The Wu De of mǐn (敏): Diligence

王曰。吾惛、不能進於是矣。願夫子輔吾志、明以教我。我雖不敏、請嘗試之。
The king said: “I am dull-witted, and unable to carry this out. Please help me clarify my will by instructing me. Even though I am not so sharp, I will try to do it.”
(Mencius 1a:7)

Thus we see that mǐn refers to mental diligence (acuity) applied to diligence in undertaking.

子曰:「我非生而知之者,好古,敏以求之者也。」
“Master Kong said: I am not one who was born with knowledge; I love ancient [teaching] and earnestly seek it.” (Analects 7:20)

「道在邇,而求諸遠;事在易,而求諸難。」
“The Way is near, but men seek it afar. It is in easy things, but men seek for it in difficult things. If everyone were to love their relatives and respect their elders, the world would be at peace.” (Mencius 4a:11)

“Therefore it is said, ‘Seek and you will find it; neglect and you will lose it.'” (6a:11)

Mencius means that in the approach of learning, special diligence must be used. Not just the diligence of repeated action, but the diligence of thought. The phrase ‘the way is near, but men seek it afar’ may remind you of a common saying among martial artists regarding those who ‘seek the far but avoid the near’.

Muken no Ken

The story of 無劍の剣 or “The Sword of No Sword” is a story from the life and teachings of Takuan Sōhō.

A young samurai came to a master and asked to be taught the ultimate technique of swordsmanship.

He expected to learn mystical techniques, secret styles, or hidden scrolls of killing. But instead, the master told him to sweep the dojo, fetch water, tend the garden, and watch the clouds.

Days turned to weeks. No sword training.

Eventually the student grew impatient: “Master, I came to learn swordsmanship, not to be your servant.”

The master replied: “You seek the sword in distant things — death, glory, technique — but have not yet mastered the sword of the self. The Way is in the sweeping.”

Seeking the Near

A common mistake among modern martial artists is said to be “reaching for the far but avoiding the near”. This is often taken to mean a lack of physical diligence (勤 qín), but it really just means their minds are elsewhere (i.e. a lack of mǐn). Mǐn is not the same as qín, although they are both forms of diligence. If you have ever heard the phrase “You must put your mind into your movements,” this is the meaning. Tai Chi is a form of moving meditation. You must carefully pay attention to your movements, not to random thoughts or things outside.

In Chinese martial circles, you might hear:

勤能補拙,敏能補慢。
Diligence can make up for clumsiness; agility can make up for slowness.

Qín is consistent effort over time. The ability to show up, rain or shine, and keep training even when progress is slow or invisible. It’s about building the foundation—stances, breathwork, forms, repetition. This is assumed. It’s the mǐn which is the virtue.

Doing the same Silk Reeling or Zhan Zhuang (standing post) daily for years is qín. Practicing calligraphy strokes repeatedly in Confucian study is qín. Memorizing and reciting classical texts by heart is qín. But if one doesn’t deeply consider the meaning of the words, there is a lack of min. Therefore a junzi (君子, gentleman) has both qin (physical diligence) to walk the long road of virtue and knowledge, and mǐn (mental diligence) to respond to life’s changes with wisdom and action.

Martial Mindfulness

The Meaning of mǐn originally is mindfulness. In modern Chinese it appears in words like敏捷 (mǐnjié): agility, 聰敏 (cōngmǐn): clever, quick-witted and 靈敏 (língmǐn): sensitive, perceptive.

「君子欲訥於言而敏於行。」
“The gentleman is slow to speak, but quick in action.” (Analects 1:14)

Zhu Xi comments, “Being careful in speech means not daring to exhaust what one has in excess.”

This shows us the idea of mǐn as a kind of moral responsiveness; a readiness to act when the situation is understood. It’s not rashness, but clarity in action once discernment is complete. This is a kind of quick-thinking without hesitation. During combat it refers to the ability to respond appropriately without needing to mechanically analyze the situation.

“心靜則身敏。”
“When the mind is calm, the body is responsive.”

Mindful stillness enables mǐn.

From Chen Changxing’s 10 points

Be still and calm in both body and mind; even, smooth, and unconcerned – motionless.

Attack as if you were on fire, but if you do not listen you will issue too late.

There is no time to ponder or hesitate, sincerity and spontaneity bring the correct result.

Jin (strength/skill) accumulates day by day, training for a long period of time will bring accomplishment; be persistent in practice and you will understand the method. Training for a long time will bring knowledge, study the underlying principle to understand; ability leads to achievement – this is easy to understand. To advance take one step at a time, be patient, and follow the proper training sequence.

