What Is a Tai Chi Master?

Have you ever wondered what a Tai Chi master really is? It’s a fascinating question—and needless to say, there is no definitive answer.

Still, if you are at all interested in Tai Chi, or a “Tai Chi Master’s Strategy of Life,” some of these observations may be helpful for you to consider.

The most common ideas on what a Tai Chi master really is usually center around the following characteristics:

The Tai Chi Master is:


1) someone who performs the Tai Chi Forms perfectly, with elegance, focus, precision, and power.

2) someone who knows the entire Tai Chi System to a high level. **

3) someone who is an excellent fighter and can overcome any adversary.

4) someone who combines all the above qualities.

All of these qualities would indeed define a high-level Tai Chi master. But I would suggest there is something even more, perhaps a more elusive and intangible quality.

The following story might begin to illustrate just what this might be…

Some years ago, I was taking cooking lessons with a renowned Japanese chef in the Boston area. One of my fellow students was a young Japanese who was quite proficient in Goju Ryu Karate-do. He was visiting the United States for a while to learn English and to experience American life.

One evening, we went to a local Karate exhibition offered by one of the schools in the city. As the demonstration began, the head of the school came onstage and was addressed as “Master_______.” I have forgotten his name, since this happened several decades ago. He was an American, in his late 20’s or early 30’s. He began showing some Karate kata (solo formal exercises), and I was very impressed by his power, speed, and skill.

My Japanese friend, however, seemed to be getting more and more agitated. When there was a pause in the demonstrations, I asked my Japanese friend what was disturbing him so much. He replied in limited English, “Cannot be master; cannot be master…”

I had no idea what he was talking about.

He went on to explain as best he could that the youthful Karate teacher was “too young” to be a master. He said that a “master” had to be at least sixty years old. I was stunned to hear this, because I had been very impressed by the teacher’s demonstration.

A week or two later, my Japanese friend and I visited a scholar who was fluent in both Japanese and English. Remembering my experience at the Karate demonstration, I asked my friend and the scholar WHY a young American could not be a “master.”

The scholar replied that it had nothing to do with the teacher’s nationality, but that he was “too young.” As our conversation continued, the scholar told me that in the Far East, a “master” was assumed to be someone who had a wide experience in life and skills in many areas, and that accumulating this level of skill and life-experience required many decades. A “master” had to have more than technical martial arts skills.

A few years after that, when I myself began studying Karate, my teacher said something which seemed to confirm what the scholar had said earlier. “Don’t make the dojo (training hall) your world; make the world your dojo.” The force and depth of that comment hit me hard, and I have not forgotten it to this day. From that moment, I personally vowed to “make the world my dojo.”

Later still, when I began studying Tai Chi, I came to realize that each of my teachers seemed to have a quality and charisma which transcended mere skill in the Forms.

After many years of observing my Tai Chi teachers, and masters in other areas, I arrived at a general idea of what the term “master” means to me.

I came to realize that a true Master is someone who can help students in any area of life, from the skills of the art itself to health, life-attitude, and even spirituality. Many Tai Chi masters of the past were also highly skilled in Chinese medicine and herbs. Some of them could do Qi healing. Others were experts in military strategy.

A modern example comes to mind--the late Grandmaster Cheng Man Ch’ing, who was a “Master of the Five Excellences.” He was a high-level master of Tai Chi, Chinese medicine, painting, calligraphy, and even wei qi, or Chinese “chess,” (similar to the game of GO in Japan).

Master T.T. Liang was another Tai Chi adept who excelled in painting and calligraphy, and was taking university courses in English literature in his mid 80’s!

Many Tai Chi masters excelled in Chinese medicine. Traditionally, if a student fell ill, the well-rounded Tai Chi master could offer remedies for the illness; if a student sustained an injury while training, the master could heal that injury. When a student needed advice on some pressing life problem, the Master could offer wise counsel, based on years of observation and experience.

(I was beginning to comprehend why the Japanese scholar years earlier had said that a “master” needed to be a mature and seasoned individual).

A master also has “kung fu.” In America, we think of “kung fu” as a form of martial art, or a set of forms or techniques. Actually, “kung fu” really means something more like “inner development of skill refined after years of study.” And ‘kung fu” is not restricted to martial arts.

