A WORD FROM WATTS

by Phillip Starr

For those may not have heard of him, Alan Watts (6 January 1915 – 16 November 1973) was a British-born philosopher, writer, and speaker, best known as an interpreter of Zen. A one-time Episcopal priest, the church still utilizes some of his writings to this day. He was a prolific writer, particularly after studying Eastern ways of thought. authoring some 25 books and many articles. His first book, “The Way of Zen” (1957) remains a classic to this day. I was most fortunate in being able to meet him at a summer seminar in 1973 shortly before his untimely demise in an airplane crash. I learned more from him than I ever suspected at the time and a number of things that he told me that day have stayed in my mind ever since. This article is in regards to one of them.

Few people, even most fans of his, know that Watts was an avid practitioner of aikido. I found out because I was young, didn't know much about him or his fame (thus, I wasn't awed by him in the least until a few hours later), and I asked him directly, “Mr. Watts, do you practice martial arts?” He glanced sideways at me and I told him that I was a teacher of Chinese martial arts. It was then that he admitted to studying....and loving, aikido. In fact, he was very interested in all of the martial ways and because it was a rarity to find a practitioner of Chinese martial arts in those days, we talked at some length.

As we discussed martial arts he said, “Any physical activity taken to its extreme, becomes s spiritual path and leads to awakening.” I asked what he meant by, “extreme?” I remember that he smiled as he answered me. “If you strive for perfection in it, it eventually becomes a spiritual experience.”

“Even something like...tennis?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Yes, even tennis...or baseball, or crocheting. Any activity.”

I've mulled this over for many years now. The operative phrase in his answer is, “strive to perfect.” If we attend classes on a regular basis, that isn't enough. If we simply engage in the practice of basic techniques, kata, two-person routines...it isn't enough. We have to CONSCIOUSLY strive to perfect our skills as this leads towards self-perfection. It is the underlying theory of all martial arts. It is why we continue to practice for decade after decade. We don't do it for the exercise, although that certainly provides many wonderful side benefits. And we don't do it for self-defense; heck, we've acquired more than adequate self-defense skills after a fairly short time in training. We (should) do it because we are aiming at self-perfection.

Is such a thing even possible? I would have to answer, “No, not in this lifetime.” But that shouldn't discourage you in the least.

MARTIAL ARTS; DIFFERENCES BETWEEN EAST AND EAST

      No, the title of this article isn't a typo. It means what it says. It is an introduction into my thoughts about how and why the Japanese, Okinawans, Koreans, and Chinese practice their various martial forms.

      With the unification of Japan under the Tokugawa shogunate, civil war in Japan came to an end. The once highly-independent lords now served Tokugawa and had no need for the maintenance of large private armies. They “downsized” their military forces considerably and many samurai suddenly found themselves unemployed. A number of them opened their own dojos in an effort to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. They had been taught, practiced, and still taught the “jutsu” forms of their respective disciplines. These arts are focused exclusively upon practical combatives without any concern for the student's spiritual development or anything else. They were, after all, originally developed to ensure the survival of the clan.

      With the passage of time and the relative disintegration of the “clans”, many of these arts morphed into “do” forms; martial disciplines that focus not only on developing fighting skills but also on the development of character and ultimately, spiritual awareness.

      The Japanese have always been a highly-disciplined people and their culture has always had a militaristic tendency. The samurai of days long past were, and still are, held in very high esteem. And although no one carries swords nowadays, feudal Japan is still very much alive. Ball-point pens have replaced swords. And almost all of the CEO's in modern Japan are descended from samurai families...which means that they are, in fact, samurai themselves.

And so they have continued to hold their traditional martial ways in the highest regard although they are now considered as being somewhat old-fashioned. For a time, the numbers of practitioners of the budo dwindled but their numbers are once again on the rise. They are, after all, a very large part of what has kept Japan Japanese! Many executives of various corporations bow to their teachers and engage in the practice of martial arts such as kendo, karate, and aikido in dojos that are maintained inside the buildings where they work! It is thought that the regular practice of these arts helps employees stay healthy, reduce stress, improve focus, and ultimately, improve productivity in the workplace.

      Many martial forms have been modified for the competition arena in Japan. These include kendo, karatedo, and of course, judo (which was originally developed from jujutsu as a sport method). There are numerous Japanese instructors who feel that the “sportification” of their arts has contributed to an overall degeneration and I would have to say that for all intents and purposes, that's true. However, the Japanese strive to maintain the spirit of the budo (even in competition) and this has helped prevent their arts from spiraling downward, out of control. It's a site better than what we see in the West, that's for sure!

