On Oct. 29, 2000, three men used chi gung and their penises to pull a flatbed delivery truck across part of a Taipei parking lot. Their success prompted their teacher and mentor, Tu Chin-sheng (涂金盛), to dream up an even grander plan -- using 20 men to tow a 180-tonne Boeing 747.
Tu hoped to accomplish the feat with the blessing and sponsorship of the Guiness Book of World Records. "We will be the first," he said. "We will create the record." But why?
"The first reason is to let people know that there is this kind of Chinese kung fu," he said. "And second, I want to let the students show what they've learned." The pulling and technique, which is practiced by hanging heavy weights from the male genitals, is technically known as yin diao gung (陰吊功, literally translating as something like "genitals hanging kung fu"), or diao gung (吊功) for short. Tu claims that it is in fact an ancient art, its roots tracing back to China's legendary Shaolin Temple (少林寺).
Tu's own practice of diao gung, however, represents a fusion of Shaolin kung fu and a most singular strain of esoteric Taoism. Tu said he learned the method in Taipei about 25 years ago from Wu Zhen (悟真), a Taoist monk who'd come to Taiwan from Mt Omei (峨嵋山) in Sichuan Province. According to Wu's teachings, diao gung is only the fifth stage in a nine-fold path to enlightenment, with five of the first six stages involving contortion of the penis or testicles.
From this nine step cycle, Tu has taken the name for his dojo, Chiu Chiu Shen Gung (九九神功, literally "nine nine mysterious kung fu"). Of the nine rungs on the method's mystical ladder, however, Tu's chosen diao gung is not necessarily the most curious. The sixth stage, for example, involves drawing water back through the urinary tract and into the bladder by use of a drinking straw. Citing the danger of infection, Tu never learned the technique and refuses to teach it, saying only, "I know that it is done in India."
In comparison to such fantastical athleticism, Chiu Chiu Shen Gung's steps seven through nine seem almost banal. Stage seven involves the channeling of chi (氣), often translated as "energy" or "breath," throughout the body. Stage eight is meditation, and stage nine enlightenment. Claiming no grandeur, Tu says his abilities stop at stage seven, and that he will only teach up through stage five -- diao gung, the technique that has become his hallmark.
As a person, Tu is nearly as enigmatic as the chi gung he practices. He was born 46 years ago in Chiayi, the sixth of seven sons of a kung fu master, all of whom now teach traditional Chinese martial arts. Tu learned tai chi and chi gung from a master who died at 103 and painting and calligraphy from a master who is now 105.
His sartorial tastes run somewhere between Bruce Lee and a Venice Beach body builder -- cross-laced arm bands, weight belts, mesh camouflage muscle shirts, balloon pants and monastery slippers. He is soft spoken, unassuming, and will pause in the street to let other pedestrians pass. He has built muscles like mountains not by lifting weights, but by dragging 100kg logs through beach sand. He is a certified acupuncturist.
He also loves to perform. And he has been doing it for a long time. Under his father's tutelage, his martial arts performances began in his early teens. In 1975, he was Taiwan's champion in guo shu (國術), the nationally recognized form of competitive martial arts. He later went on to serve as a coach for the team as well as a Taiwan representative to numerous international martial arts competitions and exhibitions. His reputation steadily grew. On occasion, in front of local TV cameras or in front of international audiences, he would break 10 blocks of ice with a single fist or a wooden board with a single finger. Has he ever broken his hand? "Yes, a couple times." He's also pretty honest.
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