What Does It Mean To Be An Internal Arts Instructor

Author: Tom Bisio May 25, 2026

It is not surprising that many students and prospective students are confused about what it means to be an instructor in Xing Yi Quan or Ba Gua Zhang, or even a Qi Gong instructor. Because there are no ranks, belts, badges or other external signs of achievement when learning these arts, one can’t really make easily definable criteria as to exactly what someone’s ability is relative to someone else. Add to this that internal arts are about changing oneself internally both physically and as a person, and distinctions or categorization become even more amorphous.

Lacking visible criteria for progress and achievement, students often desire to become an instructor without understanding what that designation really means. For some it becomes about ego and external validation, for others it is a way to start a practice group to facilitate further training and understanding. In either case, in order to teach internal arts, one should have a grasp of the realities and responsibilities involved. The important thing to keep in mind is that taking on the role and “title” of teacher means that one actually is going to have students, and that one accepts the responsibility t0 teach them. Otherwise, one does not need this title and should not pursue becoming an instructor, but rather continue training and increasing one’s depth of knowledge in the art.

In the end, a teacher teaches. The title “Instructor” means one teaches students and takes on responsibility for their progress in the art, while continuing one’s own training and increasing one’s understanding – Nothing more, nothing less.

Ideally one should begin the study of internal arts in order to learn and understand the art as a means of self-cultivation and self-defense. Beginning training with the goal of being a teacher can actually be detrimental, because one is already looking outside and cultivating outside goals rather than looking inside and sensing what is happening inside. It is good to keep in mind the words of the famous Xing Yi Boxer Guo Yun Shen in relation to learning Xing Yi Quan: It is necessary not to seek it on purpose. If something can be obtained in seeking, it seems to exist but does not exist and seems to be true but is not true. It is necessary to obtain it by unhurried and steady steps, without forgetting or assisting it, without thinking and management of it. With internal martial arts, sometimes the harder one tries to get “something,”  the farther away this desire takes you from real achievement. So one should enter into training with an open mind, and train hard without looking for external validation such as becoming an instructor. Becoming ready to teach will happen when you are ready for it, have no desire for it, and often when you least expect it

Not everyone is meant to teach. Some students want to train and practice and not teach – there is nothing wrong with that. One can become a great high-level practitioner and/or a fighter with a high level of ability without becoming an instructor. In every group in China that I have worked with there are long-term students, dedicated and often highly-skilled, who like to train and/or fight. They help the teacher when asked, perhaps attend tournaments, but they don’t necessarily teach or have their own students.

Normally it takes about ten years of on-going training to become a teacher of internal martial arts. Even if one has a lot of previous experience in external martial arts, is accomplished technically, and has teaching experience, it still requires time (years) to experience the internal changes and transformations of internal training and put them into practice – not only in the forms and methods of internal martial arts, but also in everyday life. Without fully understanding these transformations inside oneself, it is virtually impossible to teach others more than the external shape.

I have met several masters in China who were very accomplished in martial arts before beginning Xing Yi or Ba Gua, and yet they still had to go through three years of mostly circle walking, or three years of mostly just standing in San Ti Shi, before going on to learn the rest of the art and only then become a teacher. In addition, learning the art usually involves following one’s teacher for years, watching him or her teach, and accompanying them and assisting them at regular classes, demonstrations, seminars, retreats, etc.

This speaks to the absurdity of thinking one can become an instructor of internal martial arts through online training only, or by taking an “online instructor training course.”  Learning this way one would merely learn the external elements of “internal” arts, a bit of an oxymoron. Chinese teachers would say that in taking this path, one can only understand the hairs of the ox, not the bones. Online training is useful and Internal Arts International has had students come out of our online program to take live, in-person instructor training with good results. The key being that these students had to also study and interact with the teacher(s), other instructors and students in-person for a period of time in order to achieve the level of instructor.

