My grandfather, Henry Gullette died when he was 69 years old. He was an old man when by the time he was 60. He was a very nice old man, but the thing I remember him doing most was sitting on his couch watching TV. In the photo above, he is younger than I am now.
My father, Kenneth Sr. died when he was 61. He was a nice guy, too, maybe the best man I have ever known (his picture is below). My dad had his first heart attack at age 50 and gave up after that. I remember in his fifties he would say, "I'm not going to be around much longer."
It turned out to be true.
Today is my 68th birthday and I am still trying to get better at gongfu. Despite having much more serious health issues than either my father or my grandfather, I still have goals I'm trying to achieve. I'm not as good at the internal arts as I want to be.
There is no way I'm giving up yet. I'm having way too much fun.
What is the internal difference between me, my dad and my grandfather? Why did they get old and give up too early?
Why have so many people over the years told me how good they want to be in martial arts but then they quit after a few lessons? What is the difference between them and the student who stays with it year after year? I'm in my 48th year of studying and practicing and I'm still peeling back layers of the onion, excited by what I find next.
It seems that a lot of people go through the motions of life without fully diving in and persisting, even when there are stretches when it isn't much fun.
I have a martial artist friend named John Morrow who turned 69 years old on January 6. Every year, I say to him, "I hope I'm as good as you when I'm your age."
Every year he replies, "You better get busy." Hahaha. Real funny, John.
What You Are Practicing
I have forgotten who said this, but it might have been one of Chen Fake's students, Feng Zhiqiang. He said we should practice "method, not form."
In the beginning, when we learn a form, we are trying to memorize the movements. Then, we are trying to memorize the movements in order so we can do the form from beginning to end. It takes a lot of work to remember a complete form.
But after we get the movements down and we can do a form from beginning to end, we must immediately force ourselves to go to the next level.
What you should be practicing is not the form but the method.
Every style of martial arts has its own "shen fa," or "body method." The form is only a way to practice the body method.
In the style of Xingyi that I teach, body methods include taking ground, alternating relaxation and power, maintaining intent, ground path, peng jin, dantien rotation and whole-body movement, among others. The mindset of Xingyi is to drive through the opponent. As they might say in Cobra Kai, "No mercy."
When practicing a Chen Taiji form, you should work in each movement to develop an "alive" style of moving that is relaxed but with internal strength that makes it "iron wrapped in cotton." You should make good use of the kua, dantien rotation, ground path, peng jin, whole-body movement and the spiraling power of silk-reeling, among others. The mindset of Taiji is to yield and overcome, bend but not break, maintain your structure and hide your own center from your opponent while you find his center and put him down.
In Bagua, your body method includes mud-stepping, circle-walking and a lot of the mechanics of Taiji, including an alive, spiraling quality in your movement that is relaxed but with strength underneath. But even your circle-walking has its own unique qualities as your foot skims across the ground and you keep your weight on the rear leg. The mindset of Bagua is to become like a spinning wire ball. If your opponent gets too close, he will be caught up in the spinning wire ball and thrown out in all directions.
When I studied Yang style Tai Chi, I moved in a very different way than I do in Chen style. It was slow and relaxed but the body was not "alive." There was no ground. There was no peng. There was no kua. I was taught a ridiculous way of silk-reeling that did not include spiraling movement in the body at all. My teacher told us to "think about Qi spiraling from our foot to our hands."
When I first encountered Chen style, a lightbulb went on in my head. The body method was so different, I knew instantly that it was a higher quality. But even within Chen style there are different body methods, depending on the teacher.
Sometimes, you can almost be paralyzed by thinking of all the body mechanics that make up the body method in one art. But once you learn the movements of a form, you should spend the next number of years learning how to apply all the mechanics to each movement. You develop skill in the body method.
I will practice a form and sometimes focus on just one thing, such as dantien rotation. The next time, I'll try to maintain the same dantien rotation but I'll focus on how the Mingmen (lower back) bows and unbows as the dantien rotates.
Or I'll do a form and focus mostly on opening and closing the kua. Next, I might focus on the Bai Hui point at the top of the head and try to keep my head lifted instead of letting it drop forward. Another time, I might focus on maintaining peng jin, or not collapsing my knees.
As we peel back the layers of the onion, practicing the body method helps us get deeper and deeper into it. The quality of your art is in the body method.
As I tell my students, "Don't allow yourself to just go through the motions when you practice. You won't perform with the proper body method if you don't practice that way."
My dad said he wasn't going to be around much longer. It turns out that his prediction came true and he died at 61. Now, at 68, I want to get better at the internal arts. Can I make it come true?
