ANGRY?

 By Phillip Starr

I was mad enough to spit nails...I'd just started the broadsword form that my teacher was teaching me, and I messed up AGAIN in the SAME SPOT! Sifu Chen didn't move. He just stood there, waiting with his arms folded. I shook my head in disgust at my incompetence and said, “I'm sorry. I messed up AGAIN.” As I prepared to start over, sifu walked up and slapped my shoulder with a loud thwack. “Anger...you cannot afford it! It is a luxury!”

For a couple of seconds, I thought that that was a rather strange way of looking at this all-too-common emotion. But like so many things that sifu said which, on the surface, seemed rather odd, it was worth thinking about. Anger is a luxury because it permits us to focus our attention on only one thing; ourselves. Remember the last time your car stalled in traffic, or you got to the checkout counter at the supermarket and found that you'd forgotten your wallet? At times like these, nothing else in the world was on your mind but YOUR immediate problem. Your mind takes a little vacation...

In an actual fight – the kind of situation where that form was intended to be applied (or any of the others I had learned), that kind of self-indulgence could have cost me my life. As a martial arts practitioner, the price I'd have to pay for the luxury of getting angry was much too high. Some believe that anger “pumps us up” and for some simple situations, that may work – like kicking down a door. But in close combat where one must maintain an awareness of distance, timing, the possibility of multiple assailants – anger has no place at all.

Police officers, soldiers, and other such persons whose vocation may cause outbursts of anger are well aware of the consequences of relying on adrenaline-fueled anger to face emergencies. It wastes energy indiscriminately (usually when we need it most), it robs us of self-control precisely when we need to maintain complete control, and it blurs our minds so that we do not accurately see what is before us. As martial arts practitioners, it is an emotion that we cannot afford to indulge.

A SLOW TEN COUNT

 by Phillip “Pete” Starr

I was once reading an article written by a well-known outdoorsman on the basics of wilderness survival. Such subjects do interest me although the odds of me finding myself stranded out in the bush somewhere are pretty slim (I don't get out much, which is why I'm able to write my own articles and books). Anyway, this author suggested that when one is lost or stranded, one should pause long enough to count to a hundred so that the mind is able to relax enough to absorb the situation fully and focus fully on survival. For day to day situations that are stressful, maybe not a full hundred count – usually a good ten-count will do.

A few moments spent occupying the conscious mind with a simple, repetitive job can be very beneficial. And this is a central goal of the Dao (Do in Japanese)...such as the Japanese tea ceremony and Chinese/Japanese calligraphy. When the visitor to the tea hut pauses outside to rinse his mouth and hands from the water basin that is always there, it's a moment for him to clear his mind from the distractions of daily life. When the calligrapher sits and rubs his ink stick against the stone well, mixing the ink with water, he is not just preparing his utensils; he is doing the same thing...calming his thoughts and centering himself.

We “count to ten” in the martial Ways as well although few take advantage of the natural opportunities they have to do so when at the training hall. Although survival in the wilderness is a bit different from survival in the training hall, the time you take to prepare yourself for the rigors of training can be vital. This moment occurs with some frequency but it's not announced as a special event. One of the main ones occurs when you pause to bow.

In China, martial arts classes rarely involve bowing. It is my opinion that they should. Some gong-fu schools in the U.S. have adopted this practice, but it's very rarely seen in China. In Japanese martial Ways, the class bow is not simply a courtesy; the minds of the students are brought to a state of refined concentration. Matters outside of the training hall (or class in general) are put on hold temporarily. What matters is the lesson and training, and the direct experience of facing yourself through attacks and defenses against others, and the practice of form.

Beginners, who are still fumbling with the technical details of movement and technique generally lack the ability to make a strong, potentially harmful technique. If one of them strikes his partner, the harm done (if any) is usually quite minimal. More senior practitioners, however, are more serious and their technique is much stronger. They must be very mindful of what they're doing. The advanced student must more and more enter training with a complete grasp of the seriousness involved and the real possibility of hurting someone or being hurt himself. For him, the bowing and other such rituals should have greater significance.

Within the older Japanese martial arts (especially those intended for the battlefield) the rituals are a bit longer and more intense. There is more intensity to the bow that is much deeper and more concentrated than that found in lower levels or arts that were not developed for warfare. These forms of bowing and ritual take some time to learn and appreciate. In some of them (especially those exercises involving a partner) it is common to see the two participants advance and retreat a few steps before or after bowing. The elaborate nature of this kind of etiquette suggests that such rituals are more than merely quaint anachronisms, as many outsiders often suspect.

Rather, they are a dynamic way of preparing the participant mentally and spiritually for the rigors of the exercise that is to follow. They're a way of “counting to ten.” And although most modern martial arts devotees may not ever experience these arts and their accompanying rituals, he/she should strive to adopt a similar serious and focused attitude when preparing for training.

