Blog

Happy New Year of the Fire Horse!

The Lunar New Year began on February 17th, 2026, and celebrates the year of the Fire Horse. The colour associated with fire is red, and there is a further legend about the “heavenly horses” – not mythical creatures, but real historical animals taken by the Han Chinese from the nomads of the Eurasian steppe – having a blood red colour. For this reason, this year is also known as the Red Horse Year 赤馬年. The year of the Fire Horse is an especially powerful year in which we can expect great dynamism and change, but not necessarily for the better. I am reminded of the famous line of Margot Channing (Bette Davis) in the film All About Eve (1950): Fasten your seat belts, it’s going to be a bumpy night.

What were the heavenly horses? To the North and West of the Chinese plains lies the Mongolian steppe, whose tribesmen harassed the Chinese. The Chinese called these tribes the Xiongnu; we know them as the Huns. The tribesmen were mounted on horses which, having evolved to cope with the mountainous terrain of the steppe, were larger and stronger than the horses native to the Chinese plains. To combat them the Chinese needed better warhorses.

During the Han dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE) the emperor sent expeditions to investigate and then to import the highly coveted “heavenly horses” (tiānmǎ) from the Central Asian kingdom of Ferghana in Uzbekistan. These expeditions were long, arduous and costly. The envoy sent to investigate the tribesmen’s horses spent ten years in remote jails before escaping and returning home. When the Chinese then sent an ambassador with a thousand gold pieces, the Ferghana refused to sell and the ambassador was executed, sparking a war which lasted several years. The Chinese eventually seized 3,000 horses. Most of these died on the long journey home, but enough survived to establish these horses in China. They immediately proved their worth in battle, giving rise to the Chinese saying 馬到成功 mǎ dào chéng gōng: Horses arrive, instant success.

Those born in the Year of the Horse (1930, 1942, 1954, 1966, 1978, 1990, 2002, and 2014) are said to be intelligent, strong, and energetic with an outgoing nature. They enjoy interacting with others and are good at multi-tasking, although they rarely finish projects because they’re off to the next one before they finish the last. Typically they have money issues, and when it comes to matters of the heart, they fall hard and fast.

Horses are heroic creatures in Chinese mythology, capable and loyal. In the classic novel The Journey to the West, known in the west from it’s television adaption as Monkey, the horse belonging to the monk Tripitaka, White Dragon Horse, is one of the main characters, and becomes a Bodhisattva (enlightened being) at the end of the tale thanks to his endurance and perseverance. In China, the combination of the spirit (jīngshén 精神) of the dragon (lóng) with that of the horse (mǎ) is thought to be particularly useful, giving rise to the idiom 龙马精神 lóng mǎ jīngshén.

The Chinese also have a legend of the qianliama or Thousand Li Horse, capable of travelling 1000 li (just over 250 miles) in a single day. Today, qianliama is a metaphor for an extremely capable person.

The Fire Horse

Fire Horses are thought to be particularly strong willed, the fire element amplifying the horse’s natural qualities of enthusiasm and leadership. The “phase” of fire is associated with the colour red, and the Fire Horse Year is also called 赤 馬 年 chìmǎ Red Horse Year.

The Horse in the Taoist Arts

In an earlier article we spoke about the Tai Chi move Wild Horse Parts Mane, but the horse also shows up in the Taiji Sword set and in the Lok Hup set.

The Flying Horse of Gansu, discovered in the tomb of General Zhuang (2nd century CE) in 1969

In the Taiji sword set, Move 28 is 天馬行空 tiānmǎ xíng kōng – Heavenly Horse Flies through the Sky. Heavenly Horse tiānmǎ refers to the warhorses captured from the kingdom of Ferghana, as we explained above, and should not be interpreted as a reference to a literal flying horse such as the greek legend of Pegasus.

In Lok Hup, a long sequence in the second part begins with move 48 走馬觀花 zǒu mǎ guān huā Moving Rider Looks at Flowers. In this movement we look down as if from horseback, but the phrase also turns out to be a metaphor for seeing things fleetingly and thus superficially, just as a galloping rider can only glance at the scenery as it passes by.

