Why is Tai Chi so slow?
Episode four: why the West is only now discovering Tai Chi, where the name Shan comes from, and why slown…
SHAN— CLUB —SHAN— CLUB —Tai Chi Library
Compiled from the conversations of Esat Ataç and Duygu Sancaklı Dandin: where three circles meet, the cooperation of opposites, 100–1,000–10,000 repetitions, from gasping to breathing, the Wudang road and more — in drawings.
Esat Ataç and Duygu Sancaklı Dandin explain
01
“You can't explain Tai Chi in one sentence.” Esat Ataç draws three circles: martial art, meditation, preventive medicine. Tai Chi is where they meet.
One face is meditation in motion; the main difference from Qigong is that it lifts seated meditation to its feet and sets it moving. This is the face the world knows best.
One face is the preventive-medicine system of traditional Chinese medicine; it works through the meridians and is taught today in Chinese medical schools.
One face is the highly sophisticated movement of Kung Fu: every movement is both a health exercise and a defensive application. Yet it is an auxiliary martial art, not a primary one — “not for fighting in the street, but for calming down in the 21st century.”
Tàijí and Tàijíquán are not the same: quán means fist; Tàijíquán is “the ultimate fist of harmony”, one of the softest styles of Kung Fu. And that harmony must be visible from outside: Tai Chi should please the one who does it and the one who watches.
“One side martial art, one side meditation, one side health — Tai Chi is where the three circles meet. What I loved most was the harmony of body, mind and breath; that is what drew me in.”
Duygu Sancaklı Dandin02
“Everything is the art of finding harmony between opposites. We call the cooperation of opposites Tai Chi.”
We inhale, we exhale: opposites, yet they work together for the unity of the body. Arteries push blood out, veins draw it back: both are vessels, moving in opposite directions, for the whole.
When opposites clash they lose power; when they join, power rises to another level. Moving slowly we feel as if in water — light and heavy at once. Carrying two opposites at the same time is Tai Chi itself.
The view carries into life: speed and stillness, full and empty, action and observation. Tai Chi teaches you to stand between them without letting go of either.
03
“At our natural rhythm a movement ends within a nanosecond; the mind never engages.”
Raise your arm in an instant; now raise it over five minutes. In five minutes the mind's effort — your awareness — grows. Observation turns inward and outward: you control the breath and see what each joint is doing — did the hip turn, did the shoulder move forward?
We get used to moving at a set rhythm; Tai Chi breaks it. Somewhere between stillness and the body's normal pace, heavy and slow. This slowness develops reflexes and strengthens body memory.
Slowness also teaches reading: what is speed, what is haste; where the other person is rushed, tense or light. “There is no such thing as time; there is speed, and time is its parameter.”
Slow practice is the shared foundation of all internal arts (nèigōng): Tai Chi, sword, Bagua, Xingyi.
“The sport pushed on us is all speed: running, cycling, HIIT. When someone as energetic as me started sharing Tai Chi, everyone asked “don't you get bored?”. Then I went in and found another world.”
Duygu Sancaklı Dandin04
“At a hundred repetitions you understand, at a thousand you perfect, at ten thousand you make it natural.”
Do a movement once and it is a footpath. A hundred times and it becomes a road. Ten thousand times and it is a highway — you no longer think. You don't tell your feet “step right, step left” when walking; this is the wisdom of the body.
In China, ten thousand stands for infinity. So we keep practising; there is no stopping. Yet Tai Chi is also learning to stop — to stop with patience.
It is a process, not a result. Give it 15–20 minutes a day — a habit like brushing your teeth or eating — and you will see the transformation in your life.
“It isn't about doing it once and expecting a miracle; the more you go in, the more you take. When mind, body and breath come together it becomes a need — like eating, like brushing your teeth.”
Duygu Sancaklı Dandin05
“First you try to do it beautifully but you burn inside — it is hell. Then you do it easily. Finally you do it lightly.”
