Newsletter #26

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The Meaning Behind "Single Whip"
(单鞭, Dān Biān) in Taijiquan

Among the many recognizable movements in Taijiquan, few are as iconic as Single Whip. At first glance, the posture appears expansive and deliberate: one hand forms the distinctive hook while the opposite palm extends outward, the stance wide and firmly rooted. Yet beneath this elegant structure lies a sophisticated lesson about power, balance, and unified intention.

The word Biān, or "whip," carries rich cultural associations in Chinese history. A whip symbolizes authority, direction, and the ability to transmit force with precision rather than brute strength. Like the whip itself, it is soft and flexible yet capable of delivering a sharp crack... the movement reflects the classical principle that softness can overcome hardness. Power is not generated through tension but released through coordinated relaxation.

Equally important is the character Dān, meaning single or solitary. In practice, Single Whip represents integration: the mind, body, and breath align into one clear expression of intent. The practitioner becomes a unified system, anchored below and expansive above.

From a martial perspective, the posture suggests readiness in multiple directions. The hook hand may control or deflect while the forward palm issues energy, supported by the turning waist and stable root. Energetically, the posture opens the chest, encourages grounded breathing, and balances inward gathering with outward expression.

Philosophically, Single Whip illustrates a central Taiji idea... the still center guiding dynamic movement. Yin and Yang coexist within the shape: one hand stores potential, the other releases it; the legs root while the upper body remains supple.

In many forms, Single Whip serves as a structural "corner," a moment to re-establish alignment before continuing. Its lesson is simple but profound: true power arises from calm structure, not force. When the body is organized and the intention clear, energy can travel effortlessly from the ground to the fingertips.

Single Whip ultimately reminds us that strength is most effective when it is quiet, focused, and fully integrated.

By mid-February, many people feel caught between seasons. The calendar points toward spring, yet cold weather still dominates much of daily life. For those practicing qigong indoors or online, this in-between period is not a time to push for expansion, but to allow gentle opening to emerge on its own.

Late winter qigong emphasizes continuity rather than range. Movements are smaller, the pace remains unhurried, and attention stays anchored in smooth breath and coordinated intent. This approach supports the gradual transition toward spring without disturbing the body's remaining need for conservation. Forcing openness too early often results in stiffness or fatigue rather than vitality.

Practices that involve soft spiraling through the torso, gentle rotation of the waist, and relaxed opening of the joints are particularly appropriate now. These movements encourage circulation while preserving warmth, especially when performed with an awareness of internal connection rather than outward stretch. The goal is not flexibility, but readiness. When the body opens evenly, movement remains calm and supported.

Indoor practice also highlights subtle imbalances. Limited space removes the temptation to exaggerate form, drawing attention instead to how breath leads movement and how movement returns to stillness. This inward emphasis refines coordination and helps prevent the scattered energy that can arise when the mind is already anticipating spring activity.

From a seasonal perspective, late winter qigong prepares the smooth rising quality associated with spring without prematurely stirring it. Rather than trying to "wake up" the body, the practitioner nourishes what is already present. When warmer weather arrives and practice naturally expands outdoors, the transition feels unforced and stable.

In qigong, as in nature, healthy growth depends on timing. February is still a month for careful preparation, allowing spring to arrive in its own way.

Hidden Strength in Quiet Times: 潛龍勿用

A traditional Chinese idiom often associated with late winter is 潛龍勿用 (qián lóng wù yòng), usually translated as "the hidden dragon does not yet act." The phrase comes from the Yijing (Classic of Changes) and describes a stage in which powerful potential exists, but remains deliberately unseen and unused.

At first glance, the idiom may sound passive, even cautionary. In its original context, however, it speaks to restraint guided by wisdom. The dragon, a symbol of vitality and transformative force, is not absent or weak. It is present, but concealed beneath the surface, gathering strength until conditions are appropriate for emergence.

This idea resonates strongly with the rhythm of late winter. Nature appears quiet, even dormant, yet life is actively consolidating below ground. Seeds are not idle, and roots are not inactive. Growth is simply happening out of view. Traditional Chinese thought consistently values this phase, recognizing that premature action disrupts natural timing and weakens what follows.

In personal cultivation, 潛龍勿用 reminds us that visible activity is not the only measure of progress. Periods of stillness, reduced movement, or inward focus are not setbacks. They are essential stages in which clarity, stability, and direction take shape. In Taijiquan and qigong, this principle appears whenever practitioners are encouraged to refine awareness before expression, or structure before power.

As February bridges winter and spring, this idiom offers a useful perspective. It suggests patience without stagnation and readiness without urgency. When vitality is allowed to mature quietly, its eventual expression is both natural and resilient.

