Teacher Gong and the Three Magic Circles

Back in 1988 I began studying Fomen Jiu Gong Zhang (Buddhist Nine Palace Palm) Qigong in Zhengzhou city in China, where I was living. The classes were held at a local hospital. All the students except me were patients there and the class was their therapy. The students practiced eight hours a day. Most of that time was spent doing the exercises but there were also academic classes held for a couple of hours in the afternoon. I wasn't able to attend all the classes and practice sessions because I had a job teaching English at a local technical institute. I also didn’t really have the Chinese vocabulary for Qigong theory and Chinese philosophy back then so I chose to skip most of the lectures. Besides, Teacher Gong and the others all had pretty heavy local accents and it was a challenge for me to understand them clearly. Whenever I was free however, I would attend the morning and evening practice sessions.

The practice sessions were an hour long and we would  generally practice one movement for the entire time. It was pretty tough. The system was a mix of Buddhist and Daoist Qigong and combined active (Daoyin) and static (Tu Na) postures. It required a lot of concentration and could really wear you out until you got used to it. It was not all dull practice, however. Occasionally, Teacher Gong planned something special. On one such evening, after the practice session, we were asked to gather in one of the rooms off of the courtyard. Teacher Gong introduced us to an older women. He asked us to perform the first posture which consisted of standing with feet together and hands in prayer position while mentally reciting a mantra. As we held this position the woman began to sing/chant some kind of song which sounded improvised to me. The vibrations she produced had quite an interesting effect on us. The power of the rhythm and the vibrations the music produced were quite strong. It was very relaxing and put me in a kind of other worldly state. I didn’t catch the explanation of the purpose of the exercise, but over all it was a very enjoyable experience.

After that, Teacher Gong’s son drew three circles on the floor with some chalk. In each, he drew the Chinese characters for “fire”, “water”, and “wind”, respectively. He then picked up a peach wood sword and traced the character in each circle in the air with it. Peach wood swords are believed to amplify Qi and are often used by Daoist monks in their magic rituals, especially exorcisms.

Teacher Gong’s son told us to step into the circles one at a time. He said that when we stepped into a circle, we would  feel the effects of the element whose character was written there. I watches as several students stepped in and out of the circles. When finished they huddled together excitingly comparing experiences. Finally it was my turn. I stepped into the “fire” circle. I expected to be overcome with a blazing heat but to be honest, I didn’t feel much of anything. It was a cold November evening and I was dressed pretty warmly so perhaps I just wasn’t aware of a change in temperature, if any.

Although I didn’t feel much in the fire circle, the water circle was a very different experience. As soon as I stepped inside, I felt a kind of rippling current wash over me. It wasn’t exactly like floating in water but it did feel like waves were gently flowing over me. It was very pleasant and relaxing. To my surprise, I found I was actually quite reluctant to leave the circle.

The gentle waves of the water circle did not prepare me for the intensity I was to experience in the wind circle. While waiting my turn, I had seen people in the wind circle being literally blown out of the center of the circle. Stepping in myself, I immediately felt a intense pressure from one direction. It was so strong that it felt like it was pushing me to one side. It was actually a little scary so I was happy to get out of that circle. I found myself wanting to spend more time in the water circle but class was almost over and it was time to leave. It was quite a memorable experience that helped me see that Qi is an objective phenomenon and not just a subjective one. I haven’t tried to recreate this experience myself, but maybe I will one day.

I think this is a good example of how spaces can react to Qi. Qi can leave residue that can be absorbed in the floor, walls, and ceiling of a given room. The residue can be good or bad. This can explain why we feel good in sacred spaces which are continually filled with positive energy, and bad in places where bad things have happened. That is why it is so beneficial to practice Qigong in your home as you can fill the space with positive energy that over time will make the room resonate with light and peace. It also a reminder that it is important to regularly clean your practice space of turbid Qi, which we will discuss in a future article.

