Lack of Practice... But Moving Ahead

I haven't been practising very diligently of late. Work has been in the way, and thus I end up with very little chances to go for practice. But whenever I can, I try to practise, even if it is a small little movement or a small segment.

But I can feel myself moving ahead.

I am starting to realise how to use my kua to turn, how to use my legs to push, how to relax my kua, how to shift my weight properly, how to transfer the force from my legs to my arms. Somehow, I feel that my movements are not so "right" anymore.

I guess that practice is only half the journey. You need to reflect on your practice too, in order to improve.

Learning Fajing 发劲

Today, my friend started learning xingyiquan 形意拳 from my teacher. Looking at him practise sets me thinking about fajing.

In internal martial arts, the strength comes not from the muscles, but through the close coordination of the whole body, such that the whole body's weight is put into use. When we start to learn fajing, we may have the misconception that fajing is about a sudden burst of strength. So we try to recreate that effect, by using the strength of our muscles. But that is not fajing.

Fajing is a manifestation of the close coordination of the whole body such that the body's weight is employed to a certain point. In order to do that, one must first learn how to coordinate his whole body's movements. So, to learn fajing, first you must relax and not rush to see that "powerful burst of strength". Relax and go through the movements, making sure your body moves as a whole and complementing each other, instead of each component (arm, leg, waist, etc.) moving on their own. Only after constant practice and a long period of diligence will you start to see that you are able to slowly focus your weight to the place that you want to use it. Slowly, the powerful burst of strength that you had wanted to see will slowly manifest itself as your body's movement become coordinated. The strength that results is natural and smooth, unlike the rough and crude strength that comes from using muscles.

Yang, Chen and Sun

These are the three main styles that my teacher teaches. And thinking about it, these three complement each other very well.

Yang style is good for improving peng, lyu, ji, an, while Chen style is good for cai, lie, zou, kao. And Sun style is good for improving your footsteps. Master Yang style, and you have a solid defence. Master Chen style, and you can surprise your opponents. Master Sun style, and you will be able to spring that surprise from anywhere.

Experts in Pushing Hands

Being able to make someone fall does not make one an expert in pushing hands. The real expert is one who can make someone fall, when his opponent is trying to make him fall. Thus, when he is not being attacked, he does not attack. But once his opponent tries to attack him, he uses his opponent's force to counterattack.

So, being able to push someone down is just half the journey. And sometimes, you are able to push someone not because you are using your force correctly, but because you are using brute force. There is still a long way towards being able to make your opponent push himself down, to make him fall on his own.

Drawing Circles When Pushing Hands

Last night when I was pushing hands with my teacher, we were practising how to just draw circles smoothly, in as light a manner as possible. My teacher was telling me that whenever I push hands, all I need is to relax and draw circles, and I will be able to neutralise all attacks, and if my opponent uses brute force or resists, he will lose his balance.

What my teacher did was that he drew big circles, leading my movements towards the extremities of my centre of gravity. When I push, he will use my strength to lead me further forward. When I retreat, he will follow my force and make me move back a little further. Then, just when you least expect it, he draws me just a little beyond the edge, and I would fall. All these, while simply drawing circles.

Don't Panic

One of our natural reactions is to tense up when we feel fear. Once we sense danger, it is only natural for us to try to fight or flee. And that reflects in pushing hands as well, when our opponent manages to find an opening in our defence.

And it is all the more important when being attacked to remain calm. Once you panic, you tense up, you kua is no longer relaxed, and you become a single stiff block easily pushed by your opponent. Instead of panicking, if you remain calm, you can then relax your kua, which allows you to sink your weight, making it harder for your opponent to push you. Then, you can take your time to slowly neutralise his force, sensing where he is coming from and then deflecting it away.

How to Return His Force?

One question that keeps coming to mind is how to return an opponent's force back to him.

When there are two points of contacts, that is easy. For example, if his force is coming towards your right, you can relax your kua and let him push your right, while using your kua to redirect his force towards your left and returning it to him. But that can only be done if both left and right are in contact with him.

So when you only have a single point of contact? After all, even if you absorb his force from the start, if you want to return it to him after that, won't you end up resisting his force?

Actually, the key lies in first relaxing the kua, as usual, then absorbing his force (same). Next is to first redirect his force away from you in a circular manner, and continuing the circle, return his force back to him. When redirecting his force, you must first peng, then stick to him, before using your kua to turn yourself towards the direction that you want his force to go in.

