(Editor's note: In part 1 of this series, a group of wing chun students learned that the Shaolin Temple was an eerie mix of yesterday and tomorrow.)
The technique portion of the demo closed with a wonderful two-person set demonstrated by two junior monks.
A monk airwalks during an impressive monkey and staff display.
The demo began with an impressive display from a junior monk.
A monk takes a giant leap with the frog technique.
Wing chun chi sao (touch reflex) training with author/sifu Eric Oram.
More insight into wing chun's kick defenses. Master Cheung demonstrates a block and counterkick combo with sifu Don Schouten of Holland.
Master Cheung demonstrates a wing chun leg bock during a demonstration in the forest.
Later, Cheung explains wing chun's kick defenses.
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And It Began...
We awoke at 5:30 the next morning (after another night with virtually no sleep), and by 6:30 we were standing at the back gate of Shaolin for our first morning lesson. Despite the wonderful incident with the cell phone described in last month's issue, the session went very well.
The entire focus of the training centered on the Zen/martial relationship. The gateway to its understanding is the breathing/meditation exercises known as "chi gung."
To the monks, there was no separation among the mind, the body and the spirit. They all combine to behave as one. So, before they could teach us any of their martial techniques, they felt it imperative to first make sure that we had at least a basic understanding of this perspective (which was very much in harmony with the way we were trained in wing chun).
And, we scarcely could have been practicing these techniques in a more suitable location: the Shaolin Temple. It was ancient, peaceful and magical. There were only us, the monks and the rising sun. Perfect.
The Second Shaolin
After our "lunch" (I use the term loosely) back at the Shaolin International Hotel, we returned to the Temple for an afternoon sightseeing tour. This was to be our first real look inside the Temple grounds and its legendary structures. Once and for all, we were now going to get an all-access tour of the "secret" nooks and crannies of the site.
However, I was not prepared for the scene we encountered upon our arrival. This was not the Temple I had visited only a few hours earlier. Now, there was a huge row of merchandise stalls open adjacent to the entrance, and hundreds of people swarming the grounds.
All the quiet and meditative traditions we had learned gave way to a tourist free-for-all.
On top of all that, there was massive construction going on all over the site. Everywhere we went, sounds of cutting blocks and steel saws practically drowned out the sounds of the senior monks' words as they welcomed us to the Temple (it turns out Shaolin was building a large new facility to house a large number of tourists and visitors).
Thanks to the increase in tourism, the Temple is very well funded. The parts of the Temple not under construction were obviously very well cared for, and were renovated back to near perfect condition. So, with very few exceptions, we experienced Shaolin as it was in ancient times-minus the tourists and the shops. Again, progress, but with a price.
Sites
After a formal welcome by the heads of the Temple to grandmaster Cheung and the group, we went inside the main entrance to the Temple.
A giant Golden Buddha was the first to welcome us into the center of the entryway, followed by two giant warrior gods, flanking us on both sides. They beamed their ominous presence as we passed beneath them, into the first courtyard.
The courtyard opened up into a wide area, with another temple at the far end. The main causeway led straight through the yard, directly to the structure. The level dropped off on both sides, with exits leading off into other areas of the complex.
(A Chinese news team intercepted grandmaster William Cheung as soon as we entered. They swarmed him, wanting to know all about the trip, what we had planned and, of course, his tutelage of Bruce Lee.)
All around us were pieces of Shaolin's history: rows of ancient (and modern) tombstone-like tablets, each dedicated to a prominent monk or abbot. A giant, multilevel pagoda loomed to the right, just inside the walls of the complex. Beside the pagoda lay a rather large, bronze bell; once famous in Shaolin's history, it is now badly cracked and rests on the ground-right next to a construction mound.
(At one point, I noticed a tree with several curious holes bored into its side. It turns out, they were the result of an ancient master's finger strikes.)
We passed through the next hall, past more ominous and magnificent Buddhas and deities, into the second courtyard. In the center of the yard was a temple dedicated to Dharma (and his Shaolin disciple, who cut off his own arm as a show of dedication to Dharma's teaching).
