TaiChiGringo

Hi All, I wanted to share something I’ve been arriving at in my Chen-style practice, that touches on Taoist internal practices, Qigong, and what I’d call embodied self-discovery. In my experience, Chen-style Taijiquan reveals itself more as something to be discovered rather than learned in the conventional sense. It's as if the principles already exist within the body, and simply need to be uncovered, felt, refined, and integrated over time through careful, attentive practice. For me, what’s striking is how this practice interacts with the body’s connective tissue, nervous system, and interoceptive capacities. Standing cultivates baseline tone, alignment, and subtle internal stretch. Silk Reeling and Form practice introduce dynamic spirals and nervous system feedback that repatterns and reshapes tissue and helps the body discover efficient, integrated pathways of movement. Together, they create an internal calibration that feels very tangible, a “felt sense” of how my body organizes, balances, and responds. I’m curious how this resonates with others’ experiences. How have your own Taoist, Qigong, or internal practices shaped your sense of internal organization, alignment, or subtle body awareness? Have you noticed anything similar to what I describe in Chen Taijiquan: feedback, regulation, or embodied learning that feels discovered rather than taught? I’d love to hear your thoughts, insights, or personal experiences. If anybody is interested, I wrote a longer article exploring this in detail, you can read that article here: https://www.taijiquan.quest/post/chen-tai-chi-discovered

This is a good and legitimate question, and I agree it’s worth thinking about, even if it takes us into modern biological language that traditional martial arts never explicitly used, and even if it's difficult to prove. Personally, I’ve mostly approached internal training as efficiency work at the systemic level rather than at the level of individual cells. What internal practice very clearly changes, in my experience, is how the whole system is organized: coordination, load distribution, timing, and the amount of internal resistance present during movement. When those improve, the biological cost of producing force drops. From that perspective, everything I’m describing can already be explained without invoking special cellular mechanisms. If the body stops fighting itself, less co-contraction, less compression, cleaner force transmission, then: less ATP is burned unnecessarily less local tissue stress accumulates recovery demands fall circulation and fluid exchange improve Those changes will inevitably affect tissue and cellular environments, even if we don’t measure them directly. Better microcirculation, improved nutrient delivery, and more efficient waste removal are very plausible downstream effects, but I see them as secondary consequences of improved system organization, not the primary driver. So yes, in my view it’s reasonable to assume that long-term internal training creates better conditions at the tissue and cellular level. But I’m cautious about flipping the explanation around. Internal training doesn’t work because cells are doing something exotic; rather, cells benefit because the system above them has become more coherent and economical. I’ll add one personal observation, because this was what caused me to start thinking along these lines. The effect I notice most clearly is a dramatically reduced need for recovery. The last few years I've been training in BJJ and MMA in addition to my internal training. And I notice that I’m able to tolerate repeated high-intensity sessions with far less DOMS and systemic fatigue than many training partners who are 15–20 years younger (I'm 42). I don’t attribute this simply to being “better conditioned” in the conventional sense, nor to genetics. Rather, I think internal training has changed how my conditioning is expressed. Lower internal friction during effort, less unnecessary tension, cleaner force transmission, and fewer local tissues being overloaded or compressed, means the same work carries a lower biological cost. The work is simply “cheaper” to do. I have a bunch of draft articles around this topic that I’ll be posting soon, as it’s become a particularly interesting aspect of my training over the last couple of years. I’ve also done some recent physiological testing that produced a few surprising results, for example, a VO₂ max of at least 65, despite never having done specific endurance training. I don’t take this as proof of anything mystical, but as another data point about how efficiency and conditioning interact. Internal training lowers the biological cost of movement; that reduced cost lowers recovery demands, which allows for more frequent, higher-quality training, and over time supports improved conditioning.

I'm certainly not an expert in Qinna, so I don't claim to know all the ins and outs of how it's applied in theory. But having said that, I'm yet to see any Qinna demo that doesn't have quite major constraints and "training wheels" in play. It would be very interesting to see someone successfully apply Qinna on a person trying to close the distance and clinch for example. Chen Yu's statement sounds great, but I don't see how it works in practice. Striking range is outside Qinna range, so how can he Qinna them before they can strike him? And how often has he had a competitive competition/fight with a competent striker actually trying to hit him hard? Maybe he has, in which case it would be very interesting to hear about, but I've never heard of such a thing.

