Practitioners, especially those no longer in class, without anyone to tell them otherwise, can come to believe they are far better than their level would suggest. I have even met practitioners that presume a person automatically becomes a master after a certain period of time, or is even able to become a master from following a book or video, which is preposterous! How they arrive at this conclusion had always remained a mystery to me until I learned of the Dunning Kruger Effect. Social psychologist professors David Dunning and Justin Kruger were led to conduct research into this phenomenon. A group of undergraduate students was selected for tests including grammatical writing, logic and reasoning, and even sense of humor. After learning their scores, they asked the students to estimate their overall score and how they thought they compared with the rest of the group. Those scoring the lowest grossly overestimated how they did. They thought they scored above average when in fact they were amongst the lowest. They were not only incompetent and less skilled in these areas, but they had no clue as to how bad they really were at them. Those that scored the highest had a more accurate estimation of how well they scored, but they underestimated their overall performance. They considered that because it was so easy for them it was therefore easy for everyone. They did not know they scored in the top percentile. This phenomenon has now come to be known as “The Dunning Kruger Effect”.
Those with low ability do not possess the skills to recognize their own incompetence or lack of knowledge. Their poor sense of self-awareness leads them to overestimate their own capabilities, and possessing little to no skill and knowledge, and not knowing the totality of their endeavor can lead to massive confidence. However, as you learn more and gain more knowledge on a topic, that confidence and delusion begin to dissipate. You come to realize that the more you learn the less you really know. It is only once you come to reach an above average level of knowledge and skill that confidence begins to pick up again on the way to becoming more expert. The simple truth is we are not very good at evaluating ourselves accurately. The majority believe they are better than average. In studies, eighty-eight percent of drivers believe they are better than the average. The majority cannot be above the average. Those that only drive in rural areas, or the desert, may think they are amazing drivers until they come to pressure test their abilities in a major city where everyone drives aggressively. Misjudging other drivers’ reactions, either hesitating or acting rashly can soon dispel this illusion. Once you’ve learned some basic skills, when it comes to most traditional Chinese systems, you know only just the tip of a very large iceberg. Not having seen beneath the water level and knowing this is where the vast majority of the ice lies, it is easy to imagine you have explored it all. With so many modernized, simplified and diluted styles today that comprise just one short form, it is natural to make this assumption also. The Chinese have a term for this too. They would say these students are like “Frogs at the bottom of the well”, in the sense that frogs looking upwards, their entire understanding of the sky is limited to what they see within the aperture of that well, and they will never know how vast the sky really is.
Over many years, I’ve met quite a few individuals that claim, with a certain swagger, to have trained in Taijiquan or Qigong from ten to even twenty years. This sounds highly impressive, and it would be natural to assume that in this time they must have attained some acceptable standard, at the very least. Invariably though, as soon as they come to demonstrate their “skill” immediately it becomes patently obvious that their understanding is, to be diplomatic, very “young” at best. In most cases, beginner students with six months experience in my class can appear more advanced and to possess a deeper understanding than some of these “veteran” practitioners. I had always found it interesting that the more confident they appeared to be, the worse, in fact, they proved themselves to be. I had not heard of The Dunning-Kruger Effect until very recently but found this explains everything.
It is a fact that the majority of students leave their teacher too soon. Sometimes this is as soon as they acquire what they wanted, and sometimes it is at the first difficulty they encounter, but in either case, it is usually before any solid foundation is firmly established. Foundation gives students the ability to correct themselves in the future. Without foundation, those that continue on to practice unsupervised will cement their uncorrected mistakes as lifelong bad habits and then new ones begin to emerge. Without good foundation, the very day they sever the cord from the source their development along the right path becomes arrested, no matter the length of time invested afterwards. Without an authority and even peer brothers and sisters to compare against, that will keep them realistic and humble, it is all too easy to imagine they are “perfect”. This is how a poor to average practitioner can consider themselves to be in an elite group. The difference between merely learning/ remembering and truly understanding/ knowing, and being able to demonstrate at expert level, is a vast chasm.
Professor Dunning, in follow up research, later concluded that that those people who performed badly or scored low, in reality, are also not good at accepting criticism, and often show no interest in self-improvement. Research subjects were willing to criticize their own previous poor skills once they had been fully trained and could see the difference between previous poor standards and new improved performance, but to get them to train up on their own was very unlikely.
Interesting, especially as this too parallels the experience with many adult Western students learning traditional Chinese skills. Some, I have observed do not like to be corrected, especially by fellow (senior) students, as they mistake correction as “criticism” or cannot accept the notion that they could ever be in error. They put up resistance instead of accepting shortcomings and welcoming the opportunity to improve. They can become defensive, insisting that they had not been taught the right way, and place blame on the teaching assistant/ senior student. Some claim never to have heard an instruction or principle that has been given to the class or individually countless times. Ego is one of the greatest barriers to learning and this prevents students from reaching even an acceptable standard, let alone ever attaining mastery. For some, their journey is more comfortable without a teacher, so they never have to be confronted with the truth.
