what brought you to taiji?

Someone asked me this question on the evil thing that is facebook. Now that’s just not fair. He spent about five seconds typing that question and I need an hour to answer it. It is true, my vicious denigrators and detractors have, on occasion, accused me most groundlessly of perhaps a bit of wordiness, which might when seen from other perspectives be termed a certain tendency to expressiveness, possibly even expansiveness leading to…but how could anyone possibly answer that question in brief?

I could take the easy way out and answer with one word: fate. I was destined to pursue taiji. Living in China, many people taught me the word 缘 or yuan, something like “connection” or “tie”. Then there is 武缘, wuyuan, which must be a kind of fate that brings like-minded martial artists together. But really, fate or destiny or what have you is a rather unfulfilling answer.

My first taiji experience was an all-too-brief introductory course offered through the university some 23 years ago. What brought me to it? A vague interest in “Chinese philosophy” and a specific disinterest in typical sports. I haven’t met the teacher since then and don’t even know what style of taiji it was. She planted the first seeds, but I suspect it was a bit early in the growing season, the ground still too brittle in early spring.

It was a few years later, somewhere in my 8-year career at university, that I found Di Ma (written about elsewhere in this blog). She is the person who really kindled my interest in taiji and in Chinese martial arts in general. But at this time I was already subsumed in the world of karate, spending hours a day in that glorious time when I had little work and much time and energy. Officially, I majored in English, psychology, and philosophy, though I would have to say I devoted the greatest portion of my studies to the karate club.

So taiji was something secondary, not my primary pursuit. But I could not shake it – I knew that something in its motions and in its overall approach were right for me. Was it mere fate that brought Di Ma to the US, and to Lincoln, Nebraska of all places? That was back when it was not so easy to get out of China, and the family had to come over separately, one by one. Something more than chance was at work, I suspect.

More years down the road – an almost-year in China, daily one-on-one lessons in the taiji 42 form with Mr. Wu (written about elsewhere…). Though I kept up a steady regimen of solo karate practice, my early morning sessions with Mr. Wu soon became my focus. Already my core was shifting from the Japanese arts to those Chinese.

How did I get to Wenzhou, China? A young and talented martial artist left his wushu school in Ping Yang, going from the Chinese countryside to the metropolis of Tokyo, to study kendo and iaido at the same dojo I attended at that time. He and the kendo teacher organized trips in 1998 and 1999 which resulted in mutual demos of Chinese and Japanese martial arts in China. Taking part in them was my first exposure to life in China and led to that almost-year over there.

The next and biggest stage in my taiji development was meeting Mr. T here in Tokyo after returning to Japan from China. There was a brief, three-week intro course being offered in the small park-like area near my home. Its purpose was to gather interested students for a more formal class in a nearby community center.

I knew from the first day that he was the teacher for me. Was it 武缘? I don’t know. What brought me to live in Mitaka, the same part of Tokyo that he lives in and thus brought me in close proximity to several of his classes? Was it fate?

Maybe I was given a second chance, having blown my first one. Back at university, I had experience with kendo, iaido, and naginata, all in the same club. But the core, the absolute center, was karate. So it was ideal for me – deep exposure to and focus on one art, good exposure to others, and all in the same network – the same dojo, the same teachers. And all within the cloistered walls of the university.

Coming to Japan, I wanted to continue my progress in the Japanese arts I was already practicing. But I missed the most obvious point: no single person here in Japan teaches several arts like that. There was no way to re-create the situation I had back home.

Looking back, it is clear that I was doomed from the start. What I should have done (here we go) was live in Hachioji (outskirts of Tokyo) and devote myself to training karate there at the honbu dojo with Okano Sensei. I should have arranged a work schedule around karate. What about kendo? You can practice that anywhere in Japan. Iaido? Okano Sensei was also 7-dan iaido and I had joined his iaido classes on two pre-moving visits to Japan. Naginata? He personally called the head of Hachioji naginata and arranged for my visit out there.

All the doors were open. No one in Japan is like that, willing to help someone study more than one art. Things are very closed and outside training is not to be discussed (until you have reached very high rank; then it becomes very good to talk about being deeply experienced in 2-3 arts. But the distance between those two points is long…). Yet here was Okano Sensei, holding every door open to me – what other teacher in Japan would do that?

I failed completely. A friend offered to let me stay in his apartment for awhile (other side of Tokyo) and take over some of his English-teaching jobs as he edged into IT work. I took the easy way, moved in with him (after all, there was an English-using kendo dojo extremely nearby. Fool!). One of those jobs automatically closed off one night of karate practice to me. I drifted into other jobs that gradually reduced my karate attendance to almost nil.

Sure, taking THOSE jobs freed me up for other martial arts practice in the daytime, and I made great progress in naginata and so on. But it became impossible to continue in karate. You can’t hop around various karate dojos like you can (to some extent) in kendo or naginata.

This could take us into a long self-analysis on my personality shortcomings and not taking control of my own destiny…but let’s not wallow in it.

The irony of it all is that, on leaving the university to move to Japan, my karate teacher’s final message to me was to not worry about karate. “Go over there and study something you can’t study over here, and bring it back”. His words could not enter my ears. For seven years, karate had been the absolute center of my life – and he was telling me I didn’t need to study karate in Japan, the heart of it all??

And here I am now, the karate connection completely lost, studying things I could not study back in Nebraska, plunging in ever more deeply.

Studying taiji with Mr. T led me into xing yi, then into ba gua, and more. Trips to China to meet and study with his teachers, forging connections and deepening my knowledge. Several practices a week, regular participation in the local demos and exhibitions. My daily practice, my core, is the Chinese internal martial arts, with other topics in the background.

What brought me here? Fate alone is not enough of an answer. Maybe it was fate that brought me here, that presented the opportunity, but it has been my efforts to take control of the course of my training – and the excellent guidance of my teachers – which has kept me moving in this direction. I can only ask for more such guidance and take personal responsibility to bring it into my life and my motions.

Next question, please.