We can both do it if we work at it.
I want to throw roundhouse kicks.
I have been very angry during the past week-and-a-half. I am working very hard to center myself. Let me tell you why.
Muhammad Ali would have celebrated his 79th birthday today if he had lived, but unfortunately, he died of complications of Parkinson's Disease in 2016.
The night he defeated George Foreman (picture at left) to regain the heavyweight title was the night I realized I needed to stop being a racist. It was October 30, 1974. Muhammad Ali was fighting George Foreman in a fight that was held in Zaire and called the "Rumble in the Jungle."
Foreman was so strong it was scary. He was knocking other heavyweights out cold. Most people expected Ali to be killed that night.
I grew up in the American South in the 1950s and Sixties. I saw "White Only" signs on drinking fountains and bathrooms. I remember when blacks were not allowed to sit with us in the movie theaters. They had to sit in the balcony.
I remember when black kids could not swim with us in the public swimming pools.
When I was 15, I thought the coolest thing in the world would be to join the Ku Klux Klan. That's how the culture of the South affected me as a young white boy.
But in 1973, while I was in college at Eastern Kentucky University, I enrolled in my first martial arts class. I began reading about Bruce Lee, his philosophy, and I started reading books with the Taoist and Zen philosophy that I heard while watching the "Kung-Fu" TV show.
But I still had the South in me, and Muhammad Ali was a frequent target of our hatred. We hated him. We called him a "loud-mouthed" N-word. And he switched religions. He changed his name from Cassius Clay to Muhammad Ali. What a trouble-maker!
The night he fought George Foreman, college might have already started changing me a bit, but when the fight began, and I was listening to it being broadcast on radio, I was pacing in my dorm room, hoping Ali would get beaten. I was cheering for Foreman to hurt him.
The fight only lasted eight rounds. In the early rounds, Ali was on the ropes, being pounded by Foreman. Can you imagine the punishment? George Foreman could punch a large heavybag into submission. Imagine what he would do to someone's arms and ribs and kidneys!!
Round after round, Ali took tremendous punishment, and round by round, he survived.
Something clicked inside of me. It took a few rounds, but somewhere around the seventh, my perspective began shifting. Instead of a loud-mouthed braggart, I began to see Ali's courage, and the realization struck me like a right cross to the jaw. This man was letting the strongest boxer in the world pound on him. He had a plan, and he had placed himself in the line of fire.
I began cheering for Ali. When he suddenly knocked Foreman out in the eighth round, I jumped around my room, then ran up and down the halls shouting the news.
That was the bravest thing I had ever heard or seen.
I no longer saw Ali as a black man. I saw him as a brave man, and I began looking at other black people in a new light. I realized they suffered pain just as I did. They had the same needs I did. And they deserved the same respect I did.
I realized that so much of what I was taught in my culture was bullshit. For almost a year, I had been reading about the Taoist and Zen philosophies that presented such a different view of the world than the hatred of racism. How could I become "one" with the universe and the world around me if I considered myself better than another person?
It made no sense to be racist.
The answer was simple. If I continued to be prejudiced against people who were different, the philosophy that I was adopting would be a joke.
But like everything in life, including Qigong, and the ability to center myself, it took hard work and an ability to look inward, reflect and analyze why I thought certain ways and why I took certain positions on issues.
The philosophy woke me up to empathy.
Five years after the Rumble in the Jungle I met Muhammad Ali. It was 1978 and he had just defeated Leon Spinks to win back the heavyweight title. Ali was giving a speech at a rally in Louisville and I covered it as a reporter for WLAP radio in Lexington, Kentucky, where I was working. I got a front-row seat to the speech.
After the speech, Ali was going to hold a news conference at a hotel. I had a long walk to get to the hotel, so I was walking fast across a huge parking lot at the fairgrounds, where the rally was held, to the hotel where the news conference would be held.
Just as I arrived in front of the hotel, a limo pulled up with Ali in it. He got out and was followed by three or four bodyguards who were larger than he was.
I had a hardbound copy of his autobiography, "The Greatest," that I brought with me in case I was able to get his autograph.
For a few seconds after he got out of the car, there was a little space in front of him. I walked up and handed him the book.
"Would you sign this for me, Champ?" I asked, handing him the book and a pen.
He took the book and the pen, scribbling his autograph as he walked, then held it out. By that time, he was being surrounded by people, and a bodyguard grabbed the book and pen and stuck them out behind his back as he walked with Ali. I pushed through the gathering crowd and managed to get the book out of his hand.
