SoCal Tai Chi

October 8, 2011

This week, the world was saddened by the passing of Apple co-founder and innovative genius, Steve Jobs. Apple’s unbroken line of technological successes, one after the other, is a tribute to Jobs’ ingenuity as well as his notorious scrutiny.

At a time when Silicon Valley has reverted to unparalleled employee autonomy and pampering their employees with perk after perk from in-house masseuses to roller-hockey games, in Cupertino, Jobs demanded a work ethic that was nothing short of devotional. He would scrutinize the work of his employees down to the minutest detail.

The homerun after homerun that Apple has hit over the past decade is as much a result of Jobs’ uncompromising demands and intense micromanaging as his creative ingenuity.

The world was well aware of Jobs’ charisma and ingenuity.  However, few realized the intensity of his dark side which could break into a blistering tirade at even his most favored engineer.

But if it worked for Steve Jobs, will it work for you in your tai chi practice?  Is there that much difference between designing an ipad and perfecting your tui shou or the Wu style saber?

Technically, no.  Jobs had to deal with dozens, if not hundreds, of programmers, engineers, package designers, case manufacturers and microchip fabricators to name just a few.  We only need to deal with ourselves.

Jobs’ success, of course, had a tangible effect on the entire world.  A tai chi instructor, even a Yang Chengfu or a Cheng Man Ching, can affect tens of thousands or even millions over time as is the case in China. Still, their effect has been nowhere as ubiquitous nor instantaneous as the iMac or iPhone.

As instructors, some need to work with dozens of students.  Yet, the success of each student is not paramount to the ultimate success of the entire group as it was in the case of the iPad and iPhone.  Some will become excellent tai chi practitioners; others mediocre ones, and still others will drop out.

Of course, if enough students drop out, the instructor will no longer have a class or a studio, and that will at least affect his or her financial success.

But on an individual theoretical level, there is little difference between what Steve Jobs created and what we create everyday in our practice.

Taking our lead from Steve Jobs, if we micromanage our practice, paying very strict attention to every detail in our forms, no doubt our practice will steadily advance to higher and higher levels.

Of course, there is no need to throw tirades or become angry with ourselves when we make mistakes.  Instead, taking our lead from Lao-zi and Chuang-zi, a quiet yet vigilant calmness will do us far better than getting upset.

But dealing with students, can be a different affair altogether.  Micromanage a student and they may find another teacher.  Forcing them to pay as strict attention to detail as you do your with your own form may not appeal to many beginners and even some intermediate practitioners.

After all, Americans are used to fast food and instant gratification.  They want to learn the hand form, and then the saber, and then the sword, all in rapid succession.  As is the case with many external styles, students want to earn belt after belt, from white to black as quickly as possible. 

Unfortunately, many instructors and many schools will gladly accommodate them in order to keep those checks rolling in every month.

But there is another way – another part of the Steve Jobs legacy that may not be so apparent as his creative genius.

Why do you think that his demanding attitude, his unflinching micromanagement and his exacting attention to detail did not drive Apple employees to flee Cupertino in droves? 

Instead, just the opposite occurred.  It drove them to reach new heights.

Steve Jobs’ roll-up-your-sleeves and get-down-to-work attitude thrived at Apple for another reason – the same reason that the world came to love Steve Jobs and his products. He balanced his despotic attitude with an unparalleled charisma.

Jobs had a way of “selling” his employees on his creative vision so that they became devoted to the task at hand as though it were a mission from the Almighty.

I dare say not all of us have the same charisma as Steve Jobs. I know that I certainly do not.  But, whether dealing with students or with our own practice, can we bring ourselves to love what we are doing?  Not in a peripheral way but very, very deeply. 

Can we exude a passion for tai chi, tui shou, and the internal martial arts that knows no bounds? Not an arrogant passion nor even a determined one.  Not a passion for advancement.  But a passion for design.  A passion for all the minute details that the founders of the various styles and their lineage encapsulated in the design of their art.

Can we practice and teach with a passion to discover, to understand and to reveal these details as though we were on a mission from the Almighty?