My own experience with Xing Yi was learning one style of Xing Yi Quan by closely following my teacher for many years and then teaching this style for years while continuing to follow my teacher, while simultaneously learning Ba Gua Zhang. When I switched to Li Gui Chang’s Shanxi Xing Yi, I had to stop teaching Xing Yi for ten years while I virtually relearned the art, correcting all my mistakes from my previous training. Similarly in Ba Gua, I had to stop teaching the art for several years at one point in order to correct errors that came from teaching too soon.

These kinds of experiences not only forge one’s internal boxing, they also are lessons in humility and they help one maintain a beginner’s mind – all things that facilitate becoming a good teacher.

In today’s fast-paced world, the kind of long apprenticeship described above may not be practical for everyone, particularly if they live far from their teacher and cannot afford to travel year after year across the country or make 20-some trips to China as I did. This leads to another model for becoming an instructor.

Someone wanting to open an internal arts club or practice group in order to train and improve by working with others could become what I would call a Foundational Level Instructor after 2-4 years of training. This training may begin with an online course, but must later continue in-person with a teacher. A Foundational Level Instructor is capable of teaching the basics of the art, leading students through exercises and basic forms, and guiding them in practicing simple applications and partner drills. The Foundational Instructor stays ahead of his or her students by continuing to progress in the art, and to some degree the teaching itself helps their progression. Because the Foundational Instructor is still studying with their teacher, his or her students also see this instructor receiving corrections and progressing over time. This not only keeps everyone humble, it allows students a window into the developmental process. As they see the teacher change and improve, they also change and improve.

Over the more than 20 years I trained in Xing Yi Quan with Song Zhi Yong, a disciple of Li Gui Chang and my Senior School Brother, I got to watch him transform, his movements becoming more subtle and his power more mysterious. Song’s expectation was that we would transform and change with him and we did. Sometimes he would change a movement or change the way he did a movement and look at us askance if we did it the way he had previously showed us. He implication was that we should bow to the process, not be fixated on things being set in stone, but instead continue to change and transform.

What I am calling a Foundational Level Instructor is a person responsible for teaching what he or she knows of the art as correctly was possible with the understanding that they can fall back on their own teacher to help them convey information, fill in knowledge gaps, and demonstrate applications that they may know but are not yet comfortable with. This instructor is on the path to higher levels of engagement and responsibility in teaching the art, and teaching students is a part of this process of engagement, one that pushes their boundaries and spurs them on to continue to train and learn.

A Senior Instructor is someone who has trained for at least 8-10 years. In becoming a Senior Instructor this person is accepting the responsibility of passing the art and lineage on to others, a commitment that often takes decades to achieve. It is less an honor than an acceptance of responsibility and at times, it is even a burden.

Becoming a Senior Instructor requires knowing the basics of the history of the art in general and the history of the specific lineage. Becoming a Senior Instructor also requires a breadth of knowledge and some experience in teaching the art, even if only as assistant to their teacher. This does not mean one has to know every advanced form and weapons set, but it does require having a broad knowledge of the key forms and methods of the art and an ability to present them in a way that can be adaptable to different students who have different needs, different physical abilities and goals. A Senior Instructor continuously cultivates himself or herself in order to gain deeper levels of understanding, that in turn aid their teaching. A Senior Instructor must also be capable of developing students to a level at which they could themselves become instructors one day.

Lastly, being a Senior Instructor is not just about how many forms and techniques one knows, it is also a state of mind and spirit, and being a positive example to students and having a commitment to preserving a tradition.

In China, all of the above is understood implicitly, but in the West this kind of responsibility to lineage and the past is rarely acknowledged. Hence, it requires effort on our part to preserve these traditions that produce high-caliber practitioners of the internal arts who can pass the art on to succeeding generations.