About Impatience

This post is about impatience, it is not about taiji but I guess having patience (and thus learning to get rid of impatience) is an important basic skill in taiji too, so I am putting the link to my other blog here just to share with you my thoughts.

Respect Your Opponents

I have talked about respect before, in a previous post. Today, I will talk about respecting your opponents, your training partners.

Our opponents, our training partners, are there to help us to learn more about ourselves. Through pushing hands with them, we learn about our own mistakes, we learn about our weaknesses and where we need to improve. Through them, we know what we need to focus on. Thus, they deserve our respect, since through them, we are learning and improving.

When we do not respect our training partners, when we think of them as people that we need to defeat, when we start to treat them as objectives to be conquered, rather than the people that they are, that is when we not only stop respecting them, but also lose their respect of us. Mutual respect is lost, and pushing hands become a matter of deciding who is better, rather than a journey of self-discovery and improvement.

In the movie Fearless, Huo Yuanjia's father respected his opponents and rather than injure his opponent to win a match, he would rather suffer defeat and live with a clear conscience. The young Huo Yuanjia (portrayed by Jet Li) did not understand this and treated all his opponents as objectives to be conquered, not as the human beings that they were. He did not show respect, and thus there was no mercy. And when he showed no mercy to his opponents, they did not show mercy too when revenge came.

A martial artist's worth is not in how well he can fight, how many people he can defeat. It is in how he leads his life, how his life is an example for others to follow. And to do that, he must first be able to learn the important lesson of respect, a lesson that is easily clouded in anger and forgotten during success. But it is important because it is the basis that others use when deciding on how they want to deal with you. If you want to be treated with respect, you must respect others first. Otherwise, others will have no qualms about making you lose face, because they know that you will likely do the same to them.

How to Lose

Wait! This blog is about taijiquan, a way of life and a martial art, right? Then why am I talking about how to lose?

Because if you know how to lose, you know how to avoid losing.

I lost today. Not because my opponent managed to ram his shoulder into my chest. No, I lost today because after that happened, I allowed my emotions to take over, and wanted to get my revenge. In the end, we ended up tangling in a mess, more like wrestling, instead of pushing hands. And in doing so, I have lost, because I have let my instincts and emotions taken over, instead of trying to apply the principles of taiji to defeat my opponent. No longer was I trying to relax, no longer was I putting attention to my waist and kua. I was no longer practising taiji, which is what I want and am trying to learn. So I have lost, lost sight (momentarily) of my real objective (which is to better my taiji, and not defeat my opponent), and lost to the devil in my mind that is called emotion.

I quickly picked up the situation, telling myself to stay focused on learning taiji, on applying the principles of taiji. But I also told myself that if my opponent wants to play rough, then I don't need to play nice. Usually, once my opponent loses his balance, I don't press the attack (pushing him would just make him fall, there is no need to do that when training). But if my opponent needs to fall down to know that he has been bested, and needs to push his opponent down before he knows that he has bested someone else, then there is no reason not to play the same game, using his rules, but keeping to the taiji principles. He can punch and ram, I can still stick to my push and seal. In the end, I get to improve my taiji skills, which is what I want to do.

Twist and Turn

Recently, I watched some video clips of Grandmaster Zhu Tiancai performing Chen style taiji, as well as some of the next generation masters, also performing Chen style taiji.

One of the characteristics of Grandmaster Zhu's set is the little twists and turns that he likes to add into his movements, small and fine little moves that show his skill at "reeling silk". When you watch those from the next generation trying to imitate his "twists and turns", it is almost as if they are trying to imitate without knowing the meaning behind those little moves. What I see is someone trying to add in twists and turns into their movements because that is the way Grandmaster Zhu does it. The end result is that those twists and turns are big and rough movements, not born of "reeling silk" but rather more from static force. In other words, the source of those movements are not from the legs, but rather are derived from the arm muscles.

Look at Grandmaster Zhu and you will see "reeling silk" at work, from those small yet fine little moves, that derive their source from the legs. The moves are not big and rough, they are not very obvious, they are not exaggerated. They are a natural extension of him moving his body as a whole. And because they are in line with the natural movements of his body, they can actually be applied. These are not additional movements added in to try and imitate a style.

So unless you are able to understand why those small little twists and turns come about, and have reached a level in taiji when you are able to actually achieve that, adding in twists and turns only make it a laudable attempt to imitate something that you are not. It may be more worthwhile to put that effort into improving your basic taiji moves (like relaxing the kua, keeping the back straight, etc.)

