FULL AND EMPTY?

 By Phillip Starr

You square off with your opponent with the intention of delivering an effective blow, one way or another. But before you do something foolish, you must determine if your intended target is xu or shi (in Japanese, kyo or jutsu). I see some of you raising your eyebrows...let me explain.

If your opponent is physically, mentally, AND spiritually prepared, he is in a condition known as shi (実jutsu), which means “reality”, but which I prefer to translate as “full.” That is, he's:

• physically stable and poised to attack or counter-attack easily and quickly.

• mentally focused on you and the task at hand.

• possesses the will; the determination to engage and defeat you.

  

To attack such an opponent would be foolhardy. Even if he is a novice with minimal fighting skills, he can quickly evade your attack in some fashion and cause your attack to fail. If he's a skilled fighter, you're betting that you're faster or stronger than he is. And that is a bet that seldom brings victory. Why on earth would you attack someone who is fully prepared? Yet, this is exactly what most practitioners do.

The terms kyo and jutsu are most often heard in the practice of kendo/kenjutsu (Japanese fencing) but are seldom used in the practice of other martial disciplines. They should be.

The opposite of shi is xu (虚 kyo), which means “unprepared” but I often refer to it as “deficient” or “ko” (a “hole”). This is also known as “tsuki” in Japanese (隙,pr. “ski”, which is “gap” in Chinese), but still pronounced “xu” in Chinese. It refers to a “gap”; a chink in your opponent's armor, a window of opportunity, a moment of vulnerability that leaves him exposed and in an untenable position. If he physically, mentally, or spiritually “off” (or a combination of any of these three), he is xu:

• physically unprepared or vulnerable. He may be out of position or unstable.

• mentally unprepared for battle. Perhaps he is distracted...

• spiritually unprepared. He becomes frightened or loses the will to fight.

  

The window of opportunity may be small and your timing will likely have to be razor-sharp to get through it, but it can be done. For instance, an analogy that is often used is that of tossing a coin in the air. When it reaches it's highest point, there is a momentary pause before it begins to fall. That moment is akin to what we call xu. The window is rather small...

In the system that I teach (yiliquan), we recognize 9 types of xu, each of which must be studied very carefully. And there are two methods of dealing with xu; active and passive. The passive method is simple...you wait for the opponent to become xu. Sooner or later, he'll do so (unintentionally). For instance, every time he takes a step, there is a moment of xu (when he has no balance), It's very small, but it's there. If he attacks, there is a moment of xu (so we say that all attacks are inherently flawed because to attack is to momentarily produce a vulnerable opening). Even his breathing pattern provides small moments of xu.

The active method requires you to induce the opponent to become xu. The use of a feint is the most obvious and easily understood method. Other methods are very subtle and the opponent is often completely unaware that he is vulnerable...until it's too late.

Warriors of the past reasoned that they had only one chance in three of surviving a given encounter; if the enemy's skill exceeded theirs, they'd likely be killed. If the enemy's skill matched theirs, one of them would be killed on the spot and the other (if there was a survivor) would probably die later. Only if their skill exceeded that of their foe could they be assured of a good chance of survival. So they would train to get “that extra edge”; find thing(s) that could provide them with an advantage in a life and death struggle. Studying shi and xu could provide just that.

This is also why warriors of the past didn't engage each other by bouncing around like rabbits on amphetamines. To do that places you in the condition of kyo almost constantly and if your opponent is skilled, he'll bring you down in the blink of an eye. Nowadays, however, fighters with that kind of skill are very rare. In times past, swordsmen faced each other with very little (if any) movement involved. They extended their minds to FEEL the enemy's spirit; to FEEL kyo if and when it occurred. One of them would inevitably err (sometimes the opening was all but invisible to the eyes) and in a flash the conflict was over. The “Hollywood versions” of such encounters that involve numerous clashes of steel and deft maneuvers to evade the enemy's blade are just that; celluloid fighters acting for the sake of thrilling audiences. This is a far cry from the real thing, the way it was. It's a very far cry from what we see in contemporary competitions...

My book, MARTIAL MANEUVERS covers this subject in detail.

