The Taoist foundations of QiGong
What is Ch’i Gung (QiGong)? “Ch’i” is the “vital energy” that courses through the blood and the organ systems. “Gung” is the traditional Chinese word for “work” or “activity.” “Ch’i Gung” is any disciplined activity that sustains the smooth and vigorous movement of this “vital life force” in the body. Such disciplined activity improves balance, calms the mind, relaxes the entire body, and develops proper breathing.
Internal Ch’i Gung refers to so-called “meditative” practices that involve any or all of the following four modes: sitting, standing, lying down or moving. The most complete Internal Ch’i Gung consists of those moving forms known as Tai Ch’i Chuan, Bak Gua, Hsing-Yi and Tuung Bei.
A fifth kind of Ch’i Gung is external in emphasis. External Ch’i Gung enables one to control and direct internal ch’i to either move, hurt or heal. Feng Shui, sometimes considered to be yet another kind of external Ch’i Gung, is the art of controlling and directing the ch’i of the environment outside of the body.
The foundations of QiGong are traceable to that ancient tradition known as Taoism. The consistent practitioner of Taoist disciplines like QiGong eventually develops an intuitive understanding of such fundamental concepts as Tao, the Law of Impermanence, Yin and Yang , the Correspondence of All Things, Suchness, and Wu Wei.
About Me
- Benjamin R. Tong
- I have been an educator for some 40+ years: middle schools, colleges and universities, graduate schools. Taught clinical psychology, Asian American Studies and English. In addition to maintaining a private practice in psychotherapy and consultation, I also sing, write, review movies and other writers' work, teach tai chi, hang out in stimulating caffes, run occasional health & wellness workshops and retreats, and travel. The recovery and relevance of classical Chinese culture and esoteric practices (Confucianism, Taoism, the Heroic Tradition) is an ongoing preoccupation.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
Notes on Anonymity and Freedom
The other day I received an Email from a friend who'd seen online the videofilm program, "The Taoist and the Activist" and read my blog, "'Green and Lean: Notes on a Taoist approach to living in these times" (August 2008). Her message and my reply are below.
Dear Dr. T:
Your [blog] site and the [“The Taoist and the Activist”] videofilm touched something for me about anonymity. I have been playing with a new name of "I who have no name." Identity is an interesting component of self centeredness as I noticed that I even had to give myself the identity of "I who have no name." LOL Well, I will continue working with this to see if I can actually experience anonymity. I am doing much better with simplicity.
Warmly, C.L.
Dear C.L.
Taoist people refer to anonymity as a powerful source of "pure freedom." Because Lao Tzu (presumably the "creator" or founder of Taoism) really didn't have a "name" -- "Lao Tzu" simply means "Old Fellow" in Chinese -- he left virtually no trail, had no resume, was not stalked by groupies or deranged fan clubs.
Lao Tzu was profoundly “useless,” much as the Good Samaritan was in the biblical story. He went to his own book signing party unnoticed, I'll bet, and probably went home quietly and calmly after a couple of light drinks and casual banter about "When is this author gonna show up, anyway?!?" ... with no one dogging his ass for autographs or insisting that "We must do lunch sometime, Master!"
Next time at a social function, try introducing yourself as "I am." Smile, chat, and then slip away. A Taoist training exercise, in fact.
Dear Dr. T:
Your [blog] site and the [“The Taoist and the Activist”] videofilm touched something for me about anonymity. I have been playing with a new name of "I who have no name." Identity is an interesting component of self centeredness as I noticed that I even had to give myself the identity of "I who have no name." LOL Well, I will continue working with this to see if I can actually experience anonymity. I am doing much better with simplicity.
Warmly, C.L.
Dear C.L.
Taoist people refer to anonymity as a powerful source of "pure freedom." Because Lao Tzu (presumably the "creator" or founder of Taoism) really didn't have a "name" -- "Lao Tzu" simply means "Old Fellow" in Chinese -- he left virtually no trail, had no resume, was not stalked by groupies or deranged fan clubs.
Lao Tzu was profoundly “useless,” much as the Good Samaritan was in the biblical story. He went to his own book signing party unnoticed, I'll bet, and probably went home quietly and calmly after a couple of light drinks and casual banter about "When is this author gonna show up, anyway?!?" ... with no one dogging his ass for autographs or insisting that "We must do lunch sometime, Master!"