Qi Journal Updates

Following the release of our Winter 2025–2026 print and digital issues, the holiday period offered a welcome pause. During that quieter stretch, we focused on expanding our free online content and laying the groundwork for a future website redesign. Several new sections have been added to www.chinesehealth.com, including a growing collection of 38 plant-based recipes and a new "Life and Aging Series" collection that explores practical yangsheng approaches to healthy living over time.

For our upcoming Spring 2026 issue, we have scheduled the first bulk mailing to current subscribers for February 20th and a final bulk mailing on March 13th. Subscriptions are available at qi-journal.com/subscriptions or by calling us at 951-699-5343.

Features in our Spring 2026 issue include: "The Essential H.H. Lui" by Dr. Nancy M. Hoffman; "The Mystical Treasures of The Ancient Lingbao Talismans" by Prof. Jerry Alan Johnson; "From Imitation to Insight: How Learning Taijiquan Progresses" by Luo Shiwen; and "How Qigong Became Qigong: How Qigong Got Its Name" by Dr. Daniel Ming, Ph.D.

Departments include: "What Makes a Martial Art Internal" by Allen Woodward; "Fire Horse: The Year East-Asians Avoided"; "Brotherhood at the Margins: Understanding Water Margin" by Dr. Carlos Mendoza, Ph.D; "Why Confucianism Often Feels Invisible" by Hayao Yamada, BA; "From Stillness to Movement" by Steven Luo; "The Ghost Who Repays Kindness" from the tradition of Zhiguai; and "When Spiritual Practice Goes Wrong" by Susan Lee. Plus recent news and cultural tidbits.

Preparing for Spring:
Yangsheng as Removal, Not Addition

Although spring is approaching, February remains a cold month for much of the country. From a yangsheng perspective, this is not yet the time to aggressively "invigorate" or lighten the body. Instead, late winter is best understood as a period of careful preparation, focused more on removing obstacles than on adding new interventions.

Dietary habits accumulated over winter often emphasize warmth, heaviness, and calorie density. These qualities are appropriate during cold months, but if carried forward unchanged, they can impede the smooth rising movement associated with spring. February offers an opportunity to gently reduce excess without depriving the body. Meals can remain warm and cooked, while becoming slightly lighter in texture and easier to digest.

Attention to digestion is particularly important during this transition. Overeating, irregular meal times, or reliance on rich foods can create stagnation that lingers into spring. Simple adjustments, such as smaller portions in the evening or favoring foods that feel settling rather than stimulating, help clear the way for seasonal change. This is not about restriction, but responsiveness.

Yangsheng at this time also extends beyond food. Late winter supports regularity, adequate rest, and moderation in activity. These habits stabilize the body's internal rhythm, allowing energy to circulate smoothly when days lengthen and activity naturally increases. Sudden dietary changes or strong cleansing practices may disrupt this process rather than support it.

Seen in this light, February nutrition is not a preview of spring diets, but a quiet refinement of winter habits. By easing heaviness and supporting digestion now, the body enters spring without resistance. Growth then occurs naturally, without force, aligning health with the season rather than working against it.

When 'She' Didn't Exist in Chinese

Many students of Chinese language are surprised to learn that Mandarin did not originally have a distinct written character for "she." In spoken language, "he," "she," and "it" are all pronounced as tā, a single sound that carries no inherent gender. Today, however, readers encounter three separate characters: 他 (he), 她 (she), and 它 (it). This distinction is relatively recent and reflects China's encounter with the linguistic demands of the modern world.

Before the twentieth century, the character 他 generally served as a universal third-person pronoun in writing. Classical Chinese relied heavily on context, and grammatical gender was simply not a structural priority. The spoken language functioned smoothly without it, and few readers found the lack of distinction problematic.

The challenge emerged when Western missionaries began translating the Bible into Chinese during the nineteenth century. Faced with passages in which gender mattered, particularly in narrative and theological contexts, they struggled to represent "she" clearly on the written page. While early translations often continued using 他, the issue lingered.

A more systematic solution appeared in the early twentieth century as Chinese scholars intensified efforts to translate Western literature and philosophy. Writers associated with the New Culture era sought greater precision and readability in vernacular Chinese. Linguists responded by creating 她, incorporating the 女 (woman) radical to signal the feminine while preserving the familiar pronunciation tā. The spoken language remained unchanged, but the written form adapted to meet new expectations shaped by global exchange.

The story of 她 is a useful reminder that language evolves not only from within but also through cultural contact. What seems timeless in Chinese often includes thoughtful innovations prompted by translation, modernization, and the desire to communicate across civilizations.