Newsletter #34

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Reverse Reeling the Arms: (Zuǒyòu Dào Juǎn Gōng, 左右倒卷肱)

The movement commonly called “Step Back to Repulse Monkey” is one of the most useful backward-moving sequences in Yang-style Taijiquan. But the Chinese name zuǒyòu dào juǎn gōng (左右倒卷肱) actually describes the mechanics more directly: “left and right reverse-rolling arms.” The word gōng (肱) refers to the upper arm, while dào juǎn (倒卷) suggests reversing or rolling backward.

As the practitioner steps back, one arm circles to the rear and then comes forward while the opposite hand withdraws. The waist turns with the movement, and the weight transfers smoothly from one leg to the other. Done correctly, the body does not simply retreat. Each backward step creates another opportunity to redirect, neutralize, and respond.

This is an important Taijiquan lesson. Moving backward does not necessarily mean giving up ground. A retreat can draw an opponent forward, disrupt balance, and create space for a counter-attack. The arms continually exchange roles, one receiving while the other advances, so defense and offense become parts of the same action.

The movement also trains coordination during backward stepping, something we practice less often in ordinary life. The foot must find the ground without looking, the weight must transfer securely, and the upper body must remain upright rather than leaning away from imagined pressure.

As for the familiar name “Repulse Monkey,” it comes from an alternate traditional name, dào niǎn hóu (倒撵猴), literally something like “retreat while driving away the monkey.” Both names have circulated in Taijiquan traditions, which is why English translations can seem unrelated to the characters 左右倒卷肱. Modern standardized material even lists “Reverse Rolling Arms” and “Repulse Monkey” as alternate names for the same movement.

Whatever we call it, the principle remains clear: retreat without losing structure, yield without becoming passive, and remain ready to respond while moving away.

Qigong as the Weather Changes

Autumn rarely arrives all at once. A morning may feel cold enough for a jacket, while the afternoon is warm again. For qìgōng practitioners, this is a useful reminder that practice should remain adaptable rather than fixed.

Traditional Chinese medicine associates autumn with contraction, dryness, and the Lung system, while yǎngshēng (養生), or “nourishing life,” emphasizes adjusting our habits to seasonal change. That does not mean following rigid rules. It means paying attention to conditions and responding sensibly.

Clothing is one of the simplest examples. Dressing in light layers makes it easier to begin practice warm and remove a layer if the body heats up. Cold muscles and joints generally benefit from a gentler start, especially in the morning. A few minutes of easy movement before deeper stances can make practice more comfortable.

The ground also deserves attention. Wet leaves, frost, ice, or even damp pavement can turn familiar movements into a balance challenge. On questionable surfaces, shorten the stance, avoid unnecessary pivots, and choose stability over appearance. Moving indoors is not “giving in” to the weather. It is good judgment.

Autumn can also be a useful season for quieter practice. As nature begins to draw inward, we can allow our movements to become a little more deliberate, our breathing a little calmer, and our attention more settled.

The larger lesson extends beyond qigong. Conditions change, sometimes several times in one day. Health, work, and relationships do the same. Good practice is not about insisting that everything remain the same. It is about staying rooted enough to adapt when it does not.

Acupuncture and the Recovering Brain: Helping Stroke Patients Find Their Words

One of the frustrating consequences of a stroke can be the inability to recall familiar words. A person may recognize an object, understand its purpose, and know exactly what they want to say, yet struggle to find its name. This condition, called anomia, can make ordinary conversation difficult and interfere with recovery.

A new randomized clinical trial published October 8, 2026, in the journal Chinese Medicine suggests that scalp acupuncture may help improve language recovery when combined with conventional speech therapy.

Researchers at Fujian University of Traditional Chinese Medicine recruited 85 stroke patients experiencing difficulty naming objects. All participants received conventional medical care and speech-language therapy. One group also received scalp acupuncture, with needles placed in selected regions of the head while patients participated in speech exercises. Treatment was provided five days a week for four weeks.