Doing it lightly means the movement has settled into you: finding rhythm within ease and becoming light. Some arrive in two years; some never in a hundred.
With sustained practice you see your body change within three or four months. Those who follow a six-month or one-year programme are ready for the next step.
Levels live inside the same movement: everyone does the same Tai Chi; depending on age and energy one is told “go high”, another “go low”. What matters is the lightness in what you do — Tai Chi reveals how graceful you are; there is no torment in it.
A teacher is made by the student. And being a student never ends: “Do you drink from the flowing river or the still lake? When you accept being a student, knowledge comes.”
“The question everyone asks me: what should we feel after Tai Chi? The answer: one session is no miracle; but when both action and observation are yours, even your first class can hold you in a trance for ninety minutes. That is how I began.”
Duygu Sancaklı Dandin06
“The chin lifts, the diaphragm tightens, air stays in the chest: that is gasping, not breathing.”
Tuck the chin; take the breath down to the dantian — the belly. Pressure builds low, the body does not collapse, and uprightness comes naturally. People who practise Tai Chi and Qigong are aware of their diaphragm.
With correct breathing the pulse drops; you oxygenate and enliven the blood. Better oxygen supports haemoglobin and, in turn, immunity. As the pulse drops, the brain works better.
One meaning of Qi is breath. Qigong: qì is vital energy, gōng is repetition. Qigong gathers energy; Tai Chi spreads and circulates it. Without Qigong there is no Tai Chi — it is the foundation.
07
Physically: strength, flexibility and balance; mentally: meditation through concentration.
With sustained practice you first grow stronger; second you gain flexibility; third comes balance. The three are trained together — none holds without the others.
You are the mover and you are the observer: action and observation happen at once, inward and outward. What should the mind be doing? Simply watching, attentive and concentrated. When you manage that, concentration becomes meditation.
The sequence of movement balances the right and left hemispheres of the brain; both sides work together.
“You are the mover and the observer — action and observation at once. In city life, especially in 2026, we forgot how to stop; Tai Chi is a chain of movement that reminds us to notice the body and to stop.”
Duygu Sancaklı Dandin08
“Tai Chi is a preventive-medicine system. Go to the doctor before you are ill.”
In Esat Ataç's words — noting he is not a physician: practice changes body chemistry; adrenal activity shifts, cortisol falls, serotonin and endorphins rise, the pulse drops. Universities worldwide now study this.
A movement chain refined over centuries puts the body into its proper form: it supports the spine, helps prevent and correct deformations such as lordosis and scoliosis. With age the spine curves into a “C”, joint fluid decreases, collapse begins — Tai Chi carries the potential to stand upright for life.
“Don't ask me, ask my students”: everyone who has practised for years has benefited in some way — health, psychology, mental resilience. Masters walking tall at 90 or 100 in Wudang are living proof.
09
“Whatever your age — if in old age you are still on your feet and know what you are saying, that is when you see the benefit of Tai Chi.”
Children get bored; they need harder Kung Fu, running, spending their energy — they cannot hold a posture for 20 minutes. Internal work (nèigōng) asks for patience and endurance.
The twenties work; in the thirties one can turn inward more. Recommended for anyone who can look inside. The reverse is also true: if you are hyperactive, carrying the disease of an age that changes every ten seconds, Tai Chi teaches you to stop.
Quality of life is not only economics; most of it is health. Can you walk without depending on anyone? At fifty or sixty, the difference between those who practise and those who don't is clear. “In China a 90-year-old was flying through the air; I said, that's who I'll be.”
“This suits many age groups; you don't need a serious sports background to progress. If we help even one person in Türkiye, that is enough.”
Duygu Sancaklı Dandin10
“Where is legend, where is history? All the philosophical and mythological ground comes from Wudang.”
