There was a new student at the park last Wednesday, who turned out to be an old student of Teacher X’s from like ten years ago. He’s opened up a couple of dentist offices over the years, Teacher X told me. We practiced a bit, and he wore himself out trying to push me, and I wore myself out not being pushed. Not a great learning experience. A couple of weeks ago I finally managed to successfully turn aside one of Teacher X’s attacks, which made me pretty happy. Of course, all he had to do was push me in the other direction, and I went down. Oh well. Still: progress!

I went to practice on Saturday morning at CKS Hall because I needed the boost and to work out some kinks after a largely sleepless night. Due to endless construction on the concert hall, our group has moved to the opera hall across the square. I was surprised to see only one dancing student group. As I warmed up and went through form work, a group of young art students showed up with wooden boards and paper.

No-lose Guy and Mr. V were going at each other in freestyle tuishou, shoving each other around the veranda, as I talked with Teacher X about his latest interest in Gothic calligraphy. He told me that a drunken mainlander has been bothering the group at the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall site where they practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Apparently he and Teacher X got into it a bit last week. “Little Mountain Pig had a talk with him,” Teacher X said.

A small group of people walked up the stairs about then. One of the group, a middle-aged Caucasian fellow, did some martial arts poses for the rest of the group, who were apparently Taiwanese. They took pictures, applauded and praised his prowess in English.

Little Mountain Pig showed up a bit later, and, surprisingly, gave me a rather in-depth lesson in the basics. The basic part isn’t a surprise, as he usually does that, but I wasn’t expecting him to get to into it. “You should be like a spring toy from the waist up,” he said, telling me not to rotate my body from the waist down so much (this is what the UPS Guy does too). “When you’re bent over in any direction,” -he bent backwards, forwards and to each side without really moving his legs- “Someone should be able to lay a table flat on top of you.” We practiced for a bit, and he provided an answer to the question of why Weeble was experimenting with not shoving people over as forcefully as he could last week. “Once you feel your opponent has nowhere to go, you can pull him back; you’ve both learned all you’re going to learn at that point,” he said. “If you’re really serious, though, you should be able to make your opponent jump back twice. This gives you an advantage in a fight, as he’s out and away from you, and you can plan your next move. One jump isn’t enough.” He also said it was more natural to keep your palms down when pushing. “The instinct is to turn your palms up, as you feel more in control, but as Master Zheng said, you should have hands everywhere, not just at the end of your arms.”

Pig has a similar yet different attitude about how one should view oneself in relation to other students. “You should see yourself as an expert,” he told me. “That way you’ll dare do things you wouldn’t otherwise try.” I told him about my view that I was the worst student in the class, so that I could be free to do anything without repercussions on any kind of reputation. “That works, too,” he said. “It basically means the same thing.”

After practice, when everyone else had left, we got to talking. He told me that the reason Little Qin hasn’t come to practice lately was because he was pissed off at L.M. Pig for teaching students who were outside our group. Apparently Little Qin takes the whole keeping-the-tradition-inside-the-family thing, and thought Pig was betraying Master Yang’s hard work in collecting such knowledge. So he told Pig they could talk about anything as long as it wasn’t about Tai-chi. “But everything is about Tai-chi, when you come down to it!” Pig told me. I get the feeling he regrets the rift between him and Little Qin.

When I pointed out that Little Qin himself has a blog on the subject, one that anyone can read, he said “That doesn’t matter; you can’t learn the essence of our style by reading about it. You have to be taught in person.”

“Someone once asked Master Yu if he was afraid that foreigners would steal all of his techniques,” Pig related. “Master Yu just laughed and said that would be very difficult, as so much of it needs to be seen through the context of Chinese culture and thought.” I couldn’t tell if this was what Pig himself believes. “You’ve got it, though, as you’re not really a foreigner,” he told me.

I’ve been skipping practice on Saturday mornings lately, due to other obligations. I hope to return to that when I have more time. I was first to the park last Wednesday, so I had some time to go through the sword form a few times before other students arrived. The new guy, Little Mountain Pig, Guo and Weeble seem to be the usual suspects lately. I did the empty-handed form after sword, which always feels strange because I need to remember to not project my focus beyond my hands as I do with the sword.

