“The Lantern of Tai Chi: Lighting the Path Ahead for an Ancient Art” by Brian L. Meyers
I am staring at an empty white computer screen. My thoughts are arguing and debating in my head. How should I begin? Should I write memories of watching the TV show “Kung Fu” with my Dad? How hard is it to walk on rice paper without leaving a trace? How thin is rice paper? What is rice paper? David Carradine had really big feet. I see martial arts students training. Will anyone get my references to the TV show “Iron Fist?” I’m not surprised “Iron Fist” was canceled. I imagine taking Tai Chi classes in an old abandoned gunpowder factory under the tutelage of Master Sifu. I do a Google search for photos of a gunpowder factory near the Little Miami River. I see the concrete floors, steel ceiling beams and walls of little square half-opened windows that remind me of the windows on the old Fisher Body plant that I used to drive past on Route 4 on my way to Hamilton. I think about Master Sifu living in a trailer next to the gunpowder factory. Now I see Arya in “Game of Thrones” sweeping the floors in the House of Black and White. Arya learned how to fight blind. But I must quiet my mind. Tune out the noise. I need to focus on what I will write. Where do I begin? And then I realize I have already begun. That is Tai Chi, as the author would say.
Local author Brian L. Meyers wrote “The Lantern of Tai Chi – Lighting the Path Ahead for an Ancient Art.” It is an excellent introduction to the world of Tai Chi. In my opening paragraph, I illustrated what people who meditate call the “monkey mind.” Those who have trouble meditating often say their minds race, and it’s hard for them to settle down. I wrote, “Tune out the noise,” but what I should have said was, “Quiet the noise.” The author suggested that with Tai Chi, the way to deal with your monkey mind is “not to ignore it but to pet it and let the monkey fall asleep in your lap.” Reading his book helped me pay more attention to my thoughts as they happened. I have taken workshops on mindfulness at Jewish retreats. Rabbis explain that Jewish ritual practices force us to be mindful by pausing to appreciate what is happening. When we see a rainbow, we are supposed to stop and say a blessing. Before we eat, we say a blessing to appreciate the food. Instead of running through the doors of life, we stop for a moment to kiss the mezuzah. Meyers said that Tai Chi differs from mindfulness and meditation practices because it combines the element of movement. He said that it is nondenominational and won’t upset someone’s religious beliefs.
When I think of Tai Chi, I see a group of men in Central Park moving in unison through a series of slow and methodical martial arts motions. I remember scenes like this in movies and TV shows. Meyers wrote that my reaction was pretty typical. He said that people often think of Tai Chi as something older people do as a “health and wellness regimen designed to ward off the ravages of age and disease.” Tai Chi can be an excellent low-impact exercise, but it has much more to offer for all ages. Meyers wrote that “Tai Chi wants to teach the practitioner how to organize and coordinate their body, internal energy, mind, and spirit.”
Brian L. Meyers studied Tai Chi for over 10 years. He has a 200-hour teaching certification in Yin or Daoist yoga and holds belt ranks in several martial arts. He was also a Tai Chi instructor for Parkinson’s patients to help them improve their movement and balance. But he is upfront with the fact that he is not a Tai Chi Master. While sitting in a local Starbucks, he wrote down knowledge and wisdom that he had gathered over his years of study. His book is a beginner’s guide to Tai Chi that he hopes will light the path for new students to start their journey. He has a chapter dedicated to helping the student find the right teacher. You don’t have to go to the Wudang Mountains in the Hubei Province of China to learn Tai Chi. You can take classes right here in Cincinnati with teachers like his Sifu. Sifu is a Chinese term of respect used by students of Tai Chi, Kung Fu and other Chinese arts to refer to their teacher. I couldn’t help but think of the many movies and TV shows that depict the relationship between martial arts masters and their students. I remember the blind Shaolin Priest Master Po from the TV show “Kung Fu,” who taught David Carridine how to hear the grasshopper at his feet. Everyone remembers Mr. Miyagi with his wax on wax off wisdom in the “Karate Kid.” Stick was Daredevil’s blind mentor who taught him the cold, hard realities of the world. Chiun was Remo Williams’ teacher in “The Destroyer” book series. Chiun was the last Master of Sinanju who loved to watch soap operas. He was played by Joel Grey in the movie “Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins.” Chiun told Remo, “You move like a pregnant yak.” The author’s relationship with his Sifu was at the heart of his book. In the acknowledgments, he wrote, “This book would clearly not be possible without him.”
