Chángdí heard Wéilán say, “You need to work on your sensitivity. Even an old, blind man is more sensitive than you!” One of Lǎo Dàoshi’s students had come to see him. When Chángdí had come into the courtyard where Lǎo Dàoshi and his student were, Chángdí sat down in the dirt and began drawing figures with a stick while listening to Wéilán and his student talk.
The student chuckled and said in response, “Perhaps if I had your years of experience, I would understand sensitivity more thoroughly.”
“Perhaps,” replied Lǎo Dàoshi, “but you need to practice on a daily basis if you want to improve your sensitivity.”
“But I have no one to practice with that can teach me things except you, especially about sensitivity” said the student. Lǎo Dàoshi promptly responded that he would not live forever, “What will you do when I die? How will you ever learn anything new?”
The student pondered this for a few moments. Finally, he said, “Master, not only do I wish you to live forever, I do not know how I will learn more once you pass.”
“Look within!” pronounced Lǎo Dàoshi. “You need to become your own teacher. Only you can know, or discover, precisely what is lacking in your development. I can only observe with a blind pair of eyes. I can sense where your shortcomings are when we push hands. But I cannot make you improve. That must come from within. Now go! Ponder these things we have discussed today, especially sensitivity. When you have an answer, come see me again, but not until then! Go, I have no more time today. I need some tea.”
The student left feeling that the Old Daoist had given him much to think about, but did not have a clear idea of how to increase his sensitivity as Lǎo Dàoshi had directed. Slowly, he walked back to his house in the village.
Chángdí spoke to his uncle and said, “Dàyé, what is this ‘sensitivity’ that you speak of with your student?” Chángdí knew that his uncle had students, but he wasn’t even sure what it was that his uncle taught. Lǎo Dàoshi turned in his nephew’s direction and said with some surprise, “You paid attention. That is good.” A thought occurred to Lǎo Dàoshi that perhaps it was time to begin Chángdí‘s training in earnest.
Although he wanted to interrupt, Chángdí waited while Lǎo Dàoshi paused to compose the rest of his response. “The idea of sensitivity is not easy to put into words,” said Lǎo Dàoshi, “even for me.” Chángdí knew better than to smile or laugh at this, but thought to himself, “How funny, since Wéilán can talk at length to a fence post.” Lǎo Dàoshi went on, “At a basic level, sensitivity is the ability to know both yourself and others when performing sensing hands. Sensitivity must be experienced; it is not enough to understand it intellectually.”
“Dàyé, what is sensing hands?” inquired Chángdí.
Wéilán responded with, “Never mind that I mentioned sensing hands, let it suffice that sensitivity is the ability to know yourself and others, regardless of the situation.”
“But I know lots of people, does that mean I have sensitivity?” asked Chángdí.
“Not in the same sense I am discussing. Having friends and knowing people is different than being sensitive to your own body and mind while at the same time being sensitive to the other person’s body and mind.” Lǎo Dàoshi went on, “Although, having friends is perhaps a good example. Chángdí, do have a very close friend? One that you almost know what they will say or do in a given situation?”
“Yes, Dàyé. My friend Ho is like that. We understand each other very well.”
“Why do you understand each other so well?” asked Lǎo Dàoshi.
Chángdí paused for a moment before saying, “Well . . . we have spent a lot of time together. And . . . we are interested in the same things. We can look at each other and know what the other is thinking.”
“Do you ever know what your friend is thinking before he himself realizes it?” inquired Lǎo Dàoshi.
“Sometimes it seems so, yes, but that is because that is how I would respond.”
“Ahhh,” said Lǎo Dàoshi, “that is knowing yourself, which is the first step to knowing others. That is a form of sensitivity.” Both uncle and nephew were quiet for a while before Lǎo Dàoshi said, “Let me show you how to know yourself better. Now, stand up and do as I do.” Lǎo Dàoshi stood with his feet approximately hip-width apart. He stood in what appeared to be a relaxed position with his hands and arms hanging loosely at his side, and with his knees slightly bent. Chángdí tried to mimic his posture as closely as possible. Lǎo Dàoshi explained, “stand in as relaxed a manner as possible without falling down – keep every muscle relaxed. Slowly scan through your body, from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet and relax everything as you go.”