Next time at a social function, try introducing yourself as "I am." Smile, chat, and then slip away. A Taoist training exercise, in fact.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Interview with a Taoist master: Year of the Serpent (2001)
The Year of the Serpent: To Bemoan or Celebrate?
By Benjamin Tong
On January 24, 2001, the very first day of the Chinese Lunar New Year, 4699, the Year of the Snake, I had the distinct pleasure of tape-interviewing Master Duan Mu Bai, a Harvard-educated 93-year-old doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), classical scholar, and teacher of Ch’i Gung and Kung Fu. He refers to himself as Christian as well as Buddhist and Taoist. We had tea and vegetarian dim sum at a restaurant in the Richmond District (“New Chinatown”) of San Francisco.
Tong: It is good to see you again, Sifu. Sun Nien Fai Lok! It certainly has been a long time between visits.
Duan: Sun Nien Fai Lok, indeed! So what’s on your mind?
Tong: As I said on the phone, I have a few questions to ask you about the Year of the Snake. A number of Chinese- and Asian-Americans I happen to know seem perplexed and bothered about being identified with this particular zodiac animal. Can you help them, perhaps with a bit of historical and cultural perspective on the significance of the serpent?
Duan: First of all, it would be more accurate to say “Year of the Serpent” instead of “Year of the Snake.” Y’know, the serpent has certainly gotten what Americans refer to as a “bad rap.” A bad reputation. In Western societies, people are told that the snake in the Garden of Eden presumably introduced “original sin” into the human dimension when it tempted Eve to take a bite of the forbidden apple on the Tree of Knowledge.
Tong: Not only that. In our mass entertainment media, the serpent is associated with giant pythons and king cobras that pursue and swallow up human beings in a single gulp. In the most recent issue of ASIAN WEEK (1.18.01), a news article reported that the business of an Asian restaurant in Dodge City, Kansas, dropped by 40% in a month’s time because of a rumor that “the restaurant’s owners killed and cooked dogs, cats and snakes.”
Duan: Yes, given these associations, it seems one would be most unfortunate to be born in the “Year of the Serpent.”
Tong: My wife usually doesn’t want to acknowledge or talk about having been born in the “Year of the Rodent!” But that’s another story…!
Duan: Hah! To be sure, the serpent is not viewed as evil in societies with any kind of longstanding anchoring in traditional Chinese beliefs, values and practices. In addition to “overseas” Chinese communities, we’re talking mainland China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Singapore, and so forth. For one thing, Tai Ch’i Chuan, that most well-known of health and martial arts regimens, is in fact based on the movements, the spirit and the psychology of the serpent. And by the way, Chinese do eat snake meat and consume snake soup. Snake is a source of potent “yang” or fire energy, especially in winter. These items are readily available in Chinese countries. Despite the Western taboo, I can think of at least two or three restaurants right here in New Chinatown where snake soup is available, shall we say, “on the side and on the sly.”
Tong: Hey, I’m ready to order up a steaming bowl of snake soup right about now. I can’t think of anything more appropriate in this kind of severe killer cold and wet weather we are experiencing in the Bay Area. But, tell me, Sifu, are there unique qualities of the serpent that have been held in high esteem among Chinese people?
Duan: Certainly. Along with the other eleven animals of the Chinese zodiac, the snake serves as a perpetual “reminder” to humankind that life involves the ability to adapt creatively to any and all situations. The serpent, for starters, is eminently flexible, is it not? Its form is ever-shifting and ever-changing. The ox, on the other hand, reminds us that there are occasions when it is best to stick ploddingly to a consistent, “straight ahead” and predictable course of action. The serpent, by contrast, reminds us of the need for….
Tong: ….flexibility of response. On that point, it occurs to me that Tai Ch’i Chuan, patterned after the movements of the snake, emphasizes the importance of being able to shift one’s focus whenever necessary, and to do so effectively without being thrown off center. The snake continually turns its head and constantly “sees” everything behind it, to the side, beneath and above.
Duan: Right! By contrast, ordinary human beings usually focus only on what is directly in front of them, usually no farther than their noses. Their peripheral vision is quite weak. In our day, people are so glued to what’s in front of them – like computer and TV screens – that they become mired in visual stasis. This might account for a lot of auto accidents on modern streets and highways, where only very few drivers are simultaneously aware of what is going on to their left and right, as well what might be further up ahead in traffic, and so forth.
