Page 83 - The Art of Learning by Josh Waitzkin_Neat plip book

I pressed into his arm and chest but felt no thi ng at all. It was bi zarre, like
hitting a soft void. He was gone and yet he was standi ng right the re in front of

me with that same calm expression on hi s face. I tried again, and thi s time the
lack of resistance seemed to pull me forward. As I adjus ted back he ba rely
moved and I went airborne. Interesting. We pl ayed a bit more. On a ba sic
level, the idea of Push Hands is to unbal ance your oppo nen t, and I tried to

apply my old basketball instincts to do so. Thi s guy was sixty-four years old
and I was an athlete—shouldn’t be a pr obl em. But Chen cont rolled me witho ut
any effort at all. He was inside my ski n and I felt like I was doing a moon
dance, floating around at his will, witho ut any connect ion to the gr ound. At

times he felt immovable, like a brick wall, and then sudden ly his bo dy woul d
dissolve into cloudlike emptiness. I t was astoni shi ng.
After a few minutes, Chen started to sho w me thi ngs . First, he pus he d
gently on my hip, reminding me that in the Tai Chi form, sung kwa or a relaxed

hip joint is critical. Then he told me to pus h int o hi s sho ul der, and he slowly
laid out the body mechanics of his cloud- like transformation. If I pushed into
his right shoulder, his right palm floated up, barely touch ing my wrist but
subtly transferring the focal point away from his sho ul der. Ther e was ha rdl y

any contact between us, but enough to feel po tentially subs tantial, lur ing me
in. As my push continued, his shoul der di ssolved away whi le the impe rcept ibl e
resistance from his wrist took its place. The key is that his deflection of my
power from his shoulder to his wrist was so subt le that it di dn’t regi ster in my

mind. I gradually overextended because I always felt on the br ink of
connecting, and before I knew it I was way off balance and stum bl ing in one
direction or another. If I slowed down and tried to notice my po int of
overextension, then he followed my attempt s at correction, sticking to me like

glue. When the moment was just right , he’ d add to my momentum with a
quiet, understated expansion of his arm that de ed my under standi ng of ho w
one generates force—it seemed to emerge from mind more than bo dy —a nd
suddenly I’d be flying away from him. It was amazing how much he coul d do

with so little effort.
From my fledgling moments of Pus h Hands , I was hooked . It was appa rent
that the art was infinitely subtle and packed with profound impl ications , and I
knew immediately that the process woul d be somewhat similar to learni ng

chess. B ut I had a long way to go.