are seven places on the human body you can use as a striking instrument:

-Head

-Hands

-Feet

-Elbows

-Knees

-Shoulders

-Hips

These are called the, 'seven stars', of kung-fu. As you can see, learning only hand techniques gives you only two of these weapons (unless you're brave enough to try and head but someone) with which you can properly use! Mastering footwork and body mechanics allows you to fully utilize all of your natural weapons. Yet, most people find footwork and body mechanics drills boring, tedious, and unrewarding. Little do they know that without practicing all of the three arenas of skills in balance, they are practicing emptily, and incompletely. One who only uses their hands when striking has about as much force as their arm weighs collectively, maybe fifteen pounds (give or take). One who can distribute their force from their heel, through their legs, hips, torso, shoulders, arms and finally, hands, is unleashing their entire body weight in force through a single, devastating, strike. This can be applied, and used, with any of the, 'seven stars', when all three areas of skill have been learned.

In my early training, I learned maybe five forms/routines in seven years. They were often times short, except for maybe two, and could be performed in less than forty five seconds (yet, it took me seven years to learn them!). The first thing I learned was stances, footwork drills and kicks. We'd do these things over and over again, my legs burning with white hot fire, my knees buckling without warning. After my first class, I had to slowly lower myself onto a toilet seat with my hands due to the unbelievable agony that had overtaken my lower body. It was completely impossible to stand up without using my arms to lift myself. Yes, it was hard and boring training, but having seen the intoxicating beauty of my older brother's and sister's skill, it seemed like a small price to pay for such astoundingly incredible ability. Of course, we did do punches and other hand techniques, but they were not the main focus of our early training, that was much further down the road, the footwork came first, and without question.

One thing I find shocking, is that students ASK their teachers to learn certain things, as if they are masters themselves, as if they know what's good for them, as if they have ANY idea of what martial arts training 'should' be. I remember asking my first teacher to show me some more movements in a routine I was learning one day. He gave me one of the most frighteningly dirty looks of all time. I was unaware that this was extremely rude, frowned upon, and just NOT done. He made me practice what I had learned already for six months, even though the form was only five motions from being complete. I also learned that you do NOT get to chose what you learn next. That would be like telling a doctor what surgery you need, or asking a chef in a Japanese restaurant to cook one of your favorite French dishes, and how to do it. It's just not done. They know what's good for you, and until you study/practice for 'x' amount of years, you most certainly, do NOT.

Most masters have to put, 'asses in the seats'. Martial arts practice is usually nothing more than an alternative method of fitness to most people in modern times, nothing more, nothing less. It's a business, we're capitalists, that's just the way things work. Adapt to the demands of the people, or become extinct like the dinosaurs. They can't stay in business doing boring, painful, repetitive exercises for years on end. People want change, they want to learn new things, they want to say, 'look what I learned today'! Not, 'I've been doing these five god damned drills for three years straight, I hate this shit, why am I paying this guy again'? People want to leap about, wave their arms, make fools of themselves and never develop true and tangible skill. And that's fine. It looks great to a non-practitioner, and it does make someone, 'feel', like they are learning martial arts to some degree. It boosts their self esteem, confidence, and yes, you do get some sort of health/self defense benefits from this, nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with dance and yoga either, because, basically, that's the equivalent to what you're doing. Hopefully, later on down the line, they'll see that what they have learned is empty, superficial (and basically useless), and want to, 'eat bitter' (training hard, and properly), solidifying the formerly useless handfuls of techniques they have learned into a weapon of iron that will stay with them for the rest of their lives, growing stronger and stronger every day, nurturing mind, body and soul, never leaving them, 'empty'.

This is what is meant by this age old adage, 'Lien quan, bu lien gong, dao lao yi chang kong'.