Tong: Hmmm. Let me shift a moment to a related note. You started with a Scriptural “connection,” Sifu: the still-controversial reference to the snake as the source of “original sin.” Is that the final word in the Bible about the significance of the serpent, as far as Christendom is concerned?
Duan: No. In the 23rd Psalm, the narrator says to God, “You prepare a table before me, in the presence of my enemies…” Now the meaning of this line puzzled me for a long time, until my Taoist mentor gave his interpretation.
Tong: You got me there. I’m as puzzled as you once were. Actually, I never did pay much attention to that sentence. And none of my Sunday School teachers knew what to do with it whenever the 23rd Psalm was discussed. What is the connection with qualities of the serpent?
Duan: Well, when I asked my Sifu what the line meant, he simply said “You should be THAT comfortable in the midst of precarious situations in life!” He went on to explain by referring to that state of being known as “wu wei.” That is to say, the serpent by its very instinctual nature is always “centered”, always poised and relaxed. Yet at the same time, it is always prepared to “strike.” That is wu wei – maximum yin coexisting with maximum yang – not acting and at the same time, ever ready to act.
Tong: Always poised to strike…?
Duan: Yes, we’re not just talking about the serpent protecting itself or attacking prey. This wu wei , this serpentine state of being, is a metaphor for being always prepared for any and all of life’s contingencies. Once acquired by a person – and practicing meditation or Tai Ch’i is but one way – one can respond, shall we say, with highly “informed” or “trained” instincts, rather than confusion, indignation or panic.
Tong: I see, this means being able to deal with any kind of “attack” in life, as it were.
Duan: True enough. The “attack” can assume any form and appear unannounced, in any direction. We’re talking the coming recession, carcinogens suddenly “discovered” in our food supply or over-the-counter medications, abduction of our children, being laid off from one’s job in midlife, and so on..
Tong: Here in the Bay Area: earthquakes, rolling blackouts,…
Duan: The wu wei that the serpent models for humankind enables us to prevail and respond in an arena marked by pervasive uncertainty. What’s that old saying? “We can only be certain of death and taxes,” little else. This is both the fascination and the terror of life in this dimension. Life is radically contingent. No matter how stable things can look or feel, anything can happen at any moment.
Tong: In fact, a good friend of mine, Dr J. C. Ng, reminded me the other day of that ancient Chinese observation, “Everyday is a war.” Life is war.
Duan: Wu wei then means, to borrow the phrase from Hamlet, that “The readiness is all.” And that readiness to deal in a centered fashion with any contingency can only come from being attuned to Nature or being at one with the (Universal Life) Force. Put another way, it comes from being at one with the Creator or the Great Spirit. In Christian language, this is what “atonement” really means – the state of “at-one-ment” with God.
Tong: Thank you. I shall henceforth look more kindly upon snakes and serpents, ever mindful of their “reminder” role in the scheme of things. Sun Nien Fai Lok!
Duan: Sun Nien Fai Lok in Seh Nien (Year of the Serpent) to you!
By Benjamin Tong
On January 24, 2001, the very first day of the Chinese Lunar New Year, 4699, the Year of the Snake, I had the distinct pleasure of tape-interviewing Master Duan Mu Bai, a Harvard-educated 93-year-old doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), classical scholar, and teacher of Ch’i Gung and Kung Fu. He refers to himself as Christian as well as Buddhist and Taoist. We had tea and vegetarian dim sum at a restaurant in the Richmond District (“New Chinatown”) of San Francisco.
Tong: It is good to see you again, Sifu. Sun Nien Fai Lok! It certainly has been a long time between visits.
Duan: Sun Nien Fai Lok, indeed! So what’s on your mind?
Tong: As I said on the phone, I have a few questions to ask you about the Year of the Snake. A number of Chinese- and Asian-Americans I happen to know seem perplexed and bothered about being identified with this particular zodiac animal. Can you help them, perhaps with a bit of historical and cultural perspective on the significance of the serpent?
Duan: First of all, it would be more accurate to say “Year of the Serpent” instead of “Year of the Snake.” Y’know, the serpent has certainly gotten what Americans refer to as a “bad rap.” A bad reputation. In Western societies, people are told that the snake in the Garden of Eden presumably introduced “original sin” into the human dimension when it tempted Eve to take a bite of the forbidden apple on the Tree of Knowledge.