So, what if the practitioner practices a discipline in which the bow is little more than a quick nod and a slap of the thighs with the hands? Well, as I said earlier, the more serious the art and training, the more important is the ritual. If the practitioner is content to emgage in limited endeavors of sparring and dance routines (which are often all that's taught and learned in some schools), he/she has no need of ritual. But if he/she wants to devote him/her self to the study of a serious martial form which demands confronting the essentials of life and death, then it is inevitable that the mental/spiritual preparations he/she will need to make in his/her training will be as intense as those required for surviving mortal combat.

A CLEAN SWEEP...

 by Yang Xuangxing

The lowly foot sweep...it rarely gets the attention it deserves. The foot sweep, as used in karate and gong-fu, is a bit of a different animal than that which is used in arts such as judo; in the grappling arts, the sweep is usually employed to throw the opponent to the ground and score a point. In karate and gong-fu, it is used primarily as a means of disrupting the opponent's balance long enough to employ an effective strike or kick.

Although the sole of the foot (the bottom of the instep) is usually employed, many Chinese styles utilize the top part of the foot where it joins the lower leg (forming an “L” shape) as a “foot hook.” The sweep, done with the sole, is applied just above the ankle and although it sounds easy enough to do, it really requires considerable training. I would have students practice with a partner who held a staff vertically, with one end planted firmly on the floor. They had to sweep it with enough power that the staff swung up horizontally. After 25 sweeps with each foot, they learned quickly exactly what part of the foot is to be used. Hitting with the inner edge of the foot is a religious experience...you'll swear you saw God!

I also told them that I knew of people who practiced their sweep against a 55 gallon drum. Then several weeks later during sparring, a young senior student who was something of a “hot dog” was paired to spar with my oldest pupil, who was about 62 or so. The youngster charged in with a driving punch and the older fellow caught him with a sweep that was so powerful, both of the younger guy's feet left the ground and he crashed to the floor. Undiscouraged and very red-faced, he got back up and squared off with the older man again. When he thought the moment was right, he moved in again...but his timing wasn't as sharp as he'd thought. A second sweep, even stronger than the first, sent his backside into the air. It was as though he'd been clipped by a minivan!

After class, I complimented my older student on his sweeping technique. “How did you develop such a strong sweep”, I asked. He chuckled and said he'd practiced with a 55 gallon drum and when he was able to move it with his sweep, he began adding water to it...it was 1/5 full and he could still move it! Small wonder he sent a 160 lb. opponent into the air! I doubled over with laughter and I was amazed at his dedication and hard training!

When I used to compete back in the 60's and 70's, foot sweeps were allowed, so long as they contacted the “boot” area of the ankle and lower leg. Many fighters specialized in this technique. One of the best was from England, a shotokan stylist. I felt sorry for his opponents...he was legs from the armpits down and he used those long legs to sweep his opponents and then deliver punches to them before they'd even hit the ground!

In actual combat, the sweep can readily be applied to the sides of the knee and may cause severe damage to the joint. In some forms, sweeps are “hidden” in the form of kicks. The well-known “crescent-kick” is often eschewed by many instructors who claim that it's just too slow and obvious to be truly effective in combat. And they're right! So, why is it even included in the form...? Certainly, our martial arts forefathers (who used the various movements of the form in actual self-defense) would have recognized that, wouldn't they? Yes, they would and did.

According to my gong-fu teacher many years ago as well as Master Seiyu Oyata (10^th dan, Okinawan karate), the “crescent kick” is actually intended as a sweep. The target areas are the lower legs, ankles, and knees. But the “kick” (sweep) is practiced much higher to foster the development of strong hips, which are essential for effective sweeping. Makes you stop and think, doesn't it?

SUFFER? WHY?

 By Phillip Starr

Training in any given martial discipline frequently involves suffering of one kind or another. Your instructor acts as though it's a good thing and tell you to keep the spirit and endure; he won't let you quit. And so you press on and endure what often seems to be unbearable suffering. Many aspiring devotees give up and throw in the towel. Is all this really necessary?

In a word, yes.

Enduring that which seems unendurable fosters the development of character and a strong spirit, indomitable will, and perseverance. Some will insist that they can (or have) developed these attributes without having had to endure some form of physical and/or mental/emotional discomfort. They are wrong. They may THINK they have, but no...

There is an old saying that tells us, “I've learned more from pain than I ever could have learned from pleasure.” And it's true. It's true not just for the practice of martial arts, but for life in general. Overcoming that pain is what builds character and perseverance. It makes us who and what we are.

SHU, HA, RI

 by Phillip Starr

“Shu, Ha, Ri”....words sometimes heard in the practice of Japanese swordsmanship but their meaning can be easily applied to any martial discipline, regardless of its place of origin. These terms represent the three main stages of development.

SHU (守) means to protect or obey. It is traditional wisdom; learning the fundamentals and basic techniques. This is where we all must begin. Getting through this stage takes time and a great deal of practice. The movements must be trained thoroughly so they come second-nature and are fully “internalized” so that you no longer have to “think” about how to do them correctly.

