At seventy-two years of age, I sometimes begin a practice session feeling tired and my energy is low. Yet something curious happens when I step into the dojo and begin moving. As the minutes pass, the fatigue dissolves and a kind of brightness begins to rise in me—an alertness and vitality that feels strangely youthful.
It reminds of a scene from the movie “Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones” where an aged Yoda drops his cane to fight his enemy with all the vigor of a youngster. At the fights resolution, he picks up his cane and continues on his way, hobbling along as old men do.
These days, my attention frequently turns inward during my practice. I am drawn to experiencing life both broadly and deeply. All ways are on the table. Older Chinese martial traditions and health practices often emphasize stance work so I focused my attention there. Here are some of the insights I have gathered in this regard.
In the context of Chinese Qigong and internal alchemy, Ming and Shen are two profound concepts that help describe the “impossible” vitality I feel when I engage in iron ball training. I use the term “impossible” because, at the age of seventy-two, I often experience a sense of renewal when I practice. I may feel weary beforehand, yet as I work out I feel my vital energy rising—almost as if I were young again. Afterward, my energy remains bright for some time before gradually subsiding to a lower baseline. Just like Yoda at the end of his fight.
At this age, these experiences are validating and perhaps even more important than martial prowess. My instructor, Mr. Ohshima, once said that there comes a point in life when your goals shift away from exploring your potential toward maintaining what you have. The sense of vigor that I gain through training in general—and from horse stance, the iron ball, spear drills, and the Tekki kata in particular—aligns exactly with this later goal. Physical discipline becomes intimately related to strength of mind and spirit.
Unity of mind, body, and spirit is not a new concept. What I want to share here is what I have gathered from Chinese martial arts and Qigong theory regarding the horse stance in particular. This vocabulary describes what I sometimes notice as I train these days.
Ming and Shen
While they are often mentioned together, Ming and Shen represent two different “layers” of our being.
1. Shen (神): The Spirit and the Inner Light
Shen is one of the “Three Treasures” (San Bao) of life, alongside Jing (Essence) and Qi (Energy).
The Radiant Flame
A common analogy is that if Jing is the wax and Qi is the flame, Shen is the light that the flame gives off. It is the most subtle and immaterial form of energy.
The Presence
It manifests as mental clarity, awareness, and that spark or luster seen in the eyes.
In Practice
When you stand in a horse stance and feel a “fresh light,” you may be witnessing the awakening of Shen. In Qigong, the mind (Shen) leads the Qi, and the Qi leads the body. At seventy-two, it sometimes seems that I am not simply using muscle; I am using the spirit to command the energy. At least, that is how it appears from the inside.
2. Ming (命): The Mandate and Destiny
Ming is a more complex term, often translated as “Life,” “Fate,” or “Mandate.”
The Allotment of Life
Ming represents your physical lifespan and the vital force you were born with. In many traditions, Ming is the destiny written into your very cells.
The Malleable Fate
While some see Ming as fixed, Qigong practitioners believe that Ming can be cultivated—literally repaired or strengthened through training.
In Practice
Standing in a horse stance is a classic method of cultivating Ming. It strengthens the Mingmen (“Gate of Life”), located between the kidneys, which is considered a reservoir of deep vitality. Feeling energized at my age is, according to this philosophy, a sign that I may be fulfilling—or perhaps even extending—my mandate by tapping into this Gate of Life.
3. The Union: Xing and Ming
In Daoist internal alchemy (Neidan), a central goal is the dual cultivation of Xing and Ming.
Xing refers to inner nature—related to Shen and the mind.
Ming refers to life force—related to the body and Jing.
When you stand in horse stance, you are bridging these two. Your spirit (Shen) remains still and luminous, while your physical life force (Ming) is being forged and renewed. This is why the moment can feel sublime. It is a rare instance in which the finite body and the infinite spirit appear to align.
The Essence of Jing
Jing is often translated as “Essence.” It is the most dense, physical, and foundational of the Three Treasures. In modern terms, it might be compared to genetic potential, hormonal reserves, and the deep vitality stored in the marrow.
There are two “types” of Jing that help explain why the horse stance feels so profound.
Pre-Natal Jing (Inherited)
This is the fixed “battery life” you are born with. As we age, that battery naturally drains. The sense that something “ought not to be” arises from the cultural assumption that this battery should be nearly empty in old age.
Post-Natal Jing (Acquired)
This is the essence you derive from breath, food, and movement. By practicing horse stance, you refine Post-Natal Jing and use it to support and protect what remains of your Pre-Natal reserves.
How This Relates to Horse Stance
In Daoist practice, Jing is stored in the kidneys and the lower abdomen (the Dantian). Horse stance is a Jing-heavy exercise because it roots the body to the earth and develops lower-body strength, which in traditional terms “stokes the fire” of the kidneys.
The Alchemical Process
When you stand, heat and focus transform that dense “wax” (Jing) into “steam” (Qi), which eventually radiates as the “fresh light” of Shen.
The “Impossible” Feeling
At seventy-two, instead of allowing Jing to dissipate through stress or stagnation, I am concentrating it. The result is a body that feels heavy and rooted (Jing) while the mind feels light and energized (Shen).
The Sublime Paradox
Jing gives the stance its gravitas. Without Jing, the light of Shen would be only a flickering ghost. With it, the light becomes steady and powerful.
In a sense, we recycle physical essence to power a spiritual experience.
For a younger person, such training may build strength or skill. For someone older, it reveals something deeper: vitality is not only a matter of muscle and endurance, but of how well we gather and direct the forces that remain to us.
Even as the body gradually yields to time, our spirit need not fade. With practice, we can burn more clearly than ever.
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