Chinese Astrology

Astrology is loved as much in the east as in the west and is popular all over Asia. However there are important differences, the main one being that one’s “sign” depends not on the month in which one was born – “our twelve signs of the zodiac”, twelve constellations through which the sun, viewed from the earth, appears to move – but on the year. As in the west, there are twelve signs, each one an animal, all of them real animals except for one, the dragon. A myth tells how Buddha invited all the animals of the world to bid him farewell before leaving the Earth. The first twelve animals to arrive were the Rat, Ox, Tiger, Hare/Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat/Ram/Sheep, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, and Pig. The tale is full of colourful detail about the race the animals ran to arrive first. The Rat, for example, finished first by riding on the ox’s back and then jumping off in front at the last minute; the Dragon could have finished first, but stopped to make rain during a drought, and to help the Rabbit; and the Pig came last because he ate on the way and had a nap. The cat, meanwhile, overslept and never made it, which is why there is no year of the cat.

In addition to the twelve animals, one’s birth year is qualified by one of the five Chinese phases, often called the “five elements” in the West because they remind us of our Four Elements (Fire, Earth, Water, Air). The combination of 5 and 12 gives rise to a sixty year cycle which the Chinese based on the sixty-year rotation of the planet Jupiter (known as the “year star” 歳星 Suìxīng) around the sun. The Five Phases or Five Agents are Wood, Water, Air, Metal and Fire, which have an elegant interplay of their own. On 17th February 2025 we passed from the year of the Wood Snake to the year of the Fire Horse (Chinese New Year falls on the second New Moon after Winter Solstice). This system is used all over Asia, except in modern Japan, which switched to the Gregorian calendar in the 19th century.

As well as their own system of 12 signs, the Chinese also use a system of 28 lunar mansions. These were divided into four groups for the cardinal directions, each corresponding to a divine animal: the Azure Dragon of the East, the Vermilion Bird of the South, the White Tiger of the West, and the Black Tortoise of the North. These creatures are still important today and historians tell us that in China, the system of lunar mansions predates the system of twelve animals which was an idea that started further west and was spread east, first by Alexander the Great (as far as India) and then by Buddhist monks.

Nevertheless, our first contact with Chinese astrology is with the twelve animals, which – just as in our twelve signs – are a prism for understanding different human characters.

Forwards going back, backwards going forward.

In a move such as Repulse Monkey (Step Back to Ward-off Monkey) we do not simply fall backwards. Yes we step back, but we do so to Ward off the Monkey in front of us. In other words, as we step back there is an intention (意 yì) forwards.

Less obvious is that in order to go forwards we need a backwards intention. As we transfer the weight forward, the back foot roots – there is an intention down the back leg into the heel. But this intention is created earlier, as we sit (in order to make the empty step), manifesting in the tail bone. In Tai Chi it has been said 向前有後意 xiàng qián yǒu hòu yì – Going Forward with Backward Intention.

These opposite directions create stretch which is a huge component of Mr Moy’s Tai Chi. The stretch engages the tendons and helps to generate elastic force (彈勁 dán jìn), jìn meaning the refined, skilful (功 gōng) power cultivated by Taiji practice, as opposed to brute force (力 lì).

Another occasion when people step back in order to achieve something is when planting rice. One can see this for example in the final scene of Kurosawa’s film Seven Samurai. The planter steps back into the empty part of the rice paddy in order to plant the next seedling. In China, the cultivation of a field is often a metaphor for self-cultivation and the Chinese monk Budai (“Cloth Sack”) (real name 契此 (Qici) wrote this poem in the early 10th Century (the Five Dynasties period):

Planting green rice seedlings in the wild field, one can see the sky reflected in the water when looking down.
Only when the six senses are purified can one truly benefit from rice; taking a step back is actually moving forward.

手把青秧插野田,低头便见水中天
六根清净方为稻,退步原来是向前

Hook Moon up from Sea Bottom

In the sword set we find the move 海底撈月 – Hook Moon up from Sea Bottom. In this beautiful wood-block lithograph by the Japanese artist Okara Koson (“Monkey and Reflection of the Moon”) the monkey is not fishing, but reaching for the moon’s reflection. The image makes it plain that the name of the move is not meant to be taken literally. Instead, it’s a metaphor for a beautiful but impossible dream. This metaphor is still used in China today.

