Ken Gullette's Internal Fighting Arts

I was in a class yesterday when another student asked the teacher a question about how often you should meditate.

It was an interesting question but my answer might be different than some.

One of the martial arts books that I bought back in the 1970s was "Man of Contrasts," by Hee Il Cho. It was a book about Taekwondo, but at the beginning of the book was a remarkable poem that has stayed with me ever since. Here is the poem:

I can find peace

amidst the cities roar

before the dry, frayed face of confusion,

the exhausted hour.

My peace is cradled within.

This poem came back to me around 1999 when I found myself walking through the crowded sidewalks of Times Square in New York City. People were almost shoulder-to-shoulder, walking in all directions, and instead of being stressed, I found that I was calm, centered, with a feeling of being connected to each person who rushed by -- peace amidst the city's roar.

I began doing qigong in 1987. My goal was to recreate the feeling of in...

Read this article about a teacher in Miami who trains in Iron Palm.

This teacher might be able to break four bricks, but my friends, "chi" has nothing to do with it.

When you "boil" your hand until the fingers swell up like grapes, and you continue doing this to your poor hands until you no longer feel anything, why would anyone believe that doing such a ridiculous thing is building "chi"?

If you condition part of your body to withstand pain--for example slamming your palm a thousand times a day onto a bean bag for months or years--it has nothing to do with chi.

If chi exists (and I doubt it) it would be a natural thing. Damaging part of your body so you can break a few bricks is the least natural thing you can do.

I've seen the knuckles of guys who pound wood or metal to strengthen their striking power and their "chi." Their knuckles are deformed, horribly calloused, and ugly. There is a philosophical problem here--a disconnect between the concept of "chi flow" and this type of ...

A young man emailed me the other day and said he wanted to study chi kung (qigong) but was worried about something a chi kung teacher told him. Apparently this teacher said that unless the guy learned chi kung properly, it could harm him, especially in a sexual way.

This young guy asked my opinion, and how he could find a good chi kung teacher so he could begin training.

First of all, I told him to give that instructor a roundhouse kick to the head. Some teachers are nuts. They believe everything they read or hear about magical or metaphysical properties of chi.

Why do we perpetuate these myths? How can a breathing exercise--a mentally and physically calming exercise--create a danger to you?

The real answer is that it can't.

Like everyone, I've heard of people who felt some strange feelings and even got ill while doing chi kung. I suspect these cases involve people who either had some physical ailment going on, or they were bringing emotional baggage into the class that triggered ...

The first time I realized that chi kung (also spelled "Qigong") was having an impact on my life was in 1988, working as the producer of the 6:00 newscast at KMTV.

On one particular day, a wall cloud was passing the station, preparing to drop a tornado. People were running around the newsroom, doing live broadcasts, rolling big studio cameras outside the door so they could show the wall cloud on the air as it passed by -- there was a lot of shouting and screaming.

It was a little after 5 p.m. and I was at my desk, putting the final touches on the rundown and script for the 6:00 news. Suddenly I heard someone laugh. I looked to my right and the sports anchor was sitting at his desk looking at me.

"Doctor Chill," he said. "Everyone's screaming and panicking and you just sit there getting the job done."

I realized that I had been centering myself as I worked. I had become the eye in the center of the storm. The chi kung I began studying under Sifu Phillip Starr at the Omaha YiLi Chuan ...