Meyers trained with Sifu in an old gunpowder factory north of Cincinnati near the Little Miami River. Meyers’ description of Sifu’s studio inside the walls of the abandoned gunpowder factory rivaled any scene I can remember from the movies. Sifu embodied the qualities you would expect from a Master, such as humility and living a simple life. After Sifu’s landlord told him he would be selling his house, Sifu moved into a construction trailer outside of the old gunpowder factory. The trailer had no heat or running water. The author wrote, “Sifu was not concerned about the coming winter. Personally, I suspect this might have been his version of a remote mountain hut.”
Tai Chi is about balance with soft and quiet movements. The “Kung Fu” TV series was one of my Dad’s favorites. It’s hard to mention “Kung Fu” now without acknowledging the controversy of casting David Carridine instead of Bruce Lee or someone of Asian descent. One of the final tests of a Shaolin priest was to walk across a long scroll of fragile rice paper without leaving a mark. Meyers wrote that in Tai Chi, you learn to move quietly and softly like a snake. You learn balance. You learn “the empty step,” where you put your foot down without any weight. With one technique, you learn how to dissolve from your opponent, like a ghost. Some of these descriptions could be intimidating or seem impossible to a new student, but Meyers wrote words of encouragement. He said that you only go to your first class once. He also wrote that the students who have a tough time at the beginning usually do better in the long run. A mantra for the book is that Tai Chi is a journey with no destination. It’s all about the process of getting better and continuing to learn.
Meyers presents a brief history of the origins of Tai Chi with a review of the major houses and legends. Tai Chi is considered one of the internal martial arts. Instead of blocks and kicks like you see in Kung Fu movies, Tai Chi focuses on soft and quiet movements. The author wrote that Tai Chi students learn “to move their body in an organized, coordinated fashion so that the disparate parts work in conjunction and to common purpose for biomechanical advantage.” There are styles of Tai Chi that can be used for self-defense. Not only do you learn how to move like a snake, but you learn how to strike like a snake! The Chinese National Athletic Association formalized a 24 Posture Form to unify Tai Chi for the whole country, but they left out the martial arts elements. The author wrote, “It would simply not do to empower the people by teaching them how to fight.” I found it fascinating that some styles of Tai Chi were seen as rebellious. The Communist Chinese outlawed its practice in 1966 and later brought it back when they realized that Tai Chi was a symbol of Chinese cultural heritage. As I’m re-reading sections of the book to make sure my review is accurate, I appreciate how much information Meyers packed into 200 pages. It never felt overwhelming. His writing style was easy to follow and entertaining.
The second half of his book focuses on the five energies of Tai Chi, which include Body, Mind, QI (pronounced Chee), Jin or Jing and Spirit. Meyers shared wisdom that I was able to use right away. After finishing the book, I went to my weekly voice lesson. My voice teacher is like my Sifu. She is always asking me questions like, “Where do you feel the sound?” Or, “What happened there? Were you opening the back of your throat?” I would honestly tell her, “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.” After reading Meyers’ book, I found myself focusing more on what I was feeling in my body as I sang. For months, my Sifu would tell me to open up the back of my throat. I thought I was doing it, but this time I realized it wasn’t the back of my throat that was closed; it was the back of my nose! Apparently there are little flaps behind your nose that can open and close, and I was keeping them closed while I sang. I was able to feel the difference this time, and I had a major breakthrough.
I highly recommend this book to anyone who would like to learn more about Tai Chi. Whether you are a seeker who is looking for hidden secrets or someone who just wants to find more balance in your life physically or mentally, this is a great book to take the first step on your journey. Or perhaps you realize that your journey has already begun by reading this review. That is Tai Chi.