Then I went to the news conference, where Ali stood just a few feet away and I was standing with all the sports reporters, network sportscasters and other local media, watching and listening and enjoying my brush with greatness.
As years passed, I learned a lot more about Ali. In 1960, when I was only 7 years old, Ali won a gold medal at the Olympics and returned home to Louisville. He went to a restaurant that refused to serve him because he was black.
He was an Olympic gold medalist and still couldn't get respect from some white people.
Imagine how you would feel?
And yet, he was not an angry man. He tried to preach respect and human rights.
One day, he was visiting his mother in Louisville, and he was in a large motor home behind her house. A young white sports reporter knocked on her door to interview her. He didn't realize Ali was there.
"Oh, he's in the trailer," she said. "Just knock on the door."
This young white reporter knocked on the motor home door. Ali answered, let him in and they talked for hours. They became good friends.
That's the kind of man Ali was. How could anyone hate him?
Now why would I be angry today? I guess it's because of the riot held a week-and-a-half ago by the white supremacists in Washington, D.C. A lot of the people who stormed the capitol building were white nationalists.
I guess I have been angry because unarmed black men continue to be gunned down in the street by police in the United States. It was happening when Ali was young and it's happening now.
Perhaps, on Ali's birthday, it struck me that being a white nationalist, or tolerating them in any way, would be a violation of my goal of being a centered person. And perhaps this is my way of letting you know, since I am a teacher, that part of your training in the internal arts involves connecting -- not just with an opponent who you might never face, but also with the world, with the environment, with other animals, and with other human beings.
Being centered and connected does NOT mean being passive. Sometimes, it means standing up for what is right.
As you work on your martial arts, and as you try to become more centered and balanced, please understand that a good martial artist defends people who are weaker and are being attacked.
Self-defense is much more than throwing punches and kicks. Being a martial artist means you are working to master yourself, too.
The world is made a safer place when we all do our part and connect with others, perceiving them as being one with us, and when we realize that silence is the fuel that gives more power to evil.
I was on the track team in high school. My specialty was the high jump.
I was not a gifted jumper but I enjoyed pushing myself to see if I could improve, even a quarter-inch at a time. I was just shy of six feet tall, not a tall, lanky kind of athlete like the famous high-jumper Dick Fosbury.
Paul Carter was a buddy of mine in school. His father attended the track meets and always came over to watch the high jump competition. He always spoke to me and watched me compete.
I did not always win, but I enjoyed the competition. Months after our senior track season, I was talking to Paul and he mentioned his father.
"My dad really loves to watch you compete," he said. "Do you know why?"
I told him I did not know.
"Because he says even when you don't win, you are still smiling," Paul said.
Really? I did not know that I had that kind of impact on anyone.
It was an enlightening moment.
I did not enjoy losing, but I did not consider myself a loser. If you compete at anything, you run the risk of losing. If you enjoy it, does it matter?
This was 25 years before I started teaching martial arts.
By the time I began teaching in 1997, I was also competing regularly in martial arts tournaments, often in open tournaments, with competitors from all styles and judges from all styles. Very often, the judges did not really understand the internal arts.
My students were good, but I noticed the impact that losing had on some of them.
I felt the same about martial arts tournaments as I did about the high-jump. I was not a gifted athlete, but I enjoyed the arts and I enjoyed the competition. But there is one more important thing I got out of competing.
I learned about myself. I learned how I reacted to pressure, how I responded when another black belt was trying to kick my ass.
And I learned to analyze each victory and each defeat and look for lessons. I learned to walk away with information to improve my skills.
One day, I was competing at a huge regional tournament in Dubuque, Iowa. The team of judges included mostly black belts from Karate, Taekwondo and other "external" arts. One of the judges was a woman who tended to score me lower than others.
On this day, I did a strong Xingyiquan form and I did not place. She scored me low again.
I approached her after the event and asked, "I notice you scored me low. What advice would you give me?"
She seemed surprised, but she said, "You run through your kata like a house on fire. There is no pacing."
For a moment, I reacted as most people would react. I thought, "Oh, she doesn't know what the hell she's talking about."
But I thanked her, and as I walked away, I mentally ran through my form. As I did, I realize that I had a tendency to barrel through it hard and fast, with power and speed.
She was right. There were little moments in the form when I should ease up, slow down, pause for effect -- add some "pacing."
I worked on it and I began winning more forms events after that day.
This kind of attitude can help you in every aspect of life. In 2006, I began working on an idea for a Media Relations Coach website. I was the director of media relations for ACT, the company that makes the college admissions exam. My goal was to teach media relations to other people starting out in similar jobs around the country.