10 Don-yu can undo an hour of sitting

Sitting down all day is bad for you – no question, but a study published in 2024 found that breaking up a day at your desk every 45 minutes to an hour with either 10 squats or 3 minutes walking really improved blood sugar control, compared to a control group. Going for a single half hour walk was only half as beneficial. Those 10 squats might only take a minute, depending on how fast you do them.

hips back, arms forward, sitting nicely behind the knees, which don’t go further forward than the toes, and a nice straight back

Turning your squat into a don-yu has additional benefits. Compared to a squat, the emphasis on sitting slowly means that the big muscles at the front of the thigh (the “quads” or quadriceps) are stretched under tension, an action known as eccentric contraction. This is especially beneficial for building both the strength and the mass of these muscles. As the hips open and the back becomes more upright, the donyu starts to work the whole spine.

Taiji sabre (刀 dāo) – the Yang set

The Yang sabre set does not have a list of moves as such but instead a 13 line poem (口訣 kǒu jue “spoken arts”) which was recited during practice. Each line has seven characters, and thus seven syllables (“Tiger tiger burning bright / In the forests of the night”). The poem functions as a mnemonic and does not name all the postures.

This poem is recorded in Fu Zhongwen’s 1958 treatise on the Taiji sabre and earlier in Dong Yingjie’s Tai Chi Boxing Explained (1948).

The movements of the Yang sabre set

  1. 七星跨虎交刀势 Qī xīng kuà hǔ jiāo dāo shì – Seven Stars, Mount the Tiger, Pass the Sabre Posture
  2. 腾挪闪展意气扬 Téng nuó shǎn zhǎn yì qi yáng – Spring clear, evade and strike, Will and Spirit Raised
  3. 左顾右盼两分张 Zuǒgù yòupàn liǎng fēn zhāng – Looking Left, Gazing Right, the Two Components Spread
  4. 白鹤亮翅五行掌 Bái hè liàng chì wǔháng zhǎng – White Crane Spreads Wings, Five Element Palm
  5. 风卷荷花叶里藏 Fēng juǎn héhuā yè lǐ cáng – Breezes Turn the Lotus Blossom, Hide it in the Leaves.
  6. 玉女穿梭八方势 Yùnǚ chuān suō bā fāng shi – Jade Maidens Work Shuttles Facing Eight Directions
  7. 三星开合自主张 Sān xīng kāi hé zìzhǔ zhāng – Three Stars Open Close, Freely and Naturally
  8. 二起脚来打虎势 Èr qǐ jiǎo lái dǎ hǔ shi – Strike the Tiger with Both Feet
  9. 披身斜挂鸳鸯脚 Pī shēn xié guà yuānyāng jiǎo – Drape Body, Hang Aslant, Mandarin Duck Kick
  10. 顺水推舟鞭做篙 Shùn shuǐ tuī zhōu biān zuò gāo – With the Current, Push the Boat, Lift Whip, Use as Quant
  11. 下势三合自由招 Xià shì sān hé zìyóu zhāo – Lower Posture, Three Harmonies, Freely Move
  12. 左右分水龙门跳 Zuǒyòu fēn shuǐ lóngmén tiào – Left Right Part the Waters, Jump the Dragon Gate
  13. 卞和携石凤还巢 Biàn hé xié shí fèng hái cháo – Bian-He Retrieves his Stone, Phoenix Returns to Nest

The set we practice has the same first move but then diverges; it is also the same at the end, but uses more prosaic terms for the final move. In particular, the phrases “Lower Body to Tame Tiger” and “The Beauty Runs to the Moon” do not occur anywhere. (Surely the latter phrase alludes to the legend of Chang’e, who stole the elixir of immortality from the Queen Mother of the West and flew to the moon (嫦娥奔月) )? The very existence of these terms implies that the set Mr Moy modified, which came from Mr Sun (Sun Di), was not the one handed down through Fu Zhongwen. It displays a clear influence in its stepping patterns from Ba-gua. “Taming the Tiger” is the name of one of the standing postures in Yiquan; one feels the influence of Master Liang, who taught Lok Hup to Mr Moy and Mr Sun.

Comments on the moves of the Yang set

7: 三星开合自主张 Sān xīng kāi hé zìzhǔ zhāng – Three Stars Open Close, Freely and Naturally. What are the three stars? According to Zhang Yun they are the laogong point (in the centre of your palm, PC8), the “bubbling spring” yongquan (K-1 in your foot) and the quchi point on your elbow (LI-11). The stars open when the arms are extended, and closed when the arms draw back together.