This brings up the idea of disciples. In China, teachers take disciples who then follow the teacher and the teaching, perhaps eventually going on to also take on their own disciples when they reach a level where they can teach. Becoming a disciple usually involves a formal ceremony, the details of which can vary to some degree, however in general one kowtows three times to the teacher and offers some payment to the teacher – traditionally cash and in a red envelope. The ceremony is understood to mean that this person is your teacher for life, and that the student will follow, learn from and support the teacher financially or otherwise and help him or her, particularly in regard to disseminating and carrying on the art. Thus, one has accepted a serious responsibility. From the teacher’s perspective, it is also a huge responsibility. He or she is now responsible to the student for life and must teach them correctly and aid them as much as possible.

This kind of relationship is difficult to foster in the West. In the past there were commitments between artisan and apprenticeships that were similar, but the modern business and educational model has done away with apprenticeships and many professions, including Chinese medicine (unfortunately) discourage real apprenticeships in favor of going to school and passing tests. Hence taking on disciples as an internal martial arts teacher is difficult because it is  antithetical to our culture.

So as someone who has walked the line between being a disciple of a Chinese teacher and studying with other teachers when I was not a disciple but still had to fulfill the requisite responsibilities, I have been on both sides of the question. My personal feeling is that disciple-teacher relationships are not well understood in the West and it is better to try and foster clear relationships and guidelines for students, instructors and senior instructors.

In the end we can simply say that a teacher teaches. So, becoming an instructor requires that one actually teach students, and accepts the responsibility of guiding them through the training process of learning and self-cultivation.

Lastly, I think it is important to add that the great teachers of internal arts that I have met, never take on the air of having “arrived” and resting on their laurels. The great teachers continue to train and deepen their understanding of the art for their whole life. This in turn is an inspiration to their students

Amazing Stories From the Shaolin Temple

By Jeffrey J. Kelly

April 1994, Black Belt Magazine.

    The original Shaolin Temple, located in China's Henan province, is a magical place.  It is probably the single most famous Buddhist temple in the world, yet, strangely enough, it is renowned today more for its connection with the martial arts than for Buddhism.  This fact is even more unusual when you consider that the Shaolin Temple is where the Dhyana sect of Buddhism was introduced to China.  This denomination, which stresses the practice of prolonged meditation, established deep roots in China and also profoundly affected the history and culture of Japan, where it became known as Zen.  The Shaolin Temple is also said to be the birthplace of Chinese martial arts, although there are those who doubt this claim.  Regardless of whether Kung fu originated at the temple, the fact is that martial arts and Buddhism were synthesized for the first time there.  This union can be traced back well over 1,500 years, and has profoundly affected the way martial arts are practiced to this day.  Even today, although many young men come to the temple to learn its brand of martial arts, many also come to learn Buddhism, for indeed, the two cannot be separated at the Shaolin temple.  This unique combination of the physical and spiritual has for centuries captivated martial artist.  The Shaolin Temple has long been the subject of innumerable fables, some based in fact, others not.  There have been so many stories, books and movies about the temple that is often difficult to separate fact from fiction.  What follows are several of these stories, gleaned from conversations with Shaolin Temple monks, as well as discussions with Wang Bin, the president of the Disciples of Shaolin International Institute of Kung Fu.  They are stories, handed down for generations, bout some of the prominent figures in the temple's past.  Whether they are fact or fiction is up to the reader to decide.  The construction of the Shaolin Temple was commissioned by Emperor Xiao Wen around A.D. 495.  The emperor ordered the temple built for the benefit of an Indian Buddhist monk named Buddhabhadra, known as Ba Tuo in Chinese.  An early missionary Ba had arrived from India to spread Buddhism and had found favor with Xiao, who was a supporter of the new faith.  The temple, lying to the northwest of the Dengfeng County seat, was built at the foot of Shaoshi Mountain along the Song Shan Mountain range.  Named in a part for the mountain that bordered it to the north, the temple was called Shalin, meaning the "forest of Shao Mountain."  Ba was established as the first abbot, and for the rest of his life, he translated sutras(Buddhist writings) and taught Buddhism at the temple.  It is also said that Ba was enamored with the Chinese martial arts, and actually recruited individuals skilled in them.  Ba had several outstanding disciples, including a man named Hui Guang.  Ba met Hui while traveling through the nearby town of Luoyang.  As he walked, Ba noticed a young boy kicking a shuttlecock, known in Chinese as Jian zi.  This in itself was not unusual, for all Chinese youngsters are familiar with the game.  However, rather than kicking the shuttlecock in front of him, which is the most common method, the boy was kicking it behind himself, a much more difficult technique.  The monk watched as the boy kicked the jian zi 500 times without dropping it.  Even more impressive was the fact the boy was performing this nearly impossible feat while standing on top of a high wall that overlooked a stone courtyard.  Any loss of balance and the boy could have fallen to his death.  Impressed by the boy's concentration and ability, Ba approached him about becoming a Buddhist monk.  The boy was interested and was permitted by his parents to journey with the monk back to the temple, and he was thereafter known by his Buddhist name, Hui Gang.