Chángdí did as his uncle said, meanwhile Lǎo Dàoshi went into the house. Chángdí knew that he was expected to stay in that position until his uncle came back. He started scanning his body as instructed by Wéilán. Chángdí was feeling quite uncomfortable when Wéilán came back to the courtyard with a cup of hot tea. Chángdí’s calves were beginning to cramp up and his thighs were also beginning to tire.
“How do you feel?” asked Lǎo Dàoshi.
Chángdí began to explain that while his upper body was relaxed and comfortable, his legs and particularly his calves were hurting. Curtly, Wéilán said, “Do not complain to me! It is your job to make yourself comfortable, to make adjustments in your stance so that it remains comfortable. You need to relax into the stance to make it so.” Lǎo Dàoshi continued to explain, “This is a form of meditation, you are standing in Wuji position. What were you thinking of while you were standing?”
Chángdí, who was still standing in Wuji position, began, “Dàyé, I am becoming more uncomfortable as we speak. May I sit down?”
Lǎo Dàoshi said, “Yes. Yes, suffering is not the point. Now, answer my question.”
While seating himself, Chángdí started again, “At first, I scanned my body from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, relaxing as I went, just as you described.”
“Good!” interjected Lǎo Dàoshi, “Continue.”
“It was not easy to relax my body, especially the lower parts below the waist, as they are needed for support, but I did my best to do so.” Wéilán said nothing so Chángdí continued, “Shortly after completing my body scan, I could focus on nothing but the increasing discomfort in my legs.”
“Did you make adjustments to make your body more comfortable?”
“No, it did not occur to me,” sighed Chángdí.
“Let it occur to you in the future,” said Wéilán. “What should you do if adjustments do not help?”
“I do not know,” said Chángdí.
Normally, Lǎo Dàoshi made his students stand in Wuji stance and other postures until one of two things happened; either they relaxed into the posture, or they gave up because they could stand no longer. However, since Chángdí was still not into his teen years, Lǎo Dàoshi did not think it appropriate to make him suffer in the same way. So, he said, “You are allowed to take a seat, however, you must continue to meditate so that you get to know yourself better. Additionally, once you are again comfortable, you must stand and resume the Wuji posture. Practice this and soon you will be able to stand for long periods of time.”
Lǎo Dàoshi continued, “You will also learn to know yourself. Pay attention to your body, how it feels, how balanced it is, how it moves while in stillness. Pay attention to your emotions that bubble up. Do not pay attention to anything but the present moment. Thoughts that are about future or past events are to be discarded until you finish standing – let them go — do not dwell on them. In this way, you will learn about yourself mentally.”
Chángdí asked, “To what end should I do this?” Lǎo Dàoshi thought to himself, what an impertinent child – because I said so! But he answered the question.
“This process will allow you to know yourself. It allows you to gradually know others as well. This increases your sensitivity when working with another person,” said Lǎo Dàoshi.
“What do you mean by working with another person?”
Lǎo Dàoshi said to Chángdí, “I have decided to take you on as a student.”
Chángdí did not know what to make of this. Finally, he said, “Dàyé, what kind of student?”
Lǎo Dàoshi was surprised to learn that Chángdí did not realize that all the students coming and going were learning Tai Chi Chuan from him. So, he said, “I will teach you Tai Chi Chuan. Once you have learned enough, an important part of Tai Chi Chuan is two-person work. This is when sensitivity begins to matter in Tai Chi Chuan. It also matters in life. If you know yourself, you know what you want, and learn to be sensitive to what others say and do, and act appropriately.
It is nearly supper time. We will begin your lessons tomorrow.