I worked like crazy on this website, but when I launched it, there were crickets. Nobody seemed to be interested. It was a resounding defeat.
In 2008, after taking a job in Tampa, Florida, the job did not work out and I suddenly found myself unemployed.
I decided to use what I had learned in my failed Media Relations Coach website attempt, and I would create a website teaching the internal arts.
Within three months, I launched www.InternalFightingArts.com, and people began signing up immediately. I am proud to say that it is still in business more than 12 years later as I write this post, and it is doing better than ever.
Losing gracefully is very easy if you use each competitive situation as a learning moment. If you win, what do you learn?
If you lose, can you use the information from that loss to propel you forward?
You can't win them all. And maybe you don't want to win them all. You don't learn a lot in victory.
It is in defeat where you can mine gold, not just about your technique, but also about yourself. And from there, you can work to get better.
Go get 'em. And keep smiling.
--by Ken Gullette
My mother would not let me see a James Bond movie until the fourth Bond film "Thunderball" came out in late 1965. We were very conservative Christians, and she thought the movies were sinful because they showed drinking and (gasp!) sex between men and women who were NOT MARRIED!
She thought I would burn in Hell if I ever saw a James Bond movie.
But by the time "Thunderball" came out and I was nearly 13, she relented. My buddy Ed McCaw and I went to see it at a theater in downtown Lexington. We walked in during the long scene when the atomic bomb was stolen from the downed plane. We stayed all the way through the movie the second time through. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
I thought Connery was the coolest man who ever lived. The way he walked, the way he talked, and the slightly sarcastic, confident sense of humor had a big impact on me.
But the way James Bond fought in those early films also had an impact.
When Sean Connery played 007, he often found himself against much stronger, tougher opponents, but his resourcefulness often helped him win the fight. Whether he was fighting Oddjob in the vault at Fort Knox, "Red" Grant on the train in "From Russia, with Love," or the Japanese martial artist in "You Only Live Twice," he found a way to win.
One of the radio commercials used in the summer of 1967 to advertise "You Only Live Twice" went something like this: "They rush him from all sides. FIFTY karate experts whose hands can slice through rock. The odds...FIFTY to one. THEY haven't got a CHANCE." Listen to the original radio ad here.
Oh, man. I still get cold chills listening to that radio ad.
As a kid, and as a young teenager, I was often the target of bullies. For some reason, they were attracted to me like fat to a mother-in-law, but they made a big mistake when they pushed me to the point when I could not walk away.
They did not realize they were picking on a guy who enjoyed fighting. I always tried to avoid it, but if I could not avoid it, once the fight started I considered it the ultimate one-on-one competition. It was the ultimate sport. I never lost a fight in my life.
And from watching James Bond movies in those days, I realized that the better, stronger fighter does not always win. Usually, the smarter fighter wins.
The second-to-last real fight I had was when I was 17 years old in high school. A guy named Charlie wanted to fight. The disagreement started in Mr. Fife's geography class and we took it to the boy's restroom there in the Stone Building at Lafayette High School.
It was a very small restroom and we faced off.
Charlie hauled off and punched me in the jaw. My head exploded in pain, and sparks seemed to burst in front of my eyes like fireworks.
It was clear that he was a much better puncher than I was.
So I moved in, clenched with him, and slammed him into the side of a stall.
How would Sean Connery handle this, I thought. Well, since he appeared to be a better boxer, I would stop him from being able to punch me.
I threw him to the ground.
He tried to get up, but before he could reach his feet, I slammed him to the ground again.
Each time he tried to get up, I slammed him into the wall or back to the ground.
Finally, exhausted, he gave up. We went back to our classes. I won the fight.
The moment I walked out of the restroom, I thought, "Sean Connery would be proud of that one."
Self-defense is a lot more than physical strength or even technical skill. Often, it is about awareness, not being there, and if you can't escape the fight, it's also about how you can use your surroundings or items you can pick up.
And it is about keeping your cool at all times. Or, as I learned in the internal arts, remaining centered at all times.
Tonight, I will raise a glass to this fine actor. I have watched his Bond movies countless times. I have them all on Blu-Ray and catch them when they pop up on cable channels. He will always be an inspiration to me in many ways.
I salute you, Sean Connery. The bullies who picked on me might have other feelings, however.
--by Ken Gullette
On a Saturday morning in early 1998 I drove to their home in Rockford, Illinois, about two hours from my home, to find out what some of these "body mechanics" were that I had recently read about in an internet chat room -- terms like "ground path" and "peng jin."
Jim worked with me for an hour, explaining the difference between the Yang style Taiji I had studied up to that point and the Chen style that he was studying and teaching.