I think Qinna is mostly bullshido because it largely exists at a range that has been shown to hardly exist in real fighting, the middle range. Same issue as Sticky Hands in Wing Chun. Qinna works if you accept the starting position, but those starting positions are largely artificial. It's one of those instances where is works great against people "playing the same game" as you, but I think it's gone down an unrealistic rabbit hole as many arts do when they aren't exposed to live unconstrained environments.

I don't doubt it at all. But I also think that if those people are foolish enough to think they are gaining anything of real value by paying to become as official disciple, then that's also on them. People love their certificates of achievement and public recognition And there are also good quality teachers doing there best, and coming up against the reality of the difficulties of teaching western adults who start old after a lifetime of not moving. I think part of the narrative of "withholding secrets" comes from frustration of people not making much progress. What I'd also say is that the "apprenticeship" that you speak of is built into the learning arc of something that takes as long as Chen style to learn. It's not like a secret recipe that can be obtained and then distributed. To continue the metaphor, each person has to painstakingly build the recipe into their own body. So it almost doesnt matter whether or not things are shown in public, only the "apprentices" will actually be able to receive the teaching. All I can say for certain from my own experience is that after 18 years, WHJ continues to guide me towards furthering my skill.

I think we're agreeing on more than we disagree, but just different way of framing it, different lens to look through. I agree that there are expressions of Shen Fa that are more advanced, like waist folding. But again, this to me can be encapsulated in Peng. As Song and Peng get more refined, waist folding emerges naturally. So it's more questions of category and level of analysis. Although I know that it is trained more overtly in the Chen Zhao Kui lineages. And I'm starting to understand that the training in those lineages is more codified and structured than village lineages, which are more emergent. Likely a result of the very different learning environments of rural vs city. I know the narrative that you are politely not referencing directly. I don't agree with it. I actually wrote an article rebutting some of those claims about Chen style history, as I don't think they stand up to scrutiny according to the evidence I've seen. They also don't stand up to my personal lived experiencing of Wang Haijun's (my teacher) skills, which are at the absolute peak of internal Gongfu. But I don't want to get into the weeds of politics and lineage arguments, as personally I am of the strong opinion that both village and Beijing lineages produce both highly skilled and poorly skilled practitioners. Different lineages have different strengths and weaknesses in their emphasis. Chen Zhao Kui was know for his Qinna, so it's not a surprise to me that his lineages emphasise that, and it's quite likely that he developed novel Qinna himself. I also think that a lot of Chen style Qinna is basically bullshido, but that's an entirely different discussion for another time! I also don't agree with the whole not teaching to the public thing, at least in my lineage, I can't speak for Chen Yu. It makes no sense. Chen style is in danger of dying out at the high levels, what possible reason would they have for keeping their "secrets" in this day and age. Doesn't add up to me. But again, that's a discussion for another day. Anyway, it's been an interesting and informative discussion for which I am appreciative. Thank you

I’m not disputing the classical classification of fajin methods. I’m pointing out the gap between formal taxonomy and trained reality. The fact that Peng underlies most fajin methods does not mean that most practitioners have actually built Peng as a functional internal condition. In practice, developing a high-quality, coherent “Taiji body”, one that is genuinely expresses full Peng, is exceptionally difficult, especially for people who begin training as adults. This is an uncomfortable reality about the standard level of Taijiquan practice among adult starters, not a denial of what the art theoretically contains.

I have to disagree here In Chen Taijiquan, the body method is Peng. Not metaphorically, not partially, literally. Taijiquan is Peng Jin Quan. Shen Fa is not something layered on top of Peng; it is Peng expressed through the body. In my view, a clearer and more accurate formulation would be: Peng is the internal structural condition Shen Fa is Peng made functional through movement Applications (qinna, throws, strikes, counters) are Peng expressed through interaction So the Shen Fa methodology is not “more complex than Peng”, it is the progressive cultivation, stabilization, and usage of Peng across increasingly complex contexts.

I think this is where we’re slightly talking past each other, and it hinges on an implicit assumption. I agree with your house analogy up to a point. Knowing how to build a foundation does not mean you automatically know how to build walls, install plumbing, or wire electricity. No disagreement there. My point was never that Peng alone magically teaches qinna. My point is that without Peng genuinely built into the body, qinna cannot be internal, reliable, or refined. In that sense, Peng is necessary but not sufficient, and I think we actually agree on that. Where I think your reasoning slips is here: The statement that Peng is insufficient to teach qinna is based on practitioner outcomes, with the evidence offered being that most Taijiquan practitioners lack qinna skill. But that only holds if those practitioners have successfully trained Peng as an internal body method. Without that distinction, the conclusion doesn’t follow. Bascially you assume that most Taiji practitioners have coherant Peng. They don't. Taiji practitioners are indeed data points, but the data doesn’t show “Peng doesn’t lead to qinna.” What those data points really show is how rare genuine Peng is, even among dedicated practitioners. That rarity speaks to the challenge of developing internal body method. Without Peng as an embodied condition, real qinna cannot emerge. I agree with you that: Peng alone does not teach specific qinna methods Partner training is essential Categories like qinna, sweeps, counters, and punishment must be trained directly Where we seem to differ is mostly in emphasis, causality, and what the "practitioner data points" actually point to