The Scholar Warrior

At one time, the study of Chinese martial arts was a privilege bestowed upon a chosen few. These people were generals, monks, aristocrats, bandit warlords, land owners, and a few of their select family members. Whether they were religious, rich, military men, criminals or otherwise, they all had one thing in common that amplified their study of traditional martial arts. They were all known as, 'scholar warriors'. In today's modern society, the thought of a Marine, mixed martial artist or triad overlord being anything but a thick headed brute seems almost laughable. At the same time, imagining one of the members of the British royal family, a head of a corporation or priest being able to take out five attackers bare handed with ease, seems equally ridiculous. This may be true today (in a general, stereotypical sense), but could be nothing farther from the truth, as far as Chinese history is concerned. While it is not completely a completely, 'dead', concept, those who live by, and uphold, the term, 'scholar warrior', are nearly extinct.

What IS a, 'scholar warrior'? The two terms seem apparently contradictory when placed next to each other. Almost as conflicting as the term, 'martial art'. When someone of a privileged station was lucky enough to be able to study martial arts, it was not unlike entering a lifelong collegiate study of many different varying majors. Aside from everyday, grueling, martial arts practice, they were expected to study a wide variety of, 'soft', arts to improve their demanding physical routines in a mental, spiritual, and even emotional spectrum. While martial arts, are, obviously, 'hard', your understanding of, 'hard', is extremely limited if you do not understand, 'soft'. While I could write a book on the principles of, 'soft', and, 'hard' (many already have, and have been doing so, for the last 5,000 years!), I will only touch upon it lightly here. If one were to remain tense, high speed and aggressive at all times, your body, and mind, would, literally, collapse on themselves. Someone that understood re-directive techniques, suppleness, and how to, 'relax' (mentally, as well as physically), would, inevitably be able to defeat you in number of different ways. At the same time, one who is constantly relaxed, has no, 'power' (so to speak), and no initiative, would be about as useful as a slug, as far as conflict resolution (martially or otherwise) is concerned. Someone who was aggressive, would just trample them, mentally and/or physically speaking. Being in the middle of these two principles is what the scholar warrior desired more than anything else. Bread that is not cooked long enough is soft, chewy, bad tasting and inedible. Yet, the same bread, cooked for to long, becomes burnt, impossible to even bite, and is about as suitable for food as a paper weight. While some prefer softer breads than others, and some people enjoy a stiffer crust than the next person, in the end, a good bread must have BOTH the qualities of, 'hard, AND, 'soft'.

The idea of, 'hard', training, is, in my mind, obvious. Hitting rocks, muscle burning exercises, cardiovascular, sparring, endless, painful conditioning, and so on. What is, 'soft', training? Soft training is found within martial practice, this is true. But, TRUE, soft training is found in things like calligraphy, poetry, painting, sculpture, music, medicine, studying/writing philosophy, tea ceremonies, flower arrangement, and even gardening. Generals, monks, noblemen/women, and even warlords, were often times, experts in many, in not ALL, of these fields. The same was true for government officials, actors and other educated people. They understood that mastery of their bodies through rigorous physical, and mental, martial practice would vastly improve their intellectual aptitude beyond pure book study and debate. Where the ancient martial artist is concerned, aside from being, apparently, 'superhuman', warriors, they were poets, artists, historians, philosophers and talented musicians, more often than not. One who only studies war, can only see the world in a one hundred and eight degree perspective (if that!), while one who studies the intellectual arts can see the universe in its three hundred and sixty degrees of glorious beauty. When one understands the abstract concepts of artistic expression and philosophy, they are able to execute these things in combat on a subconscious level. They can think creatively, utilize tremendous patience, intellectually dominate their opponent, and find an unseen method of victory that would be impossible for a brutish brawler to even begin to comprehend.

