Part III
Through Gu Liu-Xin, my father gained access to many high-level Tai Chi masters throughout China. Gu told several people about my father and how impressed he was with this scholar who, without the benefit of a famous teacher, had attained such a high level of ability and understanding in such a short period of time. Coming from a man with the prestige and fame of Gu Liu-Xin, this was high praise indeed! Such was the generous nature of Master Gu, that I was given several opportunities to train with him. In 1982, I spent an intensive seven days devoted to Push Hands practice. In 1984, he helped Jennifer and I refine our Chen Form. I had other periods of instruction from this noted master in 1985 and 1986.
My father had the opportunity to make contact with several famous Tai chi masters. He exchanged views with many of them and began lengthy correspondences with a number of teachers. He also began publishing several articles in various sport and health journals in China. He wrote two articles on “spiral force” that caused quite a sensation in 1964. Gu Liu-Xin later joked with my father that, “at the time Luo Ji-Hong’s articles were being printed throughout China, I submitted similar articles that the editors rejected!” In 1964, a debate emerged in the Tai Chi community throughout China. A number of noted masters claimed that “spiral force” was unique to one style (notably the Chen Style). Others, like my father and Gu Liu-Xin, claimed that spiral force was common to all Tai Chi styles. Unprecedented in China at that time, scholars and practitioners throughout the country put forth their views in national sports magazines. My father wrote a third article, which was to have been the definitive work on Spiral Force. It was never published due to a change in the political climate in China in 1964.
My father discussed several topics relating to Tai Chi. On “push hands” he said “You must first control yourself. Then you can learn to control your opponent.” On the healing power of Tai Chi, he would say “The mind is an extremely powerful organ. Attitude and outlook play a very significant role in both causing and curing disease.” He often said his own remarkable recovery from kidney disease was as much due to his positive attitude as to his diligent practice of Tai Chi. His own education and training caused him to always seek a scientific explanation for seemingly “supernatural” abilities.
While in Shanghai, he met a student of Zhang Da-Quan. A three-time Gold Medal Winner, this student enrolled at the Physical Education Institute of Shanghai. He advised my father to study Physiology in order to comprehend the effects of Tai Chi on the body. My father went even further. Upon his return home, he applied as a non-credit student at a local medical school. He studied anatomy and even acquired human skeletons in order to study spine alignment and joint movement. He attended a Traditional Chinese Medical school to study the meridians of the body and the movement of Chi. He took courses in Engineering and Physics to study the application of force. He considered Tai Chi Chuan a doctrine worthy of scientific study.
Part IV
After his return from Shanghai, my father devoted his time to organizing his theories and assimilating them into his daily practice. He was approached by many people who wanted to learn Tai Chi and he became a dedicated teacher. He began to develop what later became the Ji Hong Method of instruction. He believed in open discussion between teacher and student. He felt a qualified teacher should not only lead by example, but should be able to explain the rational behind the various theories and principles. He used his ability to merge traditional Chinese philosophy with western analytical thought. He felt that if the could emphasize the correct understanding of Tai Chi principles, he would be able to attract a new generation of Tai Chi practitioners and ensure a safe future for Tai Chi Chuan.
He thought of himself as a tour guide. It was not enough to show a student the “other side of the river”, but a good teacher had to be able to show his pupil how to safely get there.
The Cultural Revolution:
In 1965, his health had recovered to such an extent that my father returned to work full-time. He was appointed supervisor at a mine 60 miles from home. There he worked all day and taught Tai Chi to an ever growing number of students in the evenings.
In 1966 one of the most turbulent episodes in China’s history began. The Cultural Revolution started a period of chaos and destruction whose effects are still felt today.
Because he once taught English, had been friends with a foreign priest in his youth and received his education before the 1949 revolution, my father was branded “an enemy of the people”. The Red Guard showed up at the mine site one day, seized my father and tied him to a tree. They kept him there all day under the burning sun, berating him for his “crimes” and demanding to know who his “accomplices” were. One of his Tai Chi students risked his life to bring my father some water. My father asked him to hurry to our home and warn us. He begged the student to hide his Tai Chi books and journals. The man and another student rushed to our hometown and warned my family of what had occurred. One student took all my father’s textbooks and hid them at his home. The other student hid my father’s personal journals. Unfortunately, the second student was also harassed by the Red Guard. They found my father’s journals and notebooks and destroyed them.