Now our perspectives are starting to diverge, but that’s a good thing, it makes for an interesting discussion 🙂 From my perspective, Peng is absolutely foundational to both applying and reversing qinna. Peng is the internal inflation that gives structural integrity: it’s what makes your own “hose” difficult to kink, and what allows you to effectively kink someone else’s. Without that internal fullness and continuity, qinna tends to become local, muscular, and easily countered. Peng is also inseparable from Ting Jin. Without Ting Jin, you don’t reliably perceive the opponent’s internal state, direction, or vulnerability, and without that perception, applying qinna becomes guesswork rather than skill. In that sense, Peng isn’t just supportive of qinna, it’s what makes refined qinna possible at all. That said, I completely agree that form alone does not produce functional skill. Partner work is essential. But in traditional internal training, partner work is introduced after the body method has been sufficiently forged. This sequencing is intentional. The uniqueness of internal martial arts lies precisely here: they prioritize the development of internal body capacity first, and only later does it become functional skill, when you learn to express it through specific applications. This difference in emphasis is also reflected in Chen Fake’s oft-quoted view that roughly 90% of training should be done alone, with only about 10% in partner work. That ratio is almost the inverse of most external or modern martial arts, where partner drilling dominates. The reason for this inversion isn’t philosophical, it’s practical: in internal arts, the primary task is forging the body method itself, which must be developed independently before it can function reliably under contact. So when I say the body method (Shen Fa) is the method, that’s not philosophical, it’s literal. Peng isn’t a concept you apply on top of technique; it’s a trained internal condition that techniques emerge from and are constrained by. Without it, you can still learn qinna, sweeps, counters, but they will be external, conditional, and limited. I also want to push back a bit on the idea that “actual training methods are kept private", while talking about principles reveals nothing. I think that framing slightly misses what’s really going on. The real dividing line isn’t principles vs. methods, it’s what can actually be transmitted without a teacher. You can talk about Peng endlessly, but talking about Peng does not give someone Peng. Likewise, you can talk about qinna, show qinna on video, or even break it down step by step, and none of that grants the ability to apply it internally. Without the internal body method, those methods are functionally hollow. In fact, I’d argue the opposite of what you seem to be suggesting: Applications are far easier to recover than the internal body method. Two bodies interacting can rediscover joint locks, sweeps, counters, and punishments. That kind of knowledge is mechanically available. But Peng, the internal inflation, continuity, and load-bearing integrity of the body, is far more elusive. It’s not obvious, not visible, and not intuitive. Once that is lost, it’s extremely hard to reconstruct. That’s why, historically, the “secret” was never really a specific application. The secret was the body method. Once Peng is genuinely present, applications stop being mysterious, you can feel where to apply force, where structure breaks, where control emerges. Without it, no amount of application knowledge closes the gap. So yes, talking reveals little, but that’s true of both principles and applications. What actually matters is whether the internal condition of the body is being cultivated. And that’s precisely the thing that cannot be learned from words, videos, or public discussion, and the thing most easily lost if it isn’t preserved carefully. I think we may actually agree more than it first appears. There is far too much pontificating about principles in the abstract. Where I differ is that I don’t see this as an error of emphasis so much as an error of intellectualization, trying to think one’s way into something that can only be embodied. Ultimately, whether we’re talking about principles, methods, or applications, the real issue is the same: the vast majority of people simply don’t have the principles in their bodies.

Yes certainly, I feel I have a solid understanding of Ting Jin and (Chen-style) Fajin so happy to discuss with you

Haha, agreed Generally simplicity carries more truth than endless layers of method and theory. And for me in my Taiji journey, the practice feels simpler and simpler the further I go. So in my understanding, the purpose of the methods isn’t complexity for its own sake, but to create the framework that allows one to discover that simplicity firsthand.