My ba gua zhang (eight triagrams palm) instructor used to say, 'without culture, your intelligence is limited, and you are destined to be an idiot'. He always told me that the true principles of his peculiar system of martial arts were to be found in calligraphy, painting and music. He himself was an expert calligraphist, painter, Chinese medicine practitioner, philosopher, and Chinese flute player. Yet, at the same time, he is/was one of the most dangerous people I have ever met. I'd often find him slapping the sides of trees with his bare hands with incredible force as I approached him in the quiet secluded grove where we practiced in old Shanghai. His proportionally large hands were like thick pads of orangey leather, more akin to a bear, or a tiger, than a sixty one year old Chinese man. However, you could see in his incredibly fluid motions that went from slow to fast, with no disruption of flow or jerkiness whatsoever, that he had truly mastered some these, 'soft', arts. While he was a poor laborer from a tiny village in northern Jiang Su province who spent most of his life in Shanghai driving trucks and forklifts, not even being able to speak any of the three dialects he learned with any sort of total or complete fluency (he spoke a weird combination of Mandarin, Shanghaiese and whatever his village dialect was called. Often times, I'd have to ask the Shanghaiese students what he just said, and even THEY would shrug, shake their heads and smile. Eventually, all of us, collectively, were usually able to piece together his strange, and completely unique, dialect over time), he is, in the truest sense, a living example of the, 'scholar warrior'.

Today, we cannot afford the luxury of an all encompassing martial education that our warrior ancestors were so fortunate to have. We must put food on our tables, and in order to do this, study from the age of five until our twenties (usually), just to answer the demands of basic modern day living. One who is able to study martial arts on a daily basis is a rare person indeed. Even three, one hour classes a week makes someone a, 'full time', martial artist by today's standards. There is nothing wrong with this, I encourage ANYONE and EVERYONE to study martial arts, whether it is for fun, a hobby, health, self defense, or even just out of curiosity. I myself had made a decision a long time ago to dedicate my life to Chinese martial arts on an epic scale. I knew the moment I walked into my first kung-fu school that I wanted to study, practice and teach Chinese martial arts for the rest of my life, or die trying.

About eight years ago, my tremendously supportive mother (who has always supported my study and passion for martial arts, bless her heart) and I were in a discussion one day and she said, 'You know, there is more to life than kung-fu'! I immediately replied, 'No, there ISN'T'! And at the moment, she understood that it was my true passion, my purpose, and my way of life. I have suffered tremendously in many different ways, but I do not regret it, for I cannot imagine any other way. Yes, I have been homeless, lost a girlfriend here and there, strained my friendships, refused incredible opportunities to make huge amounts of money, and even now, struggle daily just to survive because of my dedication, but I would rather be dead than give up practicing Chinese martial arts. With my choice in lifestyle, I am able to study philosophy, practice illustration, calligraphy, painting, and create/play music, if I so desire, for hours on end on a daily basis. I do these things between my usual five to eight hours of daily martial practice (which is small compared to my previous regimen of eight to fourteen!), but I am able to do these things because I made a choice, throwing away a life of wealth and comfort. I took a chance, I continue to do so today, and I will continue to do so for the rest of my life. I have sacrificed everything, taken a tremendous risk, and gave it all up for my passion. Why would I do such a thing? Why would I put myself in such seemingly dire circumstances? Because I understand, and have embraced, the philosophy, the idea, and the lifestyle of the way of the, 'scholar warrior'.

The human weapon.

In the past, the ancient masters would pick a particular skill, say, kicking, a particular hand strike, iron robe/iron palm, leaping huge distances, a single favorite weapon, (and so on) and MASTER it. While they would learn an entire system, typically become proficient in eighteen different classical weapons (the standard for most traditional, Shaolin based, kung-fu systems, believe it or not), striking, grappling, throwing, joint locks, and even basic medicine, they would always, 'specialize', in one particular technique, strike, or ability. Often times, a nickname or legend would spawn from their particular skill, and usually, make them sought after instructors, bodyguards and even assassins. For example, one of my teachers in China witnessed a wandering master perform a perfect example of what I am speaking of. They were in a local tavern, and he proclaimed he had the famed, 'iron finger', technique. Of course, seeing is believing, so they all asked for a demonstration on the three inch thick oak table in the center of the common area. He smiled, took a deep breath and then proceeded to slam his fingers effortlessly through the three inches of, nearly rock hard, oak tabletop without any injury (or even discomfort!) at all. This is what is called, 'gong fu' (literally translated as: 'skill-learned person', or, 'acquired skill over a long period of time', in a more practical sense), more popularly (and incorrectly, I might add, phonetically speaking) known as, 'kung-fu'. It means, having a single, seemingly impossible skill, mastered to such a degree that it appears easy and effortless to the casual observer, while, in actuality, is, nearly impossible with out a lifetime of practice, dedication, perseverance and determination. This is the legendary, 'kung-fu'. This also applies to any skill, mastered by anyone, to such a degree. Painting, musical aptitude, sewing, cooking, acrobatics, anything. Even a carpenter, welder, or janitor can have, 'kung-fu', in this sense. They have, simply, just done something so many times that they make a difficult task appear easy. This is, 'kung-fu', in the most literal and obvious sense.

