Читать книгу T'ai Chi - Cheng Man-Ch'ing - Страница 7

CHAPTER ONE

Introducing T'ai-chi

Man cannot live fully without exercise. The I Ching (Book of Changes) says: "Nature is always in motion. Man also should strengthen himself without interruption." Exercise leads to robust health, high spirits, and rational thinking. There are, however, many kinds of exercise: ballplaying, swimming, traditional boxing, wrestling, and weightlifting, to name but a few. Without exception, each has built-in limitations. Weather restricts ballplaying, weakness prevents participation in the more rigorous sports, and age and sex inhibit activity in others. More importantly, though these sports differ in form, they are similar in that most never go beyond reliance on weight, force, and speed.

T'ai-chi is both an integrated exercise and an enjoyable sport for all: rich and poor, strong and weak, young and old, male and female. Weather does not inhibit its practice. Requirements of time and space are minimal. If one has a space approximately four feet on a side and can spare ten minutes a day, he can practice T'ai-chi without spending a cent.

For hundreds of years Westerners have been puzzled at seeing Chinese from all walks of life doing this effortless, rhythmical, ballet-like exercise both at dawn and at dusk. By way of explanation, Chinese say that whoever practices T'ai-chi, correctly and regularly, twice a day over a period of time will gain the pliability of a child, the health of a lumberjack, and the peace of mind of a sage. The amazing results achieved suggest that this is not just idle boasting, that perhaps, in some way unknown to Western science, T'ai-chi can indeed do all this, and more. Stressing slow respiration and balanced, relaxed postures, it certainly promotes deep breathing, digestion, the functioning of the internal organs, and blood circulation. And perhaps there is also basis for the claim that T'ai-chi can relieve, if not actually cure, neurasthenia, high blood pressure, anemia, tuberculosis, and many other maladies.

Besides the Solo Exercise (pages 12-77) with its therapeutic value, T'ai-chi also has two other aspects. The Pushing-Hands Practice (pages 80-89), in which two opponents compete in trying to uproot each other, constitutes a sport. Beyond this, T'ai-chi is a method of self-defense par excellence. Judo, Aikido, and a few other Asian methods stress the yielding principle of T'ai-chi, but none achieve to the same degree its relaxation, suppleness, and subtlety.

The Taoists advocate wu wei (non-action or effortlessness) and the Buddhists venerate "emptying." The motto for T'ai-chi practice must be "investment in loss." It is what Confucius meant by k'e chi—to subdue the self. How is this manifested in mundane affairs? It means to yield to others, thus quashing obstinacy, egotism, and selfishness. But it is not an easy thing. To persist in the Solo Exercise amid life's busy requirements is self-humbling. In the Pushing-Hands Practice, the student must accept failure many times over in the early stages. To yield and adhere to an opponent cannot be achieved by an egotist—his ego will not tolerate the bruisings necessary before mastery comes. But here, as in life, this proximity to reality must overcome ego if one is to walk a whole man.