      Unlike the Japanese, the people of Okinawa never developed much of a militaristic culture. Although they did have a warrior class, it was a far cry from that of Japan. The warrior's first obligation was to protect his emperor and country. After that, his loyalty was to his family. In some ways, much of early Okinawan culture mirrored that of its closest ally; China. Many Chinese visited or moved to Okinawa and numerous Okinawans spent a good deal of time in China, so it's only natural that they learned Chinese forms of martial arts. This is especially true of southern Chinese martial arts systems. And although most of us were taught that the Okinawans didn't learn Japanese martial arts, the truth is far different. Several well-known Okinawans traveled to Japan and became top-notch adepts at swordsmanship; several were even awarded menkyos (license to teach)!

      Okinawan martial ways seem to focus primarily on self-defense. They do engage in competitions but rarely do they train primarily for sport. In the past, the emphasis was almost wholly on combat practicality. This matches up with the “jutsu” forms of Japanese martial arts, which were intended to preserve the safety and perpetuation of the “clan.” With the passing of time the Okinawan forms, like the Japanese disciplines, were gradually transformed into “do” forms, emphasizing not only combative practicality but the development of character and spirit as well.

      Korean martial arts were, like all other martial arts, originally focused on self-defense. The Koreans didn't develop a warrior culture as did the Japanese although for a time they were served by the “hwarang”, which means “flower boys.” I saw several of you smile... and yes, they did use make-up and perfume but they also trained assiduously in horsemanship, archery, and swordsmanship. Comprised largely of young men from the kingdom of Silla (when Korea was divided into three kingdoms), very little was known about them until the end of WWII in 1945. Following the unification of its three kingdoms (the fighting was won by the kingdom of Koryo...thus, the name, “Korea”), people turned away from appreciating their military. In fact, there was a saying that perfectly expressed their attitude; :One does not make nails out of the best steel, and one does not make soldiers out of the best men.” This kind of feeling contributed to the eventual demise of many Korean martial forms.

      The original Korean martial arts were heavily influenced by their Chinese neighbors and almost none of them. such as cha-bi, survived to the present day. Current Korean martial ways include arts such as taekwondo, tangsoodo, and a handful of other spin-offs. Their founders were military men, so it was only natural that the arts they learned (mainly from the Japanese) were taught to their troops. Training was extremely rugged and could be said to have been quite brutal.

      Following the war in Vietnam (in which several ROK units were deployed), Korean instructors saw the huge demand for Asian martial arts in the West. They were only too happy to accommodate. And as tournaments became more and more popular in the West, the majority of Korean martial arts teachers modified their arts to better suit them to the contest arena. This was done to such a degree that it is now very difficult to find a Korean martial arts school that isn't almost wholly sport-oriented. 

 

      China has never embraced a warrior culture. On the contrary, the Chinese seemed to place great emphasis on other arts such as painting, calligraphy, poetry, music, and dancing. Certainly, martial arts teachers were highly respected but they weren't held in the same esteem as, say, a well-known painter or poet. Martial arts were practiced as forms of self-defense. A number of styles were developed for teaching to military troops as well. Although there were occasional contests of sorts, they were rather rare and never became very popular. 

 

      Very rarely did members of the upper class participate in martial arts practice. This is still true today. Such rigorous activities were only marginally popular with the middle class as well. However, member of the lower middle class and lower classes enjoyed this kind of vigorous practice. Many of them had had only minimal educations (if any at all...a good number of them were illiterate), so the odds of getting a decent job were rather small. However, if they could become skilled at martial arts they might well land a job as a bodyguard or convoy escort. 

 

      During WWII, martial arts instruction was all but impossible to find. China was in a state of total upheaval and after the end of the war, things only got worse in so far as martial arts are concerned. The establishment of the People's Republic of China ended the open practice of any martial discipline; such things were strictly forbidden until the end of the Cultural Revolution in 1976. China realized that its martial arts were, in fact, a great treasure and they sought to find ways to popularize it. Among other things, this led to the development of contemporary “wushu” (which means “martial arts”) that combined martial arts movements with gymnastics and Chinese opera. However, although modern wushu did become quite popular both in China and the West, the traditional martial ways entered a headlong dive.

