By Williy Pang
Of all the martial disciplines that exist today, if you chose to practice Chinese martial arts, in all likelihood it wasn’t just for the martial aspect of the art. As a matter of fact, while the martial may seem to be the obvious, it’s typically in conjunction with some other subtle yet undeniable reason why you gravitated toward Kung Fu (功夫).
It all seems to start with wanting to become the best version of ourselves through a continual effort to balance the romanticized with our reality. In other words, we aspire to, what we are inspired by. And, depending on your personality, your place in life, or your penchant to pursue the road not taken, there was something that you saw or heard about Kung Fu that led you to embark on your personal martial journey.
But how exactly did Kung Fu manage this?
Mirrors, Windows and Sliding Glass Doors
In 1990, Rudine Sims Bishop – Professor Emerita at Ohio State University, published an essay entitled, “Mirrors, Windows, and Sliding Glass Doors” elaborating on how children’s literature provides lenses through which kids see themselves, learn about the lives of others, and may connect to worlds outside of their own, respectively, through this medium. This was a groundbreaking concept regarding the need for diversity in children’s books that not only applies to the literary format, but in reality, any agent of storytelling.
Within most ancient civilizations like China, oral traditions and literary conventions were sources of storytelling that reflected the virtues and expectations of a relatively homogeneous populace. They were the vehicles of communal consistency and tools for personal transformation. The fabric of Chinese cultural norms was reinforced by Confucian ethics, Taoist concepts, and Buddhist practices that were seamlessly integrated and woven into stories. In wuxia fiction (literally martial chivalry; more popularly known as swordsmen stories 武俠) the protagonists typically subscribed to a civil and personal code of honor that elevated them to a heroic status even though they may not have been from a distinguished heritage. These stories were easily transferrable to the stage in the form of the Chinese opera (xiqu 戲曲) and cinematically by way of the Hong Kong film industry in the 20th century. In the manner of the Chinese opera, it was very much a mirror, catering to an audience in the likeness and ethnicity of the production. But in the global arena, Hong Kong martial arts movies became the most influential worldwide window into a foreign and fantastical world that offered up a universal acknowledgment of gallantry, hope, and a unique brand of onscreen action. And through that window, some saw that if they adjusted their focus at the right angle, they could see the image of themselves in the glass.
Whether it’s a mirror, window, or a sliding glass door, they are all opportunities – chances for us to see ourselves in relation to the world of the lives of others.
It becomes most interesting when you find yourself in the middle of all of those opportunities.
Once Upon a Time in San Francisco…
Around the same time that Professor Bishop’s piece was published, a teenager named Richard Ow had begun to secure a series of victories in national-level Chinese martial arts tournaments. Growing up in San Francisco balancing a bicultural landscape– his Chinese heritage and his American upbringing, the young martial enthusiast had always been more partial to the influences found in martial movies. While the wude (martial virtues 武德) found in the motion picture narratives mirrored many aspects of the virtuous parenting of his childhood, the martial folklore and traditions were windows into a world where the unfeasible could be achieved. In both respects, he saw the potential for himself to be unlocked through a pursuit in Kung Fu.
Today, Sifu Ow recollects, “In the beginning, I didn’t know the difference between the different kung fu styles and schools. All I knew was that I wanted to learn Kung Fu.” At eleven years old, he obviously needed some guidance and assistance in finding a training hall (mou gun 武館).
“It just so happened that a friend of my father was an old acquaintance of Sifu Lok Sang Lee (李樂生師父) of the Yau Kung Moon system (柔功門). He proposed to my father that he would introduce me to Sifu Lee. It took a little while for my father to agree, but he finally did. After further inquiry from my father, he realized that the co-founder of the organization – Sifu Bill Lee and senior advisor – Mr. Peter Lau, were old acquaintances of his from the Chinatown community. Another factor for my father's consent was that the location of The Lee's Association where Sifu Lee taught was only 2 blocks away from my father's bakery.”
In the succeeding decades, Sifu Ow trained hard and mindfully processed all that he had been taught in Yau Kung Moon. He found that aside from direct instruction, the system’s timely anecdotes always indirectly taught him how to conduct himself with others and provided subtle insights into the system.
This was one of those stories.
What Is the Meaning of This?
The gong sau (講手), or duel, is the most iconic example of testing one’s martial skill and strength in traditional Chinese martial culture. In nearly every version of Chinese martial arts there is at least one heroic tale of both inspirational and aspiring proportions stemming from these captivating chronicles.
The year was 1931, and the setting was a China that was ravaged by a series of severe floods in its central and eastern regions while foreign antagonists began to experience defiance and pushback from formidable Chinese fighters experienced in martial combat. The system’s patriarch Ha Hon Hong (夏漢雄) was a highly skilled yet humble martial artist who happened to capture the attention of a Russian challenger intent on building a reputation based upon the body count of his defeated opponents. Upon their meeting, the Russian fighter immediately mocked and challenged Master Ha who initially declined the provocative invitation due to his inherent sense of humility. However, it was quite clear that this cultural and martial virtue had been mistaken for weakness and Master Ha needed to tactfully correct this situation. The chair that Master Ha had been sitting on was crafted of a solid and sturdy hardwood. This was very apparent. Then, with one sudden and unforeseen jolt of force, Master Ha rose from the chair only to have it fall apart into several pieces beneath him. The Russian fighter stared at the wreckage. And whether it was wonderment, confusion, fear, or a moment lost in translation, the challenger turned… and left.
This act left Master Ha essentially the winner by default. But it was not merely Master Ha’s witty and cunning response that disarmed the challenge. It was the unusual expression of a martial force used to destroy the chair that was both powerful and puzzling enough to abort the match.
But just exactly what type of pugilistic puissance was used by Master Ha?
The Endless Path
It would be revealed that there are multiple platforms of martial power in Yau Kung Moon as conveyed through one of the system’s key forms, Yin Ching: The Young Swallow routine (燕青). In fact, it was this very routine that Sifu Ow would demonstrate to capture international tournament gold during his competitive years – which are stories in and of themselves.
Each individual’s experience with Kung Fu whether for a brief moment or a lasting lifetime is an opportunity to forge the stories that eventually define who we are or who we desire to be – the best rendering of ourselves.
Author:
Sifu Richard Ow can be reached at richardowkungfu@gmail.com and (415) 819-6691.
Williy Pang is a regular contributor to Kung Fu Tai Chi Magazine. He is the author of Pak Mei Kung Fu: Martial Concepts and Training Methods, and Southern Style Staff. He, along with his martial brother Peter Pena, co-founded The New York Pak Mei Kung Fu Association in 2005.
This is the online companion piece to “Yau Kung Moon: The Way of a Traditional Virtuoso” by Williy Pang, the cover story in the Spring 2026 edition of Kung Fu Tai Chi Magazine.
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