Involuntary Movements

I mentioned few posts back about involuntary movements being sometimes experienced during Qigong practice. Some people may occasionally  experience a quivering or jerking sensation while practicing. People receiving acupuncture treatment sometime notice this phenomena as well. These movements are usually quite harmless and disappear as soon as the practice ends. If the involuntary movement does not stop with the cessation of practice however, or if you continue to experience involuntary movements when not practicing, this could be a sign of a Qi deviation. In such cases, you should contact a Qigong instructor or acupuncturist at once.

My first experience with involuntary movements came when I was studying Fomen Jiu Gong Zhang in China in the late ‘80's. The very first posture is a static one. You simply stand still with your hands pressed together in prayer position while mentally reciting a mantra. One day soon after I began studying, a group of about 20 others and I were practicing this posture in the courtyard of the hospital. Since it was the only posture we knew so far, we were supposed to hold it for the entire hour of practice.

After about ten minutes or so, I thought I heard someone nearby clapping. I thought maybe someone had seen me, a foreigner, practicing Qigong with the group and was trying to get my attention. This was not as unusual as it may sound. Foreigners were still pretty rare in China at that time and anything I did in public was sure to command a lot of attention. I decided to ignore it, hoping the person would get bored and move on. However, even after a couple of minutes, the clapping did not stop. If anything, it got louder and faster. It didn’t sound like normal applause either, it was more staccato, like a jackhammer.

This seemed really odd to me so I opened my eyes to see what was going on. Contrary to what I had imagined, there was no zealous spectator on the sidelines cheering us on. Instead, the clapping sound was being made by one of the other students. She was standing with her hands in prayer position banging them together rapidly with her eyes still closed. “This is weird,” I thought,
“Why in the world is she doing that?”.

Just then I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye. Several of the other students were moving also. One was swaying back and forth, while another was making big circles at the waist with her torso. One man was actually taking short steps this way and that while others were moving their arms in jerky motions. Though I would later learn that these types of involuntary movements were not unusual, at the time I thought it was very odd.

During the next practice session, I ignored the clapping and shuffling and really concentrated on my practice. After a while, I began to feel as if I was being pulled backwards. I tried to ignore it but it wouldn’t go away. I began to get a little concerned so I opened my eyes. The sensation went away immediately. I looked behind me. Unlike the poor student I mentioned in a previous entry, there was no one behind me playing a practical joke. There was nothing there that would explain the sensation. I closed my eyes and went back to reciting the mantra. The sensation of being pulled soon returned; stronger this time. Rather than trying to fight it, I decided to relax and accept it. Eventually, the  pulling sensation became so strong that I felt I was going to fall. I was forced to take a step backward in order to keep my balance.

After I stabilized myself, I felt as if there was a string attached to my sternum that was pulling me forward. I resisted for a bit until the sensation grew too strong. I gave in and let it pull me forward, once again taking a step to catch my balance. As soon as I stopped my forward momentum, I could feel myself being pulled backwards again only to be pulled forward yet again as soon as I was still. Soon I was taking several steps forward, catching my balance and then being pulled several steps backward. I had to open my eyes slightly to make sure that I didn’t run into anyone.

The sensation of being pulled by unseen forces was not unpleasant and I was not afraid at all. It was actually kind of fun. I felt that I was in complete control if I chose to be. If I consciously resisted the sensation or opened my eyes, it stopped. Later, I asked Teacher Gong about this and he explained that involuntary movements were not unusual or harmful. It was the vigorous movement of Qi that caused the spontaneous motions. It was actually a positive sign that one’s practice was working, though it did tend to tire one out. Sometime later, I found myself moving in circles during practice. One of the teachers was quite impressed and said that I was moving in a Baqua (Eight Diagram) pattern and that this was a good thing.

Even though involuntary movement is not scary, I’ll admit that it does keep me from practicing that posture as much as I should. It’s just not the kind of thing I’m looking for when I practice Qigong and I find it kind of bothersome. That’s not really a good excuse to keep from practicing, however.  Most involuntary movements resolve themselves over time as the various channels open. The best thing is just to continue to practice and ignore it until it goes away (remembering the cautions at the beginning of this article, of course). In the end, voluntary moments are simply benign manifestations of Qi and something you just need to work through.