Tong: Not only that. In our mass entertainment media, the serpent is associated with giant pythons and king cobras that pursue and swallow up human beings in a single gulp. In the most recent issue of ASIAN WEEK (1.18.01), a news article reported that the business of an Asian restaurant in Dodge City, Kansas, dropped by 40% in a month’s time because of a rumor that “the restaurant’s owners killed and cooked dogs, cats and snakes.”
Duan: Yes, given these associations, it seems one would be most unfortunate to be born in the “Year of the Serpent.”
Tong: My wife usually doesn’t want to acknowledge or talk about having been born in the “Year of the Rodent!” But that’s another story…!
Duan: Hah! To be sure, the serpent is not viewed as evil in societies with any kind of longstanding anchoring in traditional Chinese beliefs, values and practices. In addition to “overseas” Chinese communities, we’re talking mainland China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Singapore, and so forth. For one thing, Tai Ch’i Chuan, that most well-known of health and martial arts regimens, is in fact based on the movements, the spirit and the psychology of the serpent. And by the way, Chinese do eat snake meat and consume snake soup. Snake is a source of potent “yang” or fire energy, especially in winter. These items are readily available in Chinese countries. Despite the Western taboo, I can think of at least two or three restaurants right here in New Chinatown where snake soup is available, shall we say, “on the side and on the sly.”
Tong: Hey, I’m ready to order up a steaming bowl of snake soup right about now. I can’t think of anything more appropriate in this kind of severe killer cold and wet weather we are experiencing in the Bay Area. But, tell me, Sifu, are there unique qualities of the serpent that have been held in high esteem among Chinese people?
Duan: Certainly. Along with the other eleven animals of the Chinese zodiac, the snake serves as a perpetual “reminder” to humankind that life involves the ability to adapt creatively to any and all situations. The serpent, for starters, is eminently flexible, is it not? Its form is ever-shifting and ever-changing. The ox, on the other hand, reminds us that there are occasions when it is best to stick ploddingly to a consistent, “straight ahead” and predictable course of action. The serpent, by contrast, reminds us of the need for….
Tong: ….flexibility of response. On that point, it occurs to me that Tai Ch’i Chuan, patterned after the movements of the snake, emphasizes the importance of being able to shift one’s focus whenever necessary, and to do so effectively without being thrown off center. The snake continually turns its head and constantly “sees” everything behind it, to the side, beneath and above.
Duan: Right! By contrast, ordinary human beings usually focus only on what is directly in front of them, usually no farther than their noses. Their peripheral vision is quite weak. In our day, people are so glued to what’s in front of them – like computer and TV screens – that they become mired in visual stasis. This might account for a lot of auto accidents on modern streets and highways, where only very few drivers are simultaneously aware of what is going on to their left and right, as well what might be further up ahead in traffic, and so forth.
Tong: Hmmm. Let me shift a moment to a related note. You started with a Scriptural “connection,” Sifu: the still-controversial reference to the snake as the source of “original sin.” Is that the final word in the Bible about the significance of the serpent, as far as Christendom is concerned?
Duan: No. In the 23rd Psalm, the narrator says to God, “You prepare a table before me, in the presence of my enemies…” Now the meaning of this line puzzled me for a long time, until my Taoist mentor gave his interpretation.
Tong: You got me there. I’m as puzzled as you once were. Actually, I never did pay much attention to that sentence. And none of my Sunday School teachers knew what to do with it whenever the 23rd Psalm was discussed. What is the connection with qualities of the serpent?
Duan: Well, when I asked my Sifu what the line meant, he simply said “You should be THAT comfortable in the midst of precarious situations in life!” He went on to explain by referring to that state of being known as “wu wei.” That is to say, the serpent by its very instinctual nature is always “centered”, always poised and relaxed. Yet at the same time, it is always prepared to “strike.” That is wu wei – maximum yin coexisting with maximum yang – not acting and at the same time, ever ready to act.
Tong: Always poised to strike…?
