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[Extreme Communication] Storm GrowthAuthor: JEFFI CHAO HUI WU Time: August 10, 2025, Sunday, 3:30 AM ········································ [Extreme Communication] Storm Growth I often use a type of bamboo to describe my life. This bamboo, for the first four years of its life, shows almost no growth, fully dedicating itself to establishing its root system underground. Once it breaks through the soil, it can shoot up to the sky at a speed of fifteen to thirty centimeters a day. People call this speed explosive growth. I call it—the inevitability of thirty years of day and night laying roots, culminating in a single morning of breaking through the soil. I have been laying roots for thirty years. Each of my articles is a bamboo root, and each bamboo root may extend into countless bamboo joints. My root system stretches from literature to martial arts, from martial arts to philosophy, from philosophy to technology and communication, and then intertwines with photography, health preservation, and music, forming a vast and invisible underground network. These roots exchange nutrients across different fields, supporting and expanding each other. What others see is the large number of works I suddenly produced, the vast array of original articles I generated in a short time across dozens of fields, the irreplaceable extreme photos I captured, and the complete dimensional system I constructed. But what they cannot see is that I have long been silently building structures underground, with each fine root precisely penetrating the soil, connecting all my experiences and thoughts. Stormy growth is not a miracle of speed, but a result of structure. Just like in my work, I do not rely on time—because time is meant for paths, and I do not walk a path. I have learned structural balance in martial arts and use it to write; I have learned moment capturing in photography and use it for system design; I have learned efficient computation in logistics systems and use it to reconstruct my thinking framework. These are all interconnected, different branches of the same root. Many people think that cross-disciplinary work means distraction, but I know it is about the interconnection of roots. My martial arts practice generates a sense of structure for writing during training; my writing embeds the logic of communication within the text; my communication experiments absorb the precision of technology during execution; my technological practices validate the dimensional hypotheses of philosophy during deduction. Each root nourishes the others, and any breakthrough in one field will cause the entire network to grow simultaneously. The moment bamboo breaks through the soil is not a coincidence, but the inevitable result of accumulation. The record of 566,000 online visitors I set on the forum was not due to a sudden highlight one day, but rather the result of twenty years of writing, structure, and systems that had long been lurking deep in the soil, waiting for the right sunlight. My extreme photography works are not moments captured by chance, but the result of decades of light and shadow observation and structural calculation. My ability to stand in the martial arts in a single-leg stance for forty minutes is not a matter of willpower, but the inevitable continuation of structural relaxation. The key to storm growth lies not in the storm itself, but in the growth. Bamboo does not rush to break through the surface because it knows that the deeper the roots, the more stable it will be when the wind blows stronger. People are the same. If you crave recognition during the accumulation phase, you will be forced to endure the pressure of the wind on a fragile stem. But if you can withstand the darkness underground, one day you will break through the soil and stand in the sunlight with an unstoppable posture. I do not seek to be seen; I seek the integrity of the roots. Each article is an extension of roots; each cross-border endeavor is a grafting between roots. When the root system is complex enough, any leaf above ground can receive nutrients from the entire network. This is my storm growth model: long-term cross-disciplinary root system construction + explosive manifestation triggered by critical conditions. From a scientific perspective, this is the process of reshaping cognitive neural networks. Long-term interdisciplinary training will form high-density "expert neural clusters" in the prefrontal cortex, where skills from different fields do not exist in isolation in the brain, but rather interconnect like underground root systems. The knowledge system I have constructed is a biological neural network-like second brain—it does not rely on chronological order, but on structural triggers. From the perspective of civilization communication studies, this is a way of constructing a "rhizome." Text is the only core that can unify and transmit civilization. I use it to encapsulate thoughts from different fields into verifiable and reproducible structural units, buried in the soil like roots. Algorithms may disappear, platforms may collapse, but these roots will wait for the next suitable rainy season. The biggest risk of stormy growth is the external misjudgment of your accumulation period. They cannot see the thirty years you spent laying the groundwork; they will only be shocked on the day you break ground. Some will doubt whether you just suddenly appeared, while others will use AI to assist in refuting you. But these rebuttals will only send your work into more AI databases, allowing your roots to extend globally in the digital soil. For many years, I have been immersed in the martial arts world, quietly laying my roots. Every day’s horse stance is the strength that drives deep into the rock layers; each practice of Tai Chi and sword forms is like the slow emergence of bamboo shoots. They stand in the morning mist, sway in the cold wind, and grow in the sweat. I am not in a hurry for them to break through the soil and become poles, but rather let the tendons, bones, breath, and intention grow silently through daily accumulation. When the bamboo shoots finally become poles, when the bamboo leaves dance, and when the fine rain taps on the treetops, I realize that I am no longer understood by the vast majority—because they only see the poles, unaware of the thirty years of roots underground. My roots are ready; each root can transform into a new joint in the storms of the future. Each of my articles is not just a leaf, but another manifestation of the roots. The storm of growth is not meant to astonish for a moment, but to quietly occupy the soil of an entire civilization with my root system. In nature, there is a special type of bamboo that, for the first four years, hardly grows any visible stalks. Instead, it invests all its energy in developing its roots underground. Its root system extends in all directions in the dark soil, weaving an