Qi Bubbles

After I had completed all the course and clinic work for my Medical Qigong Practitioner’s certificate, I would sometimes help my teacher, Professor Francesca Ferrari with classes. One weekend I was assisting with a beginner’s class that was being taught at the Five Branches campus in Santa Cruz. The class was held in a large room that was usually divided into two classrooms and had a very high ceiling.

Part of the class was devoted to experiencing Qi; learning what it felt like and developing sensitivity to it. I remember when I went through the class, I was sure that I would not be able to feel anything. But I did, and once you experience it and learn what Qi feels like, it is very easy to recognize it.

The day went very smoothly with the students doing various exercises involving the emitting and sensing of Qi. During one of the exercises, I noticed one of the students taking pictures. At the end of the day, as the students began to clear out, I asked if I could see the pictures. To my surprise, I saw what looked like milky white bubbles of various sizes floating about the room. They were in every picture.  Nobody had been blowing soap bubbles during class so I thought perhaps the bubbles were caused by a dirty lens or flair of light. When I looked closer I noticed that the bubbles appeared in different places in each picture, even though the photographer hadn’t moved and the lighting hadn’t changed. I also noticed that there were fewer bubbles when the students were standing around listening to instruction and more when they were actively practicing.

I was very intrigued. Everyone had already left so it was too late to take anymore pictures, but I asked the student to try to stand where she had been standing before and take a picture of the empty room. I was not surprised when this photo showed only an empty room, no bubbles in sight. Same photographer, same lighting; no bubbles. Something had been happening when the students were practicing and I honestly believe we were able to photograph bubbles of Qi that day.

The clincher came some months later. Francesca had taught a Medical Qigong class in England and had taken a picture with the group at the end of the day. There, in a picture taken by a different person, with a different camera, thousands of miles away and months apart, was a very prominent Qi bubble!

Did we photograph Qi that day? I don’t know. I’d like to think so. I haven’t attempted any further  photographic experiments however because ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Qi exists whether you can photograph it or not. Still, it’s kind of fun to have some “proof” that Qi is all around us. I’ve included some photos with this entry so that you can make up your own mind.

Qi bubbles photographed during Qigong class:

The same classroom photographed by the same camera a few minutes after the end of Qigong class:

Professor Francesca Ferrari (center in gold) with Qigong seminar participants months later, photographed in the United Kingdom:

Naughty Boys

I began studying Qigong in 1988 while living in Zhengzhou city in Henan province, China. I had come across a flier advertising a course to be taught at the local hospital. The system was called Fomen Jiu Gong Zhang or “Buddhist Nine Palace Palm” and been handed down in the Gong family for many generations. The class was prescribed as medical therapy and all the other students were patients at the hospital. The classes lasted all day. There were practice sessions in the morning and evening and academic sessions in the afternoon. I attended class as whenever I was not teaching English classes at my college. Over the course of a couple of months, I experienced a number of unusual things while studying.

Our instructor, Teacher Gong, always brought his adult sons along to help with the class. One day, early on in my training, about 20 of us were practicing in the courtyard, with Teacher Gong and his sons supervising. We were doing a static posture and  had been holding it for quite a long time. I was new to Qigong and my concentration was not what it should have been. Like most beginners, I was getting bored so I opened my eyes just a bit to see what was going on. The rest of the class were standing stock still, exhibiting all the concentration that I lacked. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see one of Teacher Gong’s sons moving through the crowd, heading in my direction. I quickly shut my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see that I had been goofing off. I waited for him to arrive. After some time, I opened my eyes slightly and noticed he was standing about 5 to 10 feet behind a nearby student. Curious, I let go of all pretense of practicing and began watching him closely.

As I watched, he extended his arms towards the back of the student. Slowly he pulled his arms back, as if he was a mime pulling taffy or a long rope. As he pulled, the student began to sway backward, almost losing his balance. A couple more pulls and the student did lose his balance and had to step back to catch himself before he fell. He righted himself but was soon pulled off balance again. Each time he would set himself only to be pulled backwards by Teacher Gong’s son. Soon he was taking several steps backwards in order to keep from falling over. All this time he had his eyes tightly shut and had no idea that Teacher Gong’s son was behind him.

