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Some Reminiscences on 15 Years of Discipleship
by Ray Hayward

(This article originally appeared in Wudang, Vol. 11, No. 2, 2004.)

From Webster’s Dictionary:
disciple – a pupil, follower or adherent of any teacher or school of religion, learning, art, etc.
lineage – 1. descent in a line from an ancestor, 2. ancestry, family

November 11, 2003 marked the 15th anniversary of my discipleship ceremony during which I became a formal student of Master T.T Liang and a lineage holder of Yang style T’ai-Chi Ch’uan. I’d like to share some of my experiences in this article.

In Boston, Master Liang gave us six months notice to finish whatever we were working on because he was “retiring” and moving to Minnesota. I had most of Master Liang’s system and I could learn the few remaining forms from my classmates, but there was something I desperately wanted; discipleship.

I can’t tell you how many times Master Liang would be talking about someone and he would make the distinction by saying the person was a “disciple” or a “formal student”, or he would say the person was “only a student”. I asked him what was the difference between a disciple and a student? He told me the old Masters would only teach the highest levels, the secrets, to their disciples and family members. He also said only a disciple formerly inherited the system.

One difference between the Chinese and Westerners is that the Chinese value the lineage over any individual. They don’t care how advanced you are, they judge the sum total of the master and teachers of a particular school. In the West we tend to value the individual and their accomplishments. Master Liang cautioned us many times to “never forget your roots, don’t forget your ancestors who passed this art on to you.”

At the end of a class night, Master Liang would pack up his things and leave us to practice and lock-up while he went across the street to his apartment. I always carried his bag and belongings and walked him the half-block home and waited while he unlocked the front door to his building. One night I couldn’t take it any longer and I blurted out, “Master Liang, please take me as your disciple!” He looked at me for a moment, then said quietly, “No.” I asked him, “Is there more I need to learn? Is there anything I can do to prove my sincerity?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said. “You have to understand, I don’t take disciples because I want all my students to be equal with me. In the Master-disciple relationship, the Master is the boss, the superior. I did that in the Customs Service.” Being a foolish, impatient, young man I didn’t really listen to him. “What about all the secrets? I need to learn them,” I said. “I taught that all freely,” he said. I left, dejected.

Seven years later, a similar scene transpired. Master Liang told us he had put his home in St. Cloud up for sale and was moving to Tampa to retire! Because we believed him this time, the Studio organized a farewell demonstration for Master Liang. Me, my classmates and an assortment of students put on a two and a half hour demo showing Master Liang his complete system, including Praying Mantis and Ch’in-na. At the conclusion of the demo we were told that Master Liang’s house had been sold and he would be moving in a month!

At this time, Paul Abdella and I were the last students who regularly drove to St. Cloud for a weekly private class. My time slot Friday night was the last class Master Liang would be teaching, seeing as he was packing and flying out the next week. Paul and I made the one-hour drive and the class started as all the others had, with the Solo Form. This time though, instead of watching and correcting, Master Liang got up and did the round with us. We then went on to do a few more forms, and then Liang asked, “What’s next?” “Sir, we want to be your disciples,” I said. “No,” he said. “No need.” “Really, Sir, that’s what we want,” I said. “All right,” Master Liang answered, and proceeded to go upstairs to the kitchen.

We packed up our stuff and went upstairs. Master Liang said, “You must have a witness.” He called one of his daughter’s friends, Amy Rosko, who lived a few blocks away, to come over. Amy stood to the side as Master Liang sat in a chair to receive our Kow Tow (kow-9, tow-head). Nine times Paul and I prostrated ourselves before Master Liang, our heads touching the floor in front of him. The first six bows Master Liang accepted, during the last three he returned the bows. “You must pay the witness,” Master Liang said. I tried to give Amy some money, but she said she didn’t do anything to deserve it. I ended up hiding the money in her coat. It was done.

A few days later I called Master Liang in St. Cloud and said, “How are you, Sir?” He answered, “How should you address me now that you’re my disciple?” I said, “I don’t know what’s proper.” He said, “You should call me Shih-fu, but it’s all right if you still call me Sir.”

Three months later Paul and I were in Tampa visiting Master Liang at his new home. His son, Joseph met us and told us his father was happy he had made us disciples. “My father is proud of you two,” Joseph told us. At the end of a great visit, Master Liang said to us, “You two are the only ones I ever gave a (discipleship) calligraphy to. I never expected to have disciples. I am happy I gave these to you two—a good choice.”

So what about the secrets? Master Liang had taught all the secrets, in the regular classes. In the old days, you became a disciple, then you received the “good stuff”. In my experience, I received the good stuff, then I became a disciple.

Thank you, Sir.

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