The medicine of posture

Baguazhang is a curious beast. Grounded in the philosophy of the Yi Jing, the eight trigrams and sixty-four hexagrams, it lays claim – at least in some schools of thought – to a profound relationship with the channels and flow of Qi within the body.

And yet, for all its surface appearance as something ancient and tribal – a primitive shamanic circle dance – it is actually a modern phenomenon. Can it really be so meaningful, then? Can it really be so profound? Or are its ties with the oldest book in the world, that classic Book of Changes, of divining the great flow of all things, just a pretext, a ruse?

Dong Haichuan is credited with devising Baguazhang in the early nineteenth century, although of course there are the obligatory legends about it having much earlier roots. The Yi Jing has been around since the start of the first millennium BCE, by some accounts. There are Daoist circle-walking meditation practices, and (more distantly) whirling dervishes, ecstatic dances… wheeling birds and spinning hurricanes…

Taijiquan, with slightly earlier origins (which hazily wobble around the seventeenth century) also heavily correlates certain postures with opening particular lines of energetic release within the body. Single Whip and Roll Back relate to the Heart; White Snake Creeps Down through the Lungs…

But let’s go much further back. In 1973 in Hunan Province a silk painting was found in a tomb dating 168 BCE: the Dao Yin Tu. Dao Yin is a more active precursor to modern Qi Gong – more about release and enlivenment than about nourishing and calming, although probably that too. Essentially, it depicts 44 figures in various postures – Daoist asanas.

And who knows about Yoga? At least another 500 years before the Dao Yin Tu. But it seems likely, I would surmise, that we have been experimenting with posture for millennia; since beginningless time, in fact. From being babies we play with posture, naturally. We experiment. We explore our bodies and their relationship to the world. I suspect humanity has been exploring the significance of posture since its infancy.

Hunched in our tilting, rotating office chairs, and slumped in our sofas, in our own modern era we have lost some connection with the significance of posture. But we can’t escape it. When we grieve we round our shoulders and close and protect our hearts. When we feel connection to others we open up our hearts, we open wide and embrace. Soldiers stand to attention, chests thrust forward. When we are fearful or threatened we curl up, present our bony backs, hug our vulnerable bellies. These things are instinctive. But we can utilise them if we understand them.

In meditation practices – Hindu, Daoist, Buddhist, and no doubt others – there is much emphasis placed on hand position. Certain mudras express certain qualities of mind. If we place our hands near our abdomen we draw downwards and stabilise. If we turn our palms face up on our knees we are open, receiving. Place the palms together, we connect and balance, find harmonious union. And things get complex – a contortionist science in its own right. Although many modern minds ridicule it, of course. But I’m not so sure…

A little exercise might be instructive. Stand with your arms in an embracing posture. Stand there for a good while. Try to relax into it and be still. Let your mind settle into the posture. Listen to what your body feels. Then ask yourself, what is my quality? What has changed? Now turn the palms out. How does that feel? Raise the palms up, overhead. Press them downward. Out to the side. Palms forward; palms back, resting in each one for a while. Each posture has a different quality. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and with a bit of guidance – suggestion if you like – it can be much more profound.

The first of the Eight Silk Brocades (Ba Duan Jin) lifts the sky to harmonise the Triple Heater (San Jiao) and stabilise the Pericardium, or Heart Protector. As the hands rise up and the lungs inhale there is an internal movement that follows, spreading through the cavities of the body and helping its disparate parts to communicate, to become one whole, integral entity. As the hands circle down we exhale and wring out anxiety and defensiveness, and we find stability and external connection. With this in mind, the practice becomes even more powerful. We express ourselves through out bodies, through their movements.

Mind, breath, body, emotion, energy. All moving together. One session might not make much difference. But a daily practice over years…? It takes time for the body to open, for stuck emotions to release, for energy to move. I wonder – maybe the claims that Bagua circle walking postures relate so closely to our internal workings are not so fanciful after all?

In his book, Bagua Circle Walking Nei Gong (Outskirts Press, 2012), acupuncturist and Baguazhang practitioner Tom Bisio draws a very direct parallel between certain postures and their effects. Upholding the Heavens opens the Stomach channel and benefits digestion, for example. At first I thought this was a bit of a leap of faith, to say this palm cures this, and this palm cures that. Postures aren’t medicine… are they?

A skilled acupuncturist can run their fingers along a channel and feel the blockage. Their diagnosis is guided by palpation as much as by interrogation, observation, and intuition. The gutter is blocked, so we’ll clear out the mulch that’s gathered here, and water will flow again. Energy will flow. In Nei Gong we stretch open the palm and physically open Lao Gong. It’s not so vague and ‘spiritual’ as some people might assume. At least not in the beginning. We work with something we know, or should know – our bodies.