My father was eventually found “guilty” and sentenced to a Labour Camp for “re-education”. There, he was forbidden to practice Tai Chi. He managed, however, to maintain his studies in various ways. At night in bed he would practice Qigong and “sitting” Tai Chi. He would practice Tai Chi movements in the shower when the guards were not looking.
The guards could be brutal in the camp. One incident involved a particularly vicious guard who liked to have the prisoners kneel in a line with their hands behind their backs during the evening “indoctrination” sessions. He would then walk behind them, shout out an accusation, and kick them forward so they would fall face first into the ground. On occasion, he would scatter sharp stones in front of the kneeling prisoners so they would cut themselves as they fell. Because of my father’s reputation as a Tai Chi master, they would make him kneel on a brick ledge more than a foot off the ground so he had farther to fall. One day, as the guard was going down the line screaming at the prisoners and kicking them, he came up behind my father. Using the strong internal pressure he developed from the Hao style, my father resisted the guard’s kicks. No mater how hard he tried, the guard could not budge my father! Finally, in a terrible rage, the guard took a run and lashed out viciously at my father’s back. My father slightly turned his body deflecting the kick and causing the guard to stumble forward on to the ground. In order to disguise what he had done, my father then fell forward on his shoulder, making it look like the guard had succeeded. However, the guards began to treat my father with a wary respect after that.
My father later told me that Tai Chi saved his life in the labour camp. In one incident, a guard tried to beat him with a shovel. My father deflected the blow, applied fa jing to the deflection causing the shovel to fly out of the guard’s hands. As my father calmly picked up the shovel, the guard, fearing for his life, ran off screaming. My father simply returned the implement to its storage place. After that, my father was always escorted by several guards wherever he went. These guards, however, were instructed not to come within 2 meters of my father as he was considered “dangerous”.
In 1971 my father was “paroled” to work in an agricultural commune. Here he had a bit more freedom and began to cautiously teach Qigong and simplified Tai Chi in the evenings to his fellow inmates.
In 1972 he was allowed to return to the mine as a labourer. He tried to pick up the threads of his life. He resumed his correspondence with old friends and colleagues. He discovered many of them, like Gu Liu-Xin and Hao Shao-Ru, had shared similar fates. In 1973, I went to live with my father at that time. While he was at the mine site during the day, I would study and practice various Tai Chi exercises. Each evening, I trained for several hours as part of his classes and long after the last student had left. It was then I began to grasp my father’s devotion to Tai Chi and I realized I wanted to become a teacher myself one day.
For the rest of the Cultural Revolution, which lasted until the downfall of the Gang of Four in 1976, Wu Shu (including Tai Chi) was discouraged by the government. My father was forced to teach me and a small handful of trusted students in various secret locations. Among my fellow students was my cousin Peter Wu. [Ed. Peter Wu is a famous Tai Chi instructor and Gold Medal winner now living in Australia.] I remember one of our favourite sites was in the local cemetery late at night. It was one place we were sure the Red Guard would hesitate to investigate.
In 1975, Deng Xiao-Peng came to power the first time. He encouraged academic thought and debate. Gu Liu-Xin felt the time was right to compile the ultimate work on the five major styles of Tai Chi. After consulting with Hao Shao-Ru, Gu asked my father to update and expand on the earlier writings of the past Wu Style masters. When Deng Xiao-Peng fell from power, however, work on the book was terminated and all the notes were lost.
After the Gang of Four were toppled in 1976, my father was “rehabilitated” and restored to his former position at the mine. He often regretted the Cultural Revolution. During the ten-year period, there was no national progress in the martial arts and much was lost to future generations. My father began to feel that time was running out and he needed to pass on his knowledge and skills to as many people as he could.
He redoubled his studies and practice, constantly refining his skills and striving to improve. He devoted more time to teaching. As his reputation grew, more and more people approached him for instruction. He accepted everyone and taught without charge. In 1978 he began teaching a young girl named Gu Dai-Juan (Jennifer) who became one of his favourite students.
He retired from the mine in 1983 at the age of 63. Although he was in great health and his Tai Chi was leading him to higher levels, he wanted to devote more time to teaching.
