Shaolin Culture

My eyes first set upon the beauty and diversity of Kung Fu in a huge open-air humid Nigerian cinema, where the only two genres of film ever screened were these 70s Hong Kong-produced marvels and the latest Bollywood classics, each having the humiliation of being aurally transmuted beyond recognition by the unforgiving echo of the gigantic slab of concrete that was the screen.

The first feature that caught my undivided attention was the obscurely called “Mad Monkey”. I was 14 years old and after nearly breaking my leg through untrained excitement of emulating what I have just viewed, I was hooked for life.

From then on, my parents and I insisted on visiting the half-finished picture-house at least once a week to see these masters of the human agility and strength, rain or shine, echo or not.

Years passed and when I arrived in England, to my dismay, I could not find a Kung Fu school that taught anything remotely similar to what I learned to love in that jungle stadium. Eventually, I chanced upon an advert for a Chow Gar Southern Praying Mantis Sifu (southern spelling) practicing in Bexley and spent two and a half years swinging my arms in front of my chest, feeling slightly unsatisfied by the lack of leg movements, though happy that I didn’t succumb to what would have been much easier, namely switching to a martial art that is far more popular, but not quite true to what was sitting dormant within my heart.

One day, whilst scouring the internet for local Kung Fu alternatives, I was struck by the advertisement for a Shaolin Kung Fu school. Like most people, I have hitherto been ignorant of the mere term “Shaolin” and naturally presumed this to pertain to all Kung Fu/Wushu styles, as is often portrayed in Hollywood’s broad American entertainment culture. To my amazement, the Shaolin name-tag referred to the Henan Province Shaolin Temple itself and its historically rich fighting styles. Moreover, it also referred to the culture and philosophy of the said art and placed emphasis on the Buddhist-like ideology, which permeated the teachings of Shifu Yang, the school’s universally respected master. Now, for the second time in my life, I encountered the excitement of seeing and experiencing something so real and so genuine, yet this time so very tangible. Shifu Yang moved and spoke like no other teacher I have met and made me listen attentively. I feel now very privileged to be one of his students, as I believe does everyone else who is serious about taking on this fascinating art under his serene leadership.

Tai Chi has been a very unlikely addition to my interests – I simply could not have ever imagined how much it would improve my well-being. It has been incredibly successful in loosening my joints, improving my previous breathing, digestive and back problems, and through the practice of Qi Gong and meditation, in calming a typically modern tired and stressed mind.

Most importantly, my interest in Shifu Yang’s teachings has also had a profound effect on my beliefs and aspirations. I no longer want to be the best at everything, this being a calamitous downfall on many an occasion in my checkered and pitiful past. I no longer feel the need to impress anyone other than myself and have come even close to accepting the inevitability of natural change. I practice and revere Shaolin Quan to improve my standing in my eyes only and fully embrace the peaceful solace of unconditional humility. I reject the stereotypical macho image attributed to most western-inspired martial art ideals in favour of a simple truth that is my own self-improvement.

In a typical human fashion, my quest isn’t without disappointments and self-doubt. Being a typical born and bred Pole, I worship food in its many varieties, eat too much and too often and suffer the consequences. Also, being one of the oldest Kung Fu students, I find it more difficult to be as energetic and supple as the younger generation (I too once weighed 10 stone, could do 60 press-ups at the drop of a hat and lift my leg up behind my head – something more of a challenge now). It is the thought of getting better at what I want to do and not what I believe society or peer pressure expects me to that puts a placid smile on my face and a warm embrace around my heart.

But I guess the most satisfying aspect of practicing under the expertise and kindness of Shifu Yang is that I managed to recruit my mother for the Tai Chi classes and have seen her life change dramatically for the better in the last few months.

Thank you, Shifu, in the name of my mother and myself. I now understand Kung Fu isn’t a film, but a way of living.

Er Mi Tou Fo…
Rob Bartlitz