Completely irrelevant, but interesting nevertheless, because it shows the enduring popularity of the term: in Korean, Sān xīng becomes “Samsung”.

9 披身斜挂鸳鸯脚 Pī shēn xié guà yuānyāng jiǎo – Drape Body, Hang Aslant, Mandarin Duck Kick – what is the Mandarin duck kick? Mandarin ducks are known for forming lasting pairs, so the reference is to a pair of movements. Zhang Yun elucidates that originally there were two kicks, first a side kick and then the forward kick, but that the the first kick has been removed.

10 顺水推舟鞭做篙 Shùn shuǐ tuī zhōu biān zuò gāo – With the Current, Push the Boat, Lift Whip, Use as Quant – the sabre is lifted high as if lifting a whip, and then the handle is brought down in a two handed grip as if punting. The correct English word for a punt-pole is a quant. No-one uses it when translating the name of this move into English but avoiding it leads to translations which are at best awkward, and at worst nonsensical (“take whip as oar”). Alternatively, one could just say “Punt“.

12 左右分水龙门跳 Zuǒyòu fēn shuǐ lóngmén tiào – Left Right Part the Waters, Jump the Dragon Gate. Here the rolling upward cuts are compared to the movement of carp, swimming powerfully like salmon up the rapids of the Yellow River known as the Dragon Gate. It was said that any carp who managed to jump the dragon gate would be turned into a dragon as a reward for his efforts.

13 卞和携石凤还巢 Biàn hé xié shí fèng hái cháo – Bian-He Retrieves his Stone, Phoenix Returns to Nest – Bian-He found a stone which he was convinced contained a wonderful piece of jade. According to legend he presented the stone to King Wu and then (after Wu’s death) to King Wên, but both men rejected him, and he had a foot cut off each time as a punishment for lying (yuè 刖), one of the five punishments. Finally the stone was brought to King Ch’êng who believed his story and had the stone cut, revealing the precious jade inside. It was made into a jade annulus (bi), Mr He’s jade or Heshibi. According to legend, this bi was so magnificent that it was turned into the Heirloom Seal of the Realm. In the set, the words xié shí (Retrieve the Stone) are chanted as the sabre is returned to the crook of the left elbow. The name of the movement implies that the stone is returned to Bian-He.

In mythology the phoenix returns to its nest in order to be consumed by the flames which will give birth to the next phoenix. This is considered a perfect sacrifice. Referencing the phoenix at the end of the set brings to a close a set well done.

Here’s a video of the Yang style set being performed by Tary Yip. There’s also a Chinese video of Fu Qingquan (grandson of Fu Zhongwen) teaching this set to two students as if in a movie.

References

Videos

Books and articles

Acupuncture points for Taiji players

Acupuncture is well known and popular in the Western world. Underlying this system is the concept of an energy body. Whilst in the west we take a very material view of the body as made of tissues (bones, flesh and blood), which leads to a mechanical and instrumental attitude to the body, eastern traditions emphasise that the body is also energy. The “energy body” has a number of layers. In India they emphasise the chakras, large fields of energy. Whilst the Chinese are aware of these, they also pay a lot of attention to the system of meridians: energy pathways running through the body, which they name after the organs they pass through. Along this paths lie points with their own properties and functions, all given poetic names. There are also some points that don’t lie on meridians.

For the taiji player interested in the Chinese view of the body it’s not necessary to learn the meridians: we can begin by learning a few points on these meridians that are useful for our practice. Taiji players sometimes have slight differences with practitioners of Chinese medicine about the precise location of these points.

The centre of the palm: Láo Gōng

In the centre of the palm is a cavity: when we push with the palm of the hand, the force of that push is centred here. It’s where the hand does it’s work, gōng 宮, and thus it’s called láo gōng 勞宮: the House of Work or, if you are more poetically minded, the Palace of Toil. In acupuncture it is PC8 (Pericardium 8. The pericardium is the sac that encases and protects the heart. For this reason, it’s also known as the ‘Heart Protector’ meridian).

