[Life] Martial Arts and Music, Journey Through Life

Author: JEFFI CHAO HUI WU

Time: 2025-7-23 Wednesday, 5:32 AM

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[Life] Martial Arts and Music, Journey Through Life

I practice martial arts, write articles, and play the guitar. Many people see this string of labels and feel that it’s an unreliable "cross-border" endeavor, even asking me: which one do you focus on the most? However, in my view, these are not parallel hobbies or multiple identities, but different forms of the same life energy. They all come from the same source: the flow of structure, rhythm, and vital energy. When this river of life flows smoothly, whether it’s fists, pens, or strings, everything will come together naturally.

I never feel like I am "choosing" a path. Looking back, it seems I have merely followed some internal rhythm, step by step, to where I am today. Practicing horse stance was the beginning; at that time, I would wake up every day at four forty-five in the morning and arrive at the seaside to stand in stance before five. The sky was still dark, the cold wind wrapped in sea mist, and my feet were as steady as stakes. Others say this is willpower, but I know: when the structure is truly smooth, standing is not about gritting my teeth to endure, but rather a flowing state where the energy and blood in my body circulate on their own.

One day I suddenly understood: "It's not me practicing martial arts, but martial arts reshaping me." This is not just a philosophical thought, but an answer my body gave me after standing in stance for a hundred days. When the body truly settles, the heart will also calm down. At that moment, you will realize that the world's restlessness has nothing to do with you; you just need to stand on the ground, unmoved by the wind and unshaken by the passing clouds. This sense of "settling" later became the root of my writing. My words do not rely on logical deduction, nor do they come from sudden inspiration, but rather flow naturally as a form of expression when my energy and blood are abundant after practice.

Many people do not understand the rhythm of my writing. I am not chasing trends, nor do I rely on bursts of inspiration at night. Every morning, after practicing boxing and standing meditation, I sit in my car by the sea and begin to write. At this time, my body is warm, my mind is clear, and the energy flows behind me. Each paragraph I write is like every move in Tai Chi, with a beginning, a flow, and a conclusion; every sentence has a focal point, just as every move has its root. This is the method of standing meditation writing, not a style, but an output of structural awareness itself.

My writing is not the refinement of language, but the continuation of spirit. When the structure is clear, the writing flows; when the energy is smooth, the sentences are smooth. I never pursue beautiful sentences, only seek "powerful" words and phrases. Some people say that each of my articles feels like it "hits the structure," and I smile to myself: do you know that these paragraphs are "squatted" out from a horse stance?

Music is the same. I am often surprised by my friends: "You only know a few chords, how can you write so many songs?" I tell them, it's not that I play a lot, but that my energy flows smoothly and my rhythm is steady. After practicing every day, my fingers feel warm, my breathing is even, and when I gently pluck the guitar strings while sitting in the car, the melody flows out naturally. I don't need to "think," nor do I need to "design a structure," because my breath and rhythm are already connected within me; the guitar is merely a tool that allows me to vocalize that energy.

There is a song I composed after practicing a complete set of Tai Chi and standing in a horse stance for more than ten minutes. That day, the sunlight was gentle, I had a slight sweat on my forehead, and the wind blew in but was not cold. I sat down, and as the sound of the guqin began, the melody flowed from my fingertips, as smooth as writing and as grounded as martial arts. In that moment, I truly understood: music is not just the arrangement of melodies, but the expression of the rhythm of life’s breath.

These three—martial arts, music, and writing—are seen as three skills by others, but to me, they resonate as a single structure. When my vital energy flows, the three resonate together. After practicing, my thoughts are clear; I cannot help but write quickly. Once I finish writing, my fingers feel warm, and I effortlessly play a tune. After playing, my spirit calms, naturally returning to stillness. These activities are not scheduled separately, but rather three forms of a single flow of energy. They are not a burden, but a natural expression.

People often ask me how I can persist every day, practicing in the early morning, working during the day, and writing at night. I say: because this is not about "persistence," but about "flow." When the structure is established, the energy and blood circulate naturally, and life itself operates like a well-functioning system; it does not "tire," it only "flows." Writing is not a task, practicing is not exercise, and playing the piano is not a pastime, but rather the integrated operation of body, words, and melody.

In this highly specialized and division-of-labor era, many people have become single-function screws. However, I have chosen a different path—one of integration rather than division; one of structure rather than fragmentation. When the body awakens, the mind becomes clear; when the rhythm stabilizes, emotions stabilize; when practice is not forced but rather about tuning, the entire life system can enter a state of "low resistance and high efficiency." At that time, you do not rely on willpower, but on the guidance of energy; you do not rely on a schedule, but on the automatic operation of the bodily system.

In my life, I do not seek others' understanding. Nor do I seek uniform labels. Some say I am a warrior, some say I am a writer, some say I am a music enthusiast. I say, I am just a practitioner of structure. My body is my instrument, my writing is my breath map, my guitar is my rhythmic echo.

I do not rely on "talent," nor on "passion"; what I rely on is the daily and yearly training of my physical circuits—cultivating within structure, expressing through vital energy, and journeying through life in rhythm.

Source: https://www.australianwinner.com/AuWinner/viewtopic.php?t=696991