Yes I absolutely agree. In Tai Chi, we are totally dependent on a good teacher to guide alignment, structure, and help us get a 'taste' of the feeling. But at the same time, the practice is deeply interoceptive, so real development ultimately depends on ourselves. Without diligent, self-directed exploration, the guidance remains external, and the body cannot register the subtle sensations that drive more advanced progress. True discovery happens when the nervous system and fascia are actively engaged and sensing the unfolding patterns, not just when instructions are repeated or acknowledged intellectually.

I think I broadly agree with your diagnosis of the problem, but I’d frame the Peng / Song part differently. Peng is indeed one of the jins, but it’s also the structural condition that makes all jin possible. In that sense, Taijiquan can be thought of as Peng Jin Quan (Wang Haijun says this, not my line). And Song is foundational to Peng. So yes, you can distill Taiji down to Peng and Song, or even ultimately just Peng, but only if Peng is understood as a living, trained structural state, not a conceptual checkbox. The problem isn’t distillation per se. The problem is distillation without embodiment. What you’re pointing at with “methodology beats principles” is spot on: many people treat principles as if they were instructions, rather than outcomes of a long developmental process. They think “understand Peng” replaces building Peng. In my experience, the other jins aren’t discarded because they’re unimportant, they disappear because without sufficient Peng, they can’t actually be expressed. Tsai, Lie, Zhou, Kao aren’t separate techniques you “add on”; they’re directional expressions of Peng under pressure, timing, and intent. So I’d say: Methodology creates the container The container allows Peng to emerge Peng then differentiates naturally into the other jins Where things go wrong is when people try to shortcut that process by collapsing everything into ever-more abstract language, instead of doing the long, unglamorous work of forging the body. In that sense, I don’t disagree with you, I just don’t think the issue is “too much Peng/Song”, but too little actual Peng being trained. There's a good article about the foundational principles (that must be forged through method!) by Wang Haijun: https://taiji-forum.com/tai-chi-taiji/basics/5-most-important-beginner-s-skills/ Relevant quote to this topic: "Chen Fake taught that there are two types of peng jin. The first is the fundamental skill or strength of taijiquan. The second is one of the eight commonly recognized taijiquan jins, (peng, lu, ji, an, cai, lieh, zhou & kao.) The first type of peng is the core element that is the foundation of these eight commonly recognized skills. It is perhaps best considered in English as a separate term from the peng that is listed as one of these eight skills. All eight jins have their basis in peng that is the fundamental skill."

Absolutely, I completely agree with your point about “forging” capacities. That’s exactly what I mean by developmental remodeling / the refining stream: the body has to be built and conditioned to support these subtle internal capacities, whether in fascia, nervous system, or movement efficiency. Without that foundation, the principles can’t be realized, although they can be "imagined", which I think is where a lot of people get stuck. At the same time, I’d argue that methodology must lead to principle. Methodical, structured practice is what it builds the foundation and creates the container. But it’s only the first step; the ultimate goal is to discover and embody the principles within that container. Without the principles, the method alone remains mechanical. In other words, the “sword” can’t exist without first being forged, but once it’s forged, the principle is what sharpens it.

That’s an interesting way of working with it. I’m not personally opposed to ideas like past‑life or group trauma, but for me, honestly, dealing with this life already feels like plenty 😄 In my own experience, whatever the ultimate cause, I tend to approach recurring pain and discomfort through the lens of tissue history, nervous system patterning, and lived experience in this body. That alone turns out to be a deep enough rabbit hole, and it’s given me more than enough material to work with in practice. Different frameworks clearly resonate with different people, though, and if a model or technique helps someone resolve suffering and move better, that's all that matters.

Yes other practices are sometimes necessary. I needed Chiropractic treatment to get my body better aligned, as I was somewhat twisted and therefore couldn't practice Tai Chi due to knee problems. I also did specific breath and emotional Integration work to integrate some of my early life traumas, and the fascial work of Tai Chi has been continuing that journey at a deeper and more refined level

I completely agree. Thinking you’ve “got it” is, in my experience, one of the most dangerous pitfalls in Tai Chi. When that happens, practice stalls into choreography, and the refinement of interoception stops progressing. This is, I think, one of the biggest cause of plateaus: the body and nervous system stop being challenged, and nothing new is discovered internally. Genuine progress comes from continually testing, sensing, and integrating, even when the movements look “correct” on the outside. We need to stay curious and with a beginners' mind through the whole journey.

