The Miraculous Spear

Here in San Miguel it seems many things are un milagro- or at least not taken for granted. And I have noticed, if there is someone to thank for these miracles, it is usually La Virgen de Guadalupe. Karin and I have taken to thanking her profusely when we find a parking place at the entrance to El Parque de Juarez, where we practice each morning.

I am especially happy that there is a painting of La Virgen on a tree overlooking the practice patio in the park. And perhaps I was thinking of her when I heard Sam say - as if quoting some great master of old, “Ah, the miraculous spear; I am privileged to hold it as it does its work.” He was trying to convey to us students the importance of not gripping our weapons too tightly, or imposing our will and doing too much to accomplish the task. Instead, he wanted us to feel our weapons, to know the weight and balance of them, the shape and texture, and to be sensitive in our relationship with the weapon so that we could use it and benefit from it's use most effectively.

Like any tool, the spear works best when it does what it is designed to do - and though I am talking about a stick - never mind a stick - a small tree - wax wood sapling that is 8 to 10 feet long, thicker on one end than the other - I could be talking about any tool. A fork is not only good for bringing food into my mouth, but when jabbed into half a lime it becomes a miraculous juicer. It turns out the edge of a spoon is a miraculous ginger skin peeler. A garden hoe is a miraculous row-builder and de-weeder. We all know it - the right tool for the job and the job is done with ease. Tai Chi players know this too - and more.

You see we humans tend to view the human-tool relationship in one direction - what can the tool do for me? What we often forget or refuse to see - is that just as I use the tool, the tool works on me. Think about it - using utensils changes us; bending and swinging the hoe over acres of farm fields affects my structure. And so too wielding the spear has its effect.

As I practice using my spear to lift and throw paint cans across the room, slide heavy chairs across the floor with my spear, use the tip of my spear to bounce a ball or cast the spear as if casting a fishing line - I am changing my experience of my own impact and effectiveness across much greater distances than my short arms could ever reach. And when I put that spear down, my mind and body carry with me the feeling of spaciousness and depth that handling that spear created.

This is a feeling of spacious depth that is powerfully transformative when carried much closer to home in push-hands practice. Perhaps this is one reason that the curriculum of study described by Yang Cheng-fu consisted of solo form, preparatory drills to study four hands and dalu and spear work. Other aspects of the Yang -style curriculum (the 1 to 8, sabre, etc.) appear to have come later through lineages traced back to other Yang family members.

The miraculous spear; it is a privilege to hold it as it does its work.

Reverse Leg Peng