    It is said that Hui was a skilled acrobat before becoming a monk, and it is thought that he may have been influenced in introducing martial arts into the curriculum at the Shaolin Temple.  Working with Ba, Hui translated and wrote commentaries on many Buddhist sutras and was regarded as the founder of the Dilun school of Buddhism.

    Seng Chou was another of Ba's noted disciples.  Seng was raised in Anyang county in Henan province and, when he was 28, he made a vow to become a Buddhist monk.  He was accepted as the disciple by Ba and soon became known for his intelligence and prodigious memory.  He was able to understand and memorize the most difficult of the sutras after only one reading.  Seng was also extremely strong and was said to be skilled in the martial arts.  He enjoyed wrestling, and during holidays and festivals, would perform for the crowds that visited the temple.  Seng would take on all comers, and it was said no one could beat him.  For fun, he would climb up onto the main beam in his room, at least a dozen feet above the floor, and leap from one beam to the next - a distance of almost 10 feet between each.  He also liked to walk atop high walls with uncanny speed and agility.

    One story tells of a journey Seng made across Wangwu Mountain to spend an extended period in solitary meditation.  Hearing a thunderous roar and a great thrashing about in the nearby woods, the monk went to investigate and came upon two tigers locked in mortal combat.  Not wanting even these savage creatures to injure one another - for Buddhist vow not to harm any living being - Seng rushed forth and used his heavy iron staff to separate the two beasts.  Then, with a loud cry that frightened the ferocious animals, he chased the tigers off.

    Seng was also known for his achievements in Buddhism.  In A.D. 552, Emperor Wen Xuan constructed a temple for him on the southern slope of Mount Long, northwest of present-day Anyang.  It was here that Seng edited two books on Buddhist meditation.

    The man generally credited with creating the martial art now called shaolin chuan was an Indian monk named Bodhidharma (or Da Mo in Chinese)Bodhidharma came to China from India in about A.D. 470 arriving by boat and staying in southern China for a time.

Emperor Wu of Liang, a devout Buddhist, heard of the new missionary’s arrival and invited him to the palace.  Upon meeting Bodhidharma, the emperor said “I have built many temples and pagodas, and have restored even more.  I have given much of my treasury to the Sangha (brotherhood of Buddhist monks) and made offerings in all the major temples of the land.  What merit have I gained by all my efforts?”

          Bodhidharma looked the emperor in the eye and answered “Your majesty through all your efforts, you have gained no merit at all.”

          Enraged, Wu had Bodhidharma banished.

          Unwelcome in the south, Bodhidharma journeyed to northern China.  To do so, he had to cross the Yangtze River, which was swollen by heavy rains and dangerous to cross.  Undeterred, the monk pulled a leaf off the stem of a nearby reed.  He blew on the leaf and it reportedly grew to the size of a small boat.  Bodhidharma then mounted his “vessel” and safely crossed the mighty river.