A group of badminton players tried to take over our space, but it turned out there was plenty of room for everyone. It was a bit distracting, however, as I also like badminton. I sat on the curb for a while, crushing leaves from the mystery plant. Guo literally ran away to find someone else to practice with, or perhaps I am reading too much into it. Maybe he reads this account and doesn’t like being described here. He and LMP both consider themselves high-level students, but when they practice together, LMP puts his hand on his head, as if he’s psychically trying to influence his opponent or something. He almost always pushes with one hand, testing the somehow inferior partner’s basic skills. The only time I’ve ever seen him really do tuishou was with Little Qin.

So it was up to us “lower-level” students, me and Weeble. It was hopeless, though, as Weeble, in a total reversal from last week, has reverted to his usual tense, “quick shove” style wrestling. He told me to push the skin, not the bones. It didn’t really work. Watching us, the badminton players laughed and aped our movements.

Teacher X said, “Your opponent creates your strategy with his energy. It’s like a triangle.” He stomped his foot. “That’s energy,” he said.

It’s been ages since I practiced. Last night I finally had some time to go to class in Yonghe. Another new guy was there, along with Guo, Weeble, Little Mountain Pig and Teacher X. Surpriginly, LMP was wearing shoes.

I loosened up and went through the empty-handed form, or what I remember of it, a few times. Then Weeble and I practiced. He’s realized that the only way that he can improve is by avoiding the sudden violent acts he used to spring on his opponents, which is a hopeful sign.

I was really tired and didn’t offer much resistance anyway. I then practiced with the new guy, whose name is Lai. Mostly I stood in front of him and waited for him to loose balance and fall over, but that’s the way it usually is at first.

When I’m resting, I always pick and crush some of the plant leaves on the border of the park, as I like their scent. I asked Weeble if it was mint, but he said no. Weeble works at a baozi stand, so he should know. If I find out what plant it is, I’d like to buy some for my place.

There was an unfamiliar guy sitting on the curb with everyone, away from our usual spot, which had been taken over by a rather amorous couple. Teacher X was talking with him, and pointed at me as I walked up, and the guy shook his head. Later, as I did some form work, he pushed with Weeble and things got a bit violent. I was glad it wasn’t me, to be honest, though it’s always interesting to practice with new people.

I practiced with Teacher X’s son, who is “serving” in the alternative service instead of military service. He’s put on some weight and is more flexible, but still relatively easy to get off balance. He’s a bit taller than me. Later on, Guo and Weeble were trying to shove each other over in an almost comical fashion, as Teacher X and I looked on from the curb. Teacher X was talking a bit more about our group’s history, how it was a combination of Yang and Wu styles thanks to Teacher Song’s studying not only with Zheng Man-qing, but also with the Wu teacher.

After Teacher X had left, I went through some sword form, while Guo and Weeble watched, disapprovingly. Guo took out his sword, which he has been studying recently, and gave me a few “tips”. “I am a more serious student, so I picked it up quicker, only two months,” he told me. Yeah, whatever, I thought. He tells me the same thing about tuishou. I’m not exactly sure why he seems to want to impress me. I don’t terribly mind being known as the worst sword student in the class as well as the worst tuishou student; it doesn’t really matter to me where I stand, as long as I’m still doing it.

The square between the opera and concert halls was awash with students and other young people, marching bands, military recruitment groups and dancers when I arrived on Saturday morning. Our usual spot was filled with other tai-chi practitioners, so I called Teacher Xu to find out where our group had gone, but he hadn’t arrived yet. I walked up the steps and found Mr. V sitting against the wall, and after a while NL guy walked up, and they began to wrestle among the hiphop dancers.

Teacher Xu and his son got there later, but the space was so filled with other groups there wasn’t anything for me to do but stretch until Teacher Xu got me and Mr. V doing tuishou. Mr. V was, shockingly, trying to be more soft and nuanced in his style, something I was really pleased to see from him, and I think he can do it if he applies himself. Maybe being thrown around and bruised by NL Guy had an influence on his attitude.

Afterwards, most of the people had cleared out, and I was able to run through my forms, which felt good after the claustrophobic feeling of the area earlier in the day. Heading off to Sababa’s for lunch after a decent workout is a good feeling.