The Wuhan International Tai Chi Chuan and Sword Competition was announced in 1984. This was the biggest Tai Chi event since the Cultural Revolution. My father escorted Jennifer and I there as his students. He was overjoyed to be reunited with former teachers and colleagues such as Gu Liu-Xin, Ma Yueh-Liang (Wu Style), Wu Ying-Hua (Wu Style), Fu Zhong-Wen (Yang Style), and Sun Jian-Yun (Sun Style).
I won the Gold Medal in the Men’s Division for Traditional Tai Chi Forms while Jennifer won the Gold Medal in the Women’s Division. We were both extremely happy that my father was able to be there. He was very proud of us and pleased that his teaching methods had been validated at such a prestigious event.
After the competition, my father went to Shanghai for a month to visit friends. His fame had spread and many people encouraged him to write about his experiences. Many of his colleagues were impressed with the high level he had achieved in Tai Chi and suggested he put his theories and practices in writing.
He visited his old friend Shao Pin-Gen. Shao noted that my father had attained a much high level of Tai Chi than he had but he (my father) was still restricted by form. He encouraged my father to leave the “forbidden city” level and enter the “liberal city” where the spirit of Tai Chi becomes more important than the form. One no longer “practices” Tai Chi but rather, becomes a part of Tai Chi.
My father returned home and resumed his teaching. Many students and former students began to arrive to pay their respects and train under my father. Every day new students would show up and would be welcomed. Many practitioners wanted to push hands with my father to test their own abilities. He never turned away any friendly challenge.
My father was not only flattered by all this attention, but he seriously considered how he would leave his Tai Chi legacy for future generations.
On June 14, 1984 he returned from a three day teaching trip to find a group of students waiting outside our home to train with him. He pushed hands and practiced with each of them. Before the could return to the house for breakfast, another group came seeking instruction and then another group. My father, who never turned away a student in his life, gave each of them his attention. Late in the morning, however, he began to feel weak. Realizing something was wrong, my mother summoned a doctor and ambulance. It took over two hours for qualified medical help to arrive even though the hospital was only 7 kilometres away. In the meantime, a “barefoot” doctor happened by and tried to revive my father. Realizing his skills were inadequate and that my father was in more serious shape than the “doctor” first thought, he suddenly abandoned his efforts and ran away. Eventually an ambulance and doctor did arrive, but by then it was too late. Despite all efforts, my father passed away.
An autopsy was performed. They discovered that all his internal organs were healthy and, in fact, appeared to be those of a much younger man. The doctors concluded that my father died of exhaustion. He was such a dedicated teacher that he expended all his energy and chi in his push hands instructions and his body finally gave out.
My father had always claimed that Tai Chi gave him back his health when he was diagnosed with kidney disease. Tai Chi had helped him through adversity and had given him some measure of fame. In the end, however, his extreme dedication to Tai Chi may have contributed to his death.
Conclusion:
My father had three main regrets regarding his life through Tai Chi. In 1963, during his first visit to Shanghai, Gu Liu-Xin approached my father and asked him to become co-editor of a Tai Chi Journal that Gu was about to start. This was to have been the first national magazine in China devoted to Tai Chi. It would have been a forum for masters of all styles to put forward their views and training methods. Unfortunately, it was never begun.
Secondly, my father felt that the instruction he received in Shanghai had started him towards a level of Tai Chi practice that few people ever attain. The advent of the Cultural Revolution not only halted his progress, but may have caused his abilities to diminish slightly. Even worse, from my father’s point of view, the Cultural Revolution caused a regression in Tai Chi throughout China.
Finally, when he returned from Shanghai in 1984, I believe my father sensed his remaining time was limited. He desperately wanted to set all his ideas and experiences down in writing. He hoped to reconstruct many of the journals that were destroyed. Unfortunately, the end came much too soon.
It is my hope that, by telling the story of my father’s life, students of Tai Chi will be inspired and will strive to attain higher and higher levels. I hope his biography shows how determination, dedication and drive can lead to overcoming challenges and setbacks. Do not look for “sudden” enlightenment. Enlightenment often comes only after long periods of hard effort.
My father was a great man, but he was not a “superman”. He attained his skills only after a lifetime of study and hard practice. His legacy will continue. Here, at the Ji Hong Tai Chi College, we continue his proven methods of instruction. The success of our students is a testament to those methods.
Luo Hong-Yuan (transcribed by David Ward and Bosco Yiu)