Ever Changing

There are no fixed moves. Otherwise, you become predictable, and your opponent will lead you into a trap. Eight basic moves, five basic steps, these are the basic rules of taiji. After that, it all depends on how you apply these simple rules to bring about constant change.

If you keep changing, your opponent will not be able to follow, and eventually will make a mistake when he fails to follow the ever changing direction of your force. And that is when you either move in and push. Or he reads your force wrongly, uses strength in the wrong direction, and thus falls because of his own strength.

It is the myriad of moves that can be derived from the basic taiji rules, that makes taiji so unpredictable. And it is that unpredictability that makes taiji so effective.

Enjoying Taiji

Previously, I wrote about enjoying taiji and also about adding meaning to my moves. Today, after seeing my teacher perform a small part of Chen style taijiquan, I realised what he meant when he told me to enjoy practising taiji.

The key to adding soul and spirit (aka shen 神) is not in adding meaning to your moves, but in enjoying practising taiji. Taiji is about opposites: yes and no, have and have not, explicit and implicit, etc. So while it is good to show the meaning of each move, it must not be too explicit, else it is no longer taiji (since it no longer has the two sides of yin and yang).

You need to show each move, yet hide it so that it is obvious only when you want to use it. When performing your set, it seems as if there is some meaning behind each move, yet that meaning is not immediately obvious. For example, the move may be using the shoulder to hit, but you move in such a way that the shoulder knock is not immediately obvious, yet you are always able to do a shoulder knock.

And how do you do that? First, you must understand how to use each movement. Then, you need to relax and enjoy practising taiji, such that each movement is not an explicit show of application, but just a moving of the body, with the implicit knowledge that should you need to apply that movement, you know exactly how to use it.

Relax relax relax! (Part 2)

I know I have written many times about relaxing. Well, it is one of the most important thing about taiji, so do bear with me.

Last night, my teacher was telling me that when my opponent is stiff and using brute force, the more I need to relax. This stems from my last pushing hands session, in which my opponent was using a lot of brute force, and I had to use force at times (which is wrong). And my teacher demonstrate what he meant.

He relaxed. He became like jelly, like cotton. There was no point where I could apply force on, it was like trying to push an endless depth of cotton. You will just sink in further and further without really pushing anything. And when I used brute force, my own force caused me to lose my own balance and I just fell (because my force was moving in one direction, and with nothing to counter it, my centre of gravity ended up following my force, causing me to lose my balance).

And when I put my hands on his chest trying to push him, he relaxed and I ended up supporting his whole weight on my two badly positioned hands. That caused my arms to become stiff, and once that happens, he simply shifted his weight forward, and I just moved back because my whole body is now just like a big stiff log.

Relax and Enjoy

Usually, I practise my sets very slowly, so when it comes to practising taijijian, I have a problem. A set must be completed within 4 minutes (competition rules), but I am not used to practising my sets at that kind of speed. So in the end, whenever I try to make it within the stipulated time, it seems like I am rushing through my movements, and sometimes my movements are not clear at all.

The key here is not to rush through the set, but rather to firstly get used to the movements. Get the memory factor out of the equation first. When you are not struggling to remember the next movement, you have time for other things. So what are the "other things"?

First is to relax, even when speed is needed. In fact, the best way to hasten your movements is to relax. If you are stiff, your movements are always somewhat slower than if you can relax and let your whole body move together. When you relax, you are able to use your whole body to hasten your movement, rather than try to use just the strength of your arms.

Next is to enjoy the practice. When you enjoy the practice, you won't be tensed up and will also automatically relax. And your movements are smoother because you are not rushing to achieve things, you are letting nature takes it course. And you look better too. After all, the best performers (in performing arts, such as drums) always seem to be enjoying themselves when they perform. That is how you differentiate the master from the novice. The one that seems to be enjoying himself, the one that has the capacity to enjoy his own performance, that is the master.

Sit and Sink/Relax

My teacher pointed out to me a mistake that I have been making, but did not realise. I had thought that having a low stance would help me in relaxing and sinking my kua, but obviously, I was wrong. While I was sitting on my kua, I was not relaxing it, I was not sinking it.

So having a low stance and sitting on your kua is not enough. You must still put in that extra effort to relax your kua, and to sink it down. Otherwise, if your kua is not relaxed and sinking down, you will still not be able to use your kua to turn and direct your force properly.