I’ve been feeling tired lately, and have missed a few practices, so I decided I had to go to the CKS Hall practice on Saturday. That morning we were joined by belly dancers with little hand-bells. I worked a bit on my form as the No-lose guy and a newer student from a competition background went at it. That was a recipe for violence, I thought, and I wasn’t wrong. The competition guy got himself backed into all sorts of corners, and of course No-lose wouldn’t back down. At one point he was still going after the competition guy even after the latter was on the ground. I just had to shake my head at that.

Teacher Xu was telling us to concentrate on “rooting” our own feet and not to focus on the feet of our opponent. It does seem to help quite a bit; I think I can feel a difference, even when Teacher Xu is pushing me. I practiced with the UPS guy for a while, which was pretty useful. Then it was No-lose’s turn, and I managed to keep it as civil as I could, although he not only gave me a pummeling, he actually even went for my neck once, which I thought was pretty low. He even said to me, “You’re being too polite!” I refrained from telling him that I was being just exactly polite enough, and that he was the one who was being extremely rude. It wouldn’t have done any good, as he would then lecture me on how tuishou actually was supposed to be, etc.

Last up was Mr. V, who was completely, utterly inflexible. I mentioned this to him, and he softened up a bit, but he is still all about pure, unmoving rigid force. I find it strange that he can make this work, even after all this time, but somehow he’s managed.

After everyone left I went through my sword forms a few times. I felt better after practice, as usual. I need to do more work on my own.

The gang was all there when I got to the park. I talked with Teacher Xu while Mr. V, Guo, Weeble and none other than the Tree Root Master grappled with each other. TRM hasn’t shown up in a long time, so it was a surprise to see him. I practiced forms for a bit to warm up, not just for stretching but also to get my energy flowing, but by the time I was ready for tuishou the TRM said he had to leave. I suppose it’s just as well; practicing with him was very frustrating from what I recall the last time, which was a long time ago.

I practiced with Guo for a bit. Remarkably, he remained silent, and he was a lot more relaxed and less apt to pull quick pull moves. I didn’t get my pushing done, concentrating mostly on just flowing. I tend to pull back before attacking, though, which isn’t so good. But it’s been drilled into me that attacking is just asking to be attacked back with even greater force as my opponent takes my energy and projects it back at me. As long as I know this, it’s ok, but I’ve been on the receiving end of so many extra-violent counterattacks that it’s made me slightly hesitant. Oh, well, another thing to work on. It’s funny, actually; there are so many more terrible things in the world than other people, yet so many of us live in fear.

I practiced with Weeble for a bit, and then sat around talking with Guo and Teacher Xu, Guo compensating for his earlier silence by chattering on endlessly about various tui-shou-related philosophies. Teacher Xu said it might be helpful to envision one’s self as a puppet one is controlling, removing yourself from the equation. “Like sitting in a tree watching yourself!” Weeble added. We then practiced some shoulder techniques that weren’t quite tuishou, but potentially useful nonetheless.

I almost didn’t go to practice due to the threat of rain, but after another migraine, I figured I could use the exercise. Weeble, Mr. V, Guo and Teacher Xu were already there when I arrived, and the square was mostly dry. I practiced with Mr. V while Weeble and Guo went at it. They were very talkative, chattering unceasingly as they advised each other. Mr. V and I pushed silently. I concentrated on softness, letting myself be pushed into corners and trying to “relax” my way out, but it wasn’t working very well. I couldn’t envision my opponent’s backbone for some reason. Maybe I was just tired. Occasionally I would push back, but not often.

After Mr. V had to leave, Teacher Xu had me practice with Weeble for five minutes, and then Guo. Both were effusive in their praise, but I take it just like their criticism. I still have a long way to go, and it’s slow, but at least I’m still going.

The weather was perfect for practice this morning at CKS Hall. Teacher Xu and several regulars were there already when I arrived, plus the usual groups of dancing teenagers. I practiced the empty-handed form and got some good reminders from Teacher Xu. There’s so much to learn about every move, especially the slower you go, it seems like looking closer at a high-resolution picture and seeing more and more detail the closer you get. It just never ends. When I told Teacher Xu this, he said, “But you also have to remember to step back to see it as a whole, or you forget just what it is you’re looking at.”