A supremely skilled Chinese physician who can deftly place a needle with perfect precision on an acupuncture point, or who can create an elegant and effective herbal formula, has kung fu in medicine. A superb cook has kung fu in the kitchen; and an expert calligrapher or painter has kung fu with the brush.

Developing profound kung fu requires years, if not decades.

I have personally come to believe that a Tai Chi Master should also understand Yin/Yang on many levels, since Yin and Yang and their transmutations are the very essence of Tai Chi. So a Tai Chi master could relate the Universal Principle of Yin/Yang to nutrition, medicine, meditation, and even social events and personal economy.

Most often, a well-rounded master is also a highly skilled teacher. And there is truly an exalted kung fu in the art of teaching! A real master is always compassionate and caring for students, even though the teaching and discipline may be strict. There is absolutely no excuse for a master harming or exploiting a student in any way.

A master is also supremely perceptive and can unfailingly perceive precisely what a student needs to progress. If a student’s best interest demands that s/he go on to a different teacher, the master is detached and can “let go” when the student is ready to move on.

Many students are surprised to learn that the genuine masters are still the MOST TEACHABLE of students. No real master ever pretends to know it all, since the very process of achieving mastery reveals that there is always a far horizon where there is more learning yet to attain.

I am reminded of a story told to me by my martial arts brother, Sifu Ray Hayward.

He was studying with the late B.P. Chan in New York City when T.T. Liang stopped in for a visit. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Chan promptly asked Liang to observe his Form and offer corrections. Some of his students were shocked. Chan, after all, was a master of five entire “systems” of Chinese martial arts, each “system” being roughly equivalent to a Ph.D. in the West.

After Liang had left, Chan’s students demanded to know why in the world he, an eminent master in his own right, would ask another master for “corrections.” Chan replied, “What kind of teacher would I be if I failed to try to perfect myself? The best teacher must also be the most humble student.”

That attitude is the hallmark of a true master, and an interesting contrast to the young student of meager experience who comes to a teacher and demands to learn the “good stuff,” or advanced material, claiming that he already “knows” all about the basics. A master in any art is ALWAYS practicing and refining the “basics.”

In the end, I believe that studying with a master is essential to acquire true depth in Tai Chi. It is possible to learn forms and techniques from a less skilled teacher, or even from a video presentation. But there is another dimension altogether which one senses in the energy orbit around a true master. The great Zen Master Shunryu Suzuki characterized it well when he called it a “transmission from warm hand to warm hand.” There is really no substitute.

Another of my teachers, in a totally different area of study, once told me “When you enter a room, you either brighten the room or you dim the room.” In my experience, I have found that a genuine master always brightens the room.

**  To learn more about the Tai Chi System, you can check out my book Drawing Silk
at http://www.totaltaichi.com/Drawing%20Silk--Tai%20Chi%20Masters'%20Secrets.htm

Tai Chi and the Three Teachings

Some years ago I was visiting with a professor of Chinese history at a prestigious college and asked him if there was “one best way” to understand the essence of Chinese philosophy. He unhesitatingly replied that there were TWO ways. One was to “Eat an  excellent Chinese meal” and the other was to “Study Tai Chi.”

The first came from a wonderful book by Lin Yutang, a Chinese scholar in the early 20th century who wrote in impeccable English because of his Oxford education. When asked to summarize the Chinese approach to life, he answered, “All of Chinese philosophy can be reduced to one good meal.”

Lin wrote a wonderful book entitled The Importance of Living. Although its style is a bit antiquated by modern standards, it is well worth the read, and to be perused slowly, like smoking a fine cigar or enjoying a cup of truly excellent tea.

Other than Lin’s advice, the best way to learn Chinese “philosophy” is by studying Tai Chi. Of course this is NOT about learning a bunch of abstract philosophical “head-trips.” Chinese philosophy has always been practically oriented, centered on how best to live and enjoy life.

And since many elements of the practical application of Chinese philosophy have endured for several millennia (notwithstanding the tremendous changes to China in the past century), it just might be interesting to take a look…

There are three main “paths” or teachings in China—Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism. Although many Westerners would call the latter two “religions,” they are not religions in the commonly accepted sense. They are more like ways of life, each effective in its own area. In the West it would be unthinkable for someone to be an Orthodox Jew, a devout Catholic, and a Presbyterian at the same time. Yet it is not at all unusual for a traditional Chinese to be a Confucian in regard to family matters, a Taoist in terms of overall life-attitude and health cultivation, and a Buddhist when it comes to the “afterlife.” Each of the teachings serves its own proper sphere.