In my understanding and personal experience, the fascial tissues encode the patterns of our past trauma, what I refer to as Biomechanical Debt. Taijiquan is by far the most sophisticated method I’ve found for accessing and gently remodeling this deeply held fascia, allowing the body to integrate past experiences into a more balanced, whole state. It’s important to note that this is a long journey. The fascial remodeling process is slow and can sometimes be arduous, but it is possible. The body has an innate wisdom and a natural tendency to return to a more neutral, efficient neurophysiological state when supported with the right conditions. I’ll be writing more articles on this topic, as it’s been a major theme of my personal practice over the last 5–6 years. I’ve found it deeply transformative, and I hope to share insights that might help others explore the potential of this work safely and effectively.

Yes absolutely, and that's why teaching Tai Chi well is so difficult and such an art I really like what you said about engaging with others to test progress, I agree completely. For me, one of the most valuable aspects of Tui Shou is that it provides real, external feedback on what's actually been developed. It’s easy to get caught up in sensation or “perceptual fantasy” when practicing solo, thinking you’re aligned or relaxed, when the body might tell a very different story under pressure. Tui Shou keeps you honest, highlights weaknesses, and shows where the internal work is actually translating, or where it’s not yet. In that sense, it’s not just a method for transitioning towards combat; it’s also a mirror for the body-mind integration that solo practice cultivates.

Thanks for sharing. I tend to stay close to what I can directly feel and verify in the body: changes in breathing mechanics, tissue tone, sensations of connection etc, rather than working with organ-based storage or internal visualisation models. For me, when structure and tension organise well, the breath settles on its own, and internal sensations deepen and refine naturally, without needing to be directed. But everyone experiences things in a slightly different way, and what is ultimately important is what works for the individual.

Thank you for the thoughtful response and kind words, I appreciate it Breathing is a good example. Being told to “breathe naturally” is useful early on because it prevents interference. But at some point, if the body settles and unnecessary tension drops away, the breath reorganises by itself, it deepens, slows, and feels as though it sinks lower. That discovery isn’t about deciding to breathe into the dantian, but noticing that when the structure and nervous system are organised well, it happens naturally. That’s what I mean by discovery rather than instruction. Teachers can point, correct externally, and help to create the right constraints, but the internal shifts only really land when the body senses them directly. For me, practices like standing, silk reeling, and especially push hands are valuable because they provide continuous feedback, they make it harder to mistake imagination or belief for actual internal change.

I’m not sure my experience fits neatly into how inner alchemy is usually categorised or transmitted, but at a personal level it absolutely feels like an inner alchemical process. My background is primarily Chen Taijiquan, and what I value about that context is that internal change isn’t happening in isolation. Standing, silk reeling, and form all reorganise the internal landscape, but pushing hands in particular provides constant external feedback. If your internal organisation is off, too tense, too vague, too collapsed, too disconnected. it shows up immediately. That makes it much harder to drift into imagined states or self-confirming perceptions. Over time, the practice has led to things that overlap strongly with how inner alchemy is often described: a progressive quieting of internal noise, clearer interoceptive perception, spontaneous changes in posture and breath, and a sense that movement and force arise from a more integrated, whole-body organisation rather than conscious effort. What’s also been important for me is that this hasn’t been purely “meditative” in the narrow sense. There have been clear regulatory and therapeutic effects as well; changes in baseline tension, emotional tone, and how old holding patterns (both physical and their psycho-emotional correlates) unwind. Some of that feels less like cultivating something new and more like allowing previously embedded patterns to reorganise once enough safety and clarity are present. So while I’m cautious about imposing labels, I’m comfortable saying that for me this has absolutely functioned as a form of inner alchemy, one that’s grounded in sensation, constrained by physical reality, and continuously tested through interaction rather than imagery alone. I’d be interested to hear how people with more formal neidan or Daoist training recognise (or don’t recognise) these phases within their own frameworks.

Thank you! And taiji brother/sister it is then 🙂 No “creativity” in the sense of modifying the traditional training or inventing methods, I really can't imagine how the practice could be improved/refined. Where there is some originality is simply in how I articulate my own understanding of what the training has done to my body over time. If that way of framing things happens to help others make sense of their experience too, that’s a bonus. Different language, same work. Hopefully still very much the same cup of qi 😄

Yeah, I think we’re largely on the same page 🙂 Starting with wuji makes a lot of sense, and I agree that a couple of weeks of consistent standing is a very small investment in the context of a lifetime of practice. It definitely cultivates qualities you want early on. I'm a big fan of standing, and I think ultimately people should follow their own body, interest and instinct. If someone feels drawn to standing, then that probably means they will get value from it. And thank you for the kind words, I appreciate that. It’s always good to exchange perspectives with people who are clearly putting real time and thought into their practice.