I was going to do more formwork, but Teacher Xu said Mr. V and I should practice tuishou, so we did. I found him fairly easy to practice with today. I was concentrating mostly on staying flexible and soft, and keeping track of his spine. Both help a lot, I find. Usually when I am pushed into what seems like a hopeless position, relaxing and loosening up gives me a way out, and I’m slowly learning to do that sooner into the game instead of only realizing it when it’s too late. Hopefully with time it will become more of an instinct, rather than the default tenseness we are all born with in such situations. Often when I’m wondering which way I should apply a direction, visualizing my opponent’s spine reveals a direction that wouldn’t have occurred to me if I were just looking at him as a whole, so that helps as well, at least with some people. Pushing everyone is different. Last Wednesday Weeble kept trying to ask me who I though was the best student, and I couldn’t answer, and not just because it’s a meaningless question. Even if A is “better” than B, and B is “better” than C, half the time C is “better” than A. It’s just not that simple. But Weeble’s still at the stage, I guess.

After Mr. V, the little guy with whom I had a lot of trouble the first time I met him at Sun Yat-sen Hall so long ago wanted to practice with me. He’s a lot smaller than Mr. V, who is about my size and shape, and at first it felt like practicing with a large, inordinately powerful doll. I have to wonder if there’s a bit of Napoleonic Complex in there, but even though this time went a lot more smoothly than last time, he still cannot face “losing” a bout. Even after I’ve caused him to step back, he’ll keep on grappling and pulling instead of stopping like most students do. This, I thought to myself, is one of the consequences of acquiring a reputation. Tuishou and Taiji are, the more you get into them, more about the person you are than the techniques you study. At least it’s seeming more like that to me. You can memorize forms out the kazoo until you’re 90 years old, and still not understand Taiji. Not that I do, either, but I’m trying to approach it in what I hope is the right way.

Teacher Xu left, and an outsider joined us, an older man who grappled furiously with the No-lose guy while I tried to practice sword. We were being pushed, ironically in a most tui-shou manner, into a corner by the dancing students, who slowly moved into our area. One of them even came over and asked us how much longer we were going to be there. The person they assumed was in charge, however, was the older outside guy, who of course had no idea. Little Qin is the closest thing we have to a second-in-command, I guess, but he wasn’t there either, so Little Mountain Pig dealt with them the best he could. Soon, however, it became clear that if I kept practicing, sooner or later I was going to stab someone, probably by accident, so gave up. The old outsider guy said he liked the practice sword I was using, admiring the heft that makes it better than most practice swords. Little Mountain Pig chimed in as well. He always practices barefoot, for some reason. I should ask him why that is. I’d rather practice in shoes, as I’m usually wearing shoes in my daily life. I should wear more flexible pants to practice, however.

All in all, despite the annoying students and the lack of sword practice, it was a good session. Later, in the evening, I watched a group of people do some jogo de capoeira at Da-an Park, which was interesting. I’ve only seen videos of it, so this was the first time I’d seen it in real life. Lots of feet and leg movement, spinning and dancing, always hopping around to music surrounded by people, like a dance party, but the movements reminded me a bit of the monkey style.

I was the first to arrive in the park, by a long shot, at 8:30. Teacher Xu got there a bit later, followed by Weeble and Mr. V, who started practicing. I went through the empty-handed form a couple of times while they taught each other wrestling moves.

Teacher Xu interrupted their session with some advice. “Use about a third of the power you’re using now,” he said. “If you find you need more than that, relax and change the direction.” This had a visible effect on their practicing. Later, I pushed with Mr. V for a while. Mr. V’s style has evolved into a sort of quick, nervous patting as he tries to find pushing points. Once he thinks he has something, he clamps down like a robot. He’s a lot quicker than he used to be, but not much more subtle.

Then I practiced with Weeble, who was full of advice. Weeble spends more time teaching than being taught. He told me that he wanted to learn all styles and all levels, and he said I should join a competition. I couldn’t convince him that that was the last thing I wanted to do. The 1/3 advice from Teacher Xu had an effect on him as well; his quick shoves were less frequent than normal. We went on after Mr. V, Teacher Xu and his son had left, until Weeble got tired. He spends a lot of energy practicing. I didn’t spend much, and wasn’t even breathing hard. The night, for me, was all about being insubstantial. It sort of worked, I guess. At least it’s something. Lately I’ve been feeling that my practice lacks focus, but it’s probably because I’m distracted by so many other things these days.