      Currently, there are very few teachers of the traditional martial ways left in China and almost none of them possess all of the information regarding the system that they practice. Soccer and basketball are the most popular sports and “real” kung-fu is something that youngsters read about in comic books. China's entrance onto the world stage at the beginning of the 20^th century and the direction it took afterwards mortally wounded the once-legendary traditional martial arts. Their energy and spirit bled out, leaving behind an empty corpse, which has now been reduced to little more than a skeleton.

DO WHAT YOU CANNOT DO

“Do what you cannot possibly do.

Make the impossible possible.”

-Masutatsu Oyama

Founder of Kyokushin karate

I first heard those words many, many years ago and I took them to heart. Martial arts were my great passion and they remain so to this day. I wanted to push the envelope; to see just how far I could go. I read about numerous masters of times past and determined that I would do what they'd done. After all, they weren't gods; they were men just like me. If they could do it, I could do it.

Many of you are probably shaking your heads and thinking, “What a fool... That's a fine way to get hurt very badly. Or killed. You were certainly a very foolish young man.” And looking back on those days, I'd have to agree with you. But I wasn't stupid.

I read about the legendary “arrow catch”, which is an extremely dangerous technique that involves catching an arrow in mid-flight. The legendary “godhand”, Master Masutatsu Oyama, said that of 1,000 students, only one or two would attempt to learn such a technique. And of the 1,000 who set out to perform it, only a couple who be successful. It kind of makes you wonder what happened to the 998 who failed, doesn't it? But I didn't consider that. I was never much good at math, anyway.

I was still in college and young enough to think that I was invincible; that I could be one of the “one or two” who would succeed. “If they can do it, I can do it”, I thought. One of my students was a very skilled archer who owned a good recurved bow and he agreed to work with me, We spent months practicing together. Eventually, I would face him at the opposite end of a basketball court. An arrow-net was placed behind me to prevent arrows from striking the walls of the old college gym. Just as he released the arrow, I'd pivot and catch it.

This isn't something that can be accomplished after only a couple of weeks of practice. I may have been foolhardy but I wasn't stupid. We started out by having me simply stand off to one side and observe how quickly the arrows passed by me. Then I would reach out and try to grab them. It was a slow and gradual process that required some considerable time. I would go on to demonstrate this technique at several demonstrations.

I also wanted to test myself by breaking large stones. Starting with very small ones, I eventually succeeded in cutting a 25 lb. stone with my sword-hand. My hand shook uncontrollably for three days but I was pleased that I had accomplished what I'd set out to do. I continued to train until I could shatter a “paver” brick (which is a little more than an inch thick) with my fingertips and split a coconut with a single blow.

Now, I'm not bragging. I've never been one to indulge in self-aggrandizement. I've never had much time for people who do. The point of this short essay is simply this; although what I pushed myself to do was often very dangerous, it had a very profound impact on my mind and spirit. Martial arts isn't just about learning some exotic forms of kicking and punching; it's also about pushing yourself beyond what you perceive as your limits. It's about setting goals and then going beyond them. If you mindlessly practice a few punches and kicks once or twice a week, you're not really practicing martial arts; you're dancing. Without proper spirit, martial arts devolve into little more than some nifty-looking calisthenics.

Certainly, I'm not suggesting that you run to the nearest sporting goods store and purchase a good bow and a handful of arrows or drive through the countryside until you can find a 20 lb. stone. After all, techniques such as the arrow-catch are fraught with danger and anyone who aspires to do them must train very carefully and gradually. You must push yourself slowly, step by step. Remember that when I trained to perform these things I was young, in excellent physical condition (I suppose my mental condition could be called questionable), and I had practiced martial arts for a very long time.

What I'm suggesting is that you strive to push yourself past your “limits.” After all, it's YOU who set those limits in the first place! It's going to take some considerable work and sweat to get to the very edge of your limits... and then it'll require more than just sweat to go beyond them; it's going to take time, guts, and belief in yourself.

A WORD FROM WATTS

by Phillip Starr

For those may not have heard of him, Alan Watts (6 January 1915 – 16 November 1973) was a British-born philosopher, writer, and speaker, best known as an interpreter of Zen. A one-time Episcopal priest, the church still utilizes some of his writings to this day. He was a prolific writer, particularly after studying Eastern ways of thought. authoring some 25 books and many articles. His first book, “The Way of Zen” (1957) remains a classic to this day. I was most fortunate in being able to meet him at a summer seminar in 1973 shortly before his untimely demise in an airplane crash. I learned more from him than I ever suspected at the time and a number of things that he told me that day have stayed in my mind ever since. This article is in regards to one of them.