In the Chinese stage of progression, this is known as EARTH (地 , di). It is the stage of learning the fundamentals. There are no short-cuts; this stage can't be completed in just a few weeks or months. It's more than just learning the basics and remembering them. They must be learned thoroughly in minute detail so that they are absolutely correct every time you practice them.

HA (破) means “to detach, digress.” In China, it is referred to as the stage of HUMAN (人 , ren). In this advanced stage, we may make innovations but they must be grounded in the foundation we built in the previous stage. Some people have interpreted this stage as breaking with tradition and tossing away that which we struggled to learn earlier. This is grossly incorrect.

It means that we so internalize the techniques and forms that we perform them in perfect accordance with our own bodies and minds. This doesn't infer that we necessarily find a “new” way of doing them; our bodies have adapted to them and they have become a part of our natural being. There is no longer any thought of “I am doing this technique/form”; the technique/form just does itself.

RI (離), known as TIAN (天 , Heaven) in Chinese arts, means “to leave, separate.” You no longer think in terms of techniques and you act in accordance with what your mind desires; unhindered, while not overstepping laws/principles. To reach this stage requires many years of arduous practice.

The problem is that many practitioners, anxious to explore their own creativity and “do it their way” often assume that they have reached the limits of the first two stages after a rather short time and believe that they can then “have it their way.” This is where we see “freestyle forms” and eclectic martial disciplines sprout up... There are many who push against the edges of the envelope, chomping at the bit to break free of the restraints of tradition and they often decide much too early that they're ready to sprout their own wings and “be free.” The first indication that they are far from ready is that their desire to “break free” exists at all.

There are reasons for tradition. Adhering to many of them can be tiresome and frustrating but they're not there just as a matter of exotic, Asian decoration. They often serve as the “shells” of the eggs within which we develop. The shell should not be broken too early...

RULES?

 By Phillip Starr

Rules, rules, rules...they're the main reason why good traditional martial arts practitioners sometimes lose competitions against boxers and MMA devotees. I define “rules” as follows: “a convention which help to ensure fair play, so long as they are followed by all involved participants.” Of course, if one (or more) participants refuse to adhere to the rules, those who do strive to adhere to them are guaranteed to lose.

Imagine a boxing match wherein only one of the fighters had to follow the rules. Which one do you think stands the best chance of winning? Boxing, per se, was developed as a sport and all sports involved the enforcement of certain rules. So boxing evolved within that framework. The same is true of MMA.

Traditional forms of karate and gong-fu were never intended to be applied as sports and consequently. They didn't care much about rules. There weren't any. Survival was the only concern. But human nature being what it is, competitions were developed and this necessarily required the development of rules to ensure not only fairness, but to reduce the chances of injury or worse. Many martial forms became “sportified.”

Now, when a practitioner of one of those traditional disciplines competes against, say, a boxer – and he's required to adhere to boxing rules – who is most likely to win? Even with their rules in place, traditional martial arts allowed for wide variety of techniques, which are forbidden in boxing;

*In boxing one cannot strike with the edge of the glove in the manner of a sword-hand strike.

*Striking to targets on the back are also forbidden.

*No striking is permitted below the waist.

*NO kicking or foot-sweeping is allowed at all.

*You cannot strike with your elbows or knees...

And so on and on. Moreover, modern martial arts competitions forbid techniques directed to the eyes and other such things that can result in severe injury. The original martial forms had NO interest in following any sets of rules. The object was to end the conflict as quickly as possible. This sometimes meant that at least one of the participants wouldn't go home after the fight. Ever.

If a boxer who was required to stick to the rules was put up against a traditional martial arts practitioner who was allowed to do anything he wanted, who do you suppose would walk away?

Remember, rules work only if ALL participants adhere to them...

THE RECEPTIVE MIND

 by Phillip Starr

Nyunanshin. It's a Japanese term that is sometimes heard in conjunction with learning traditional martial arts. It means, roughly, “soft-heartedness” and refers to the student's mental and even spiritual receptivity to instruction. Nowadays, we'd call it “open-mindedness” as opposed to being “close-minded” or “stiff-necked.” Heaven knows I've certainly had my share of students who, although they expressed a strong desire to learn martial arts, weren't particularly receptive to certain aspects of the Way. And I've had some who were actually “unteachable.”

I tell beginning students (and sometimes have to remind them periodically) that they must maintain a condition of receptivity – total receptivity of both mind and spirit if they are to truly learn. I have found that some build a sort of “wall” around certain subjects and won't allow new considerations/ideas to be absorbed and studied, contemplated, and/or expressed. This seriously stunts their growth in the arts and may even stop it altogether.

To truly learn and mature in the traditional martial Ways, you must set aside notions of what you think they SHOULD be, how they should be taught or practiced, and so on. Take the blinders off, open your eyes, your mind, and your heart, and be willing to see fully.