High Level Monk - Tse Qigong Centre

Norwich, in the rural flatlands of East Anglia. The sun is coming
in low through the high windows, painting the hall in saffron
light. I’m watching Master Michael Tse demonstrate the whole
of the Wild Goose routine. I’ve never seen anything like it in
my life! I’m actually quite shocked by some of the moves in
the 2nd 64, the second level of Wild Goose Qigong
movements. “It’s mad!” I
think to myself, “It’s
something crazy people do
in caves!”
But this very quality
of strangeness was what
appealed to me. I knew
instinctively that this kind of
exercise would open up my
body in a way that Taijiquan
never could. The moves
sang to me. They didn’t feel
ancient and primitive in the
way that my beloved Chen
style of Taijiquan did. They felt almost brand new, minted this
very morning, certainly not over one and a half millennia ago!
When I watched my teacher move I knew instinctively the
quality and authenticity of his lineage.
Look at this picture. You can see me frowning in
concentration. I think I always knew that the Wild Goose would
become a friend, one I would converse with every day of my
life. But right there, in that snapshot, I hadn’t even shaken
hands!
Picture this - spring has come to the flatlands and some
of my students are practising in the playground of a school. It
is early on a Saturday morning and from the distant housing
estate we can hear “Weekend Man” waking up and performing
his traditional rites of manhood with saws, hammers and electric
drills. Tinny radios add to the Saturday symphony.
But we’re in a bubble of our own, untouched by any of
that. See that young woman there? Before she started the
Wild Goose she was a poor thing, all hunched up, always ill or
depressed. It makes me feel good to see her here, healthy
and smiling. Her posture has improved and so has her
temperament. I remember how stiff her lower back used to
be. She had enormous problems with the Wild Goose
page 30 Qi Magazine Apr/May/June 2007
movement “Twist the Toes” and her whole body would hunch
up when “Pressing Qi to Ankles”.
Look at her now! Watching my students bend, twist and
flutter under the budding silver birch trees, in the fresh air,
happy in their practice - what a wonderful picture! The Wild
Goose is a complex form and I am still learning new things
about it. There seems to
be no end to its
“A whole lineage of
dedicated preservers
and protectors of
the skill.”
profundity. Every time I
read one of my Sifu’s
articles, I learn
something new. And it is
incredible that it has
survived for so long. A
whole lineage of
dedicated preservers and
protectors of the skill
have allowed this and I
am grateful to them.
Imagine if you could
show this picture to those Daoist hermits all that time ago! I
hope they’d be pleased.
Picture this - it’s a glorious summer day in 2006. All
over the lawn of an agricultural college in the southwest of
England, people are practising their Wild Goose Qigong. I’m
proud and privileged to be helping to polish their forms.
Grandmaster Yang has been deceased for a few years, but
actually she never went away. Her presence is very strong
every time we practise.
For those of us lucky enough to even have a sip of her
skill, this is a blessing and a glorious burden. It is a precious
cargo we hold for future generations, just as Grandmaster
Yang held it for us. The sky is very blue in this picture and the
tall trees are providing welcome pockets of shade. All around,
people are practising, talking in low voices and laughing
occasionally. My Sifu, Master Tse, walks around looking pleased
with everyone’s progress. It’s a very happy scene!
Three days later, we all return to our home towns, much
like caravans of ancient days, holding our precious cargo close.
The flatlands of my home are a far cry from the magnificent
peaks of the Kunlun Mountains, but I have a treasure from the
mountains - worth much more than jade!
by Julian Wilde