Legend: Wudang is the mountain where Zhang Sanfeng designed Tai Chi, thought to be the 13th–14th century. History: the first recorded forms in the 16th century in Chen village at the foot of Wudang. From Chen came Yang (the most widespread), Wu, Hao and Sun. In Wudang, Tai Chi always lived inside the Kung Fu curriculum.
Kung Fu has two ideas: wài (external) and nèi (internal). Wudang is the centre of internal Kung Fu; Bagua and Xingyi belong to the same family. Beside the family styles stand the authentic temple schools; Sanfeng Pai, to which WDP belongs — “the mysterious warrior” — takes its name from water: unknowable, unpredictable.
Until the Cultural Revolution this work was closed: only priestly classes and families could practise. The revolution scattered temples and masters; yet the Chinese state adopted Qigong and Tai Chi into a national programme as preventive medicine. The diaspora carried the art to America and Europe; as China opened, the world could travel to Wudang.
Today it is UNESCO world heritage. “The English may have invented football, but Brazilians play it better” — Tai Chi does not belong to China alone; whoever practises, wherever they are from, succeeds.
11
In 2011 Esat Ataç trained for three months in the Wudang Mountains. “Acceptance — that is the most important thing.”
He left corporate life in 1999; the same year “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” showed him Wudang and internal Kung Fu for the first time. “Everyone says ‘I started Tai Chi, then turned to Wudang’; for me it was the reverse: Wudang started me on Tai Chi.” His first teacher was American; no YouTube, no internet; what he learned in class he repeated endlessly at home. He began teaching in 2001.
In 2011 he joined the founding of the Türkiye Tai Chi Teachers' Union; at İsmet Hoca's seminar he met Wudang Principles (WDP) and went to Wudang the same year. A military-style curriculum in the temple grounds, starting at five or six in the morning and stretching into the night. He was forty-five, in the same class as twenty-five-year-old European champions. There were moments he turned back at the door; “transformation and learning are painful” — today he remembers those days fondly.
On his return he founded WDP Istanbul. Every week except during the pandemic — in snow, mud and winter — they practised. Today a community of 180–190 people and eight to ten trained teachers; beginner, intermediate and advanced forms, sword and Bagua. “We compete with no one, but we put ourselves out there.” İsmet Hoca's words still ring: “Never compete for second place.”
12
“Doing the form matters; doing it lightly matters. But a form also has a quality: you must honour it.”
Form names are stories: “Dragon diving into water”, “Waves hitting the shore”. Beyond doing a form perfectly, you must pour that feeling into it — become the wave and break on the shore. This is where the art lies, and what links Tai Chi to theatre and dance. Among Esat Ataç's students are actors performing in New York and on Broadway.
The WDP curriculum is layered: the 36-posture Tai Chi must be done “with the weight of a battery”; the 48-posture form like a shadow; then 64, 72 and the sword forms. “There is as much as you want to take.” The road has no end; masters remain students.
The Tai Chi we practise is “old school”: from Wudang's closed tradition, carrying form and content together. A group form done in one rhythm is a choreography that delights the watcher too.
13
“In my first class I was in a trance for an hour and a half. When it ended I said, ‘Hocam, can we have a coffee?’ We never parted after that.”
Marketing consultant; founder of Lys Flowers & Events, HeyDudes Move and the Gerçekten Aramızda channel. She grew up in a sporting family; her father a former footballer, her life shaped by discipline. “There's no sport I haven't tried,” she says. After a year of yoga, looking for something new as someone who loves to learn, she met Esat Ataç. She came to the first class knowing neither Tai Chi nor the teacher.
Shan Club was born from one question: “Why don't we turn this into a club?” — a regular place to slow down, covering Tai Chi, Qigong and sword. The name was chosen with Esat Ataç: mountain, journey, summit.
In one year she learned a great deal, practically and in theory; in the YouTube series she asks the questions and opens every session. What she wants most now is to pass on what she has learned: “A teacher is made by the student — I choose to remain a student; knowledge comes when you accept that.”