The Tiger’s Mouth

When taijí is used martially the hands grab, but when we are playing our taijí the hands are opened so that there is space between all the fingers. Especially important is the gap between the thumb and the forefinger, which is called the Tiger’s Mouth hǔ kǒu 虎口. Just think about the way a tiger opens it’s jaws wide – before it roars, or perhaps just before it snaps them shut! – and you’ll immediately understand how we are to use this part of the hand in the Taoist arts. This space must be opened wide. Taijí players believe that opening the Tiger’s Mouth activates the Láo Gong, connecting the hand to the rest of the body.

If you gently hold the space between your thumb and forefinger with the thumb and forefinger of the other hand, you may feel something there, and squeezing this point is sometimes promoted as a “hack” for relieving a headache. It’s on the Large Intestine meridian, LI4. (Don’t get confused with the liver meridian).

Fully opening the Tiger’s Mouth will take the thumb a bit forward of the plane of the hand

The Bubbling Spring

The láo gōng in the centre of the palm hand has a ‘mirror’ in the foot: the Bubbling Spring, yǒng quán 虎泉. This is the beginning of the kidney meridian, a place where energy bubbles up into the body from the earth. So where is it exactly? It is again a hollow, but not the one in the centre of the arch: it’s found just behind the ball of the foot. Being a hollow, you can’t make physical contact with the floor with this point. For the taijí player this is an absolutely essential point for finding balance. To be balanced, our centre of gravity must be over our foot – more specifically, over the bubbling spring. Centre the weight there, and one finds that it’s no longer necessary to use the muscles in order to stand up. Instead one magically floats up – but at a speed dictated by the body.

Lost Sleep

If the Bubbling Spring makes energy go up, what makes it come down? Think about how you walk and the answer reveals itself. Stride forward, and whilst the back foot is powering you forward and up through the Bubbling Spring, the front foot goes down and lands on the heel. The centre of this action is at the centre of the heel, a point known as shi mián 失眠, which means “lost sleep”. Of course! If energy won’t go down, it gets stuck in the head and we can’t sleep. Acupuncturists use this point to treat insomnia.

Hundred Gathering

If the Bubbling Spring is the “bottom” of the energy system, where is the top? It’s at the top of the head, a place where many energy lines converge, hence its name, Hundred Gathering, bǎi hui 百會. This is the highpoint of the pathway that runs up the spine, known as the Governing Vessel or dū mai 督脈. Here it meets for example with the Liver meridian.

Now where exactly is the bǎi hui? Understandings differ. My understanding is that it’s not at the physical high point, but a bit further back – a place we might refer to as the crown (although again that’s not a precise location). We are sometimes told to imagine that the top of the head is suspended from above on a golden thread (“hung from above”). If you attach this thread to the bǎi hui, then as you lift it the head will be pulled slightly back: not back from where it should be, but back to where it should be. In our visual, forward thrusting Western culture, the head is often held a little bit forward, putting enormous strain on the muscles of the neck. Which brings us on to:

Jade Pillow

At the top of the neck lies the jade pillow yù zhěn 玉枕, which is both an area and an acupuncture point (actually a bilateral pair of acupucture points). If you’ve ever used a bolster to support your head rather than a pillow you’ll perhaps understand where this is. A bolster isn’t placed directly under the head, but a bit lower, so that the high point of the bolster is at the hollow where the neck joins the head.

To align the neck nicely, the Jade Pillow must be brought gently back so that the neck better supports the head. Thinking about the Jade Pillow together with the Bai Hui will bring the spine into the correct alignment.

Chinese culture can be a bit austere and some people really did sleep on a pillow made of jade.

The crook of the elbow: qu-chí

Quchí (曲池) lies in the crook of your elbow. More precisely, it’s located at the outside (“lateral”) end of the crease of the elbow joint (the “cubital crease”): you can find it by flexing your elbow and looking for the place where the crease ends. This point is LI-11 on the Large Intestine meridian. In TCM, as well as being used to relieve elbow pain, it clears heat and infections from the body – it’s very widely indicated. From a taiji perspective, opening the elbow gives you the same benefits. This is something we work on particularly in Wild Horse Parts Mane, and in the Sabre set in the movement Raise Leg and Pierce (“Three Stars Open and Close“).

The golden gate

Jīn mén (金門), the Golden Gate, lies on the outside of the foot, below the ankle bone. It’s BL-63 on the Bladder meridian (sometimes called UB-63, Urinary Bladder, to distinguish it from the Gall Bladder). The Golden Gate is the beginning of the Yin and Yang Stepping Vessels, two of the eight “extraordinary” meridians which are given as much or even more importance as the 12 “primary” meridians emphasised in TCM.