Few people, even most fans of his, know that Watts was an avid practitioner of aikido. I found out because I was young, didn't know much about him or his fame (thus, I wasn't awed by him in the least until a few hours later), and I asked him directly, “Mr. Watts, do you practice martial arts?” He glanced sideways at me and I told him that I was a teacher of Chinese martial arts. It was then that he admitted to studying....and loving, aikido. In fact, he was very interested in all of the martial ways and because it was a rarity to find a practitioner of Chinese martial arts in those days, we talked at some length.

As we discussed martial arts he said, “Any physical activity taken to its extreme, becomes s spiritual path and leads to awakening.” I asked what he meant by, “extreme?” I remember that he smiled as he answered me. “If you strive for perfection in it, it eventually becomes a spiritual experience.”

“Even something like...tennis?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Yes, even tennis...or baseball, or crocheting. Any activity.”

I've mulled this over for many years now. The operative phrase in his answer is, “strive to perfect.” If we attend classes on a regular basis, that isn't enough. If we simply engage in the practice of basic techniques, kata, two-person routines...it isn't enough. We have to CONSCIOUSLY strive to perfect our skills as this leads towards self-perfection. It is the underlying theory of all martial arts. It is why we continue to practice for decade after decade. We don't do it for the exercise, although that certainly provides many wonderful side benefits. And we don't do it for self-defense; heck, we've acquired more than adequate self-defense skills after a fairly short time in training. We (should) do it because we are aiming at self-perfection.

Is such a thing even possible? I would have to answer, “No, not in this lifetime.” But that shouldn't discourage you in the least.

BE CAREFUL WITH YOUR WORDS!

By Phillip Starr

Over the decades that I've been involved in teaching martial arts and qigong, I've come to better understand the importance of the words we use and how they impact a student's performance as well as our own. This is something that most teachers (and students, for that matter) rarely consider but I think it's really very important.

For instance, in teaching students to rotate their hip(s) quickly when executing certain techniques (as in the body action of “Rotation”, which is discussed in detail in my book, Martial Mechanics. If you don't have a copy, get off your butt and get one!), I would tell them to “quickly turn” or “rotate” it. This resulted in them making a smooth but rather slow movement and that wasn't quite what I wanted. I wanted the rotation to be smooth and correct but FAST! So, I'd tell them to do it FASTER! That had about as much effect as telling it to the nearest shrubbery. Nada. Same old thing.

Okay...I tried telling them to “snap” the hip. That brought about some improvement but it wasn't quite where I wanted it...yet. It was some time before I tried using the word, “twitch.” And that did it! That word flashed through their skulls (and my own) and suddenly, their hip rotation was right where I wanted it!

And in so far as qigong (or anything else) goes, here's a story:

Many years ago, I was teaching a two-person qigong exercise known as the Unbendable Arm to a large group of students in my martial arts school in Iowa. An old friend of mine (who was then a professor of psychology in Missouri and an avid practitioner of taijiquan) was visiting me. He listened as I finished giving instructions and then asked if he might speak to the students about this technique. Of course, I agreed.

As he talked to them I could see that he was simply reiterating what I had already told them. I wondered why he had wanted to speak to them at all! When he had finished his brief talk, he told them to go ahead and try to perform the technique…and almost all of them failed! This had never happened in one of my classes! I could not understand what had just occurred and asked my friend if he had any recommendations. He laughed and said, “When you teach them, you tell them to just ‘do it’, and they always succeed. They do exactly what you tell them to do because they have faith in you as their teacher. But I told them to ‘try’ to do it. That single word, ‘try’, suggested the possibility of failure…and that’s exactly what they did!”

This was an extremely valuable lesson that I’ve never forgotten. If your mind believes that you may fail, you probably will. However, if your mind does not acknowledge that possibility, then success is assured. And learning to perform this basic practice technique proves the truth of that statement!

“The word 'try' suggests the possibility of failure and because failing is almost always easier than succeeding, the mind chooses the path of least resistance. If you want to succeed at something, never use the word 'try.'