Tiring of this, Teacher Gong’s son decided to try something different. After giving the student a few minutes to recover his equilibrium, he started making pushing motions. Sure enough, the student began to lean  forward as if something was pushing him from the back. As the teacher’s son continued to mime pushing, the student leaned farther and farther forward until he was forced to take a step to catch his balance. Just as before, each “push” was stronger until the student was forced to run several steps to keep from falling down.

Why didn’t the student just open his eyes and find out what was going on? Involuntary movements are common when practicing Qigong so it is not unusual to find yourself moving in odd ways for no apparent reason. The student probably thought that the movements were a  natural byproduct of his practice. He had no reason to suspect that someone was actually “messing” with him.

After a while, Teacher Gong’s other son noticed what was happening and decided to join in on the fun. He stood in front of the same student and began to make the same pushing motions. Now, as soon as the student recovered from being pushed forward, he found himself being pushed backwards. There were mischievous smiles on the faces of Teacher Gong’s sons as they gently pushed the poor, unsuspecting student forward and back.

Perhaps sensing that this was not practice as usual after all, the student finally opened his eyes. Laughing, the boys explained what they had been doing. The student looked puzzled at first, but then, realizing he had just experienced a true manifestation of Qi, he joined in the laughter. The whole class then gathered round as the two explained what had happened. Several students immediately volunteered to be pushed and pulled around. It was all good natured fun but Teacher Gong finally had to intervene in order  to get everybody back on track. That was my first experience with the power of Qi but there were soon to be others.

Published June 11,  2015

Never Forget

Today, June 4, 2015,  marks the 26th anniversary of the Tiananmen Massacre in Beijing, China. An entire generation has grown up since this horrific event. I don't know what people know about what happened or even if they remember that it happened, I was there at the time and it had a big impact on my life so I thought I'd tell my story. I was living in China at the time of the massacre. Not in Beijing, but in Zhengzhou, in Henan Province. This is what I experienced.

The student protest had begun several months earlier when groups from Beijing University (or  "BeiDa") and several other schools, began protesting the lack of political freedom in the country. Groups of students began occupying Tiananmen Square.  Tiananmen or the "Gate of Heavenly Peace" (irony noted), is a huge empty square (109 acres according to Wikipedia) directly in front of the main gate of the Forbidden City, the former palace fortress of China's later emperors. Surrounding the square are a number of government buildings so the protests could not help but be noticed. As the protests grew, students and others came from all over the country to join in. The square became a small city, full of people and tents. A number of students from my university, including some from my classes, joined in. I heard also that several students of my Qigong teacher had gone as well.

At first the government ignored the protests, but as the movement grew, they began to take notice. More people arrived and camped out in the square. The students began to be more active. Several people began hunger strikes, something no doubt borrowed from the West since China has no history of hunger strikes. Several large statues of the "Goddess of Liberty" which was based on our Statue of Liberty, began to pop up in the square. The protests were not confined to Beijing either. I observed several protest marches in the streets of Zhengzhou. Initially there was no police or government presence at the these events. The government did not know what to do. No one had dared challenge the Communist Party since the founding of the People's Republic in 1949. As the protests went unchallenged, a mood of excitement and hope seemed to envelop the country. People believed that a historic change for the better was suddenly possible in one of the most tightly controlled countries in the world.

I won't go into the political background surrounding the protests or the events that happened in the square; you have Wikipedia for that (unless you are in China where all things related to the massacre are still strictly censored.) I'll Just tell you what happened to me.

On the day of Sunday, June 4th I was at the Shaolin Temple, where I spent all my weekends and holidays. I was finishing up a couple of days of hanging out with my Danish friend Thomas and several of my "Dharma Brothers". (This a term used when one is a member of a generation of Buddhist disciples, lay disciple in my case, to describe one's relationship with those who are disciples of the same teacher. All the disciples, lay and ordained, of a given Dharma Master will have the same character as their first name and are referred to as what might be translated a "Dharma Brother". In the case of the 31st generation, that character was "De" or "Virtue". My name was Deqin while my Dharma Brothers were named Deyang, Deshui, and so on.) I had had a great weekend, staying at the temple, hanging out with the monks and studying gongfu. On Saturday, Thomas and I had climbed up a nearby mountain and met a 74 year old Buddhist nun at a retreat temple at the top. We spent a long time chatting with her. Later we found a beautiful scenic area and practiced gongfu before making the long, slippery climb down the mountain. On Sunday, I visited with my Shifu, the Venerable Dharma Maser Shi Suxi. We spent a pleasant afternoon talking and playing with a kitten that belonged to one of the monks. All too soon it was time to return home so I collected my things and caught a bus for the two hour ride back to Zhengzhou. I was just about to board when one of the monks rushed over to me. "Did you hear?", he said, "The government used tear gas on the students in Tiananmen!".