The 500 Buddhas Hall
The next temple was a hall filled with images of painted Buddhas, which covered the walls from ceiling to floor. The room is closed to tourists, except for the chance to peek in over the top of one of the double doors. However, our group was allowed inside the hall.
I recognized the hall immediately-the floor was the giveaway. The ancient stone-tiled floor was permanently warped because of numerous indentations, some of them as much as 8 inches deep. Incredibly, they were created through the more than 1,000 years of stomping by the martial monks. The hall was smaller than I'd imagined, but impressive nonetheless.
There was also a large altar area in the back of the hall. Sitting comfortably in its center was another large statue of the Buddha. The smell of burning incense permeated the air.
I stayed behind the others as the hall emptied out. I didn't want to leave. Not quite yet. I quietly tuned into the hall for a moment and meditated on its antiquity, its history.
Then another figure appeared, a resident monk. He stepped "out of nowhere," and watched me carefully. I smiled. He smiled. He looked at the indentations. I looked, again, at them. I playfully placed my foot over, but did not touch, one of the "potholes."
He nodded, smiled again, then proceeded to raise his leg and came crashing down with his foot into another one of the indentations, while his arms snapped into a traditional posture. I could practically feel the floor shake for an instant.
He looked at me, intensely. Then we both began to laugh. I bowed to the monk, thanked him for the demonstration, and went on my way.
The Frescos
I stepped out of the tranquility of the 500 Buddhas Hall, back into a sea of swarming (and sweaty!) tourists. I literally had to push my way through them, just to get out. As I walked away, one of the guards was physically restraining several people who tried to rush into the hall as I exited.
As I walked down the steps, I veered left and peeked into a partly open room, running along the edge of the adjacent courtyard.
The relatively small room was empty. It looked like it had served as an ancient classroom, perhaps, now void of its chairs or desks.
However, the walls were covered with another scene with which I was very familiar. Like fading wallpaper, the room was filled with painted images of the Shaolin monks practicing their martial skills. The scenes were everywhere. These ancient "frescos" were detailed with possibly hundreds of different exercises and techniques; preserved, en masse, for posterity.
I had seen sections of them, many times, in various books over the years. Now, seeing them in person, in their entirety, was quite a sight to behold. Although badly faded, their color, essence and importance still came through loud and clear.
(Rather than walk back across the courtyard with the group-and the swarm-I passed along the edge, through the row of connecting "classrooms." When I reached the last room, it too was empty-except for, of all things, a huge pair of mammoth tusks, encased in a glass display.)
The Pagoda ("Dagoba") Forest
Early the next morning...
The taxi dodged in and out of traffic like Hans Solo navigating the Millennium Falcon through the asteroid field in "The Empire Strikes Back." Other cars, trucks and motorcycles continuously flashed by us as if they were standing still.
I looked over at Joseph (the other victim in the cab), who was holding on for dear life, with a strange grin on his face.
I finally told the driver (in a terrible Mandarin accent), "It's okay, you don't have to rush. No rush!"
The driver quickly smiled, waved and responded, "It's okay!" and promptly sped up. Joseph gripped a little tighter, grinned a little wider.
The cab eventually crashed into/went over a concrete divider, then calmly pulled up to the back of the temple complex, near where we were to meet the rest of the group. The driver then turned to us, still smiling, and repeated, "It's okay!"
(An argument with the airline over the whereabouts of my luggage ran long, and the group had to go on to the Temple without me. Joseph, a student, offered to stay behind and catch a cab with me. Little did he know...)
We walked on to the Temple grounds, following a wooded path to our right. A group of trees surrounded us as we entered. Within the larger trees was an enormous clump of bamboo trees, creating a stunningly beautiful effect.
The group was collected down at the end of the path, at the edge of what appeared to be a third forest-a forest of stone pagodas.
In effect, the Pagoda Forest is an ancient graveyard. Dozens and dozens of giant stone structures mix in with the trees. Each pagoda marks the burial site of an important-and sometimes legendary-senior Shaolin monk. The scene was extraordinary. Right out of a martial arts history book. (Probably my favorite site at Shaolin.)
As we arrived, a group of senior monks was instructing our students in another chi gung set. No one spoke. Just movement and breath. Serene, magical...
