Tag Archives: xing yi

Common to all the internal arts is an emphasis on sound posture and physical structure as a core foundation. You start with the external, and then move inwards, in through the layers of the body… and the mind. But, just for emphasis, you start with the external.

Many devote hours to Zhan Zhuang, or “standing post” practices, whilst others disregard such “boring” elements of training, or just pay them lip service, in favour of more exciting and enjoyable dynamic forms and partner work. Sure, it is certainly possible to train forms while remaining mindful of maintaining good posture. And it’s a lot of fun moving through the forms and playing with others. (Just moving in any manner that isn’t the customary “walk, sit, or lie down” is joyful – something that children intuitively know, but adults swiftly forget.)

But is that posture really going to be ingrained in quite the same way. What happens when you get pressed or tested?

When we stand, we soak our awareness in through the body. We sense, adjust, relax, tweak, stretch, relax, tweak some more. We get to know our bodies and feel how the parts are connected, and how moving one part influences the whole, like waves spreading out from a raindrop falling in a still pond.

Before any internal power can be developed, which arises largely through creating this whole-body interconnection through the fascia and connective tissues, and through an internal process of relaxation and release, a basically sound physical structure must be found. If that underlying framework has not been established, power cannot be generated, and any application of technique will be easily undermined.

At very high levels of skill, it would appear this is no longer the case, and power can be returned even from some very awkward or compromised positions, but certainly for the novice or intermediate practitioner, good structure is a crucial foundation.

Despite some very different emphases, techniques, footwork, and movement principles, the fundamental physical alignments are very similar, if not identical, for Taijiquan, Xingyiquan, Baguazhang, and Wing Chun. Stances can vary between shoulder-width and narrower, but in all four the leg joints are kept lightly flexed and the hips dropped, relaxing the lower back muscles to allow the pelvis to posteriorly rotate and the lumbar spine to lengthen.

The shoulders and elbows are sunk to maintain connection between the abdominal centre and the arms and hands. A distance is kept between elbows and torso, and the shoulder and elbow joints are opened and extended to allow force to be transferred through them, and not get caught in the joint itself. Fingers are gently stretched and enlivened to engage and connect the sinews, and the back of the head is drawn gently up and back to keep the integrity of the upper spine. The eyes are soft, the mind quiet, the senses listening, the breathing deep.

And thus do many practise the forms of their chosen art, with perfect structure and appropriate state of mind, calm and aware, slowly developing internal relaxation and power through years of dedication. But all too often, as soon as an opponent is placed before them, whether that be in sparring practice, or more cooperative play such as Chi Sau or push-hands, all structural integrity is swiftly forgotten.

Why should this be? The focus has shifted. The attention has moved from inside to outside. They are focused on what their opponent or partner is doing, and how to overcome them or defend themselves, rather than being aware of their own internal state. Two things can break: the mind or the body… or both.

The mind can become perturbed, anxious, angry, or proud, and this tension can translate into muscular tension and haste of movement that disrupts the body’s integrity and leaves it open to manipulation. Or the body can lose its structure, severing its connection to the ground and its own internal connectivity. When the relationship between the parts is unbalanced, the whole body is disharmonious and susceptible to external pressures.

For someone who has practised, tested and played for years or decades, this should be less of an issue, as the fundamental structure should be fully integrated and unconsciously always present. Even so, the unpredictable actions of a training partner, and especially those of an aggressive opponent, are highly likely to disturb the mind, induce muscular tension, or disrupt the basic skeletal alignments.

When the physical geometry is correct, the internal connections established, and the mind and muscles sufficiently relaxed, an incoming force can be directed through the body to the floor. It can even be returned into the body of the opponent if the practitioner is skilful enough, and can stay more relaxed than their opponent.

Keeping the muscles relaxed allows power to be transferred through the body from the abdominal core and turning waist. But this can be difficult to maintain when receiving pressure from an opponent. Tension can arise before you are even aware it is there, both in body and mind. One of the most effective ways to keep this from happening is to return to the physical structure, and in particular the back.