There are many others. Instead of using the word “speed” (e.g., “You need more speed in your kicks”...), try using “fast-sounding” words such as “zip.” We hear and use the “speed” so often in daily life that when we hear it in training, our minds tend to more or less ignore it. Another such word is “power.” That's a very common word and really doesn't express the concept of what we're after in so far as martial arts training is concerned. Words like “bang” work much better.

It'll take some time to re-evaluate the words and phrases that you use in your training or in teaching others but believe me, it's worth the effort. It can make all the difference in the world!

DID YOU EVER WONDER...?

      I remember watching a martial arts demonstration many years ago where the instructor informed the audience, which was comprised largely of other teachers, that he and his students would be performing an ancient Japanese martial discipline. He then proceeded with his exhibition, which featured various and sundry forms of punching, kicking, and swordsmanship. To say that his use of the Japanese katana was somewhat flawed would be a very serious understatement; I, for one, was amazed that he didn't cut himself as he whipped the blade around with one hand, flipping it this way and that.

      His empty-hand sets weren't much better. They featured the usual variety of punches, strikes, and kicks, including roundhouse kicks, side snap kicks, and...HOLD ON! ROUNDHOUSE KICKS? SIDE SNAP KICKS? Yep. Little did he suspect that techniques such as these are far from “ancient” and most martial arts enthusiasts would never suspect the truth, anyway. So here's a couple of eye-openers...

      The roundhouse kick, as we know it, didn't exist until the 1950's! That's right. The familiar form of executing the kicks with the thigh raise up parallel to the ground and striking with the ball of the foot was actually developed by an instructor of the Japan Karate Association (he was a classmate of the President of the JKA, Masatoshi Nakayama) in the 50's. It was designed for use in jyu-kumite (freestyle sparring) competition and it has worked quite well in that regard. But this is also why this popular kick is not to be found in ANY of the original Okinawan karate katas; it simply didn't exist!

      The old Chinese forms sometimes used a form of roundhouse kicking that actually bears a closer resemblance to the muay-thai “cutting kick.” The foot in chambered lower and contact is usually made with the top of the instep as the kicks comes in at a rising angle. In my opinion, it lacks the destructive power of the newer Japanese version. But this kind of kick is also very rare in Chinese forms, appearing only in a very few sets of northern Chinese origin. It does not appear in southern kung-fu styles and it is from these styles that most Okinawan karate forms evolved.

      The method of using the top of the instep to strike with a roundhouse kick actually was rather uncommon prior to the development of foot pads in competition. This is because such a kick could easily become a religious experience; if your kick connected with an opponent's elbow or other similar bony protrusions, you'd swear you could see God! When the foot pads came along, competitors saw that they could point their toes and make contact with the tip of the pad to score a point, The pad provided them with up to an extra twelve inches of reach, This led to many instructors actually teaching their students to execute this kick with the instep rather than with the ball of the foot.

      The same thing is true of the side snap kick. Now, there are two ways of executing a “side kick.” One method utilizes a quick snapping movement from the knee (the snap kick), and the other drives the edge of the foot out in a straight line, more or less (the thrust kick). In chambering the side snap kick, the kicking knee points out at an angle. If you're facing north and you chamber your right leg, your knee will point towards a northeasterly direction. The thrust kick is done differently because it is very powerful and requires a strong hip rotation. When you chamber the leg, your knee will be pointed straight ahead (in the same direction that you are facing).

      The snap kick is considerably weaker than the thrust kick and is not to be seen in any of the ancient Okinawan kata. Moreover, the old katas don't include ANY kicks that travel above the level of the waist. The side thrust kick is almost always directed at the knee of the opponent. To kick much higher would expose the groin to a quick counter-attack which wouldn't necessarily require much power!

      Nonetheless, the JKA developed the side snap kick for use in kata competition because it is exciting to watch and allowed for more variety in (kata) kicks than seeing the same old front snap kick performed repeatedly.

      Many shotokan karate stylists broke away from the JKA because of these changes but the influence of the JKA was felt throughout the entire karate community. Taekwondo and Tangsoodo, both of which are Korean arts, were developed from shotokan and subsequently include these peculiar kicks.

      So, there you have it; a short but interesting lesson in the history and development of modern-day karate. And there's more. Much, much more.

GOT JIN?

