Tai Chi Ch’uan means “Supreme Ultimate Fist.”

While there’s some disagreement as to whether the double modifier refers to the supremacy of the fighting system, the philosophy that spawned it, or the dynamic, primordial harmony of yin and yang that brought the universe into existence, both the translation and martial connotation are beyond dispute.

Formerly and colloquially, Tai Chi Ch’uan was called Chang Ch’uan, “Long Fist,” a descriptive reference to the sweeping, spacious physicality of this style of boxing.  Formerly and formally, it was called Shi San Tse, “The Thirteen Movements,” a reference to the art’s metaphysical origins; “thirteen” being the sum of the Five Elements (Wu Shing) plus the Eight Trigrams (Ba Gua) of Taoism’s oracular Book of Changes, the I Ching (Yi Jing).

The Elements correspond to the body’s possible positions of orientation relative to the earth’s surface (forward, back, left, right, centered), and the Trigrams to the directional orientation of bodies in space (the cardinal and intermediate points of the compass).  Positional orientation is expressed through the feet:  advance (Metal), retreat (Wood), shift left (Water), shift right (Fire), equilibrium (Earth).  The spatial correspondences are realized in the eight hand/ upper body moves used for sparring:
 
   - ward off – Ch’ien/ Heaven
   - pull back – K’un/ Earth
   - press – K’an/ Water (Moon)
   - push – Li/ Fire (Sun)
   - pull down – Sun/ Wind
   - bend backward – Chen/ Thunder
   - elbow strike – Tai/ Valley (Marsh)
   - shoulder strike – Ken/ Mountain

In concert and in various combinations, the hand and foot motions form the kinesthetic basis of Tai Chi Ch’uan.  They also beg the question, is “The Thirteen Movements” a titular tally of the form’s original thirteen moves, or an allusion to its thirteen distinct methods of movement?  I’m solidly in the 13-methods camp, but I see no reason it couldn’t be both.  Thirteen is a terrifically powerful number – sacred, in fact, to those of us who celebrate the silver cycles of the moon.

Young witches have it easy these days – young witches in my neck of the woods, anyway.  Here in Northern California, the paths that lead to the remaining and reinvented old religions are wide and well marked.  Seasonal celebrations and lunar rituals are performed openly.  Goddess shops sell their Goddess wares from prime retail locations on Main Street.  Seekers freely sample from an array of clearly defined neo-pagan belief systems and philosophies or boldly embark on the non-Judeo/ Christian/ Muslim spiritual journey of their choice through an assortment of continuing and easy-to-access classes, programs, retreats, apprenticeships, events, workshops, institutions and tours.  Magic abounds.

Back when I was a seeker, the few paths that weren’t buried under the asphalt of progress were overgrown by brambled centuries of persecution and secrecy.  About the time I started studying Tai Chi Ch’uan with Sifu Kuo, I also started realizing that my love of nature was religious passion, that my belief in magic was justified, and that the faint, sweet music tugging on my soul was the Mother’s voice, calling my Name.  On my own and unguided, I’d begun to discover the hidden, moon-lit tracks to the Goddess’s ancient groves twining through the myths and forgotten tales, the folk songs and fairy stories.  I was nowhere near recognizing that the old ways and the Tao shared common ground.  I simply recognized that in Tai Chi Ch’uan I’d found a martial art that sated my inner warrior without compromising my anti-war sensibilities.  For me, it was all about the moves, and only marginally about the philosophical underpinnings of the movements.

Every morning before practice, Sifu Kuo would stand in front of a calligraphy he had hanging from the Tai Chi Academy’s wall and recite what was written there – a 144-character mnemonic poem of the Thirteen Movements.

 My respect for his daily ritual was unrelated to the Chinese/ Taoist or lunar/Pagan significance of the numeric; both contexts were beyond my ken.  I simply felt the ritual expressed an admirable dedication to the art, and was inspired to adopt it.

Once in possession of the English version of the mnemonic, inspiration faltered.  I was a theatre major at the time, and a quick study, but this “poem” defied memorization.  I expect it’s a lovely rhyme in Mandarin, easy to con, easy to conjure, easy on the tongue.  The English translation is beautiful in its intention and its sincere adherence to structure and the meaning of the words, but it doesn’t scan, it doesn’t flow, and it doesn’t sing.