When I was studying at the Empty Jade Palace in the mountains of Hubei with the Daoist monks, there was a particular warrior monk that had an amazing ability that I was fortunate enough to witness with my own eyes. He had partially mastered the famed ability know as, 'qing gong', or, 'light body skill'. He was able to leap upwards of fifteen feet from a stationary position, and even twenty feet or more with a running start (I personally witnessed him doing this), as well as being able to leap from the roof of a two story building without harm, and with complete and total grace. With that being said, these particular skills do come with a price. This particular monk had tremendous knee problems, and was constantly in pain. Eventually, he decided to abandon this skill, choosing a life without pain over, apparently, supernatural ability. There was a famous Shaolin monk of the last century who was famous for being able to meditate for eighteen hours at a time on a single, solitary finger, supporting his entire body weight on this tiny digit. This skill was developed for piercing through the chest plates of an assailant. Yes, it was effective, and yes, it is/was attainable, but at a tremendous cost. In his old age, he had developed such severe nerve damage that he was unable to hold chopsticks due his hands shaking tremendously at all times, and was completely reliant on his students to feed him. He knew the cost, but chose mastery in this lethal, yet self destructive, technique.

These days, we have become soft, infantile and downright pathetic in the shadows of these epic and, proverbially, 'giant', masters. But our society has changed beyond anything they could have ever imagined, and during their time, it was relevant, practical, and even necessary. Now? Point, pull the trigger, bang, you're dead. Plain and simple. Yet, even an ounce of one of these seemingly mythical skills is amazing in our technologically reliant modern society. I, personally, have chosen to excel (I dare not say, 'master') in a dying skill. That skill is, 'iron arm'. I am slight in frame, to say the least. I have suffered from sickness most of my life, it is very difficult for me to gain weight, and I will never be a physically intimidating specimen, as far as contemporary, 'gym', standards are concerned. Instead of letting this truth discourage me, I chose to work with what I have. What I have is a boney frame with thin ropey muscles. I have chosen to calcify the tissue on my forearms, palms and hands into a sort of flexible living steel. The way this is done, is by banging the soft tissue of the arms and fists/hands against, bags filled with sand, then rocks, and then, finally, pennies (metal). At first, your arms and hands, ache, bruises and contusions appear, and you are generally in a state of constant discomfort, and even pain. After using sand for a while, you find that it no longer hurts, and you are able to deliver tremendous blows against the bags that would have broken your hand perviously. Then you move up to rocks. It is almost like starting all over again, but, over time, it beings to feel like the sand, and your blows land without any sort of pain or discomfort at all. Once again, you are humbled as you start your third, and final, section of training with the pennies (or metal). Once you have reached this level, it does not mean that you can stop. You must NEVER stop! This is a, 'use it or lose it', skill. Yes, it is true, you will permanently be able to cave in people's chests and fracture skulls, but not against someone who has chosen to master the counter technique known as, 'iron robe'. This is the exact same skill, yet it is applied to the tissue on the chest, back, ribs, and stomach.

Before modern transportation, ancient masters had to travel huge distances to challenge each other, as China is/was huge, dangerous, constantly in a state of war, and often times, geographically, difficult to navigate. One master would hear of another's skill and train in a counter technique during his or her journey to defeat them. It would not be uncommon for a master to travel upwards of ten years to answer a challenge. Plenty of time to work on a counter strategy. It is no different than when a modern day fighter reviews fight tapes of an upcoming challenger, trying to find holes or weaknesses in their opponent's strategies and conditioning. Some things never change.

