More to learn tonight, and as a class we’re collectively showing signs of difficulty remembering the moves; some are visibly struggling. Well, it’s an intensive course, we knew that, but it’s still a lot of ground to cover. There are a lot of people there, over 30, and it can be difficult for some to see what’s being demonstrated. We’re in rows, with Mi Lao Shi on one side, and Ge Lao Shi on the other, so that as we turn there’s always one in view. They take it in turns to guide the class; I sometimes get the feeling that there’s a certain battle of wills over who gets to lead when and for how long 
I make sure I get to stand in the first rank, near a teacher; since I can’t understand the spoken directions, I have to be able to see the demonstration clearly. It so happens that both lessons so far I’ve been nearest to Mi Lao Shi, who I must say is a good teacher; she speaks slowly and clearly, demonstrates the move from different angles, and is generally very clear to follow. I hadn’t met her before, and I’m impressed. Sun Lao Shi gave a talk at the end; other than that, he didn’t take an active role in tonight’s class.
Before I go on, let me just remind you all that this is a learner’s blog, not an expert’s view. As I go through classes, I try to make sense of what I’m experiencing, and to work out what it all means. Sometimes I just get it wrong, and I look back later and think “how stupid” – as I’m sure more experienced martial artists do when they read some of what I write. Well, never mind; at the end of the day, I’m just trying to get better.
So, that said, Stephan asked me what I meant in the last paragraph of my last post, so here are some thoughts I had while I was on the bus after class.
The taijiquan I practise is all Yang-based, so it’s pretty slow. I start by trying to be empty and soft; as I move, I’m alternating between full and empty, hard and soft. When I’m yielding, there’s an element of force ready to be expressed; when I’m expressing force, the ability to yield is present. The way weight, energy, etc, are used is like the taiji symbol: ying becomes yang, yang becomes yin, all part of an integrated whole.
With the bagua needle, I feel that the point of each needle seems like one end of a bar of energy. The bar’s energy changes. Each move represents a hexagram of several bars, depending on how the points and body are moving. Are the points moving in the same direction, or in opposite directions? In a straight line, or circling? Horizontally, or vertically? In parallel, or diverging? With the turn of the body, or against it? Arms, upper torso, legs, all moving the same way or in different ways… Each move thus has several “energy components” – full yang, full yin, changing yang, changing yin… Lots of small circles, and combinations of planes, all rapid and compact… Opening joints, closing them…kou bu bai bu…
In my mind’s eye, there’s a flickering effect as these different elements combine, fly apart, recombine in a different order… it’s like getting a small notebook, drawing one hexagram on each page, and then flicking rapidly through the sequence from beginning to end.
Does that make any sense? Basically, my experience of taiji and bagua are both about the interplay of yin and yang. Taiji does this with the body integrated as a whole; bagua needles does it as a combination of lots of smaller components… I’m sure I’ll be corrected by those who know better – which I welcome, and appreciate – but for the moment, this is how it’s making sense to me…
I really liked this post!
Hum, if you have the time, could you do that kind of comparation with all that you’ve practised (and still practice)? It would be awesome to see that kind of interpretation of the “regular” Eight Diagram Boxing, Taiji and Drunken Sword.
The way you wrote; I could imagine the whole Diagram with the YinYang on the middle. One of my last classes was to learn about the types of combat of the eigth trigrams, “Sky”, “Earth”, “Thunder”, “Wind”, “Water”, “Fire”, “Mountain” and “Lake”, in that order.