In one hour, I knew I had to start over. What I had been studying was empty. It was based on "chi cultivation" and not on body mechanics.
After 25 years in martial arts and more than a decade in the internal arts, I couldn't find my kua with both hands. This was a problem, considering I had a "black sash" and was already teaching. My students and I were already making a splash at area martial arts tournaments. Now, my style of Taiji had to change.
For the next few years, I drove regularly to Rockford to study with Jim and Angela. They introduced me to Ren Guangyi and Grandmaster Chen Xiaowang, who they hosted for workshops.
My career up to that point had been in the news industry as a reporter, news director, anchor and producer. Every day, I tried to explain news stories and events in an understandable way. A complex story had to be broken down so the general public could make sense of it. As the reporter or story writer, I had to understand it, too.
That is how I approached my teaching of the internal arts. As I began learning the internal concepts, often in a roundabout way, I asked myself how I could explain it to my students and to myself in a way that made sense.
Over time, I broke the body mechanics down into six main concepts that beginning students needed to at least know about:
One -- The Ground Path -- If someone pushes against any part of your body, they must feel as if they are pushing into a steel rod that is connected to the ground. That needed to be maintained through all movements.
Two -- Peng Jin -- An expansive quality in your body and limbs that works with the Ground Path to give your relaxed movements an internal strength that is not evident on the outside.
Three -- Whole-Body Movement -- When one part moves, all parts move, and your internal strength unfolds like a ribbon from the ground through the body. All styles talk about this, but it is clear when watching even Taiji people that many do not achieve it.
Four -- Opening and Closing the Kua -- The crease at the top of the legs, along the inguinal ligament, acts as a buoy in the ocean. Used properly, it helps you adjust to incoming force and rebalance yourself.
Five -- Dantien rotation -- They say the "Dantien (sometimes spelled Dan T'ien) leads all movements," but I believe all movements start with the ground and the Dantien is part of what leads the internal strength along the ground path.
Six -- Silk-Reeling Energy -- The word "energy" can be misleading. It means "method" in this context. Silk-Reeling energy is a method of spiraling the body, from the ground through the limbs, that helps provide additional power to your movements. I teach the Silk-Reeling exercises to guide my students on the proper way to combine all six of these concepts into their movements.
When students begin learning from me, the first thing they learn are these six body mechanics, and from there, they study the art they want -- Chen style Taiji, Xingyiquan or Ba Gua Zhang. On my website, there is a section devoted to many videos breaking down these skills, and I also teach them in my Internal Strength DVD and Silk-Reeling Energy DVD.
As you continue learning, there are many other concepts and skills to be learned, but in my experience, a lot of students are just kind of thrown into classes and simply follow the teacher for a long time, as they slowly develop a sense of what they are trying to achieve.
I believe it is much more difficult to reach your destination without a road map. Understanding these six principles and how they factor into your movement and self-defense applications will be a revelation, like firing up a brand new updated GPS device.
If you read this list and do not understand how to translate these into your internal movement, save some time and check out either the DVDs above or my membership website at www.InternalFightingArts.com.
Here is a true fact about many internal arts teachers: It is a lot easier to pretend to be teaching something mystical than it is to put in the hard work required by the internal body mechanics that produce real quality.
My goal in teaching is to cut years off the time it takes someone to go from novice to skilled by providing information that I did not have for decades as I tried to feel my way through the thick jungle of misinformation, hacking through the tall weeds of mysticism and magical chi powers in search of something true. I am still learning.
Internal energy, and the relaxed power of Taiji, Xingyi and Bagua comes from good body mechanics, not mysticism. If you don't fully understand the principles you should be working on, the road ahead is much longer and much more expensive.
-- by Ken Gullette
James Randi has passed away. He was a magician and a critical thinker who inspired many of us as he debunked supernatural BS, including chi powers. He had one million dollars in escrow that he offered to anyone who could prove, in a double-blind setting, that they could perform any supernatural acts that they claimed to do.
Richard Mooney was one of the martial artists who claimed to knock people down without touching them. He was featured in a martial arts magazine many years ago now, with photos showing his students falling to the ground without being touched.
Mooney tried to claim Randi's million dollars, but it was a double-blind test. Around 18 people were chosen, and none of them knew what Richard was going to do. One by one, they stood behind a screen as Mooney tried to knock them down without touching them. None of them even flinched.
In a double-blind trial, video of the event was given to judges who also did not know what Mooney was attempting to do. The judges decided that nothing really happened. Mooney did not get the money.
