1. How would you define your personal practice?
My practice is a kind of mindful juggling. Sometimes it is deep and reflective, other times it is simply movement for its own sake. I train to become familiar with technique, skill, and how my body responds. When I am more focused, I shift between different lenses—checking my breath, my alignment, my intention. It is a constant loop of noticing and adjusting.
I work within the framework of a traditional martial artist. Tradition, to me, means drawing from systems that have lasted. Chinese martial arts are full of rules, principles, and theory. The martial side is direct: it is about combat, about protecting something, with a clear outcome of success or failure. Art is different. It is expressive, playful, and subjective. It is about what feels beautiful or meaningful, even if it does not land the same way for someone else.
Internal martial arts speak of unifying body, mind, and spirit. That shows up as intention, shape, and energy. But I do not see myself as stuck in the past. I like to mix things, learn from other disciplines, and see what happens when they collide. I take a kind of renaissance approach: questioning tradition, poking at it, remixing it. I want to find my own sense of what is beautiful, what is effective, and what is worth keeping.
2. What turning points have you encountered on your movement journey?
The biggest turning point was meeting my personal trainer at work by chance. I had avoided gyms, believing that bulking up would damage the softness and nimbleness of Kung Fu and Taichi. Over time, I realised there is a difference between weighted and non-weighted training. Using equipment can be like wielding heavy weapons. Building the body has its own science, requiring time and effort just like Kung Fu.
I also came to see that Taichi and traditional martial arts, if applied in combat, needs a strong and resilient body. Forms alone are not enough. This challenged the common misconception that Taichi is only for the elderly or frail, and that muscular people cannot also be soft and gentle. Since then, I have worked to break these stereotypes and show that strength and softness can coexist through own personal training and movement journey.
3. What role has injury played in cultivating your current niche?
My injuries have not been physical, but mental. Periods of stress and imbalance have shaped my approach to movement and training. At first, I turned to mindfulness as a way to steady myself, and that slowly led me toward mindful movement practices like Baguazhang and Taichi Quan.
These practices became more than training. They helped me build resilience, sharpen sensitivity, and listen to both the outside world and my inner state. What began as a way to cope with difficulty has become the foundation of my niche. Also, I just find that I like to move more than sit. I enjoy observing tactile sensations in the body and mind rather than thoughts bubble and scatter.
4. Do you consider yourself a teacher? Why or why not?
I see myself more as a coach than a teacher. I have never been good with exams, fixed curriculums, or memorising facts, but I have always enjoyed learning principles and applying them in real situations. As a coach, I like to share ideas on how to improve the quality of movement, while encouraging students to discover their own strengths and style. I want them to define their own sense of beauty in practice, whether martial, artistic, or classical.
At the same time, I believe in sharing the guidelines passed down through tradition. The old adage applies: you need to know the rules before you can break them. Innovation and originality still need to come from an origin. In Kung Fu, I think of myself less as a teacher and more as a senior brother. My role is to guide, to share, and to help others play with ideas rather than hand down rigid answers.
5. What has been your experience with physical education, both from formal schooling and from knowledge you’ve picked up elsewhere?
Growing up in the UK, physical education in school felt more like play than real training. I was never good at ball games like football, rugby, tennis, or cricket. But outside of school, I had early influences that stayed with me. One of my babysitters had sons who performed the lion dance every Chinese New Year, and watching them left a strong impression. My grandmother also practised Taichi in the parks when she visited, which gave me a quiet longing to explore traditional martial arts more authentically.
As a teenager, I finally had the chance to begin formal training. I found a local school and committed myself to regular practice for several years. Later, in 2017, when I came to Hong Kong, I met my current masters, which deepened my journey even further.
Alongside martial arts, I also studied modern approaches to movement. I completed NASM personal training courses and became a Level 2 Animal Flow coach. I believe that transferable skills (physical literacy) definitely improve the quality of movement, no matter how close or far they seem from traditional martial practice.
6. How do you involve your mind/emotions into your physical routines?
At the highest level of traditional martial arts, forms and techniques are not just movements but expressions of feeling and concept. I see it like music. A piece by Bach or Beethoven may be written the same way on paper, yet each musician brings their own interpretation and emotion, so it feels different every time it is played.
In the same way, I train to become deeply familiar with the basics so that I can eventually interpret them, not just repeat them. I am still on that journey, and I know it is easier said than done. But that is the beauty of all traditional martial arts, rooted in culture. They are not only about whether a technique is effective in the ring or on the street. They are about how it is expressed, how it carries intention, and how it connects mind, body, and emotion.
Each form is a living time capsule, a reflection of the society in which it was created. The design of movements and sequences preserves not only combat knowledge but also the values, aesthetics, and philosophies of the people who shaped them.
7. What are your personal aspirations regarding movement?
I want to help reinvigorate the image of traditional Taichi and Kung Fu. Too often, people only discover these arts later in life, when they already carry the stereotype of being slow or reserved for the silver-haired. My aspiration is to show that they are living intangible cultural traditions: powerful, creative, and relevant for all ages.
If we can find innovative ways to reframe how people see these movements, forms, and skills, then more will be drawn to them earlier in life. For me, the goal is not only to preserve tradition but to breathe new life into it, so that Taichi and Kung Fu can inspire strength, artistry, and balance for a new generation.
At the same time, I want to keep expanding my own horizons. I hope to study more traditional martial arts from around the world and explore novel ways of moving—even circus acrobatics. For me, every discipline holds lessons that can enrich the body, sharpen awareness, and deepen the art of movement. Also, it’s just fun to move in new ways.
8. How can people find/contact you? Do you have a site or social media handle to share?
Find me at Instagram.com/always.a.ray or at www.kungfuquest.com