Ever Ready

My teacher was relating to me an incident that happened in the past, when he used to train our national representatives for taiji.

During one of the competitions, it was about time for one of his students to compete. But his student told him that he hasn't warmed up enough yet. My teacher told him that as a sportsman, as a martial artist, he cannot say that he cannot compete because he hasn't warmed up.

A martial artist that needs to warm up first before he can use his skills isn't going to be able to defend himself from a sudden assault.

Calligraphy and Taiji

I was writing another piece of calligraphy today, and came to realise that calligraphy has similarities to taiji.

What similarity can there be between a martial art, and the fine arts?

The answer is simple. Both of them are art forms, and thus both have similar mental and emotional requirements. For example, you will not write anything good, or be able to practise your taiji movements properly, whenever you are frustrated. Your frustration will show in your moves and your works.

In taiji, you constantly practise to perfect your moves, to make sure that every moves attain the requirements of taijiquan, conform to the principles of taijiquan. In calligraphy, you constantly practise so that each stroke conforms to the principles of the writing style that you are using. Your taiji movements as a whole will look beautiful if they have spirit behind them. Each word you write will look beautiful if you have the same spirit behind them. 和 (peace) must look peaceful, 勇 (brave) must look brave, just like each taiji move must look like how it can be used.

In taiji, your greatest opponent is yourself. Each time you practise, you try to be better than the last, to not make the same mistakes as the last practice. In calligraphy, you are constantly trying to write better each time compared to the last. In both, you learn determination and perseverance even as you strive for perfection.

So are martial arts similar to fine arts? Only in the mind.

Why Study Weapons?

In this day and age, with guns, bombs and missiles, the age of swords and spears as weapons is long over. So why do we still learn them? After all, while learning taiji pushing hands can be a skill for self-defence, no one is going to be walking around carrying a sword or spear anymore, so skills with them seems less practical.

Well, as a means for self-defence, you would be better off learning pushing hands than trying to get something out of taiji sword. But that does not mean taiji sword is useless in this day and age.

Learning weapons is a good way to see how far you have progressed in your taiji skills. After all, weapons or not, the same principles apply, which is to avoid using brute force, that strength comes from the legs, to relax the body, to keep yourself upright, etc. If your application of strength is wrong, you will see it all the more clearly when using weapons, as you will find that you cannot channel your strength to the requirements for each movement. For example, if your wrist is not relaxed enough, the tassel will start to wrap around your wrist when you practise taiji sword.

So the biggest reward from learning weapons is not in the self-defence skills that you may pick up, but in the self-understanding that you will gain about your own strength and its application.

"Your moves are too right" part 2

My teacher brought this up again today, and so I tried to get some clarification on what he meant.

My moves are too orthodox, too "by the book". Especially when practising Yang style, my movements mostly follow a single speed (slow), which is not necessarily bad (it trains up leg muscles) but just doesn't seem good. My teacher told me that in order to improve, I need to drop that single slow speed, and be able to speed up and slow down when needed.

Practising my movements in a single monotonous speed makes it a chore to watch. Taiji, if done correctly, should look nice. While movements that look nice may not necessarily have meaning to them, movements that have meaning to them will definitely look nice. And how to add meaning to your movements? You must know when to speed up and when to slow down, be able to show the application of each movement without being too obvious.

Protecting Your Opponent

There was a recent article on the Straits Times, in which Janice Tay wrote about her experience at an aikido lesson. I happened to notice some similarities between what she wrote, and my experience with taiji pushing hands.

The locks in aikido are designed to cause pain, so much so that an opponent gives up any intention of continuing his attack. Instead of breaking his arm or ribs, aikido deters by careful and precise application of pain. There is no permanent, or temporary, damage done to the opponent.

Taiji pushing hands is similar too. The aim is not to break your opponent's arms, or to break his ribcage or break his back against the wall. No, the aim is to let your opponent know that he has been bested, through the careful and precise application of force to neutralise his attacks and redirect his force back against him. Similarly, done correctly, there is no temporary or permanent damage to your opponent.

Ultimately, if you can win without causing harm, you are one notch against those who need to cause harm before they can win.

Bouncing Off

When you try to push a rubber ball, first, with a little strength, you cause a small dent. To make a bigger dent, you need to use even more force. All the while, for every force, there is a reaction force. Thus, there is a force from the rubber ball acting on you, even as you try to push it. Eventually, you will reach a point in which you have used as much strength as you can to cause as big a dent on the surface of the rubber ball as you can. If you try to push anymore, that is when the reaction force is actually bigger than what you can take, and you bounce off from your own force.