With Esat Ataç she visited the Wushu Federation and argues that Türkiye's athletes deserve more visibility. She always returns to one line: “If we help even one person, that is enough.”
14
“Here is the secret: do it with love. Then you succeed.”
The same fixed programme runs in three-month blocks; then levels separate by progress. Beginners work with one teacher, intermediates with another, sword and advanced separately; sometimes mixed. Everyone knows their own form, so everyone knows what to do.
In martial arts a school is considered successful if thirty percent of newcomers stay; here more stay — because people are bound to each other: where one stalls, another lifts morale. On the day you don't want to go alone, the friend you go with takes you.
When learning something, take in what surrounds it: the culture, the art, the philosophy. Deepen rather than skim — not “two astrologies, one yoga and this”; each asks for years. Esat Ataç began in 1999 and is still learning.
Starting at Shan Club: Tuesdays 09:00–10:00 at The Grand Tarabya; special sessions across Istanbul. Comfortable clothes, socks; no experience needed.
“The most common question: “I'm a beginner, can I keep up?” The Tai Chi we all do is the same; only the level of the forms rises. On social media you see our most polished side, but in class everyone moves at their own pace.”
Duygu Sancaklı DandinThis library is compiled from the YouTube conversations of Esat Ataç and Duygu Sancaklı Dandin; it grows with every new episode.
Crown lifted, chin slightly in; the spine lengthens.
Ribcage releases, back rounds slightly; breath drops to the belly.
The waist is the axis between upper and lower body.
Weight is always in one leg; the other is light.
Tension gathers in the shoulders; let it go.
Attention leads the movement, not force.
Hands, waist and feet move together.
Breath, mind and movement as one flow.
One movement begins before the last ends.
The body moves; the mind stays quiet.
Expansive, springy outward energy; the structure beneath every movement.
Leading incoming force sideways and back into emptiness.
Two hands joining to press outward from the centre.
A rooted push where weight flows down into the ground and forward.
A short, sharp pull down and aside.
Two forces opening in opposite directions.
Power expressed through the elbow at close range.
The closest range: the whole body meeting through the shoulder.
Shan Club sessions follow Esat Ataç's Wudang Principles (WDP) curriculum: qigong warm-ups, then layered forms — the 36-posture Tai Chi (“with the weight of a battery”), the 48 (“like a shadow”), the 64 and 72, sword (jiàn) and Bagua. Movement names, sequences and pose drawings for these forms are being added to this section with Esat Ataç's approval.
Note: there are close to ten different styles of Qigong; which ones are in the programme will be confirmed the same way.
The names below are given for general reference from the widely known Yang-style forms; they are not the series of the Shan Club programme.
A continuous flow turning from the waist, hands drifting like clouds. Frees spine and hips.
The four core energies — ward off, roll back, press, push — in one sequence. The spine of the forms.
One hand hooked, the other open; the body opens like a bow. Balance and length through the torso.
One arm up, one down; weight on a single leg. Lightness and vertical balance.
One hand brushes the knee, the other pushes forward; step and turn together. Rooting while walking.
Arms open like scissors as weight flows forward. Hip-shoulder coordination.
The one movement that opens with a step back. Balance while retreating.
An elegant sequence turning to four corners, guarding and pushing. Staying centred while changing direction.
The oldest family style; explosive releases (fā jìn) within soft spirals.
The most widespread; wide, even, soft movements. The 24- and 108-posture forms come from here.
Compact stances, slight forward lean; Esat Ataç's first decade was in this style.
High stances and follow steps; influences from Xingyi and Bagua.
The Taoist temple tradition; breath and internal work (nèigōng), sword (jiàn) and long forms. Shan Club's source.
Growth and flexibility; spring, morning, beginnings.
Vitality and opening; summer, heart, expression.
Centre and balance; the turning of seasons, root.
Gathering and clarity; autumn, breath.
Flow and depth; winter, rest.
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