Duan: Yes, we’re not just talking about the serpent protecting itself or attacking prey. This wu wei , this serpentine state of being, is a metaphor for being always prepared for any and all of life’s contingencies. Once acquired by a person – and practicing meditation or Tai Ch’i is but one way – one can respond, shall we say, with highly “informed” or “trained” instincts, rather than confusion, indignation or panic.
Tong: I see, this means being able to deal with any kind of “attack” in life, as it were.
Duan: True enough. The “attack” can assume any form and appear unannounced, in any direction. We’re talking the coming recession, carcinogens suddenly “discovered” in our food supply or over-the-counter medications, abduction of our children, being laid off from one’s job in midlife, and so on..
Tong: Here in the Bay Area: earthquakes, rolling blackouts,…
Duan: The wu wei that the serpent models for humankind enables us to prevail and respond in an arena marked by pervasive uncertainty. What’s that old saying? “We can only be certain of death and taxes,” little else. This is both the fascination and the terror of life in this dimension. Life is radically contingent. No matter how stable things can look or feel, anything can happen at any moment.
Tong: In fact, a good friend of mine, Dr J. C. Ng, reminded me the other day of that ancient Chinese observation, “Everyday is a war.” Life is war.
Duan: Wu wei then means, to borrow the phrase from Hamlet, that “The readiness is all.” And that readiness to deal in a centered fashion with any contingency can only come from being attuned to Nature or being at one with the (Universal Life) Force. Put another way, it comes from being at one with the Creator or the Great Spirit. In Christian language, this is what “atonement” really means – the state of “at-one-ment” with God.
Tong: Thank you. I shall henceforth look more kindly upon snakes and serpents, ever mindful of their “reminder” role in the scheme of things. Sun Nien Fai Lok!
Duan: Sun Nien Fai Lok in Seh Nien (Year of the Serpent) to you!
Monday, September 1, 2008
The Chinese Zodiac: Classical Perspective
Sometime ago a friend of mine, Sharon, inquired about the meaning of her son's animal sign, the dog, according to the traditional Chinese lunar calendar.
My reply:
Your son being born in the Year of the Dog has nothing to do with whether he has any of the characteristics of actual dogs. The same applies to you as well: Don't bother with any kind of "inner" search for a horse "nature" in yourself.
I'm afraid the classical understanding of the Chinese Zodiac has been lost. It goes something like this: Before leaving the earthly realm, the Buddha called for an audience with a couple of animals. To charge them with continuing his work, he said "I have an assignment for each of you." "You are to serve as living reminders to human beings, the most troublesome and most rigid of species, that they are to always be mindful of the need to continually change, adapt and be flexible -- like everything else in Nature."
The dog was assigned the task of reminding humankind to be true to loyalties. Loyalty, that is, to commitments to keep promises; to defend family, country and culture; to live out one's vision of what the life journey is all about. The ox is to remind human beings of the need, in some situations, to plod along in a linear fashion. The monkey is to be a living reminder of the need, at times, to be experimental and purposely indecisive and playful. Etc., etc., etc.
My reply:
Your son being born in the Year of the Dog has nothing to do with whether he has any of the characteristics of actual dogs. The same applies to you as well: Don't bother with any kind of "inner" search for a horse "nature" in yourself.
I'm afraid the classical understanding of the Chinese Zodiac has been lost. It goes something like this: Before leaving the earthly realm, the Buddha called for an audience with a couple of animals. To charge them with continuing his work, he said "I have an assignment for each of you." "You are to serve as living reminders to human beings, the most troublesome and most rigid of species, that they are to always be mindful of the need to continually change, adapt and be flexible -- like everything else in Nature."
The dog was assigned the task of reminding humankind to be true to loyalties. Loyalty, that is, to commitments to keep promises; to defend family, country and culture; to live out one's vision of what the life journey is all about. The ox is to remind human beings of the need, in some situations, to plod along in a linear fashion. The monkey is to be a living reminder of the need, at times, to be experimental and purposely indecisive and playful. Etc., etc., etc.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
"Green and Lean": notes on a Taoist approach to living in these times
31 August 08. Here's my very first blog post: a few stream of consciousness "notes" on a Taoist approach to living in times like this. Three themes come to mind, at least initially: (1) minimalism, (2) nonattachment, and (3) readiness.