Randi inspired me to offer $5,000 to any "chi master" who could knock me down without touching me. I have challenged several of these people, and even though they willingly take the money of students, and they charge money to give workshops, they refuse to accept my challenge.
Ironic, isn't it?
I challenged Mooney before I knew he had failed at the Randi Challenge. I told him I did not believe he could knock people down without touching them, and I would drive down to his school to see if he could do it to me. He replied with some rude emails. That isn't what you would expect from someone who had tapped into the secret of the Universe, is it?
Mooney's failure at the Randi Challenge was supposed to be kept quiet, according to an arrangement with the Randi Foundation, but word leaked out a long time ago.
Mooney isn't the only one who failed James Randi's Million Dollar Challenge, and he is not the only one of these martial arts "masters" who has turned me down. He was just one of the first. Many of the people I challenged sent rude or insulting replies. The business manager of one "master" said he was coming to "test" my skills. He said he wanted to do push hands. I told him it would be no-holds-barred fighting. He didn't show up. Imagine that.
Nancy and I wanted to meet Randi, but ran out of time. He inspired many people to think more critically, and to not believe everything someone in authority tells you, ESPECIALLY if he is a martial arts "master."
Don't check your brains at the door of a martial arts school, my friends.
Here is a link to a news report on James Randi's death.
I grew up in the South back in the 1950s and Sixties. We were raised to be polite and have good manners.
I have found that manners in martial arts can be a bit tricky. And depending on who you study with, you need to think from a different cultural perspective.
In a recent podcast interview, Chen Taiji instructor Nabil Ranne of Germany explained how he violated martial arts etiquette during an early conversation he had with his teacher, Chen Yu.
He asked Chen Yu how many times each day should he practice the form that some of us call Laojia Yilu but is also known as "Old Frame First Form," or "First Road."
Chen Yu replied, "Five times a day."
Nabil says he responded to Chen Yu by saying something like, "But your grandfather said you should do thirty routines per day."
Later, when Nabil understood more about martial etiquette, he realized and regretted his mistake.
By responding to Chen Yu as he did, in Chinese culture he was telling Chen Yu that either Chen Yu was wrong, or that his grandfather was wrong.
Listen to the interview with Nabil by following this link.
Nabil realized, as he became more aware of Chinese customs, that this was very impolite. Chen Yu took it well, but not all Chinese masters would. Sometimes, they give Westerners some slack because they realize Westerners do not know their culture.
Americans Are Often Unaware
We have a tradition in the United States; we think we can ask anything of anyone.
If the President of the United States stood before us, our culture says you can ask him just about anything you want to ask.
I have personally interviewed Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, and more than one governor and congressman. I have interviewed celebrities such as Michael J. Fox, Barry Manilow, Pete Rose and Rick Nelson, among others.
We ask about their personal lives and their public lives. That expectation, of having free speech and asking pointed questions, and also asking about discrepancies in things they have said in the past, is part of our culture.
We have to suppress this urge when we deal with Chinese masters.
Your Teacher at the Moment is Your Only Teacher
I study with two or three different teachers currently. I recently joined a Zoom class, said good morning to the teacher on gallery view, and one of the other students said, "Ken Gullette! I'm going to buy a couple of your DVDs this week!"
My first reaction was surprise and pleasure. My second reaction was embarrassment.
When I show up to someone else's class, I am a student. I am there only to learn and improve my skills. I am there to support the teacher, not to promote myself.
The teacher was very gracious and said, "Ken does good work!" But I was mortified.
I am not there to talk about my teaching or to compare what I do to what the teacher does. I am not there to discuss the differences in what this teacher shows compared to what I have learned from someone else. I am there to absorb knowledge and improve my skills.
After the class, I sent the teacher an email and apologized, and the teacher reacted very graciously.
My Teacher Says......
If you are a teacher, you inevitably will have a new student who has studied other arts.
Often, the student will begin by explaining the different arts he has studied and the teachers he has studied with.
Some people call me about my membership website and they spend 15 minutes right off the bat telling me about their other arts and other teachers.
Perhaps they do this because they don't feel worthy. Perhaps they are trying to convince me that they will be a good student.
The best thing they can do, however, is just to begin studying and learn.
It is usually true that when someone begins listing all the arts they have studied, the longer the list, the more likely it is that they have no skills at all. I have seen it over and over during the past 23 years of teaching.
They don't realize how, in their first lesson with me, their minds are going to be blown.
Empty Your Cup
I have had students who enroll in face-to-face classes, and in their first lesson, they go on and on about how "their" school did it.
Sometimes, I will stop them and say, "Okay now, it's time to empty your cup."
You know that old Zen parable, don't you?
