The Influence of Grand Masters

When I was sixteen years old, I encountered stories of a man who quietly changed the trajectory of my life: Professor Cheng Man-ch’ing (Zheng Manqing 1900-1975). 

Professor Cheng was celebrated in the Chinese tradition as a Confucian Master of Five Excellences. His life’s work embraced five classical disciplines: Chinese painting, poetry, calligraphy, traditional Chinese medicine, and Tai Chi. To me, he embodied a Renaissance ideal—the fullest cultivation of a human being.

Although I tried five times (and failed) to meet him, or ever tell his family, I adored his example and built my own appropriate “Five Excellences” around the same ideal of always expanding and learning. My pursuits became painting, music, writing, chiropractic, Tai Chi and philosophy.

Familiarity with Tai Chi has suggested that one cannot fully immerse themselves in philosophy and life without Tai Chi and the Chinese nei jia (internal arts) that are meditation based. Without experiencing the capabilities of the people at the top level of this art, you cannot understand the full playground open to human capability. The anti-aging components alone are indispensable. We seem obligated to pursue anti-aging. Just as we are obligated to respect ourselves, others and the gift of life.

Meditation is mediation. Marvelous. The window. To the Indian people we owe a debt for making the discovery of seated meditation stick. To the Chinese people, the Li Family in the 1600s, we owe a debt for making stick the discovery of standing meditation. 

The Genius Machine framework would be impossible without these cultures. It grew from simple questions: How do I know I’m right? Why is there something rather than nothing? Why is Stress the cause of disease? What makes Stress? Why aren’t we living our full compliment of 100-150 years? Why do some people never learn? If Stress is the cause of disease—does it have a perfect offset? 

Whether that intuition ultimately proves correct remains for science to determine. But the question itself traces directly back to the example of one remarkable man I never met who demonstrated the worth of truly exploring our existence. I might also mention Robert W. Smith, author of many of the greatest Tai Chi books, and Ben Lo, Prof. Cheng’s senior student. Touching Ben’s body changed my life in 1975. That, and him sitting in his reading chair looking at the ocean from his house in the Richmond, San Francisco, opening his mind and letting me hear what he saw. Tai Chi had to be a portal.