The Carp leaps over the Dragon Gate

Ohara Koson - Leaping Carp

This phrase, well known in China as a metaphor for great success, has its origins in the leaping of carp in China’s Yellow River. Like migrating salmon in the Western hemisphere, the carp swim upstream, leaping the rapids which form as the river flows through a cleft in the mountains. So difficult is the ascent that many carp are unable to complete it and fall back. A legend tells that they complained to the Emperor who found that they had a point and decided to reward the successful few by transforming them into dragons. The rapids were then named Lóngmén 龍 門, the Dragon’s Gate.

Tai Chi is full of references to carp leaping the Dragon Gate. We find it at the end of the sword set (#47 Carp leaps the Dragon Gate) and also of the Yang family sabre set (“Left Right Part the Waters, Jump the Dragon Gate), although the name is not preserved in the version of the set transmitted by Sun Dit to Mr Moy. In both sets the move comes close to the end of the set where it thus symbolises the achievement of success after a long effort.

The leaping of carp is a common subject in both Chinese and Japanese art. This image is by the famous Japanese painter and engraver Ohara Koson (1866-1945).

Liang Tzu-peng

Liang Tzu-peng (梁子鵬, Liang Zi-peng (1900-1974) was one of the most important teachers of Chinese martial arts of the 20th century. He started learning martial arts as a boy as his father thought they would strengthen his body and spirit, and lay the foundations for a successful life. Born in the southern province of Canton (Guangdong), he moved north to Shanghai as a young man, starting work as a clerk in a western company. Here he joined the Jing Wu martial arts association, one of the first public martial arts institutes in China (immortalised in the Bruce Lee film “Fist of Fury”). All the best teachers were invited to teach here and Liang trained particularly hard in Eagle Claw kung fu which was taught by the “King of Eagle”, Chen Zi-zheng. Liang is said to have studied at least 30 styles of hard boxing as well as a myriad of Shaolin weapons forms, all to a high level, to the point where he could learn new styles just by looking at them.

Over time, Liang’s interest slowly shifted to internal styles. Liang heard about You Peng-xī 尤彭熙 (1902-1981), a man with a deep knowledge of tai-ji, ba-gua, and xing-yi, who had also studied Yi-quan from its founder Wáng Xiangzhai. Unable to obtain an introduction, Liang went to visit You, challenging him arrogantly. You invited Liang to grasp his wrist – the favourite technique of Eagle Claw practitioners – but Liang was unable to do so. Admitting defeat, Liang became You’s student, but after so many years of studying hard styles he found the standing training (Zhan Zhuang) uninspiring. Later he became addicted to it. Years later, Liang later told Mr Moy that he regretted having spent so much time studying hard styles as a young man.

As a youth Liang had looked down on Tai-ji but after he began training with You he began to see it in a different light. Liang studied Tai-ji from fellow martial artists, without having a formal teacher. He preferred yang style, which is what he later taught to Mr Moy.

In Shanghai Liang studied Liu He Ba Fa (Lok Hup) under Wu Yi-hui 吳翼翬. Wu nicknamed Liang “The lark” 百靈鳥 because of his lightness skills: Liang could jump a foot higher than his own height. Liang studied with him only a short time, leading to allegations that he learnt only the first half of the set from Wu and “made up” the second half, but it seems Liang told Mr Moy that Wu required people to adapt the second half of the set according to their knowledge of other styles (this statement should not be interpreted as a license to interpret Lok-hup in whichever way one wishes).

Liang was of course extremely fit. There are many stories about that, but the most significant is a sad one: a fire broke out in their building. The family apartment was on the upper floor. Liang absailed down the outside of the building carrying his wife, climbed back up, then rescued his daughter in the same way. Only at this moment did he remember their second, infant daughter, but it was now impossible to re-enter the building, and she perished. This incident greatly increased Liang’s renown locally.