    Let no one esteem lightly the Thirteen Movements,
    But bear in mind that your consciousness of them commences in the waist.
    In performance, care must be exercised regarding your transposition from one stance to another, the twists and turns in each movement, and the distribution of blanks and substantives in a given movement,
    While keeping the chi freely circulating throughout your whole body.
    All changes and motions are conceived and touched off in the stillness of absolute quietude,
    Hence motion and action are kindred to rest and inaction, in other words, ultimately indistinguishable from each other.
    Likewise, the mystery of Tai Chi Ch’uan is that
    It is your opponent’s movements that condition your own as adapted by nature to his own undoing.
    Remember to be mindful of every single move by trying to feel its meaning,
    And you will eventually come into possession of the art’s secrets without conscious effort.
    Rivet your attention, without even a moment’s interruption, onto the waist interval, and
    Keep your abdomen free from tension due to food or impurities, so that
    Your vitality flux (chi) may, as it were, boil and rise like steam.
    Keep the lowest segments of your vertebrae central in relation to gravitation all the while, when
    Your limbs and body are gyrating with effortless nimbleness, and your head is held up buoyant as if suspended from above.
    Carefully observe and investigate and convince yourself that
    Your way of bending or straightening, your closing-in or throwing-open should never be as you will them to be, but as Nature wills.
    A novice will require verbal instruction during the initial stages,
    But practice will steer its own course and bring about its own perfection.
    As to the theory and practice, i.e., the constituents and functioning of Tai Chi Ch’uan,
    The spirit is sovereign and the body its servant,
    The end purpose of these exercises is to prolong life and endow it with the youth of eternal spring.
    Oh, sing!  Oh, sing! sing this short song of 144 Chinese characters;
    Commit every single word of it to memory without exception.
    Enquiries and researches that deviate from this approach
    Only waste time and leave behind regrets and sighings.

Reminiscent of the Wilhelm version of the I Ching, I'd say.  Impressively thorough, unerringly precise, linguistically stilted and appallingly verbose.  (Give me the Blofeld every time.)  I learned the gist of the mnemonic and could recite pithy bits of it, but never got the whole thing committed to memory, and never missed it.  Never till now.

Now my Wiccan-esque world-view and kung fu universe are perfectly, inextricably entwined.  Sifu (my beloved teacher, Master Donald Rubbo) purports to be instructing me in martial arts and QiGong, but he knows full-well he’s giving me lessons in practical magic, and delights in doing so.  It’s one world, after all, spinning under a solitary silver moon and a single golden star.  Whether you prefer your circle of life cross-quartered or with a pentacle inside it, whether you perceive it as a six-direction Medicine Wheel or an eight-trigram Ba Gua, we’re all dancing the ring.

When Sifu re-introduced me to the mnemonic verse, its numeric title thundered in my consciousness, echoing with contexts and connotations.  The true name of the physical-spiritual path I’d chosen was The Thirteen Movements?  Somewhere between “Well, duh!” and “Hallelujah!” and “Ah, I should have known!” the old desire to emblazon the poem's wisdom on my heart-mind woke in me again… but still the unwieldy words resisted my best efforts.

Older now, and maybe a little wiser, it occurred to me I was perenially failing because memorization wasn't actually my opponent.  Perhaps I’d do better to focus my efforts on the unwieldy words.

My inner warrior smiles, accepting the challenge.  Finger-strikes on the keyboard; I deliver the first draft.

    Honor the Thirteen Movements.
    Awareness begins in the lower dan-tien;
    Pay attention to the weight shifts, the twists and turns, and the dynamic balance of emptiness and fullness in each stance and transition
    And let the chi flow.
    Every movement is born from stillness;
    Motion and rest, action and inaction are one and the same.
    This is the mystery of Tai Chi Ch’uan:
    Your opponent’s actions and the laws of Nature determine your movements and will encompass his defeat.
    Focus on the meaning of each movement,
    And the secrets of the art will be revealed.
    Never let your attention stray from the lower dan-tien, even for a moment.
    Your belly must be empty,
    So your chi can boil and rise like steam.
    Let gravity straighten your lower spine,
    Let your upper body dance and  your head float as if it was dangling from the sky.
    Break it down, test it out, examine each movement until you realize
    That to do it right, you must do it as Nature intends it.
    Beginners need to be told what to do,
    But practice is the best master and will lead to perfection.
    The essence of the art is that
    The spirit is sovereign and the body its servant;
    Its essential purpose, a long life blessed with spring’s eternal youth.
    Oh, sing!  Oh, sing! sing this song of the Thirteen Movements!
    Sear every syllable into your memory!
    This is the way.  All others
    Are a waste of time, and will bring you nothing but grief and regret.