A Story from Yang Chengfu

Master Yang Cheng-Fu, famed for soft and round Tai Chi, was once demonstrating push hands. A student tried to shove him, and Yang stepped aside without tension, lightly redirecting the student’s force. The student fell. When asked how he responded so quickly, he said:

“I do not respond quickly. I listen deeply. The movement happens before my mind decides.” —Yang Cheng-Fu

The importance of min (placing one’s mind in the movements) is not just a virtue but a vital requirement of the martial arts.

Wei Wu Wei

This is a close equivalent to the Taoist concept of Wei Wu Wei. In Chinese martial arts such as Tai Chi, mǐn serves as the underpinning of many skills.
If you are 感覺快 (gǎnjué kuài) you are “quick sensing”. You feel the opponent’s intent through contact (ting jin).
If you have 反應快 (fǎnyìng kuài) you have quick responses. You respond appropriately, not mechanically, but with precision.
This creates 適時快 (shìshí kuài) — timely execution. It is the speed of mǐn, not necessarily the physical speed, which is limited. Yet mental speed can be faster than a flash of lightning.

One Thousand

拳打千遍,其義自見。
“Practice a form a thousand times, and its meaning will reveal itself.”

If one does not have mǐn, one may use qín to gain some understanding. Then one can meditate on the movements. Then the meaning can become instinctive.

Ten Thousand

Chen Xin and his brother learned Taijiquan from their father. At nineteen, Chen Xin entered a martial arts school and practiced Taijiquan ten thousand times a year for twenty years, achieving profound skill. Despite his short stature, he was highly skilled in martial arts, once defeating six or seven county guards in a fight.
One may ask why he practiced so hard? Well as it turns out, Chen Xin’s elder brother, Chen Yao, had also began practicing his boxing forms ten thousand times annually. Despite his modest stature, Chen Yao’s skill was such that he could reportedly throw multiple opponents simultaneously.

Yang Shou-Chung reportedly did his forms 30 times per day, starting at age 7 or 8.

Xie Bingcan (謝炳燦) practiced the Yang long form more than ten times a day for many years, often sleeping only three or four hours per night.

Wang Hai-Jun started his Tai Chi journey at the age of nine. Wang Hai-Jun moved to Chen Village to study under Grandmaster Chen Zhenglei. His daily routine included training a minimum of six hours a day. Because he had to go to school he would wake up early and train from 5:00 to 7:30 a.m., then resuming practice after school for two hours, often adding another two hours in the evening.

Wang Ju-Rong was known to practice for a minimum of six hours every day. Wang Ziping practiced for two hours every morning and evening in addition to his daily teaching commitments.

Feng Zhi-Qiang was known to practice for seven hours in the morning every day, from 4am to 11am.

Chen Fa-Ke was known to be constantly practicing silk reeling movements wherever he was, and was known to have practiced the form for thirty times every day.

 

Special Eyes

手快不如心快,心快不如眼快。
“Fast hands are not as good as a fast mind; a fast mind is not as good as fast eyes.”

There are different kinds of speed:
• 手快 (shǒu kuài) – physical speed,
• 心快 (xīn kuài) – mental readiness
• 眼快 (yǎn kuài) – perceptual awareness

This is the nature of mǐn.

Attaining Min requires Qin (Dilligence) and Xin (Faithfulness)

There is a saying from Chen Village I can share with you.

「不怕慢,就怕站。」
“Don’t be afraid of moving slowly, only be afraid of standing still.”

At face value, màn means slow and zhàn means to stand still, or to stagnate. The saying is encouraging you to keep practicing, even if progress feels slow. What you should fear is inaction, or giving up. This relates to inner progress, not just outer speed. Here, slow movement is “progress”, however slow! And standing still means stagnation. This saying encourages consistency over speed.

With regards to mǐn, you cannot gain mǐn instantly. It develops from long, slow, intentional practice. Sensitivity, timing, and responsiveness are the hallmarks of mǐn and grow not from rushing, but from cultivating precision, clarity, and awareness.
So even if you train slowly, you’re feeding the roots of mǐn. But if you stop training altogether, you sever those roots.

Criticizing Others

Let us not forget “Quick in action, but cautious in speech.” (Analects 1:14).

“The noble person is concerned with their own character. The petty person is concerned with the faults of others.” (Analects 15:21)

In Confucian usage, mindfulness refers to mental alertness, attentiveness to what matters, responsive clarity, and diligent focus on one’s self-cultivation and the self-cultivation of others. Therefore one of the worst things you can do in a discussion is say anything disparaging to another human being.

Rushing to judge others without deep understanding is a failure of mǐn (awareness). It is commonly said, “Judge not, lest ye be judged” and “If you must judge, judge silently — and judge yourself first.”