In 1946, seeing the situation on the Chinese mainland deteriorating under the communists, Liang decided to move to Hong Kong which was still a British colony and where his employer (Oriental Yarns) had just opened a new branch. You Peng-xi, being a famous medical doctor, was not permitted to go with him but told him: You have to make my Yi-quan famous. In Hong Kong Liang did not join the Jing-wu but taught Lok Hup and Yi-quan at home in the evenings, and in the parks. Two of his students were Sun Di (孫秩 Sun Zhi) and Moy Lin-shin (梅連羨), who were martial-arts brothers. Sun Dit participated in the open fight competitions where he became known as “Sun the Unbeatable”, a testament to the martial efficacy of Liang’s teachings. Another famous student is C.S. Tang who still lives and teaches in Hong Kong.

In Hong Kong Liang taught for free because he had a job. He asked his students to call him Mister Liang rather than Shīfu (師傅 (master)) because he wanted to change the relationship between master and student. As it turns out, Liang inherited this practice from his Yiquan teacher, who had insisted that his students called him “Mr Yau” (cantonese). Mr Moy continued the practice, telling us: “No more masters”.

Finally, it’s not quite true that Bruce Lee was a student of Mr. Liang, although he did come to some classes. Lee’s father was studying Taiji under Mr Liang and when his son came to Hong Kong he introduced him to Liang. Lee attended some classes and listened intently to what Mr Liang had to say, but Liang would not accept him as a student because Lee would not change his path from external to internal arts. Nevertheless, it’s clear that Liang’s teachings greatly influenced Bruce Lee’s Jeet Kune-do. “Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless – like water” is an expression of the core teaching of Yiquan which has no fixed forms, and the water metaphor a direct link to Lok Hup which is sometimes called Water Boxing in China.

What did Liang teach?

In Hong Kong Liang taught Lok Hup Ba Fa (六合八法) and Yi-quan. His main training methods were the “Three Treasures of Southern Yiquan” (南派意拳): the standing postures (Zhan zhuang) (站樁 – Stand like a Stake), the don-yu (蹲腰), and the tor-yu (拖腰), which includes Push Hands (Tui-shou 推手).

When Liang was asked to teach by the JingWu, he taught the three treasures. For the first year he taught don-yu; for the second, tor-yu, and for the third, the standing postures. This kind of focussed training, which required great dedication from the students, was not unusual in former times.

References

Most of the information in this article is contained in the book The Complete Book of Yiquan by C.S. Tang (2015). This contains lots of information about the standing postures of Yi-quan (with photographs) which I have never seen elsewhere.

Taiji sabre (刀 dāo) – introduction

There are two short weapons in taiji: the sword (劍 jiàn) and the sabre (刀 dāo). The jiàn is a light, straight, double-edged sword, the choice of the nobility and of religious, requiring a high level of skill and a still mind.

By contrast, the dāo is a heavier, curved blade with a single cutting edge. In China it is said: Jian is like a flying phoenix; dao is like a ferocious tiger. The sabre, having a simpler technique, is the “root of the short weapons” – the first short weapon to be trained. Whilst it lacks the subtlety of the straight sword it should not be underestimated; it too fosters the development of high level skills.

The word dāo means simply knife, which is one reason why the Chinese remain so resistant to the Western knife and fork at their dining table. Dāo (flat tone) is not to be confused with dào (falling tone) 道 (formerly written tao) – the way.

The sabre set has many benefits. Most obviously, it exercises the shoulders – helping to open the upper gate.

The weight of the weapon helps with sitting and promotes a unified, whole body movement: it is simply too difficult to wave a heavy weapon around just with arm strength. Sabre play thus improves our empty-handed form. A typical wooden practice sabre weighs a pound and a metal sabre two to three pounds, but the Yang family practiced with sabres that weighed at least five pounds, so for our purposes the heavier the better.

There are many different sabres in China. The word dāo is also used for the halberd, a sabre on the end of a long pole that was used by infantry to defend against cavalry. But even the sabre proper has many different varieties.

Today we most commonly see the oxtail sabre (niúwěi dāo 牛尾刀), a staple of Kung Fu movies (just look at Michelle Yeoh in the still above from “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”). This is a heavy weapon with a broad blade, for which reason it’s sometimes called a broadsword in English. It appeared in the 19th century as a civilian weapon (even an untrained person can do a lot of damage with one) at a time when firearms had made armour redundant and was never issued to the military. Because of the flare at the end of the blade, the centre of gravity of the oxtail sabre is not very close to the hilt, making it a powerful slashing weapon at the expense of manoeuvrability.