That gave me something to think about during the long ride home. I guess I wasn't too surprised. The government couldn't go on ignoring such a powerful, growing movement. Dispersing the students from Tiananmen wouldn't put an end to the protests, though. There was a real hunger for political freedom in China and the protests were spreading throughout the country. The government might shut down this one location but they were never going to be able to stop the fight for democracy in China, I thought. I was wrong.

When I made it back to the campus, something seemed wrong. It was very quiet. In fact, the whole city seemed too quiet. There seemed to be very few people around. Something just seemed wrong.

At this point I'll quote from my Journal:

"I am totally shocked. When I got back to Zhengzhou this evening, I met Wang Bing. He told me the news. Saturday, the Peoples's Army drove tanks and armored personnel carriers into Tiananmen. At about 2 AM, they opened up with machine guns and massacred everyone who moved; old people, children, unarmed students. Over 1,000 (some say 5,000) innocent people were brutal murdered. They used flame throwers to cremated the bodies on the spot so an accurate account could not be made. There have been reports of soldiers stealing bodies from the hospital to confuse the count. Four young girls were bayoneted or shot while begging for their lives. Today (June 5), the shooting continues at random at anyone who goes out on the street. How could they do it? How could any government be so inhuman? It was so brutal, so unexpected. The country and the world are in shock. The government has lost any legitimacy it ever had. The damage this will do to the country is incalculable. At one point, I had to leave the room. The thought of it all just got to me and I began to cry for all the wasted lives. Cry for China."

After Wang Bing left, I turned on my short wave radio. I searched for the Voice of America. It wasn't there. Neither was the BBC World Service. At 11:00, I turned on the TV to watch the English language news but it was absent as well. Later I heard that an English speaking announcer for the official Chinese radio service had been letting people know what was going on at the square when his broadcast suddenly went dead. I was effectively cut off from the world.

In the days that followed, things got a bit surreal. The Chinese news began showing CCTV footage of the square on the early morning of June 4. I noticed from the time stamps on the video that they never showed anything between 2 and 5 AM. I caught one broadcast that showed the square after sunrise. There were fallen tents and debris everywhere but no people. As the camera panned past one pile of trash, I swear that I saw a body covered in nylon sheeting. There was also lots of footage of some soldiers that had been killed by protesters and their bodies burned. The official account claimed that only a few hundred citizens had been killed. This was revised downward over the next few days until it was announced that only one protester had actually been killed. One.

For the next couple of days there were sporadic protests in the major cities. The students at all the universities boycotted classes. There reports of unarmed protesters being shot. When it became apparent that the government response was only going to get harsher, the students who had been boycotting classes, gave up and returned to their homes. My school became a ghost town. Official blame was placed on Westerners for inciting the original protests. Wang Bing came to see me and said that he thought the police had followed him. I realized that if I stayed, I would be putting my friends in danger. Anyone who contacted me was at risk of being questioned by the police. I had seen it happen before. Sadly, I knew I had no choice. I took one more trip out to Shaolin to say "good-bye" to Shifu and left the country.

It wasn't until after I had been home for a bit that the enormity of what had happened hit me. I saw a news report showing Chinese troops forming in front of the main gate of the Forbidden City. They formed a three sided box shape that covered every angle of the square in front of them. Then they laid on the ground behind machine guns and opened fire. It was a massacre. We will probably never know just how many were killed and wounded and I will never know if anyone I knew was involved. But one thing is certain; I will never forget.

Published June 4, 2015