In a soulful exchange that bridged the gap between traditional lineage and modern practice, Sifu David Wei and I recently sat down to discuss the profound depths of Daoist internal arts. What began as a playful debate over who was interviewing whom quickly evolved into a masterclass on the Five Elements, the philosophy of Wudang Mountain, and a radical approach to health that prioritizes the “celebration of life” over the “fear of death.”
From the Battlefield to the Temple: David Wei’s Journey
David Wei’s path to the Wudang Mountains was not a typical academic pursuit. Having grown up in “dangerous conditions,” Wei spent his youth fighting. By the time he reached the age of 26, the external battle had lost its luster. “I first got into martial arts for fighting,” Wei reflects, “then it transitioned into healing, and then from healing I wanted to go for spirit.”
This spiritual hunger led him to Wudang Shan, a mountain range of 72 peaks in China, serving as the cultural heart of Daoism. While many westerners associate Wudang primarily with high-flying kung fu, Wei emphasizes that it is a “cultural hub” for everything from geomancy and divination to music and culinary arts.
Wei spent five years living at the temple, eventually becoming a 16th-generation lineage holder of the Xuan Wu (Sanfeng) sect. Interestingly, despite his athletic build, Wei gravitated toward life-nourishment aspect of the system rather than the purely martial branch. This shift in focus informs his current teaching philosophy: moving away from “fixing” the body and toward honoring it.
The Five Elements: A Mirror of Nature
A central theme of the conversation was the Five Elements (Wu Xing), which Wei describes not as an abstract theory, but as a “worldview” visible right outside one’s window—and in the mirror.
Wei’s unique explanation of the elements relies on a “landscape” visualization:
- Water: At the bottom (the lakes and oceans).
- Earth: The shore and the ground beneath our feet.
- Wood: The trees and brush growing from the earth.
- Metal/Air: The atmosphere and the ethereal space.
- Fire: The sun and stars in the sky.
“You are a micro of the macro of nature,” Wei explains. He maps these elements to the human body: the bladder as water (downward flow), the Dantian as earth (center of gravity), the liver as wood (flexibility and torque), the lungs as air/metal (respiration), and the consciousness as fire (light).
The Cycles of Creation and Control
The dialogue delved into the Nourishment (Sheng) and Controlling (Ke) cycles of the Five Elements. Wei clarified a common point of confusion regarding the “Metal” element. In the nourishment cycle, Metal creates Water. While this sounds counterintuitive, Wei points to two natural metaphors: a cold metal shovel gathering dew (condensation) and digging through earth with metal tools to find an aquifer.
In the controlling cycle, Wei highlights the constant “star of competition” within the body. A primary example is the tension between Wood (Liver) and Earth (Spleen/Stomach). In our modern culture of high stress and fast food, “Wood attacking Earth” is a prevalent issue. The remedy? Wei suggests a return to routine and self-care. “If you can’t make your own meals, your priorities are wrong in life,” he asserts.
Internal Alchemy: Pumping the Organs
For Wei, the physical movements of Tai Chi and Qigong are more than just choreography; they are a means of “pumping” the internal organs. By utilizing the ribs and torso to squeeze and stretch, a practitioner massages the liver, spleen, and kidneys.
“One way to think of the body is as a pump. The lungs, the heart, the stomach—they all function on empty and full. To nourish the organs, you pump them.”
This mechanical benefit, however, is secondary to the mental state. Wei notes that practicing out of a fear of being weak or a fear of aging is counterproductive. “Paradoxically, when I practice to fix something, there’s more things to fix. When we celebrate life, there is more life to celebrate.”
A Comparative Look at the Five Animal Frolics
One of the most engaging segments of the talk featured a comparison of the Five Animal Frolics (Wu Qin Xi), a classic Qigong set. While Violet Li teaches a version sanctioned by the Chinese Health Qigong Association, Wei teaches a “village inheritance” version.
| Animal | Li’s Element/Organ | Wei’s Element/Organ |
| Tiger | Wood / Liver | Metal / Lungs |
| Deer | Water / Kidney | Wood / Liver |
| Bear | Earth / Spleen & Stomach | Earth / Spleen & Stomach |
| Monkey | Fire / Heart | Water / Kidney |
| Crane | Metal / Lungs | Fire / Heart |
Despite the different elemental assignments, we both agreed on some mechanics: the Deer utilizes twisting to wring out the internal organs, and the Bear emphasizes a “drunken,” relaxed swaying to benefit digestion.
Tai Chi vs. Tai Chi Chuan
As the conversation turned toward Tai Chi, Wei made a poignant distinction between Tai Chi (the philosophy) and Tai Chi Chuan (the martial art/choreography). He believes that while learning forms is a necessary starting point, the ultimate goal is to internalize the principles until the practice becomes “formless.”
Wei shared a playful “finger-harmony” exercise to demonstrate the union of Yin and Yang—challenging the brain to coordinate different shapes with each hand. This, he argues, is the essence of Tai Chi: finding harmony between left and right, hard and soft, and heaven and earth.
Conclusion: Preparing for the Final Transition
The most profound moment of the interview came when Wei discussed his current focus: helping people prepare for death. While Qigong is often marketed as a way to live forever, Wei views it as a way to live completely. By removing the fear, resentment, and “maintenance-based” anxiety of modern health trends, he encourages his students to find contentment.
“Are you ready to die when death comes?” he asks. “Is there regret, or are you content and complete?” By practicing with “childlike wonder” and joyous play, Wei suggests that we don’t just improve our health—we inspire others to celebrate life, which is a form of immortality in itself.
As we wrapped up our tea-fueled session, we concluded whether practicing a traditional Chen style or a simplified Wudang flow, the true “Kung Fu” lies in the quality of the presence and the sincerity of the celebration of the healing art.