At the end of treatment, patients receiving acupuncture alongside speech therapy showed significantly greater improvements in naming objects, completing sentences, responding verbally, and communicating in everyday situations than those receiving speech therapy alone.

The researchers also used diffusion tensor imaging, a specialized MRI technique that examines the brain's white matter pathways. They observed differences in structural language networks associated with the improved speech performance. These findings suggest that changes in the brain's communication pathways may accompany recovery, although the imaging cannot establish that acupuncture directly caused those changes.

The study has limitations. It involved a relatively small number of patients, did not include a sham-acupuncture group, and did not establish whether the improvements continued over a longer period.

Nevertheless, the results are encouraging. They suggest that scalp acupuncture may be a useful addition to conventional speech rehabilitation rather than a replacement for it. Just as importantly, the combination of clinical testing and modern brain imaging offers researchers another way to investigate how traditional therapies might contribute to neurological recovery.

Qi journal Updates

Our Autumn 2026 issue has been released, and as usual, we are receiving positive comments on the content. We appreciate the feedback. If you wish to receive this issue when ordering a subscription on our website, make sure to select "current issue" as your starting issue. Our "next" issue will be our winter issue.

Here is a list of articles and a thumbnail of the cover photo. Subscription options are available on our website at: www.qi-journal.com/subscriptions. And individual back issues have been released for sale on our website.

·         Autumn's feature articles: "What 57 Years of Practice Reveals: Silk Reeling & Joint Health" by Dr. Bob Bacher, D.C.; "The Ancient Lingbao Daoist's Magical Talisman Staff" by Prof. Jerry Alan Johnson, Ph.D., D.T.C.M.; "Neijia: Taijiquan, Baguazhang, Xingyiquan, Yiquan & Others" by Luo Shiwen; and "Guiding & Stretching: The Mawangdui Daoyin Paintings and Their Legacy" by Daniel Ming, Ph.D.

·         Departments include: "Science, Skepticism, and the Space Between" by Susan Lee; "The Chrysanthemum: Flower of Autumn and Endurance" by Steven Luo; "Training the Taiji Sword: Intention, Precision, and the Living Blade" by Dr. David Dawson; "Why is Prevention so Hard?" by Su Chaio, B.A.; "When Taiji Could Push You Up Into a Tree" by Steven Luo; "Sanzi Jing: Three Characters at a Time" by Qi Journal's staff; and "What Religion Do You Follow?" by Seth Cameron

The Shield of Commerce: The Role of the Biāojú

In the history of imperial China, trade was the lifeblood of the economy, but it was a venture fraught with peril. As merchants moved vast quantities of silk, tea, and silver across rugged mountain passes and through bandit-heavy plains, they required more than just a sturdy wagon—they required protection. This need gave rise to the biāojú (镖局), private armed escort companies that served as the primary security infrastructure for Chinese commerce.

While armed protection existed in various forms since the Han Dynasty, the biāojú became most prominent and highly organized during the Ming (1368–1644) and Qing (1644–1912) dynasties. During these eras, China’s internal trade networks expanded exponentially. Because the state’s military forces were often occupied with border defense and were stretched thin in rural areas, merchants faced a constant threat from organized banditry. To mitigate this risk, merchants hired biāojú to provide a professional, reliable security "service."

The role of the biāojú was multifaceted. They employed biāoshī (guards)—highly trained martial artists and horsemen skilled in using spears, swords, and eventually, firearms. These guards did more than just fight; they managed the logistics of the caravan, navigated treacherous routes, and ensured the integrity of the cargo. A biāojú could range from a small group protecting a single merchant to a massive operation escorting hundreds of pack animals.

Beyond their practical utility, the biāojú became a cultural icon. Their stories of bravery, skill, and sacrifice against overwhelming odds became a staple of Wuxia (martial arts) literature and cinema. To this day, the biāojú remains a symbol of the "shield" that allowed Chinese commerce to flourish across the vast landscape of the Middle Kingdom.

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