      The little voice in my head wouldn't calm down. “You need to write about the coiling power”, it said. “For future generations, you must write it down.” The nagging was constant but I was hesitant; no one had attempted to write a book about this subject. I had seen it mentioned in a small handful of Chinese martial arts books but the information they provided was insufficient and in many cases, it was just plain wrong. Writing a book on this subject and presenting the information that had been passed down to me by my teacher, Master W. C. Chen, certainly wouldn't make a lot of people happy.

      Sure, I'd seen several videos on the subject that had featured highly-respected and world famous “masters” performing various and sundry training exercises. Some of them had a notion of how this enigmatic power could be developed but their demonstrations were woefully inadequate. The more I watched, the more convinced I became that they honestly didn't know much about the subject.

      I asked my two most senior students what they thought. They told me that they felt that the information needed to be preserved in writing. They were very excited about the project... but I wondered. After all, this is an aspect of training (in the neijia) that really requires a “hands on” approach and a book can't possibly provide that. In days long past, teachers of this arcane art would instruct only a small handful of students at a time. It is my belief that the main reason this special skill has all but disappeared is because the real masters of it became very popular and were eventually swamped with many new students. It simply isn't possible to teach the finer aspects of coiling power to large groups of people. Like I said, it requires a “hands on” approach.

      At the same time, I felt that my students were right. The information did need to be preserved. However, it would likely ruffle more than a few feathers. Some very well-known teachers of the neijia were making truckloads of money through their seminars on coiling power and what they were demonstrating was little more than a vague shadow of the real thing. The real coiling power is very subtle and difficult for the uninitiated to see; these contemporary “masters” made large, overt movements that looked very flowery and beautiful. But they lacked substance; they were all but completely devoid of real power. Their fanciful demonstrations quickly attracted many Western students who were impressed with their “smoke and mirrors” exhibitions. It was, and still is, shameful.

      One of my teacher's best-known classmates was a gentleman known as Wang Shujin. My teacher described him as “very tall and very fat.” Sifu Chen didn't pull punches when it came to descriptions. His classmate was, in fact, over six feet tall (which was very tall for a Chinese person in those days), and weighed more than 300 lbs. Wang eventually taught in Japan where he gathered a very large following. In the main, he taught taijiquan but he also taught a few groups xingyiquan and baguazhang. Several Japanese martial arts enthusiasts didn't appreciate Wang's efforts to introduce neijia to the Japanese; after all, this occurred in the 1950's and memories of WWII were still pretty raw.

     Wang was challenged numerous times by teachers and students of karate and jujutsu but his skill never left him. He remained undefeated. On one occasion, Wang was challenged by two high-ranking jujutsu practitioners. As usual, he readily accepted their offer to “cross hands.” The first man quickly grabbed Wang's arm and was rendered unconscious almost instantly when Wang caressed him with his fist. The other aggressor though he could do better and grasped Wang in a hug from the rear. It is said that Wang, whose arms were pinned to his sides, shook his body as a dog shakes off water. His opponent collapsed on the spot and was rushed to a hospital, suffering from a couple of broken ribs and internal bleeding!

      What Wang had done was to use the coiling power and emit it through his whole upper body. I suppose his foe would have felt as though he'd latched onto a huge blender! Truly, Wang was a master of this art. Such skill is not seen today. The hucksters would tell similar stories but they couldn't possibly demonstrate it. Those of you who know me will chuckle when I say that I decided not only to ruffle their feathers; I'd pluck them! And so I started to work.

I regarded this project to be of the utmost importance. I know this statement isn't going to help me win the “Most Popular Kung-Fu Teacher of the Year” award, but let me say that if any of the neijia – taijiquan, xingyiquan, or baguazhang – aren't practiced with the (genuine) coiling power, they are NOT really neijia and they're no different than any other percussive martial art. And the painful truth is that the vast majority of neijia enthusiasts in the world (including China) - teachers and students alike - have no clue about developing or applying this special power.

      There were many times that I wondered if I'd bitten off more than I could chew. This subject is more than a little difficult to put into writing. To make things even more complicated, I moved to southern China! The photos were done by students and friends in the U.S. and I thought they did a magnificent job. It made me wonder if it was because I wasn't there (as I had been in previous projects) to whine and complain! Adjusting to life in China made things even more difficult and I honestly wondered if this book would ever be completed.

      In the end, I was very pleased with the book. It was the very best that I could do, the best instruction that I could provide without actually being physically present. I'm anxious to see how this book will be accepted by the neijia community.