Practising taiji at home

One of the most common phrases you’ll hear at the end of any taiji class (besides Yazi’s catchphrase “drink tea, eat biscuits!”) is probably “Don’t forget. Practice!” So what do you do if your home is a glorified rabbit hutch and your flatmates think you’re bonkers?

To begin with, what are you going to practice, and how? The taiji form, at first glance, looks like it doesn’t move around too much. For the first few weeks practising the beginning shouldn’t cause too much difficulty. As you get on, however, you’ll find you actually move around quite a bit, plus the stances can be expansive. If you want to go through the whole thing, you’re going to need to be careful, (stubbed toes can be painful, as can broken furniture) and keep re-positioning yourself.

Of course, if you’re lucky enough to have a big house and lots of room, space might not be too much of a problem. However, space is not the only thing you might be in need of. If you live with family or in shared accommodation, you will inevitably face challenges. They will get in the way. You will probably be in the way of them. You will probably also be a little incomprehensible to many people, who may be inclined to stare, make rude comments or tease. If you have pets, they’ll probably be under-foot.

Then there’s noise. For the most part, taiji is a soft-footed martial art but that doesn’t mean you’ll always be quiet. For example, some taiji styles involve a certain amount of stamping, and you certainly need to practice that. However, if you live in an apartment, you had better hope the people downstairs are tolerant – or that you live on the bottom floor. While taiji can involve aspects of self-defence, practising newly acquired martial techniques on irate neighbours is extremely inadvisable. (Come to mention it, practising them on anyone – annoying kids, teasing friends, unsuspecting significant others – is not a good idea. No matter how intrigued – or irritating – they might be.)

So what can you do? It is possible to continue – even improve – your practice within more confined spaces than even the average city apartment. Xing Yi Master Kuo Yun-Shen (1829-1898) is famous for – amongst other things – developing the close-quarters attack ‘Tiger Fist’ during three years manacled in prison. Assuming you’re not locked up (I’m giving you the benefit of doubt here) you do have some other options available to you. In good weather you might practice outside. (If you’re hardcore you can practice in bad weather too, but I think I might leave you to it.) That brings it’s own challenges – finding appropriate space, uneven ground, staring strangers. The weather. If you’re really determined, you might find a suitable indoor venue.

In the end, the most effective solution might just be a way of thinking. Not got much room? Focus on your spacial awareness. Constantly re-setting your positioning can be a good way of improving your memorisation of the form. It will enable to you start at any point, or pick-up after an interruption, and not be confused. Got an audience? You may find you move with more care and precision if you know you are being watched (falling over is embarrassing.) Alternatively, it can be helpful to learn not to be self-conscious. The best way to develop self-confidence in front of other people is to practise in front of other people. It’s also worth noting that, if you do decide to practise in a park or other public place, most people will be only vaguely curious. Generally speaking, passers-by have other things in their lives to worry about than one strange person moving veerrryyy slooowwwlyyy.

If you find yourself short of time – perhaps your life is particularly busy, or that aforementioned rabbit hutch is full of people and you don’t get much time to yourself – you can practise piecemeal. Good posture, for instance, can be practised any time you are standing in place (and with care, needn’t look too strange.) While brushing your teeth, waiting for the kettle to boil, waiting for the bus or standing in crowded public transport – all good opportunities to focus on your feet, back and neck. The form can also be broken up – if you don’t have the time to run through the entire thing, try focussing on practising specific parts. New moves, or things you are finding difficult, or have been told you are getting wrong. Visualising the whole thing in your mind can help you join up the pieces.

Not all problems can be surmounted of course. If your housemates or partner don’t understand and you can’t get them to start learning themselves (hey, worth a try, right?) you’re going to have to work around them somehow. I’m also pretty sure pets can’t learn taiji. You’ll have to take appropriate care – if your apartment floors are slippery, don’t practise in socks… if your local park has a problem with muggers, don’t use it…(!) Still, with a little thought and determination it is certainly possible to find solutions to most home taiji challenges – if you’re motivated enough to find them.