Several years ago I read a phrase which has stayed with me ever since. “If practice makes perfect, imagine what perfect practice would do.” I thought this to not only be an excellent use of words, but one which contained one of those slightly hidden truths, the answer for which one would have to question further. That, of course, was this notion of ‘perfect practice’. What could that be? How does one find out what it is, if there is such a thing, and how does one consequently put it to use? These questions are particularly relevant to internal arts practice and Jiulong Baguazhang in particular since practice is the number one difficulty most practitioners face.
It has taken me many years of trial and error, mostly the latter, to come to understand proper practice. I have personally found practice of any kind to be both the number one joy and bane of my internal arts experience. I have had times when I could never get enough and always looked forward to the next session. I have also had times when practice was the last thing I wanted to do and would become very creative in avoiding it. It’s amazing how important other aspects of my life would become when faced with an unwanted practice session. I would love to tell you all that I am the most disciplined man on the planet and have always overcome momentary lethargy by putting my nose to the practice grindstone. But that would be simply untrue. The fact is I have had many days and weeks over the years when I gave in to the resistance to practice. Yes, there have also been many instances of overcoming the resistance and, thankfully, many times when I have enjoyed practice and gone deeply into it. I suspect some of you have a similar relationship with internal arts practice. Times when you love it, times when you hate it, times when you don’t care either way. Especially if you’ve been attempting to practice the various aspects of your art and finding that you really are not progressing.
I personally became quite concerned with my approach to practice back in 1995. At that time I was deeply involved in another style of Baguazhang, Taijiquan, Qigong, and Meditation. There was a lot to work on in order to progress in these various internal arts and I found I was having problems doing them all. I would devise training schedules for them and attempt to stick to my schedules as best I could. This was extremely difficult since I was running not only into the problem of training too many arts at once, I was also doing so while experiencing the on-going love/hate/apathy relationship I had with practice. The other thing which became very apparent was that I wasn’t progressing in any of the arts I was practising. I seemed to be floundering at a particular level for what seemed like a very long time in each of them, even though I felt I was working fairly hard at them. There was also the reality of there being many other styles of these arts, with different forms and approaches. Many of them were available on videotape so, in thinking that learning all these other forms etc. I would improve my skills, I started training what was on these tapes as well. I know it must seem obvious to you that I was doing too much, becoming a jack-of-many-trades, master of none. But at the time, I truly thought that the more I learned, the better I would get. If you are honest with yourself, you’ll probably admit you’ve had the same idea at one time or other, and may have taken similar actions to my own.
Obviously all this was a burden and I was not enjoying myself. It occurred to me that I could be on this “learn more stuff” path for the rest of my life and always feel like I wasn’t progressing. This was a depressing thought, and I couldn’t shake the notion that something fundamental had gone wrong or was missing altogether. Surely these internal arts have been passed down the generations because they had the desired effect for their practitioners. If everyone who undertook internal training was doomed to feel like they were spinning their wheels, what value would the training have? Why would the various arts be passed on? In essence, the question I was faced with was what am I missing here?
This question prompted a new thought process. Perhaps the essential truths in the various arts was not in their variety of styles and forms, but something similar within them. I became curious to know what they had in common rather than what was unique about each one. Was there a practice or concept that most, and preferably, all the internal martial arts embraced? So I went back to the various books and videos I had collected over the years, to see what exercises were being suggested that most of the various arts contained. I came across one, which seemed to be common to all. The Wuji posture and Quiet Standing practice. Whether in Taijiquan, with its many styles and forms, or Baguazhang, or even Qigong for health, Wuji appeared over and over again as an important practice.
So I asked myself a question. If I was feeling like the attempt to practice all the various disciplines was getting me nowhere, what would happen if I only practiced one? What would happen if I spent all my practice time going deeply into one exercise? Since the Wuji standing posture was considered valuable to all the internal arts, perhaps that was the one to start this experiment with. So I stopped every practice except Wuji. I still attended classes and worked on the various skills there, but the practice time on my own was spent solely in Wuji. It was an enlightening experience to say the least.
The first thing I noticed was the absence of an inner pressure that I had come to associate with practice sessions. Namely, when doing a particular practice I was not doing any of the others. So there was always this feeling of not doing enough since there was always something else I “should” be doing. Now I was only interested in Wuji so there was no feeling of something being missed. The next aspect which became clear was that I was not really all that relaxed. As the days and weeks passed I clearly noticed that I was reaching deeper and deeper levels of relaxation. I could literally feel tension spots deep within my upper torso releasing their grip. What amazed me was that I had been involved in internal arts for several years, with a background in meditation going back even further. Frankly folks, I thought I was relaxed! Not true. My focus on the simple act of just standing quietly revealed that there was more for me to do in this fundamental area. The third thing which became apparent was the dramatic improvement in my ability to root. Once again, I though I was reasonably proficient in this and, once again, I noticed improvements coming from this simple exercise. The final aspect of this experiment which I feel is noteworthy is the fact that all my movements in Baguazhang were becoming more fluid and natural, all due to the deepening of my level of relaxation. Fellow students were asking me things like how often I practice, and the length of my sessions. They noticed a change in the way I did things and naturally assumed I was diligently practicing all the various forms etc. After all, I must be doing everything since I seemed to be improving in everything. But it was all just from Wuji. I was amazed and intrigued!