Some beginners naturally wonder how long it takes to become a master. Those consumed with the answer to this question are invariably the ones most likely never to arrive at the answer for themselves. They can lack the very qualities necessary, such as patience, diligence, consistency (despite the ups and downs and distractions of life), and perseverance, as well as lacking a genuine and deep love and passion for the skill itself. Instead, they just see levels, goalposts, and benchmarks. Some even begin the journey with the intention of financial gain or notoriety through teaching. I have fielded phone calls inquiring how someone can become a teacher without even ever having experienced the skill first!Since their entire goal is arriving at some perceived endgame, they fail to realize that the beauty, mystery and revealing of the skill is the path itself, the journey and not the destination. The longer the journey the better the result. If the motivation for training is purely to become a master, as some terminus, then progress would surely stop at the point of proficiency, and not continue. (It is like the belt grading system in Japan with Karate. For many Westerners attaining Black Belt is the ultimate goal, when in truth it is considered just the beginning to true learning once the basics have been mastered. Asking the question of how long implies some sense of urgency, or desperation. To be in any kind of rush in a Chinese discipline with Daoist or Buddhist roots, where patience is a major principle as well as a virtue, is antithetical, contradictory, and can never produce the right result, or success.
There is no definitive answer to this question, as there are many factors involved, from the pace of learning and regular or sporadic access to the teacher to the student’s age and physical attributes to the aptitude, or propensity to observe and listen well, and natural abilities, to the number of hours devoted to daily practice. Also, the teacher’s level plays an integral part. The sincerest, most dedicated and naturally gifted student may never achieve the highest levels if the source (the teacher) is of low level to mediocre level at best. To really become an exponent of Chinese skill, under a genuine master, I would estimate is closer to fifteen thousand hours, give or take. This may sound impossible, but a few hours daily for nine or ten years is actually not impossible. Of course, an even greater number of hours invested each day, consistently, reduces the number years needed. Time is the main ingredient, but time alone without effort means nothing. Fifty years of spotty, interrupted training, and long periods of inactivity, will never even produce a middling practitioner. Just as a plant needs three things to thrive (soil, sunlight, water), we need to find the best teacher available, we need to pay attention and listen to everything they say and follow their method, and we need to apply consistent hard work to become proficient. And, if lacking natural ability then double or triple the hard work!!! We can all get there with the right application. And, even if the student is not a master after ten years, if the skill has become an integral part of their daily life, and holds deep meaning as part of a daily ritual, then he or she should still attain a very decent standard regardless, and more importantly, reap all the benefits.
I would wager that no one that has ever attained true master level even once asked their teacher the question of how long, or even ever needed to know the answer to this question. They just practiced every day for the love of developing the skill, the pure joy and exhilaration gained during practice, the feeling of accomplishment afterwards and the quantifiable results yielded, in terms of wellness and vitality, healing, or relief from pain. They simply get there eventually, or else they don’t, in which case it doesn’t even matter, as their level will still be far superior to those laboring under the delusion of the Dunning Kruger Effect.
Decades ago, while living in Manhattan, there was a recurring advertisement in a weekly local publication. It was placed by someone calling himself a “Supreme Great Grandmaster”, promising respondents that he can have them “perform like a Qigong master almost overnight” and guaranteeing that he would save them “decades of wasted time”. A true master will not give himself lofty, fictitious, and ultimately meaningless titles. And more importantly, he never sells his skill in this manner, for he has no need to, and this naturally only attracts the worst kind of student – the lazy and the impatient. A genuine master makes no promises of results without hard work and time as there simply are no shortcuts, or omissions, and he, more than anyone, knows this!
These skills can and never will be instantly downloaded like some computer software program (as the protagonist Neo downloads Kungfu in the movie “The Matrix”). Even if forms and skills could somehow be immediately imprinted and recorded by the brain’s neural network, the human body cannot perform physical tasks expertly in an instant because the body itself must be trained, just like a blade is forged, folded, and sharpened. The body must also be in perfect sync with the mind, integrated, to perform the actions directed to it with no time lag. The skeleton and bones must develop the tensile strength for power, the muscles must be trained to relax, and tendons and ligaments stretched etc. so that there are no blockages of Qi, which is both the message and its carrier, from the origin (the mind) to the terminal (limbs and extremities). This demands repeating movements/ techniques thousands of times, until naturalness is attained, and full potential, speed, power and effectiveness is achieved. This is how a master makes the difficult look easy. The body cannot simply download Qi and Spirit, stamina, internal strength, and explosive power which comes from the internal body, the kidneys and lungs. This may be possible in the virtual reality world, like a video game, or Hollywood movie, but not in the corporeal world. If the body attempts to move in ways that it has not been trained, before it is ready, or straining beyond capacity, damage and injury can occur, or it may become fatigued when expenditure of Qi exceeds the level of Qi cultivated and stamina required. This is why Chinese skills have rules and guidelines to follow, that advanced skill is never taught too soon, and progress is systematic. These were built upon human experience over many generations.