Common mistakes:
• Attacking somoene personally because you cannot respond to their statement
• To berate beginners for not being of a high standard
• Any blunt criticism of a style or it’s principles simply because your style is different

One should strive to engage with others in a respectful way using measured (mindful) speech. Do not mock others or demonstrate a lack of your own self-cultivation. Showing anger, frivolous uncaring, or distaste to another human being shows that one’s mind is not clear and that one lacks mǐn (thoughtfulness).

Proper Criticism

Proper criticism must always be rooted in the desire to help others. If your goal is not to help someone but to humiliate them, or just pure criticism with no solution (i.e. bashing somene or berating them) then it shows your criticism is not based on mǐn (understanding).

Receiving Criticism

“The Master said, ‘If I examine myself and find that I am not upright, even a simple villager can criticize me; but if I examine myself and find that I am upright, I will not be troubled by others’ criticisms.'” (Analects 7:3)

“The Master said, ‘When you see someone of worth, think of how you may equal them. When you see someone unworthy, examine yourself.'”​ (Analects 4:17)

“The Master said, ‘The gentleman seeks virtue in himself; the small man seeks virtue in others.'” (Analects 15:21)

Mǐn involves remaining diligently attentive to your self-cultivation. Engaging in criticism of others without self-reflection will show a lack of awareness of self. Therefore the first step is, no matter how ridiculous, anti-social, or unwarranted the criticism was, does it contain any grain of truth that you can use to aid in your own cultivation?

In Confucian thought, the emphasis is on internal virtue and self-improvement. Therefore, unwarranted criticism of others can be seen as a diversion from one’s own moral responsibilities, reflecting a deficiency in the diligent application of mǐn.​ If you find another’s criticism is unwarranted, you now have a golden opportunity not to criticize that person in return, but to either respond calmly, demonstrating the virtue of min, or to not respond at all.

Xunzi

Xunzi, also known as Xun Kuang or Hsün Tzu, was a significant Confucian philosopher who lived during the Warring States period, around 313-238 BCE. Born in the state of Zhao, Xunzi was a contemporary of other notable thinkers such as Mencius. Unlike Mencius, who believed in the inherent goodness of human nature, Xunzi argued that humans are born with a natural inclination towards selfishness and that only through education and the strict application of rituals (li) can people cultivate virtue and achieve moral improvement. His ideas were influential in shaping the development of Confucian thought and had a lasting impact on Chinese philosophy.

Xunzi’s teachings emphasized the importance of education, ritual, and the role of the state in promoting moral order. He believed that human nature, though fundamentally flawed, could be transformed through rigorous education and adherence to ritualistic practices. Xunzi served as a teacher and held various official positions, where he promoted his views on governance and ethics. He wrote extensively, with his works compiled into the book known as the “Xunzi,” which addresses various philosophical, political, and ethical issues. His pragmatic and somewhat pessimistic view of human nature set him apart from other Confucian thinkers and influenced later Legalist thinkers.

One of Xunzi’s notable teaching methods involved conducting his lessons during distracting events such as parades and dances. He believed that true scholars would remain focused and undistracted despite the chaos around them. By teaching in these lively environments, Xunzi could observe which students demonstrated the necessary discipline and concentration to absorb his lessons. Those who maintained their focus and adhered to proper conduct during such distractions were chosen by Xunzi as his students. This method not only helped him identify the most dedicated and serious learners but also instilled in them a deep sense of discipline and moral fortitude, which he deemed essential for personal development and effective governance. This approach underscored his belief in the transformative power of education and the critical role of self-discipline in achieving moral excellence.

Secrets of Kungfu Part 1: Mala Powder

Someone once wrote of Taijiquan, “There are no secrets.”

Well, of course, there are secrets. But at the same time, there are no secrets. This is because most of the time knowing something you are not supposed to know just means you know something you aren’t supposed to know yet. To the Chinese this is veiwed as a giant waste of time — “reaching for the far and ignoring the near” — and is considered the cause of most of the failures in the Kungfu world. About 100 years ago, I believe, a teacher in the Jing Wu men (whose name I forget but will look up later) lamented that the major sickness in the kungfu world is that players chase after skills they are simply not ready to express.

Thus, I come to reveal one of Kungfu’s many secrets — a secret you likely will not understand, or appreciate. So then you may wonder why I am coming to reveal this secret. It’s to put a seed in your mind, so that when you are ready you will re-discover what I have said for yourself. The secret is Mala powder. Ma meaning “numbness” and “la” meaning spice. According to Wikipedia:

The term málà is a combination of two Chinese characters: “numbing” (麻) and “spicy (hot)” (辣), referring to the feeling in the mouth after eating the sauce.