I've had street encounters where my attackers have swung wild haymakers at my face and ribs, only to find that their arms are suddenly hanging limp and lifelessly at their sides. What happened? They attacked, I blocked with my tremendously conditioned, 'iron', arms, and temporarily paralyzed their soft and buttery limbs. Of course, I immediately followed my devastating blocks with a combination of incapacitating attacks, immediately, 'resolving', the conflict. When I am teaching my students and younger kung-fu brothers/sisters, I find it strange how supple and clay-like their arms feel against mine. They wince, sweat beads up on their brows and upper lips, and often times, their teeth begin to clench, their movements becoming jerky and obviously pained. Yet, I have kung-fu brothers who's arms give ME great pain and discomfort when performing the exact same exercise. There is always a bigger mountain, and I am barely a hill.

While it is not necessary, it is still important, in my mind, to chose a particular skill, technique or proficiency to, 'master', or at least, become adept in, beyond a, 'general', sense. Avoid becoming a, 'jack of all trades, master of none'. While it is not a tragedy, it is still a shame. So many focus all of their time trying to shove the whole style in their mouth at once, when they should simply take a bite, and savor the flavor of particular skill that they can call their own. Learn a thousand moves, master three, or better yet? One.

A glimpse into the personality of a madman.

Often times, it can be said that students are a reflection of their master. In the traditional kung-fu world, when a challenge is administered, the senior student, or the instructors top disciple (there is a difference, but I will delve further into that at another time), usually takes it in place of the instructor. It is said that a senior student/disciple should have at LEAST 60% of the master's ability. If, and only if, the student/disciple is defeated by the challenger, the master/instructor MUST answer the second round of the challenge, or, traditionally, close his or her school, or (in rare circumstances), join the challenger's school. At times, death was the only option, as defeat was nearly identical to it in a metaphorical sense.

With that being said, one could say that a master is a reflection of the founder/creator of a particular system of martial arts. Yes, over time, students modify systems, add things, leave things out, emphasize some things more than others, but, as long as the, 'skeleton', of a system remains, it remains true to the creator's original idea. If systems didn't adapt or change, they would die out, or become obsolete. As long as the essence of a system remains, the building blocks that make it's particular set of techniques effective, it is still true.

When one studies a system, you begin to notice certain ideas and concepts that get touched upon over and over and over again. Have you ever practiced a form where the same cluster of motions (or combination) repeats several times over in a single routine? That means that whoever created that system really REALLY liked those moves, and, wanted whoever was learning his or her system to really embrace them. After studying a style for while, you'll find that many techniques repeat, footwork patterns become repetitive, and aside from a few, 'new', moves here and there, it's all basically the same. The only thing that changes, are a few different ideas. One form will teach you how to quickly change directions, another will focus on multiple opponents, one will emphasize a particular hand formation, and so on. The system, in essence, remains the same, it is only a new concept, or, 'idea', that is introduced. Nothing more, nothing less. Advanced kung-fu is nothing more than having mastered the basics of a particular style. There is no advanced kung-fu, only advanced basics.

I've studied several systems over the years, none of them for a period of time that warrants the title of, 'master', or, 'instructor'. My kung-fu is about as good as my Mandarin, seemingly fluent to the untrained observer, but obviously flawed and juvenile, to the native. The longest I have ever studied a single system was for seven years. In the world of Japanese or Korean martial arts, that is a long time, and yes, in that arena, I would be considered a master, and have opened a school a long time ago. But in the vast and seemingly bottomless world of ancient Chinese martial arts? That's not even enough to be considered a beginner. Not in the least. Due to politics, and other factors beyond my control, I have had to leave not one, not two, but THREE Chinese martial arts schools. Even renouncing my title of disciple at the Wudang (Yes, 'THE', 'Wudang' of 'crouching tiger, hidden dragon', a.k.a: 'wu-tang', yes, I am, or was, a member of the REAL 'wu-tang clan', believe it or not) temple due to politics and internal corruption amongst fellow disciples. Now? Back in America? I have joined another school, started from zero for a FOURTH (and hopefully last!) time. In light of this, I have had some fabulous glimpses into the, 'personalities', of four different ancient, 'masters'.

