The Master's Next Move

A local kung fu legend aims to take the study of martial arts to a higher level
By Kevin Galvin, Boston Globe Staff | August 16, 2005

An ancient Chinese proverb holds that boasting about wealth or virtue will bring your demise.

Maybe that explains why one of the top martial artists in America has operated in Forest Hills for two decades without attracting much attention around town.

Inside Kung-Fu magazine inducted Yang, Jwing-Ming into its Hall of Fame in 1990, calling him ''one of the most respected kung fu practitioners in the world." His Yang Martial Arts Association has 60 affiliated schools in 18 countries, from Argentina to Poland to Iran. In 1983 he founded YMAA Publication Center, which has since published two dozen martial arts authors.

Yang's own books about chi kung, tai chi chuan, and kung fu -- he's written 32 of them -- bear the organizational rigor of a man who also happens to hold a doctorate in mechanical engineering. Seminars he conducts at his dojo on Hyde Park Avenue draw students from the world over.

"He's one of the greats of all time," said Dave Cater, editor of Inside Kung-Fu, which also placed Yang on its list of the 100 most influential martial artists of the 20th century, along with Jackie Chan, Jean-Claude Van Damme, and Bruce Lee. ''Because he has published so much and his business acumen is so great, many people forget he's such a great technician and clinician."

Boston hasn't so much forgotten as it has never really noticed. The only time Yang remembers being contacted by the local media was for an interview with a Chinese language newspaper.

Now, at the age of 59, Yang has an ambitious plan for the final stage of his career that he hopes will help restore the study of martial arts to the level of an earlier generation.

"When I come here, I have big hopes -- I say, maybe I can teach foreigners to reach the level. They try. It's not easy. And then finally, I wake up," Yang said in an interview at the spartan offices of YMAA headquarters. ''Society is too much a distraction. Their mind cannot concentrate. Their life is not easy. So that's why I say, OK, to train, I need to be like ancient times. Take them to the mountains."

"Take Them to the Mountains" isn't one of those evocative descriptions of a tai chi move, like ''Grasp Sparrow's Tail" or ''White Crane Spreads its Wings." Yang has sold his publishing company, purchased 240 wooded acres in California's remote Humboldt County, and built a cabin. He has formed a private foundation and, if all goes as planned, two years from now the master will lead a small group of students into the mountains to study. For 10 years.

Explaining ancient secrets

A three-day tai chi seminar with Yang begins improbably enough with doughnuts and coffee in the basement dojo of YMAA.

The students, some from as far away as Panama and France, mill about in loose-fitting clothing, talking quietly and picking through the remaining honey-dippeds and chocolate-covereds until Yang is ready to begin.

There is no hint of the severe Chinese master from kung fu films about him. The students sit on the floor as Yang pops the cap off a marker and begins to sketch on a white board.

In the kung fu world, Yang may be best known as an expert on chin na, the Chinese system of joint locks that is a forefather of jujitsu. But much of his work has brought his training in physics and engineering to the study of the ''internal arts" of tai chi and chi kung. He has attempted to explain to the West the secrets behind ancient practices that cultivate chi, the vital energy which, according to traditional Chinese medicine, flows throughout the human body.

"No one else is trying to bring the ancient experience and the Western rational mind together to further understand and develop the field," said Ian D. Bier, an acupuncturist and doctor of natural medicine from Portsmouth, N.H., who studies with Yang. ''Dr. Yang is the only person I know in the chi kung/tai chi arena who is asking the questions that will need to be answered if we are ever to truly understand how these arts work."

Tai chi is typically portrayed as a kind of moving meditation. But Yang explains that tai chi was developed both as a fighting discipline and as a way to circulate chi throughout the body.

"The West says the mind and the body are connected by nerves. Chinese say mind-body connected by chi," he says, his meaning clear through what he jokingly calls his ''Chinglish." ''One is from energy point of view, other is from material point of view. But they [are] always talking about [the] same thing."