The numbness is caused by Sichuan pepper, which contains 3% hydroxy-alpha-sanshool. The recipe often uses dried red peppers that are less spicy than bird’s eye chili, which is widely used in Southeast Asian cuisines.

Okay, so what’s the secret then? The secret is that this spicy hot pepper flavour releases endorphins, and burns your mouth so much that it can give you an epiphany. Just that, the change of mind and the subsequent devotion to spicy food — becoming a spicy food afficionado, a pepper expert, maybe even growing your own peppers — and also a deepening appreciation of Chinese culture in general, will help your Kungfu. Not much of a secret, is it? Oh, but it is deeper than you can imagine. It probably hasn’t even hit you yet that you just learned two new Chinese words — that is, if you didn’t know Chinese already.

Now I’m going to tell you a deeper secret about Szechuan cooking that is unknown in the west. Szechuan cooking isn’t actually all about burning your tongue off. That’s why they don’t use peppers hotter than bird’s eye. But you need to keep in mind that authentic Szechuan cooking uses peppers of a particular variety called “Chao Tian” (facing heaven).

Here is where western knowledge drops off. You see, Chao Tian (in Chinese) is a term something like Heirloom is (in English) for describing peppers. I.E. most heirloom peppers, as I’ve heard, grow upside down like Chao Tian does. What you need to know therefore is that there are many types of Chao Tian peppers and that only specific ones are used for real, authentic Mala.

First, there is a common “Chao Tian La Jiao”, which looks like a normal cayenne or possibly Thai hot pepper, and is almost twice as hot as a Seranno. These are to be differentiated to the “Kung Pao” peppers being passed around recently which are only as hot as a low-end Seranno. I call these the “long” Chao Tians because they are the longest ones.

  • Chao Tian La Jiao (Long) – 15,000 to 30,000 SHU,
  • Seranno Pepper – 10,000 to 25,000 SHU
  • Kung Pao Pepper (Modern Hybrid) – 10,000 to 15,000 SHU

Next on the Chao Tian list is the Five-Color Pepper. These peppers look like a cross between peppers and cherry tomatoes (they’re not long) and they can come in multiple colors. They are around twice as strong as a seranno pepper. I call these the “round” Chao Tians, and they’re hotter than the Long ones.

  • Chao Tian La Jiao (Round) — “Wu Se (Five Color)” variant — 30,000 to 50,000 SHU

There are also many regional variants. In South Taiwan I found the following versions:

  • Chao Tian La Jiao (Small) –“Ji Xin (Chicken Heart)” variant — 10,000 to 20,000 SHU

 

Making Mala Powder

I just started making Mala powder, and what I use is approximately 1/3 Garlic, 1/3 Peppercorns and 1/3 Chilies. I’m experimenting as I go.

updating soon

A Long Road Tests a Horse’s Strength (路遙知馬力)

As a long road tests the strength of a horse, so time reveals a person’s true heart. (Zhiching Chen, Epoch Times)

“A long road tests the strength of a horse” is a proverb commonly used by Chinese people.

It is the first part of the saying “路遙知馬力, 日久見人心” (“lù yáo zhī mǎ lì, rì jiǔ jiàn rén xīn”), which literally means “as a long road tests the strength of a horse, so time reveals a person’s heart.”

Chinese proverbs, like Chinese idioms, have layer upon layer of wisdom. They are sayings that are full of advice for people to follow in their daily lives. Often, they originate within families, and sometimes from street vendors and other common folk from all walks of life.

The use of this phrase can be traced to the first act of the opera “Repaying One’s Kindness (also translated as repaying an obligation)” written during the Yuan Dynasty (A.D. 1279–1368). Xu, the hero of the tale, says to Li, a woman who helps him in a difficult situation and even gives him a gold hairpin before he sets off: “Sister, thank you for helping me. I wish for you a long and prosperous life. In the future, I will repay your kindness when you need help, just as it is said that a long road will test the strength of a horse, thus time will prove the nature of a person’s heart.”

The phrase can also be found in the twentieth chapter of the novel “The Investiture of the Gods (also known as the “Legend of Deification”)” from the Ming Dynasty (A.D. 1368–1644).

Minister Fei Zhong said to King Zhou: “I secretly dispatched one of my trusted subordinates to enquire about Fang Zhichang. It turns out that he is indeed royalty, just as the saying goes: as a long road tests the strength of a horse, so time reveals a person’s heart.”

Nowadays, the proverb is used to describe a person’s true character or capability that is revealed after a long period of testing.

full article: http://www.theepochtimes.com/n3/479740-chinese-idioms-a-long-road-tests-a-horses-strength-%E8%B7%AF%E9%81%99%E7%9F%A5%E9%A6%AC%E5%8A%9B/