Minimalism: Chuang Tzu (the Richard Pryor of Taoism) once said, "Our needs are few; our wants are endless." (rf. Peter Wygoth's book, American Mania: When More is Not Enough.) At an organizational consultation gig some years ago, I once recommended to a group of stressed-out, overworked young, ambitious, high-ranking U.S. Air Force officers that they might take one of their acronyms, D.E.W. (in reference to their "Defense Early Warning System"), and convert it to mean "Do less; eat less; want less." A simple proposition, but simple, to be sure, is not the same as "easy."
Nonattachment: As I do not have the exact quote on hand, allow me to paraphrase something that F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote. He said that the artist or writer exists within the tension between two fundamentally unresolvable convictions. One, "What I write will make a difference in the world, if not, indeed, tilt the axis of human history." The other:"What I write will not ever be taken seriously, if it is even read at all." Within that tension, creativity might occur or, as often as not, the artist is driven to drink. One way out of this bind is to engage in guided Taoist disciplines that ultimately eliminate attachment to outcome. The resultant sensibility is known as "wu wei." More on this in another blog.
Readiness: Consistent with the thought of Western existentialists, Taoists subscribe to the notion that life is radically contingent: I can cease to be at any moment. A foundation-shaking idea if one were to dwell on it 24/7. Be it earthquakes (I live in San Francisco), 9/11-type terrorist attacks, collapse of the American economy, global warming cooking us to burnt ground round (rf. Al Gore), or sudden head-on car crashes, the "threat of nonbeing" is ever present. A Taoist master once said to me, "The most important line in 'Hamlet' is 'The readiness is all.'" That is to say, the ability to let go of anything at any moment, including earthly existence itself. An intuitive given in animals, this readiness has to be cultivated in human beings.
For further elaboration, please go to my website (DrBenjaminRTong.com) and consider the essay entitled "Taoism: Concerned About Wellness, and Then Again Not" (1999).
Also, view online (free) a 28-minute TV interview program that I was on in 2005, "Lunch with Bokara: the Taoist and the Activist":
http://www.linktv.org/video/1631 Please note that I was mistakenly billed as a "Taoist" and "Professor of Taoism." I am neither: I am but a student of Taoism and Taoist disciplines.
Minimalism: Chuang Tzu (the Richard Pryor of Taoism) once said, "Our needs are few; our wants are endless." (rf. Peter Wygoth's book, American Mania: When More is Not Enough.) At an organizational consultation gig some years ago, I once recommended to a group of stressed-out, overworked young, ambitious, high-ranking U.S. Air Force officers that they might take one of their acronyms, D.E.W. (in reference to their "Defense Early Warning System"), and convert it to mean "Do less; eat less; want less." A simple proposition, but simple, to be sure, is not the same as "easy."
Nonattachment: As I do not have the exact quote on hand, allow me to paraphrase something that F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote. He said that the artist or writer exists within the tension between two fundamentally unresolvable convictions. One, "What I write will make a difference in the world, if not, indeed, tilt the axis of human history." The other:"What I write will not ever be taken seriously, if it is even read at all." Within that tension, creativity might occur or, as often as not, the artist is driven to drink. One way out of this bind is to engage in guided Taoist disciplines that ultimately eliminate attachment to outcome. The resultant sensibility is known as "wu wei." More on this in another blog.
Readiness: Consistent with the thought of Western existentialists, Taoists subscribe to the notion that life is radically contingent: I can cease to be at any moment. A foundation-shaking idea if one were to dwell on it 24/7. Be it earthquakes (I live in San Francisco), 9/11-type terrorist attacks, collapse of the American economy, global warming cooking us to burnt ground round (rf. Al Gore), or sudden head-on car crashes, the "threat of nonbeing" is ever present. A Taoist master once said to me, "The most important line in 'Hamlet' is 'The readiness is all.'" That is to say, the ability to let go of anything at any moment, including earthly existence itself. An intuitive given in animals, this readiness has to be cultivated in human beings.
For further elaboration, please go to my website (DrBenjaminRTong.com) and consider the essay entitled "Taoism: Concerned About Wellness, and Then Again Not" (1999).
Also, view online (free) a 28-minute TV interview program that I was on in 2005, "Lunch with Bokara: the Taoist and the Activist":
http://www.linktv.org/video/1631 Please note that I was mistakenly billed as a "Taoist" and "Professor of Taoism." I am neither: I am but a student of Taoism and Taoist disciplines.
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