The area seemed to beckon mind/body movement. Somehow, its design was intended for martial and spiritual growth.
It was Shaolin.
After the session, we milled around the area for a while, taking in the beauty of the site. Finally, our schedule beckoned and we had to move on.
As I crossed the road back to our bus, an approaching motorcycle beeped its horn loudly. I turned to see a Shaolin monk atop the bike, wearing no helmet, coming right at me. I quickly stepped to the side as the monk sped by. He smiled as he passed. I stood there for a moment, soaking in that image, before stepping back up onto the bus.
The Warrior Monks
Later that evening, we returned to the Temple for a private demonstration the monks had prepared for us. As we pulled up to the grounds, I immediately was struck by the lack of people. It was now after-hours, the parts of the Temple open for tourism were closed. The ancient serenity was, once again, recognizable.
We had returned to the "First Shaolin."
We settled in on the steps leading up to another temple, adjacent to another courtyard just beyond the 500 Buddhas hall. Grandmaster Cheung sat down in front, while the rest of the group splayed out all over the steps.
The monks, about 12 in all, came out and quietly began to warm up. After just a few minutes, they lined up and bowed in. They all pulled back to the rear wall of the courtyard.
Then, one by one, they stepped forward and presented their specialties.
It was an impressive display of mastery. The snake, tiger, dragon, monkey, pole staff, broadsword and even the frog style (a new one to me!) were presented.
A highlight among highlights was a two-man set that two junior monks performed. Both around age 10 or 11, their conditioning was already very good. They pulled their legs over their heads, did "kip ups" galore and even did somersaults-on their heads, with no hands, on the solid stone floor of the courtyard. The sounds of their bare heads crashing against the ground as they flipped around only a few feet in front of us was something we will not forget any time soon.
In fact, none of the monks used any type of padding or bracing at all, yet would fling themselves into the air like human rockets, only to come crashing back down on the hard ground. And they kept perfect form in the process. If they felt the pain, it did not show in their technique, or on their faces.
They closed with a short chi gung/conditioning demonstration, where poles were smashed across one monk's body, and a steel plate was bent across the head of another.
Following this, the monks collectively bowed and the demonstration was over. The monks quickly disappeared and we slowly made our way out of the Temple. It was now quite dark, and very quiet. We relished every minute of the tranquility as we walked away, replaying scenes of the demonstration in our minds.
The Accidental Challenge
One of the primary reasons for our visit to the Temple was not only for us to get to know their history and their methods better, but for them to get to know ours. Grandmaster Cheung had arranged for a private information exchange to be set up between four of their seniors (but not Elders), and four of ours (not including grandmaster Cheung).
It was supposed to be a friendly "back-and-forth" of methods and techniques-and, just the eight of us in the room.
Somehow, from the time I lied down (wasn't feeling well) to the time one of our instructors knocked at my door to tell me everything was ready, things had changed.
When sifu Keith Mazza, Don Schouten and I walked into the hotel conference hall, we were greeted not by four monks, but by two senior monks, one of the head instructors (whom I called "The Bearded One") and a room full of about 75 people.
Apparently, the Shaolin representatives had turned everything around and took our "information exchange" as an outright challenge-and they turned up ready to take on all comers. Despite our best efforts, the North/South War was about to strike again. Then grandmaster Cheung arrived, also confused as to what was going on.
The Bearded One had begun a "question and answer" session, supposedly to gain greater insight into the mysteries of Shaolin. However, it was really a thinly veiled invitation for conflict. (In the middle of which, my luggage finally arrived.)
After a few moments of tension, master Cheung successfully reiterated the message of our true intensions (peace!), and the monks relaxed.
The evening then slipped into a spontaneous display of several styles, including shaolin, modern wushu, bagua and traditional wing chun. It was an unforgettable night (I'll always remember the 8-year-old Wushu champion), despite how surreal it began.
The only downside was the styles never overlapped. Each kept to itself. The private exchange that we were supposed to make with the monks-one on one-never happened.
As much as the systems appreciate and respect each other, it seems they weren't quite ready yet to "play."