Studying only one system is ideal, respected and honorable. And, if it were up to me, I would have never left my first style. I was so dedicated, I tattooed the school logo onto my right forearm. I ate, lived and breathed this style. The style was, 'praying mantis'. I still have a deep and unfathomable love for this system. I find it indescribably, and intoxicatingly beautiful, exotic and perplexing. Whoever created this system must have been a strange person. In this system you utilize odd hops, leaps and shuffles, as if bounding from branch to branch. You attack your opponent from strange angles and unleash blows upon them with lightning speed in clusters of three, apparently retreating and then blasting into your attacker at the last moment like a tornado of fists, elbows, knees and feet. While the motions appear impractical to the exponent of another system, when they are explained by a true mantis master, you cannot believe the pure and absolute genius of this system. In my mind, the founder of this style, Wang Lang (that is his name, and his grave can still be found in the Shandong province of northern China), must have been a deep and profound thinker, a man of great patience, and a genius strategist. It is said that he developed this system by taking elements from eighteen different major Shaolin techniques/styles, and then, after observing a mantis defeating a much larger cicada, created an entirely new system that rocked the foundations of his contemporaries kung-fu systems. His strange and esoteric genius can still be seen today in the beautiful system that he created, and blessed upon the Chinese martial arts world.

In another spectrum, the personality of a total madman can still be observed today in the ferocious and sadistic system known as, 'White Eyebrow'. Who was, 'White Eyebrow'? To be honest, he is more of a myth and a legend than anything else. BUT, he did, in fact, exist, and yes, he WAS, a real person. He existed around the same time as Wang Lang the mantis master, but in a different region of China. He was said to be from south western China, a member of the, 'Ke Jia', or, as they are more commonly known in the United States (and the rest of the Cantonese dominated western world), 'Hakka' (which means, 'guest people'), ethnic group. He was sometimes known as, 'Bai Mei Dao Ren', which means: 'White Eyebrow the Daoist'. He was, originally, said to have been a Daoist priest, who later, joined the Shaolin temple, and even later, became one of the legendary, 'five ancestors'. He favored the techniques used in the leopard and tiger systems, as they relied on total offense, relentless onslaught, and brutal savagery. He discarded the classical fist formations used by almost every style in existence today (Chinese or otherwise), and replaced them with hand techniques that were used only for fatal, crippling, or paralytic blows. Aside from this, the mentality that he bestowed upon his followers still remains true today. Hit hard, hit one hundred times, no mercy, destroy your opponent ruthlessly, kill. This is the mind set of a complete, and total, madman. There are no blocks in his style, only attacks, offense being his defense. In the end, his style was taught to the medieval (and even still today!) Chinese military (foot soldiers, secret service, and officers alike), and was eventually, used to destroy all of his brothers, their students, laymen martial artists, and finally, the famous Shaolin temple its self. It is the style of a killer, and was used to a tee, for this very purpose. Destroy, no mercy, take no prisoners. It is said that White Eyebrow was eventually killed in his old age during combat by two extremely powerful masters at the same time, as no single man could defeat such a ruthless and genius master such as himself. He was truly, the, 'Hannibal Lector', of the Chinese martial arts world.

So, when practicing, or studying a particular martial art, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, or otherwise, take a moment to appreciate that you are immersing yourself into mind, the personality and the soul of an ancient master. He or she lives on through your practice. YOU make them immortal, and when YOU pass a system down to another, you continue their immortality, and in turn, become immortal yourself. It is up to us, the chosen few, the ensure the minds and souls of these eternal masters, evil or not, live on through our practice, and teachings, in these modern times of technology and dwindling culture. We are the last glimpses the world ever have into the personalities of these great and ancient masters.