The best example of the practical use of these Three Teachings came from my main teacher of Tai Chi, T.T. Liang


Master Liang often advised his students to be good “Confucians” until age 60—that is, get a good education, find a good career, have children and grandchildren, etc. Each successive step would be a big  “Raising of Rank.” During this time  it would also be necessary to practice health and QI development to form a foundation for later life. By establishing a good foundation of family, career, finances, and health, a student would have a good "root"  for the remainder of his/her life. Since most of Master Liang’s students of the early 1970’s were “hippies” and “seekers,” it was quite amusing seeing them reject his admonition to be good “Confucians!”

Then, Liang recommended being a “Taoist” from 60-80, emphasizing further cultivation of QI and Spirit for long life and the perfect health necessary to ENJOY the fruits of the first 60 years!  I remember a very touching incident which perfectly illustrated this maxim.  One Summer, Master Liang was teaching at an education center in New York State. He and his students were practicing in a pine grove; the air was fragrant with pine and soft white clouds drifted across the blue sky. A perfect day!

After they had finished a round of the Tai Chi Solo Form, there was a short respite. One of the students took advantage of the break to ask the Master why he still practiced at his advanced age (he was around 80 at the time). Liang looked surprised for just a moment, then replied that he practiced to make his life beautful! The student appeared a bit confused, so Liang went on to explain that he had experienced considerable toil and stress during the "Confucian" period of his life--and he needed to be in excellent health now to enjoy the fruits of his earlier labors. Tai Chi ensured that he could remain in perfect health, so he could now have the abundant energy and  alertness to enjoy his life to the fullest.

If he did not have his health, he said, his first 60 years would have been in vain. But now, he found every day beautiful.

Finally, after age 80, Liang recommended one become a “Buddhist,” that is--meditate frequently, and remember that in the end “Form is Emptiness; Emptiness is Form.” This way one could have a perfectly clear and calm mind, devoid of any stress or striving. As Liang once said to me—“In the end, nobody cares who’s who—all are dust!” And Liang seemed to perfectly exemplify each stage of the Three Teachings and passed away peacefully at age 102.

In Tai Chi practice there is a fascinating mix of the Three Teachings.

The Confucian aspect of the art lies with the teacher/student and student/student relationship. The teacher/student bond is based squarely upon Confucian norms of respect. There is a respect for the Founders of one’s Style and for the Founders of Tai Chi in general—that is a respect for the Lineage. There is a kind of vertical dimension, in which both teacher and student revere the Lineage of the past, and realize that someday they will be a part of that Lineage, and be esteemed in turn by their Tai Chi “descendents.”
In the horizontal dimension, students respect each other as members of the same family in a spirit of mutual help and support.

The “Taoist” aspect of Tai Chi is that many of the fundamental principles of the art—such as the mutual interplay of Yin and Yang, neutralizing aggressive Yang energy with Yin yielding, and a concept of a firm “root” which ensures one’s physical stability in the midst of movement and change—all have a distinctly Taoist flavor.

And , while there is no markedly Buddhist aspect to Tai Chi in terms of underlying philosophy, many of the Tai Chi movements probably derived from elements of Shaolin martial arts, since Shaolin anteceded Tai Chi, and formed much of the martial arts “repertoire” for many centuries in China.

In sum, going beyond the Tai Chi “Solo Form” and exercise routine and exploring the profound spiritual and philosophical roots of the art can be a rewarding study, with many positive ramifications in real-world everyday life.

For an entire audio seminar on Tai Chi and the Three Teachings, go to http://www.totaltaichi.com/  click on the left on “Audio CD’s” and find “The Secret Life of Tai Chi” audio program. It is currently available as CD’s, and will be available as an MP3 download early next year.

Also, we are continuing with our Tai Chi Master Key series, using the Tai Chi principle as a guide to many areas of life. The first in this series, an e-book on “The Tai Chi Master key to Healthy Eating” can be found at www.totaltaichi.com/Master_Key_to_Healthy_Eating.htm