The lecture on theory over, Yang is ready to demonstrate. The five dozen students in the room fall still as he begins, intently following every move: Ward Off, Grasp Sparrow's Tail, Single Whip. His movements are a delight to behold -- graceful and soft, yet so strongly rooted that the power for a potential kick or strike is always evident.

The books Yang has written at the rate of roughly 1.5 a year since the 1980s are rich with details translated from documents penned by ancient tai chi and chi kung masters -- documents that until recent decades had been closely guarded by tradition.

"That is really his triumph," said Dr. Thomas G. Gutheil, a professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School who has studied kung fu with Yang for 20 years. ''He's really broken out of that restrictive mode and is actually helping to translate this material so that Western readers get it."

While rigorous scientific study of the health benefits of tai chi and chi kung is lacking, evidence has been mounting for the efficacy of acupuncture, which is based upon the same principles of chi.

"The issue is not about so much if it's working; the issue is whether the theory being used in the East [to explain how acupuncture works] is something the Western practitioner is comfortable with," Gutheil said. ''A certain amount of acceptance is growing."

There are scores of books on the market with glossy photos showing teachers moving through the tai chi or kung fu forms, but Yang's work goes deeper.

"Taijiquan Theory" offers text from classic Chinese teachings in the original Chinese, straight translations, and interpretations that make sense of the often vague meanings of Chinese characters. Then, in separate books, he examines the divergent practices underlying tai chi. In ''The Root of Chinese Qigong," he offers detailed descriptions of breathing practices and meditative exercises. In ''Taiji Chi Na," he shows in words and photos how the graceful moves of the tai chi form can be effective counters to an attack. A gentle, stretching motion like White Crane Spreads its Wings, for example, becomes a splitting move that neutralizes an opponent's arm. Diagrams show the relevant acupressure points that the moves rely on to control an attacker.

Finally, in a series of DVDs, Yang demonstrates with painful precision the effectiveness of chi na on a series of hapless assistants.

Teaching from the heart

Yang grew up in Taiwan in a struggling family of nine children who collected bottles and cans to sell for food. A quiet child, he was picked on by other kids, so a classmate introduced him to a kung fu master when he was 15. He studied the White Crane style for 13 years, and began tai chi training during the same period.

Yang studied physics at Tamkang University and in 1974 he was awarded a teaching fellowship by Purdue University. He married his wife, Mei-Ling, before leaving his homeland.

He switched majors to receive his doctorate in mechanical engineering from Purdue in 1978. A job at Analog Devices in 1982 brought him to Massachusetts. But he felt hemmed in as a middle manager, quitting within years and dedicating himself full time to YMAA.

"I tried to figure out, how can I survive? . . . I have a scientific background. I learn martial arts for many years, and I learn chi kung for many years," Yang said. ''Put them together, I have a [unique] discipline."

The first six months were difficult for Yang, who was supporting his wife and three young children. But gradually, the school began to flourish, his writings began to sell -- he has sold 250,000 books, according to YMAA Publications -- and in 1986 he bought the commercial property across from the Forest Hills T stop where the school still operates.

"When I turned 50, one day I was meditating and I realized, everything I think of was the past," Yang said. "That's when I say no, I have to create another dream."

Another 50-year-old might have dreamed of a Florida retirement. Yang is in the final planning stages -- and readying a fund-raising drive -- for his YMAA California Retreat Center.

If he can secure about $450,000 in annual funding by the end of next year, Yang will winnow a list of 100 finalists from around the globe to between 10 and 15 students, ages 18 to 20, who will accompany him to the timberland he has purchased near Garberville in Northern California. This select group will receive scholarships to train nine months a year with Yang for the next decade.

Any student who drops out in the first five years will be required to reimburse the foundation for a large part of their training.

Yang is trying to remove monetary considerations from the student-teacher relationship, just as he is trying to block out the distractions of an Instant Messaging society.

When money is involved, Yang said, "very few teachers will teach from the heart, and the students -- they won't respect the teacher as sincerely as in ancient times."

"I [will] try to recover Chinese martial arts to the same standard as when I was young, or even to my master's level," he said. Yang's White Crane master studied with his own master every day for 23 years. "I am willing to spend my 10 years to train students."