So I concluded that there was something of fundamental value in going deeply into one practice rather than trying to do everything. Now I am not suggesting that only doing Wuji will automatically make us good at Baguazhang postures and movements if we haven’t practiced them. The fact that I had spent time with circle walking, or forms, meant that my body knew what to do. But what really struck me was the value of working on one exercise, or idea for a period of time and watching how it affected the rest of my practices. I came to think that perhaps there was a “secret” here. Perhaps one developed real abilities by narrowing the focus of practice to one aspect at a time. The idea was that by spending quality time on one thing at a time, one might increase the depth of ability and expression of that one thing, i.e.: relaxed movement in the above example. After taking this approach to the various exercises, which make up one’s internal art, the overall depth of ability in the art might be truly improved. It certainly seemed the case with my experiences after only practicing Wuji for a couple of months. Then I encountered Shifu Painter and Jiulong Baguazhang.
What struck me immediately was that Jiulong is taught exactly along the lines I had been pondering. Dr. Painter said repeatedly that the first practice one should engage in was Wuji. It was to be done for 15-20 minutes per day for 27 days before moving to the next standing posture. Talk about synchronicity! I still had to start over because the details of standing in Jiulong were different from what I had been training. But the idea was the same as that with which I had been experimenting. Practice one thing at a time. There were a couple of aspects of my Baguazhang which needed to be improved…..well ok there were several aspects…..alright , I needed to relearn from the ground up!! And here was Dr. Painter saying what I had been wondering about. This was one of the reasons I started training Jiulong Baguazhang.
One of the major challenges for me in the early months had to do with circle walking. I had been doing this a certain way for the previous 5 years and found that the energy being expressed in Jiulong walking was different. I literally had to re-learn the linear steps, the all important ba step, and a host of other details I will not list here. What was quite clear was that I had to focus on circle walking. So, in keeping with the concept of practicing very specific things, I chose to do circle walking without lifting my hands. This I practiced daily for 2 months, until I started to get a vague feeling that I was starting to walk properly, and make the ba step turns without losing forward momentum. I was quite amazed to see that after only 2 months, there was a noticeable difference in the way I was walking. It was not perfect. It still isn’t. But I am convinced that by focusing on just the stepping portion of circle walking, I increased that specific skill level in far less time than it would’ve taken if I had been practicing many other things as well. I have applied this concept ever since then.
Perfect practice means practice one thing at a time. Get it feeling really good, then move onto something else, always taking the current skill with you. For example, let’s take Wuji. One of the goals of this practice is to simply stand very quietly and become still. Once this is felt, one can move on to linear stepping. But the stillness which was cultivated in Wuji is continued in the linear stepping. They are not separate. Remember that eventually, all the various inner skills which are developed in Jiulong should function as a whole. But the practice and cultivation of them is done one aspect at a time. So, if when practicing linear or circle walking you find you are tensing your hands or shoulders, or whatever, it means you need to return to Wuji and just become relaxed and quiet. In fact, by not going back to Wuji, I would suggest you actually training your body to walk while holding tension. Need I say more?
I am not for a minute suggesting that you should never play with other sections of your art. Of course you should play. In any given practice session you should be sure to have some fun as well as the disciplined approach. What we advocate is a simple formula. In every session, practice something you need to work on and something you want to work on. Always do the need one first, then finish up your session with something fun which makes you feel good. With the practice that falls into the need category, look honestly at what you are doing. What needs work? Ask your teacher what areas truly need attention. Then pick the one you want to improve and make that the singular focus of your practice for a month. At the end of the month, pick another one. Yes, you will come back to each and every aspect of practice over and over as the years go on. But by focusing on one thing at a time, you will go deeply into that practice, and really derive its benefits. For example, if you are working on Heaven Palm, it’s better to stay focused on it for a long time, rather than doing Heaven today, Earth tomorrow, Thunder next week etc. Just do Heaven. Pick out the elements which make Heaven what it is for you and hone those elements until they become really familiar to you. I am willing to bet you will find many of the specifics of Heaven are applicable to other postures, with some variation. Eventually, it will be these variations which become the focus of practice.
In conclusion, I must say that I am not perfect with this approach. There are times when I attempt too many things, times when I practice poorly by scattering my attention too wide, times when I simply get lazy and don’t practice. But there are also times when it all comes together and I spend quality time on one or two aspects of practice which need attention at that time. It is amazing to me how these aspects benefit dramatically from even a little specific attention. So, after all this explanation, what is the bottom line? What is the formula for Perfect Practice. It is:
Pick the elements you know needs work. I suggest no more than three in one session.
Pick the length of time and number of days you want to devote to these elements.
Practice them with the knowledge that you are definitely improving your abilities in these areas since anything which receives such full attention will be enhanced and increased by this effort.
A final thought, as always, please have some fun. Always end your practice with something which makes you feel good. Happy perfect practicing.