          After some wandering, Bodhidharma came upon the Shaolin Temple, Captivated by the charm and isolation of the small monastery nestled at the foot of wooded mountains, the monk decided to settle there.  Since Dhyana meditation is best conducted in solitude, the monk searched about for a quiet place to practice and soon discovered a small cave three-quarters of the way up the steep mountain behind the temple.  Once settled into his cozy new quarters, Bodhidharma began practicing long hours of Meditation.  He sat, unmoving, facing the cave wall, day after day, summer and winter, year after year.

          One summer, Bodhidharma discovered that he was drifting off to sleep soon after sitting down to meditate.  Angered by his laziness and realizing he would never reach enlightenment by sleeping, the monk cut off his eyelids with a knife.  He tossed the eyelids from the cave and, soon thereafter, a tea plant sprouted at the very spot where Bodhidharma’s eyelids had landed.  The monk’s disciples later found that, when brewed, the tea from this plant helped keep them awake during long meditation sessions.  Tea has been an integral part of Dhyana meditation remained in the cave.  Bodhidharma remained in the cave for nine years, until he reached enlightenment.  When Bodhidharma left the cave to begin teaching, disciples discovered that the sun had burned the monk’s shadow into one of the cave’s rock.  The disciples removed the rock and put it on display in the temple where it remains to this day as a testament to Bodhidharma’s religious zeal.

          Stories circulated about Bodhidharma’s self-induced solitude and one winter day a young man named Shen Guang showed up at the mouth of his cave.  Shen had studied Taoism for many years, had heard of Bodhidharma, and determined the study with him.  Shen stood patiently for hours in the knee-deep snow outside the cave, waiting for Bodhidharma to finish his meditation.  When the monk stirred at last.  Shen introduced himself and announced his desire to become a disciple.

          Bodhidharma was concerned when he learned of Shen’s long association with Taoism, and he feared the young man was not sincere and merely wanted to add to his collection of knowledge.  To test Shen’s sincerity, Bodhidharma told him “I will take you as my disciple only when heaven snows red.’  With that, he dismissed the young man.

          Shen was crushed, but he was also determined not to give up.  Pulling a knife from his belt, he cut off his left arm, allowing the blood to splatter on the snow.  Once again he knelt before Bodhidharma, offering up his arm as a gesture of his commitment.  Bodhidharma agreed to make Shen a disciple and tended to the young man’s wound.  He gave his new disciple the name Hui Ke, and shortly before his death, Bodhidharma passed on his robe and begging bowl to Hui who became the second patriarch of the Dhyana sect in China.

          After he emerged from the cave, Bodhidharma imparted his knowledge of meditation to the monks who had made the long climb each day to his cave to bring him food.  Bodhidharma noticed however, that the monks were having very little success with the new technique.  Their bodies were not up to the rigors of prolonged meditation.  Their muscles were soft, and many of the monks had developed circulation problems from sitting cross-legged for so many hours each day.  Some had so little energy that they fell asleep the minute they sat down to meditate.  Bodhidharma realized they needed some sort of exercise to counteract the effects of prolonged sitting.  Drawing on his education as an Indian nobleman, Bodhidharma developed a series of exercises were designed to increase the circulation of internal energy, strengthen and loosens the tendons, and tone the muscles.  The exercises were later listed in a book called The Muscle Change Classic.  Exactly when martial arts training became a major part of the temple’s curriculum is unclear, but history shows that at time, the monastery’s martial arts program became more important to the monks that Buddhist teachings.  Strange stories about the Shaolin Temple continue to the present day.  For example, many people have heard the tale of an underground chamber full of wooden automatons beneath the temple.  Legend has it that when a young monk completed his training, he had to undergo a final test of his fighting prowess.  He was ushered into an underground labyrinth filled with wooden men, then the exit was sealed behind him.  He was expected to find his way out while defeating any wooden robots who crossed his path.  Once liberated from the chamber and its mechanical army, the monk was free to travel and teach Buddhism and martial arts.  Although there is no hard evidence such a compartment ever existed, many still claim it is there, buried under the temple grounds.

          Fact or fiction?  You decide.

          In either case, such stories are all part of the colorful legend of China’s original Shaolin Temple.