I guess the same principle applies in taiji, when you are pushing. If your opponent peng correctly, what is going to happen is that you will eventually reach a point in which the reaction force generated by your own force is greater than you can take and you get "bounced" back by the force. And it is your own force, not your opponent's, that actually cause you to "bounce" off.

And that also says a lot about peng. You must be able to peng like a rubber ball, absorbing your opponent's force, letting him come in until he cannot push anymore and bounces off on his own.

Returning the Force

How do you actually return your opponent's force back to him?

When pushing with both hands, it is easier to understand this concept. His force from one side can be redirected back at him from the other. That's because there are two points of contact. Much like a wheel. When you push at one point of a wheel, the force turns the wheel, acting on it and in the end, you get an equal force in the opposite direction on the other edge of the wheel.

But when pushing with only one hand, with only a single point of contact, how does one redirect his opponent's force back at him? Each time I resist, my teacher not only doesn't need to move back to absorb my force, he is able to stop me from gaining ground, and at the same time return my force to me, slowly inching towards me if he so chooses. If he wants, he can let me exert all my strength trying to push him, until my arms get so tired that I cannot push anymore. It is like pushing a wall, yet he is very relaxed and doesn't seem to be resisting at all.

So how do you peng without resisting?

"You are your greatest opponent"

What does this statement actually mean?

The key to winning, is actually to be ready to lose. But that is so against our own nature.

When we are young, we are strong and rash, we think the world of ourselves, we don't think we will lose. We feel that we need to win to prove ourselves to the world, to show that world what we can do. We are thus obsessed with victory, and tell ourselves to avoid defeat at all costs.

As we age, having proved ourselves, we build up a reputation. Now, we become afraid of losing that reputation. We become afraid of losing.

Yet to win, we must be ready to lose. So in the end, it is this nature of ours that we must be able to overcome, before we can truly be ready to win. Only when we have overcame our own weakness (being afraid of losing), clearing the clouds of obsession, can we see the key to winning.

Sliding Your Feet

A recent comment by wushu_kid led me to write this post.

"Why does the chen slide their feet? And if I wear a rubber shoes the friction would not allow me to slid easily. DO u get that feeling?"

Okay, let's answer the technical question first, on how to slide your feet.

No matter what shoes you wear, if you do it properly, friction doesn't get in the way. Sliding your feet does not mean rubbing the sole of your feet along the floor. Instead, you shift your weight to one leg. You relax your kua. Then, you slide out the other leg, with the sole barely touching the floor. And because all your weight is on one leg, you can control the other leg fully.

If you don't distribute your weight correctly, you end up having some weight on the leg that you are trying to slide out, and that is when friction will work against you and you will have difficulties trying to slide out your feet.

As to why you slide your feet? When you slide your feet, that feet is near to the ground. If need be, you can straight away transfer weight over to that leg, without having to abruptly step down. That way, you are able to keep your balance. When you abruptly step down, there is a sudden shift in weight, causing a slight imbalance in your centre of gravity, which can then be used against you when pushing hands.

You can try this when pushing hands. When you want to move in closer to push your opponent, if you lift up your leg to move in, he will seize the opportunity to counter attack when you are standing on just one leg. But if you slide your leg in, he has no chance to counter attack, since in a way, you still have both legs on the ground.

Another use of sliding is to sweep at your opponent's leg. The outer edge of your feet then becomes like a shovel which can be aimed at an opponent's ankle. When you slide your feet in, the inner side of your feet becomes a hook that can be used to hook in an opponent's heel.

"Your moves are too right"

That was what my teacher told me. What he was trying to say is that my moves follow so closely to what he says, to the basic principles of taiji. While it looks good if I am going to demonstrate in front of a class, my moves lack style.

In a way, I look like I am following moves from a textbook, rather than practising taiji.

In the first stage, when still learning the basics, it is good to actually spend more time trying to look like the picture in the textbook, so that you know that your back is straight, your stance is correct, you are putting your weight on the right leg, you are sinking your shoulders and elbows, etc. The longer you spend in this stage practising in this manner, the better your foundation is. But that doesn't make you a taiji master. It makes you a good instructor.