And so, by walking the circle with arms raised in Spear Holding posture, we connect with the Kidney and Heart channels, with rising Fire. By Downward Pressing the palms we stretch Du Mai and Ren Mai. We sink to Earth; to ultimate Yin. And so on, each mother palm carefully constructed to work with a particular energy, with a particular organ meridian in the body. A sophisticated and complete system.

Is this medicine? In a sense, yes, it is. Particularly when you consider preventative medicine. Try walking hunched for a year and see how you feel. Feel how you contract, stagnate – physically, emotionally. By lengthening and aligning with gravity, finding ease in body and mind, walking with precision and gracefulness, moving with fluidity and power, we promote vitality, flow, organ function, internal connectivity. When these qualities manifest it’s hard for illness to get a foothold. It is simply washed away.

By walking the circle we create the correct conditions in the body for healing. We lengthen the tendons, relax the tissues, work the spine, open the relevant sinew channels in the body, suggest something to the mind, and walk. Trancelike, we walk. Alert, aware – but mesmerised, absorbed – we walk.

For millennia mankind has known the power of posture. Perhaps in some dark cave of prehistory primitive man was walking the circle, arms outstretched. Shadows dancing, drums beating. Or in silence, bar his beating heart and his rhythmic, echoing steps. Walking, walking – absorbed into his inner being. A walk of health, of life, of vitality. Perhaps not so primitive

Why squeeze goats (in Wing Chun)?

I love Wing Chun. It’s simple, subtle, and effective. It combines sensitivity and somatic “listening” with speed and external power. It requires a searching intelligence, quick reactions, and the facility to switch instantaneously between states of tension and relaxation. Its mechanics are fascinating, especially when you start exploring the internal techniques of Chu Shong Tin’s, which seem to have a lot in common with the internal Jins of Taijiquan.

But one thing about Wing Chun that I’ve found kind of baffling is why we use Yee Gee Kim Yeung Ma for Siu Nim Tao, with its peculiarly pigeon-toed foot positioning. The stance is explicitly just for first form practice; we use a parallel stance for the other forms, and for Chi Sau – so why use it at all?

I’ve heard a few half-convincing reasons:

“It stabilises the hips…” Yeah, maybe.

“It helps with grounding…” Er, does it?

“It helps to develop intention by focusing the line of the feet towards a point…” Um, okay.

“It helps broaden the lower back and lengthen the spine…” But do you really need to rotate the legs to encourage posterior tilt?

“It strengthens the legs…” Doesn’t any “sitting” stance do this?

“It symbolises the potential to move into a turning stance…” That one actually makes the most sense to me.

“It trains the legs in an extreme position in order to develop certain power lines through the body…” Yes, I like that one, too, as it conforms with the way a lot of hand techniques are trained.

Oh, and even: “It conforms with the philosophy of triangles in Wing Chun…” Should I start wearing a tricorn hat then, too?!

And this stance does seem to cause a lot of problems. I’ve spent far more hours than is good for me in a skiing snow plough, as well as teaching many thousands of beginners to plough, so I have a pretty good feel for how to take strain off the knees by keeping them in line with the hip and ankle joints, and also for the importance of staying soft and pliant in the inguinal crease.

But looking at other Wing Chun beginners, and even some long-term practitioners, I see an awful lot of knees collapsed inwards at eye-watering angles, or people shifting their pelvis forwards and leaning back to compensate, putting undue and ill-advised compression into the lumbar spine. So why stick people in this bizarre (but admittedly brilliantly named) Goat Squeezing Stance, with so much room for error? 🐐

I was watching Marcus Brinkman’s latest video (https://youtu.be/Ted7XAr3SWA), in which he shows how to develop Baguazhang’s piercing palm from a walking motion, eventually generating power through medial rotation of the leg on the piercing side, connecting hands and feet through turning of the hips and waist. And it made me wonder, is this what’s really codified in Kim Yeung Ma?

Wing Chun uses Juen Ma to add turning power to punches (as well as to change angles and get out of the way of incoming strikes). But in terms of a basic Ma Bu parallel stance, square on to your partner, does the medial rotation of the legs in Kim Yeung Ma actually suggest that you should use this rotation to generate power for square punches, just as Marcus demonstrates for piercing palm? In Kim Yeung Ma the heels are grounded, of course, but that doesn’t mean rotation on the strike isn’t implied. It would seem to make sense biomechanically, but I haven’t heard it advocated anywhere else, nor seen it used in practice.

I’m only a relative beginner at Wing Chun, so I could be way off the mark here. I could be compromising some fundamental principle of the art – for one thing the waist turn means the shoulders will no longer be square to the opponent. I suppose that would compromise the effectiveness of follow-ups or traps with the other hand.

But the external similarities between Tan Sau and Piercing Palm are hard to ignore. And if it adds power and connective integrity through the body from the ground, doesn’t it make sense to incorporate that medial twist of the leg? Is that what the Goat Squeezing Stance is really hinting at? (Or is it just a bonus goat-herding technique buried in the Wing Chun system?)

Just an idea…

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