ZHIJIEXIN

 by Phillip Starr

Zhijiexin…a word (and concept) that is rarely heard in the practice of modern Chinese martial arts. It is pronounced “zee jyeh shin” and is comprised of three characters. The first character is “zhi”, which means “straight, direct.” The second character, “jie”, is translated as “meet, connect, join.” Together, these two characters mean, “immediate, direct, without delay.” “Xin” means, roughly, “mind.” Thus, the term, zhijiexin, may be translated as “direct mind.”

And just what, pray, does this obscure idea have to do in so far as the practice of martial arts is concerned? Well…everything.

You move through the stages of your chosen discipline, learning how to execute certain techniques, analyzing various forms, studying different methods of footwork and body shifting…and that’s all fine and well. You cannot possibly learn martial arts without doing these things. And when you begin learning how to apply your footwork and techniques against a partner, everything is usually prearranged and practiced in a very controlled manner. Again, this is absolutely necessary.

But it isn’t real. Not even close.

It is interesting to look at what happens when a student is suddenly attacked in a very realistic manner. I remember an incident that involved our Chief Instructor and an intermediate student. The instructor was teaching basic self-defense techniques that can be applied against various holds, grabs, and strangles. He wished to emphasize that the most important feature of any self-defense technique was maintaining composure and keeping centered. “If you lose your center,” he said, “you are completely lost and you won’t be able to defend yourself.”

So saying, he directed one of the students to stand in front of him. “I will attack you with a front strangle,” he said. “Are you ready?” The student, who had practiced the standard defensive maneuver against this form of attack many times, confidently nodded his head. Without the slightest delay, the teacher’s hand shot out and seized the student’s throat with enough force that he stumbled backward. He kept back-pedaling, unable to catch his balance while the instructor continued to squeeze his throat and cut off his air. His eyes opened as wide as possible and the student fumbled for the instructor’s hands, trying desperately to free himself. He couldn’t. The look of utter, stark, fear was painted all over his face as he was slammed up against the wall and his teacher continued to squeeze his throat.

Finally, he reacted appropriately and executed the defensive technique that he had practiced so many times before. The teacher relinquished his grip and smiled. “Now you know what I mean,” he said. “You’ve done that self-defense technique many times but it was never real. When I made it real you started to flounder…until you centered yourself.” Pale and perhaps a bit embarrassed, the student agreed. Of course, every one of his classmates knew that they would have reacted in exactly the same way…or worse.

Some martial arts enthusiasts would have tried to make excuses; “I wasn’t ready”, or “It doesn’t happen that way in the street”, or “I would have reacted differently if I’d been on the street”, and so on. The list is endless but whether or not their excuses are accurate is pointless within the context of the martial arts. In the training hall an attack or defensive maneuver either succeeds or fails. Period. There’s no in-between, no excuses. Responses (or lack of them) cannot be explained away. They either work or they don’t. You can only respond to each attack directly and sincerely, without the slightest hesitation. That is zhijiexin.

This is why instructors sometimes encourage students to act without thought. There can be no analyzing, no deliberation, no excuses…only action that is as immediate and natural as slapping a mosquito that has landed on your arm. Direct Mind.