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I once read that when approaching eastern philosophy we need to let go of our western mindset. In western culture we tend to view things through the lens of right and wrong, yes and no, black and white. Eastern culture looks at the world differently, taking a more practical and fluid approach. A single question can lead to many answers depending on the angle you view it from, almost like looking at a lenticular image. Instead of black and white, eastern philosophy works in shades of gray.

This way of thinking is woven throughout many eastern arts, and Wing Tsun is no exception.

The more time I spend with the system, the more this way of seeing things fascinates me.

Sometimes it becomes an obsession in the best possible way.

At a recent London seminar, Si Kung Maday Norbert said something that stayed with me:

“It is our job as masters to decode meaning from the messages the ancestors have given us.”

Hearing that felt grounding. It gave shape to a feeling I’ve had for years. Anyone who trains long enough knows that itch you get in your mind. The quiet questions that appear and refuse to leave: why was this structured this way? what if x is because of y? does this mean that…?

Maybe that constant curiosity is itself one interpretation of “the little idea”. Something small that begins as a whisper and slowly grows into something larger and more meaningful.

Take the Siu Nim Tau, for example. At first glance it seems like any other martial arts form. A sequence of movements demonstrating the offensive and defensive techniques you’ll learn as you begin Wing Tsun. On the surface, it looks no different from a Karate Kata or a Tae Kwon Do Hyeong.

But the longer you study it, the more you start to notice things that aren’t obvious at first glance.

Over 300 years ago, without modern tools or scientific frameworks, the ancestors structured the Siu Nim Tau in a way that fits together with astonishing precision. Like a beam of light shining through a prism, the form disperses into layers. These layers don’t require you to change the form itself. You perform the same movements, yet depending on how you look, different meanings appear.

We all know the most immediate layer:

The Siu Nim Tau teaches a set of offensive and defensive motions and techniques.

But when you shift your perspective slightly, another layer comes into view:

The Siu Nim Tau teaches us how our limbs should move. Forwards and backwards, up and down, rotating and withdrawing…

Think of how often we repeat Hau Jarn throughout the form. It isn’t only a back elbow strike. It shows how to pull the arm back, how to guide the elbow, how the joints move together. A simple movement becomes a lesson in structure and coordination.

If you step back again and look from a different angle, a more abstract layer appears:

The Siu Nim Tau teaches the limits of our movements by drawing boundaries.

Even the opening movements, the Gowcha Tan Sau and Gowcha Garn Sau, outline the center and lower boundaries. The Gum Sau movements shape the side, rear and front boundaries. Each motion traces invisible lines around the body; as Si-Kung Maday Norbert explained to us, like “brushstrokes in calligraphy”.

And if we shift our perspective in a completely different direction, another layer reveals itself:

The Siu Nim Tau prepares the body for the later stages of Wing Tsun.

This is something I often explain to my students. Look at the one constant throughout the entire form: the stance. Standing in Yee Gee Kim Yeun Ma strengthens the legs so that, later on, you’re ready for the stepping, turning and kicking of Chum Kiu.

Every part of the form shapes the body.

Every Huen Sau stretches the tendons and builds wrist flexibility.

Every Hau Jarn opens the chest and frees the shoulders.

Nearly every movement contains a small piece of physical preparation for something that comes later.

How could someone hope to execute a Po Pai further down the line without first developing the wrist strength and mobility hidden inside the Siu Nim Tau?

When you take a step back and look at it all together, it’s amazing how much is contained in the first form alone. And this is only scratching the surface of what the ancestors passed down.

So I’d like to ask you a question:

What other layers do you see? What interpretations appear from your own experience and position?

If you train with Wing Tsun London, I’d love to hear your thoughts in class.

This expansion of a little idea into so much more is something I find deeply interesting, albeit somewhat maddening, but incredibly rewarding! I’m glad to share even just a tiny slice of that with you in the hopes that you too will be driven to decode these hidden messages and find layers of meaning in this perfect art we share.