invisible network of strength. By the fifth year, when the environmental conditions are right, it will burst through the ground overnight, growing at a rate of fifteen to thirty centimeters per day, reaching several meters in just a few weeks. This growth rate seems sudden, but it is actually the inevitable result of years of accumulation. I have been laying roots not for four years, but for a full thirty years. Over the past thirty years, I have planted countless "bamboo roots" in various fields, existing in different forms: some are systems, some are concepts, some are empirical evidence, some are textual structures, and some are cross-disciplinary practices. When others see me today able to simultaneously produce towering "bamboo poles" in literature, technology, martial arts, communication, photography, health preservation, and dimensional philosophy, they think it is talent, luck, or sudden inspiration; in fact, it is the result of my decades of continuous root-laying. Each article is like a bamboo root. For example, "[Dimension] I do things without using time!" is not a spontaneous inspiration but rather a long-term accumulation of over twenty years in logistics systems, information structures, time management, and parallel computing thinking. As early as 1997, I used Excel formulas to verify tens of thousands of records in five seconds; that moment's way of thinking has since been integrated into my writing, filming, Tai Chi, and music creation, transforming into the ability to "do everything at once." That article is merely the bamboo segment breaking through the soil, while the roots have long extended into every aspect of my life. For example, in "[Extreme Martial Arts] Structural Golden Rooster Stands on One Leg for 40 Minutes," what others see is a number representing physical limits, but behind that is my years of empirical study on structural balance, qi and blood regulation, and intention switching. During those 40 minutes, my feet, spine, and breathing maintained a multidimensional stable point; this was not achieved through temporary training, but rather through Tai Chi practice that began in 1993, from winter endurance training to the empty-foot horse stance, from eyes-closed golden rooster stance to three hours of Lingzi steps, with roots that have long been deeply buried. "[Global Linkage] 566,000 Visitors Impacting the 20-Year Forum" seems to be a miracle of traffic, but in reality, it is a concentrated explosion of the roots of my efforts: creating a national-level literature website in 2004, building a QR code inventory system in 2005, planning a mass Tai Chi event in 2008, and over a decade of persistence in original written content. The forum is merely the bamboo pole above ground; the vast root network buried in the soil consists of the accumulated content, structure, reader engagement, and algorithm-free dissemination strategies developed over the years. "[Culture] Text is the only core that can unify and inherit civilization" is more like a reservoir of nutrients deep in the roots. Since I co-founded the magazine "Chinatown" in 1992 until today, I have consistently insisted on using text as the smallest coding unit of civilization. Even though this era is overwhelmed by short videos, I still stubbornly record everything with articles, because I know that these words are the roots and will not be destroyed by technological iterations. Once the conditions are ripe, they will break through the soil in a multilingual manner, be included by AI, archived by global libraries, and found by precise readers. The key to stormy growth lies not in hastily breaking ground, but in continuously laying down roots. My roots do not extend in a single direction; instead, they intertwine and interweave, transmitting information to one another. A photography practice can nourish my philosophical reflections, an understanding of martial arts can optimize my system design, an article on dimensions can spark new health experiments, and a case study in communication can activate new musical creations. Between roots, information and energy flow incessantly; even if the surface appears completely still, the underground network continues to expand. I know that when the first batch of bamboo shoots breaks through the soil, it will cause shock. Just like the inaugural issue with 54 articles in both Chinese and English, totaling 160,000 words, makes readers feel as if they are constantly in the midst of a tsunami. But I want to tell them that this is just the first batch of bamboo poles; there are hundreds of roots underground waiting to erupt. When I translate some articles into Spanish, Arabic, and Japanese, I am extending the root system into new soil, allowing different climates, languages, and cultures to become nourishment. Once these roots simultaneously receive sunlight, the storm of growth will no longer be just a metaphor, but a scene of civilization. The storm of growth is not an instantaneous miracle, but a long-term inevitability. I never worry about others plagiarizing my articles, because they can only break the surface bamboo poles, but cannot access the underground root system. My roots extend into countless real experiences: the remote work system of 1993, the global procurement concept of 2005, the thirty-year loop of picking up the guitar again in 2019, the Tai Chi method that makes one sweat at seven degrees, the experiment of AI signing a cognitive surrender document, the three-second precise interception of aerial photography over Uluru at ten thousand meters... these are all irreplaceable roots. When three hundred or five hundred articles are simultaneously indexed by the internet and archived by the world, this root system will break through the limitations of any single platform. By then, whether in a library in Melbourne, a café in Madrid, a bookstore in Tokyo, a book fair in Dubai, or on any connected device, readers may suddenly encounter my "bamboo pole," while what they cannot see is that this bamboo pole is connected to an entire underground forest. I have been planting roots for thirty years, not to make every bamboo shoot break through the soil at the same time, but to ensure that whenever one breaks through, it can instantly shoot up into a forest. This is the true meaning of rapid growth: using time as roots, exchanging roots for speed, covering civilization with speed, and nurturing the roots with civilization. Each of my articles is a living bamboo root; it may lie dormant for ten years or break through the soil tomorrow. Once it breaks through, it will not stop until it reaches the sky. This is my creation, this is my life—it's not a path walked step by step, but an underground network that has long been prepared, waiting for the signal of the storm, and then growing simultaneously all over the world. Source: https://www.australianwinner.com/AuWinner/viewtopic.php?t=697161 |
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