A student wanted to learn Zen and approached a Zen master. The student talked on and on about what he knew about Zen.
The master calmly listened, then, as the student kept talking, the master gave him a teacup and began pouring some tea. As the student continued talking, the master kept filling the cup until the hot tea flowed out and spilled onto the floor. The master continued to pour until the student realized it.
"What are you doing?" the student asked. "Can't you see that my cup is full?"
The master replied, 'Exactly. You must first empty your cup in order to taste MY cup of tea."
Most teachers will cut you some slack, but if you are a student, it is something you should remember.
If you tell any teacher, "But my teacher taught me to do it another way," that teacher would be forgiven if they responded with, "Well, then go study with your other teacher, because you obviously don't need what I am teaching."
Martial arts etiquette would suggest you approach your question another way.
I have studied with teachers who do movements differently than I see their teachers performing it. I don't generally ask them why they do the move differently than their teacher does, but I do try to understand what the intent of the movement is. As long as the explanation is good, and the application makes sense, differences are fine.
The beauty of the Chinese internal arts is that students very often look different than their teachers. Most people add their own artistic flair to movements as they progress and get older.
I recommend that you definitely remember two things:
- Do not compare your teacher at that moment with another teacher;
- Do not say, "My teacher told me....."
Rather than talking about how your other teacher taught, just talk about the movement. Ask your question. Leave other teachers out of it.
And if you see me on another teacher's Zoom class, and you want to talk about my DVDs or website, just send me a private message or email. It will "save face" for everyone.
We all have more to learn. I have made mistakes with Chinese culture, too. I have a lot to learn about it.
But we learn and grow. As I tell my wife Nancy, who happens to be my third wife, "I only make the same mistake twice."
Mind your manners.
---by Ken Gullette
Treating Early-Stage Covid-19 Patients with Traditional Chinese Medicine - the Internal Fighting Arts Podcast Interview with Dr. Stephen Jackowicz
Dr. Stephen Jackowicz, the chair of the doctoral program at the University of Bridgeport's Acupuncture Institute has treated more than 90 patients in the early stages of Covid-19, all of them testing positive and some of them very ill.
None of the patients progressed to the point of hospitalization.
It is important to note that Dr. Jackowicz does NOT claim a cure. Using over-the-counter products that anyone fighting virus symptoms needs (Tylenol, Kaopectate, Ensure or Glucerna, etc.) and courses of herbal medicine using TCM practices, he says patients recover faster than without this treatment.
He is the interview in my latest Internal Fighting Arts podcast. It will be of interest to other TCM providers, regular medical doctors and nurses, and anyone concerned about the virus that has changed all of our lives in 2020.
I am a skeptic when it comes to TCM. I think a lot of claims are made that cannot be supported with solid medical evidence. Dr. Jackowicz does not make those claims. I would not have done this interview if he did.
This is episode 52 of the podcast. Listen or download through the player below, or find it on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or other podcast distributors.
I think you will find this interesting and informative.
Two amazing people with beautiful hearts left the world during the past two weeks.
I learned about the passing of Laralyn Yee the day before I watched the service for Congressman John Lewis.
Both of these people had beautiful hearts and they both lost brave struggles with cancer.
A lot has been written about John Lewis, so I will not focus on him very much, except to mention how people remember him as always being kind.
And Lewis fought all his life for the rights of others. He put himself in harm's way on that bridge to Selma, knowing he was going to be hurt by the racist officers waiting for the marchers.
Later in life, he put his beliefs into action, and he put his heart into the task of helping others through legislation.
Lara Yee joined my website a few years ago and sent me a couple of emails on different topics. I did not realize she had been diagnosed with cancer. Her messages were always kind. She lived in California and had studied with some good teachers. She asked questions about the internal arts and I tried to answer them. She seemed genuinely pleased that I took the time to reply to her questions.
Then, last year, she contacted me to let me know that she only had five more months to live.
Before she died, she wanted to express to me her gratitude for my teaching. Her email was so wonderful that it filled my heart. The first paragraph of her message said:
"I've admired you so much, ever since I came across your online school a while back. Following a second cancer diagnosis in 2017, I became fascinated by and driven to study Chen style taijiquan, and was astonished by the depth and breadth of material available on your membership site! Your video lessons are incredible resources. Additionally, I was inspired from the beginning to model my practice on your example of overcoming tremendous health challenges in pursuit of kung fu excellence."
Then she told me she was dying, but was determined to continue studying as much as she could.
We exchanged several emails, discussing life, death, and our approach to our health challenges. I assured her there was absolutely nothing to fear about death.