One morning, many years ago, while I was involved in my practice in the park, a couple of ladies approached and asked me, “Are you waiting for “The Master”? “The Master” was an older Chinese gentleman, who had once introduced himself to me in the park. He was a doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine and led a Tai Chi group there, once a week, for several years. In all this time, I never observed any instruction, corrections, or elucidation on the finer details given to his group. They would simply follow as he went through his short routine three times, share a laugh afterwards, and then they would all disperse. This one day he did not show up. After these new students had learned I was not waiting for anyone, they sauntered off, eventually to be joined by the regulars. They all waited together a while longer. When it was evident that he wasn’t coming, they all decided to walk a few laps around the park, instead of practicing the routine or even attempting to work on some movement together. This proved that merely following a leader, without actual instruction and personal practice, no-one can ever remember anything, even after several years! There must be systematic instruction and direct personal involvement. To anyone with knowledge and experience of good skill, it should be patently obvious that the “Master” never exhibited anything resembling high level Taijiquan skill; nowhere near the level of the traditional masters with whom I had been fortunate enough to study, or become acquainted with, or even just observed. That said, he may very well have been an outstanding doctor!
Without an official exam, diploma or certificate, such as a PhD, how does the student really know when he has attained master level himself? The Dunning Kruger Effect, as we know, is an inaccurate barometer, and seems to be more prevalent amongst those without the supervision of a teacher or master for many years. My grandmother would often say, “Self-praise is no recommendation”. Endorsement or recognition of this level comes only from one’s own Sifu. He is the one who allows you to use this title, and this only carries any weight as long as that master is legitimate, recognized within a lineage, by his own master and peers, and not students alone, for as we see many students lack the discernment to know. Once the master verbalizes to the student that he is a master, and may present himself in this manner, then it is “official”, a seal of approval.
One common trait all genuine masters share is strength of character. This is what is necessary to overcome laziness, adversities, and all the obstacles that provide a myriad of reasons not to practice and miss days, and even entire weeks. It is also what is needed to win, and also to get up eight times after you have been knocked down seven. To give an example of character, as part of the training regimen in preparation for 1998 Wenxian Push Hands competition, in Chen Village every morning we would arise at 5.30am for a sprinting and endurance race from the school entrance, up along the long tree-lined driveway to the main entrance and back again; a distance a little over half a mile. It was anticipated that I would come first ever time, as back in US, before we traveled to China, I was the fastest sprinter in training. I also had won the 100-meter sprint for the four consecutive years I competed at school. However, every day I ran with the Chenjiagou team, despite being essentially a short distance sprinter, and managing to consistently beat the rest of the entire team over long distance, most of whom were a decade or more younger than my thirty-two years of age, there was, nevertheless, one person who managed to beat me and come first every single time. It was Master Chen Bing, 20th generation descendant. Although he was five years younger, I was shocked to learn, after that first day, that he was running (and still competing in the pushing hands tournament) with a broken rib! He had sustained the injury a week before our arrival. When he lifted his shirt, the protruding deformed bone in his ribcage was evident! In my late teens, at my martial art class with my first teacher, I suffered torn cartilage in that area and my doctor advised me that the pain was equal to a broken rib, so I was very familiar with the pain caused from exertion and breathing too hard, or even worse, laughter! (That doctor told me to take six weeks off training, but by the next week I was back in class.) Chen Bing had not only persevered with the group training but pushed himself to win every single time! This demands incredible fortitude, and this is what is required to become a master. With this kind of character, it is impossible not to succeed at any endeavor in life one puts their mind to.
Skill, and internal work especially, should never stop developing, and only become deeper and more profound, especially for masters. Not all masters are at the same level. Some are simply further along the path than others. Those practitioners laboring under the delusion of The Dunning-Kruger Effect, in their minds, have already attained the apex of their skill, and like a self-fulfilling prophecy this becomes true. Once you reach what you consider “perfection” there is nothing left to strive for or improve upon, and from that very moment the skill becomes locked in the past, meaning year to year it never changes and will be the same twenty years from now as it is today. A true master is a full-time student, and never stops learning and evolving, and going deeper within. The deeper he goes within the more the skill reveals itself, and the more he ascends the mountain, the more he has to impart, and share with the world.
By Adam Wallace.