The spine is the keystone of our structure. If we can keep the crown lifted, and maintain a feeling of rising up through the spinal column, this provides integrity to the rest of the body. With an opponent in front of us, it is very easy for the upper back and shoulders to round, or for the neck to crane forwards as we keep a forward-moving intention or become acutely focused on our opponent’s movements.

But if we can keep the gaze soft, feeling our opponent more than we watch them, and not have our attention drawn inwards in this way, our own power is hugely increased. Staying relaxed and vertically aligned, we can find Peng: that soft, inflated power that makes it very difficult for an opponent to fold our joints or otherwise destroy our alignments.

Simply by keeping our awareness partially inside, sitting the shoulders and scapulae neutrally, and rising up through the back, we can make a massive difference to our ability to generate power, and to resist incoming forces. When somebody is moving towards you with Peng, it feels like an unstoppable force that cannot be resisted by direct muscular opposition, no matter how many kilos you can bench press. You can’t stop the tide.

I have felt this integrity of structure in my own Taijiquan and Xingyiquan teachers. One in particular is female and has a much smaller frame than my own, and yet when I apply pressure against her Ward Off posture, or indeed any posture, all of my strength is absorbed without effort. She never loses that relaxed expression of body and mind, and simply redirects my power through her body, as though she is not there at all: “taking the force to emptiness”.

Likewise, I have felt this in certain Wing Chun practitioners, and particularly those who have trained in schools following the lineage of Sigung (Grandmaster) Chu Shong Tin. A very relaxed power flows into the arms through the rising energy in the spine, and the external structure is absolutely solid. Neither dense nor tense, but light and springy like an inflated ball. And utterly unrelenting. Yes, the power of internal martial arts is “soft”, but it is also preternaturally strong. Water is soft. But the tide…

There is something in the Yi, as well; a relaxed yet unyielding intent, which reminds me of the forward-moving principle of Xingyiquan, to attack and move forwards without regard for whatever your opponent is doing. But a mind-intention is no use without effective body mechanics. A whole-body forwards movement, driven from the legs, hips and centre of mass, harnesses much more power than the isolated mechanical movements of a disconnected limb. This can be seen very clearly in forms like Five Elements Xingyi, but of course is equally present in the other internal arts.

The positioning and flow of energy within the thoracic spine is key. Here is the conduit of power from the sacrum, up the spine and out to the arms. It is an interesting exercise to find space between the vertebrae, and to seek a sense of openness in this area, without sticking out the chest or introducing any tension.

How much can you draw up the crown, and how much can you sink the pelvis away from the ribcage, without distorting the natural curve of the spine? This is a process of release, not of effort. Once tension manifests, internal power is lost. Unless of course that tension is the kind of torsional power we seek in Baguazhang, where deliberate internal twisting and releasing adds energy to our movements.

Whether in Cheng Bao, San Ti Shi, Dragon Palm, Ward Off, or just moving very, very slowly through Siu Nim Tao (or indeed any internal martial arts Tao Lu), paying attention to the upper back can bring a coherence and connection to the body, and profoundly affect the way in which the entire body moves. With the head upright, the spine aligned with gravity, and the soft tissues sunk and relaxed, we can move not only with great power and strength, but also with grace, unity, efficiency, and ease.

This is something we can train all the time, in our everyday lives. Most of us slouch or drop the head forwards, particularly in this age of comfy sofas and screen addiction. By staying aware of our spinal alignments and the position of the skull, as well as the relaxation of the trapezius and other back muscles, good martial posture can become a natural habit for daily living. And by regularly practising gentle stretching and loosening exercises, and mobilising the joints and spine, we can keep our spines supple and healthy and our lives healthy and long. To paraphrase Joseph Pilates, we are as young as our spines.

What’s more, practising this upwards extension of the spine directly translates into our mental state, too, helping us to be more relaxed, confident, and aware; more graceful, easeful and unified not just in body, but in mind and spirit, too.

Remember all those times your mum nagged you not to slouch? Well, maybe she really knew what she was talking about…