On the Path
The rest of the week was a rotation of chi gung, shaolin training, meditation, sleeping and avoiding the food (and remember the rooftop sparring!)
It was a grueling schedule. And yet, somehow it had to be difficult. It needed to be a place of enhanced intensity. It was about finding your center, and holding on to it tightly as the chaos around you builds.
The Temple itself represents the ultimate discipline camp. One must elevate his mind, body and spirit in the face of great difficulties and hardships.
And it was a challenge of all three. It was Shaolin's energy, its living energy (not the meals), that we ate every day as the fuel to keep us going.
Furthermore, depending on what time of day we were at the temple, we would experience either an ancient, traditional Buddhist monastery (aka, the "First Shaolin"), or a crowded, overrun tourist trap (aka, the "Second"). It was fascinating to witness such contrast: watching warrior monks train ancient techniques, meditate in a 1,500-year-old temple and then go into the office to send a fax. We would learn the ways of Zen and then leave with the Web address of www.shaolin.com.
I will be curious to see what the coming decades hold for the "Little Forest Temple." (Another highlight was a private seminar conducted by grandmaster Cheung. In response, the abbot made it clear that he saw the obvious origin of Shaolin in the streamlined techniques of wing chun, as well as shared training methods, principles and philosophy. The common links between the North and the South ultimately came through.)
Closing Ceremony
The Grand Finale was just that.
Our last night at the Temple concluded with a long meditation and farewell ceremony.
We all filed into the last temple beyond the last courtyard. Each of us was given a specific place to stand as we quietly positioned ourselves off to both sides of the hall. The air was thick with incense, which seemed fitting.
Once we were in position, the monks entered. They took their places, and the ceremony began. It was a beautiful, elaborate choreography of prayer, chanting, meditation, sound and music. Some of the activities we observed; some we participated in.
(During one of the meditations, which were going quite well, I suddenly sensed an additional presence behind me to the left. It was like someone turned on a warm, bright flashlight in a dimly lit room. I opened my eyes and turned. Staring right at me, just a few feet away, was a Shaolin priest, one I hadn't seen yet. He cracked a faint smile, then quickly whirled around and popped out of the hall.)
The abbot, shi Yong Xin, then stood up and addressed us. He reminded us that we were the first group to have done this with them. We were now part of their history. The fact that wing chun came from Shaolin was all the more fitting; the two families were brought back together as a result of the event. He thanked grandmaster Cheung and the group for our dedication to the Chinese martial arts and talked again of the Zen principles.
"By keeping the mind straight, your actions will follow," he repeated.
"Action follows intension, chi carries the movement."
He then presented each of us, one by one-35 in all-with a certificate, ceremonial beads and a Chinese broadsword.
"May your minds be as straight as a sword," he concluded.
He then bowed and exited.
The monks proceeded to pour out of the hall, and we slowly spilled out behind them, in silence.
Much to our delight, we left the same Shaolin we originally entered: the "first" one.
We experienced many places during our time in China. From Hong Kong to the Great Wall, to mountain temples in the clouds, we witnessed some extraordinary things. But with the sole exception of the cuisine, none could top the incredible memories forged within the ancient gates of Shaolin.
The original purpose of the visit was, again, to expose wing chun students to a deeper understanding of Shaolin's methods, and therefore wing chun's own origins, and to provide an opportunity for the monks to, once and for all, better understand its rebellious southern offspring.
In the end, however, I think what we really took away with us is a better understanding of ourselves.
Quote from Joseph Perlingiero, Shaolin Survivor:
"I have come to realize that, unlike other martial arts, you must first learn kung-fu from the inside. We started with the breathing, and how it affects movement; when the two are combined together... the impact it has...
"The movement [of the monks] seemed effortless, yet complete focus was required, while in a stance that really challenged the muscles.
"As the training would take place each morning, I was exposed to a complex culture, yet the monks seemed completely simplistic and went through the day effortlessly.
"I can't say what I expected, not knowing what to expect, though I can say I left with a lot more than I had before Shaolin."
And so it went. Breathe on.
Eric Oram is a senior disciple of wing chun grandmaster William Cheung.
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