But it struck me as the act of a beautiful heart for her to reach out to compliment me at a time when she was facing such a profound diagnosis.
With each message, her kindness and gentle spirit was evident. I discovered that I knew a couple of people who knew Lara, and they confirmed that she was, indeed, a compassionate and wonderful person.
After receiving her email, the kindness of her intent was in my own heart for days, and when I heard this week of her death, it sat heavy within me, and before I realized it, tears were in my eyes and rolling down my face.
Someone I had never met in person had touched me, and I felt their loss deeply. One of the other students in one of her California classes said that Lara was truly a good person, and brought a joy and insatiable curiosity to taiji class.
One of Lara's taiji "sisters," Angela Ng-Quinn, says that Lara asked her to come up with a Chinese name for her. Angela chose a name that means "an intelligent and beautiful lotus."
Isn't that nice?
The day after learning of her death, I watched some of the service for John Lewis. I listened as former president Barack Obama said that Lewis reminded us that, "In every one of us, there is the potential for courage."
We lost two courageous and kind people during the past two weeks. As I contemplated this loss, it made me realize that I still have work to do on myself.
How will I be remembered? Will people mourn a little and then move on with their lives, or will my loss leave a void that is difficult to fill in their own hearts?
Everything we do each day, and every encounter we have with other people, builds this legacy.
Isn't this what the internal arts should help us do? Isn't a connection to all things one of our goals?
It should be. We all fall short of our goals, but it's the attempt that counts.
John and Lara have found perfect peace now, and they have left behind feelings of warmth and kindness. John also leaves behind a legacy of someone who would put his life on the line for justice.
Is this the "meaning" of life? Did John and Lara live successful lives, even though one was famous and one was not?
I think they both definitely lived successful lives.
I would write that we should all be so lucky, but luck has nothing to do with it. It is the way we treat others that builds that legacy. It is the actions we take on behalf of others, and the acts of reaching out to let others know they are valued.
In 2020, with so much negativity in the world, with our own friends fighting each other with words on social media over politics and race as we all try to survive a pandemic, there has never been a better time to learn from people like John and Lara.
Their courageous and kind lights have been extinguished, but we can be better people and carry the light forward. We can live successful lives, too.
If only we will.
-- by Ken Gullette
Often, we look like Charlie Chaplin instead.
When I started my online internal arts "school" in 2008, I thought certification would be part of the package. If you could show that you have learned the internal principles and movement, and do the forms and techniques well, you could receive certifications.
It turned out to be a lot harder than I expected.
It is really difficult to learn through video only, because most people do not have enough body awareness to translate what they are seeing on a screen into what their body should be doing.
Everyone needs a teacher to correct them, over and over again, until their muscle memory takes over.
For 12 years, I tried to solve this problem by having members do videos and either put them up privately on YouTube or send them to me. I would watch and I would shoot videos correcting their mistakes.
I could see some progress in some people, but it was a labor-intensive process and it took a long time.
And then online video progressed, and Zoom, Skype and FaceTime got better and better as computer and phone speeds progressed.
And then Covid-19 hit, forcing a lot of us to do classes on Zoom.
I do a Xingyi class on Monday, a Taiji class on Wednesday and a Bagua class on Friday -- all live on Zoom, with website members from California to Texas to Sweden, Germany and Romania.
Besides the live Zoom classes, I also do live one-on-one coaching sessions with members of my website.
We have fun, we learn, and I see more improvement in members than I have since I began teaching online.
I am starting to send out certifications, and I am learning that this type of environment can produce quality results.
Achieving quality still takes a lot of work. I don't give certifications lightly. You don't "buy" a certificate just by joining. You must show you have achieved what you are after at that level, whether it is the five fist postures and Linking form of Xingyi, the Chen 19 form in Taiji, the Eight Main Palms form of Bagua., or whatever you are working on.
But I have seen that it can be done by people like Nikolaus in Sweden, Michael in Germany, Amir in Canada, Robert in Romania, or Michael in New Jersey.
A certificate of completion does not mean mastery. It is like a belt promotion in any martial arts school. It signifies that you have worked hard and shown basic competence. From there, it is the student's job to continue working to improve the form or technique, and it is the instructor's job to continue to guide the student toward improvement.
By the way, there are no fees for certifications on my website. And no additional cost for the live classes or one-on-one sessions. It is all included in the monthly website fee of $19.99 per month. Yes, I know, it seems very low. But my goal isn't to gouge anyone, it is to teach. I love it, and I am very happy that technology has finally allowed it to be a better opportunity for everyone, regardless of where they live on the planet.
--by Ken Gullette