The oxtail sabre was also not the traditional choice in Taiji. Yang style sabre continues to use the willow leaf sabre liǔyè dāo 柳葉刀), which has a gentle curve along its entire length and often a curved handle as well. This developed from the goose feather sabre (yànlíng dāo 雁翎刀 , see the photo below), which in turn developed from an earlier weapon used on horseback by the Mongols – the weapon that made the Mongol horde under Genghis Khan so feared and effective. These weapons are not broadswords but occupy a middle ground between a straight sword and an oxtail sabre – much narrower than the latter. The guard was very small; one can see instantly the similarity to the Japanese katana, although note that the katana is mostly held with both hands, whilst the Chinese sabre, with its roots as a cavalry weapon, is mostly held in only one hand.

The oxtail sabre is however popular among Kungfu stylists and that’s why wooden sabres are made after the pattern of the oxtail sabre. It would be better to use a wooden willow leaf sabre but they are simply not available.

Sabre techniques: attacking

The sabre, like the straight sword, can be used to stab: either superficially (poke), or a deep thrust (ci 刺). Most often it is used to chop – a powerful cut designed to cut through leather armour or to attack the neck. Chopping with the sabre is normally done at an angle (kan 砍), a movement called throwing the shuttle, but can also be straight down (pī 劈, hack).

The sabre is also used to slice (huà 划), a method of attacking unarmoured parts of the body such as the hand or wrist, or the leading leg. It’s not necessary to cut off the opponent’s hand: it’s sufficient to make him drop his weapon. We see slicing of the hand at the end of Hide Sabre and Push as the weapon is held horizontally and pulled back towards the waist.

Finally the opponent can also be attacked with the hilt, for example with a blow to the temple (hit tiger left) or to the ribs (hit tiger right).

Sabre techniques: defending

In taiji sabre, stabbing attacks are blocked by neutralizing the incoming blade – deflecting and sticking to the blade (a taiji skill developed in push hands). According to one story, a famous sabre player known as Magic Sabre Zhang once had a bout with Yang Jianhou (son of Yang Luchan and father to Yang Chengfu). Armed only with a horsetail duster, Yang easily defeated Zhang by sticking to his blade, leaving Zhang unable to deploy any of his techniques.

When the blade is deflected one can move either inside (i.e. to the side of the opponent’s body) or outside the attack. Moving inside it is then simple to switch to attacking with an upper cut. Moving outside, one then spins round to attack (a movement not seen in our set).

Chopping attacks are avoided by holding the hilt high with the blade at an angle (a structure described as resembling a roof), such that the incoming blade is deflected to the side (as in roll the sabre).

An incoming sabre can also be blocked using sheer strength, and followed up by a push involving both arms, with the back of the blade being pushed by either the empty hand or the back of the empty forearm.

Don’t think that sabre techniques are necessarily designed to block another sabre. The opponent may have a spear. In this case, the defender must first intercept the attack and then rapidly close the distance, perhaps with a lunge.

In taiji dāo the weapon is mostly held with a single hand, with a two handed grip used relatively seldom. Occasionally the other hand is used to reinforce a technique, which also keeps it out of harm’s way. This does not mean that the empty hand never does anything: it can also strike or grab.

Rolling the sabre

Rolling the sabre chán tóu 纏頭 is a move that allows defence to shift to counterattack. An incoming chop is deflected down to the left. The sabre then rolls chán 纏 around the back of the head tóu 頭 and strikes down in a diagonal chop (throwing the shuttle), or cuts horizontally (zhǎn 斬) – literally, behead). The full movement is then called, rather graphically, chán tóu guò nǎo 纏頭裹脑 which means roll-head-wrap-brain! Note that in Mr Moy’s taijidāo the initial deflecting block is used to extend the spine, pressing down with the lower palm and stretching up with the upper hand.

Hiding the sabre

Any movement in which an opponent cannot see the sabre is called hiding or concealing (cáng 藏) the sabre. In our form, after rolling the sabre and throwing the shuttle, the path of the weapon is reversed and the weapon is held behind the spine as if being sheathed in a scabbard on one’s back. This is the main kind of hiding the sabre but the weapon is also “hidden” if, for example, it is held horizontally as we stand side on to an opponent, such that they can only see the handle.

In the next part of this article we’ll look at the Yang Sabre Set, before concluding with a third part looking at the set taught by Mr Moy.

References

Books and articles