The next stage is to add in the application part of taiji into your practices. You need to start thinking about how to apply each move, and show that application when you practise. This shows your understanding of taiji, and brings in your individual style into your moves. I guess this is what I still lack. I am still focusing on getting the basics correct, that I am missing out on showing the application part.

This actually hinders during pushing hands. My own experience is that because I am so used to the basics, my responses are all very standard, very simple, very basic. In the end, I don't really apply what I learn when I practise sets. I guess it is time to start thinking about application when I practise my sets, so that I will be able to apply them during pushing hands and make my responses more varied than now.

Drums and Taiji

I have written about Japanese drums and taiji before, so this should not be new.

I went to watch the movie The Drummer today. While the plot and acting wasn't that great, it is also not the purpose for this post, so I won't talk about those. Instead, let's focus on the drums. This time, it is not Japanese drums, but Chinese drums. But they are still drums.

Just like taiji, in the first stage, drums are drums, and drumming is drumming. This is the initial stage when you learn the basic moves, and emphasis is on getting the moves correct. A good foundation in this stage will only serve to make you progress further in the future.

The second stage, drums are no longer just drums, and drumming is no longer just drumming. You start to enjoy drumming, and it allows you to start learning about yourself. You find that you are able to concentrate and focus better.

In the third stage, you come to realise that a drum is still just a drum, and drumming is still just drumming. You have moved beyond needing to drum to know yourself. You have moved beyond the fixed routines. Given any drum, you can beat a tune.

And just as with taiji, power comes from the legs. See those drummers playing their drums, and you can see how they move their legs and bodies to transfer that force to their arms, so that they can beat their drums with the correct force for the correct impact. Drumming is not about moving the arms, it is about moving the whole body, to move the body with the rhythm, and at the same time, use that rhythm to generate force.

I guess the three stages are similar for all arts. Even an painter needs to start from learning the basics of painting and picture composition, before he can innovate and create. Just like how a martial artist or taiji practitioner must know the basics, before he can add flavour to his style.

Kenjutsu and Taiji 2

In a previous post, I had talked about the similarities between kenjutsu and taiji. After watching the movie The Hidden Blade (隠し剣 鬼の爪, Kakushi Ken Oni no Tsume), I found some more similarities.

In the movie, the lead character is a samurai who was tasked to kill another highly skilled swordsman. He went to seek the advice of his kenjutsu teacher, who told him that the way to win is to give in to the opponent in action but not in spirit. In spirit, he should always be attacking. But in his actions, he should be giving way to his opponent, making him more frustrated, making him angry. And then finally, bait him with an opening, let him come in, and in his rage, he will attack carelessly, and that is when you should strike. However, it is a very dangerous move, as giving your opponent an opening means you are taking a risk. His attack could be successful. But in order to win, you must be ready to die.

It reminded me of a previous post of mine on relaxing and letting the opponent frustrate himself. In taiji, it is the same thing, that while you seem to be giving way to your opponent whenever he attacks, you are not giving way in spirit. And when he frustrates himself and attacks in rage, you make use of his carelessness and brute strength to return that force to him. And similarly, in order to win, you must be ready to lose. I guess this is a very basic principle for martial arts in general. When you are afraid of losing, you will never be able to win, for your efforts will always be divided between trying to win, and trying not to lose.

The Difference

After a day of work, I feel so tired, sometimes I almost doze off while driving home.

After a 30-minute job, I feel so tired, I just want to lie down and rest.

After a 30-minute swim, I feel so tired, I just want to sleep.

After 2 hours of taiji, I feel so refreshed, I wonder why I felt so tired while driving home.

Tape It Down

For those of you out there practising on your own, I would advise that you videotape yourself when practising.

When we have a teacher looking at us practising, he will point out our mistakes. Yes, we all make mistakes. Sometimes, even when we think we have done a movement correctly (because it felt correct), there may still be some mistakes that only a person looking at you can tell. And when the teacher is around, he serves that purpose, so that you know your small little mistakes and can work towards improving.

But when none is available? The next best solution is to be our own teacher. That requires a videocam. Videotape your practice session, play it back to see if you can spot your own small little mistakes.

I actually realised that importance of this when I saw a video of myself. It was actually during a performance. I was performing a section of Chen style, and got my wife to videotape it. When I got the chance to look at it, I was able to see the mistakes that I made, even ones that I hadn't realise because I felt that I had been performing those movements "correctly". Guess I was wrong in my feeling.

So for those who practise alone, get a videocam and a tripod. But then, the best is still to get a teacher.