TRAINING FORMS AND GRANDMA'S HAM TRIMMIN' PIE

 by Phillip Starr

A while back, I was watching a television show that featured one of the world's most famous chefs preparing one of his specialties, which was a French dish (okay, I was REALLY bored). Standing in the wings were four younger chefs, notebooks in hand, who studied his every move. At one point, the master tossed chunks of beef into the mix and it seemed to confuse one of the younger chefs. “Sir”, he began, “the recipe calls for exactly xxx grams of beef but you've used more than that...” The master, who was almost as well-known for his hair-trigger temper as his culinary skills answered. However, he refrained from throwing one of his cooking utensils at the young fellow and turned to respond to his statement. “Fine. I will have paint, brushes, and easels brought in. Each of you will paint a picture of a rose that I will place here.”

As expected, the student was a bit confused. “Do you think everyone's painting will look the same?', the master asked. The student shook his head slowly. “Exactly”, the teacher said. “Painting is an art. So is cooking. Every time you cook, it is a new creation.”

I was reminded of my grandmother's “ham trimmin' pie”, which was a favorite with the whole family. We would visit her every summer when I was young and one afternoon she set about making this delicious dish. My mother wanted to get the right recipe, so she grabbed a sheet of notebook paper and would ask her mother questions as she was adding ingredients to her well-loved dish. “How much salt?”, my mother asked. Grandma just chuckled and said, “I never measure it...I use the old measures that my mother taught me.” Mom was confused and asked just what those were. Grandma replied, “By gosh and by golly. A pinch of this, and handful of that. You learn to feel what's just right.”

So, what does this have to do with learning and practicing forms? Well, what's the most common criticism of forms spoken by those who aren't engaged in a serious, long-term study of the traditional martial arts? They're robotic, right? They'll turn us into automatons; they try to cram some kind of orthodoxy into the realm of combat as if it could be done like some sort of well-rehearsed choreographic routine. Punch X must be executed just before kick A, and the front foot must be angled EXACTLY 90 degrees from the kick...and so on. But combat isn't like that at all...

The proper response is that a form instills certain behaviors (some reactive and some proactive). Although it doesn't necessarily tell the “story” of a fight, it is akin to the grammar that enables us to tell our own stories, as varied as are the encounters one is likely to meet, with fluidity and a coherent structure that will help us survive the battle. At least that's what we say...but every now and then we should pause and consider. Too many karate and gong-fu devotees unknowingly get caught up in the “habits” for which their art is criticized, just like the young chefs training under the master; they run to the “book” or to the teacher to ensure that they're following the recipe to the letter, just as it's all laid out.

And that's okay up to a point. It is one of the great strengths of our arts – that we have forms, which can be depended upon and provide us with valuable instruction. But. If we stop at this stage of training (and many do) – of striving to replicate the form EXACTLY – we lose some of it's inherent value. Many well-known teachers encourage advanced pupils to go beyond the perfection of the preset form and explore the potentials of the form. One very famous instructor compares it to learning how to brush the Chinese/Japanese characters properly; block printing is used initially and children literally use tracing paper to trace over writings of famous masters of the brush. Later, the students are allowed to develop more free-flowing strokes in a kind of cursive. Eventually, they develop a hand that is so unique that it can be used as a means of identifying the writer. According to the aforementioned teachers, our martial arts must develop in the same way.

But we cannot and must not try to acquire our own unique “hand” without first going through the first two stages; we cannot walk into the training hall and tear apart our forms without deeply understanding them first. And I mean DEEPLY. We must submit to the arduous, rigorous ways of practicing it EXACTLY as it was taught. After it has been mastered, we may seek to go beyond it. I'm sure the master chef had spent countless hours poring over the books written by master master chefs, learning to make the various dishes exactly as the instructions told him.

It's a very narrow part of the martial path. If we begin too soon – before we are ready, we're wasting our time. On the other hand, if we continue to make exact copies year after year, we're likewise spinning our tires. It is a great challenge for us, to find and keep the balance throughout the whole of our martial arts journey...

FIXED POSTURES AND ACTUAL FIGHTING

 by Phillip Starr

A famous master of shorin-ryu karate, Yoshimitsu Ogawa (9^th dan), made statements about kata with which I whole-heartedly agree. He said that kata is comprised of fixed postures but actual fighting is not; it is dynamic, fluid, and ever-changing. However, he cautioned his students to bear in mind that “kata IS karate.” How can those statements be merged?

Kata (form) is the framework upon which the art is built. It forms the foundation and skeletal structure (or frame) of the “body” of the art. Applications forms the musculature and flesh of the body. The applications are not necessarily absolutely fixed; they can be very pliable and adaptable. But they are based upon the underlying framework; the form itself.

How often have I heard kung-fu stylists (especially those that practice one of the three “internal” methods of taijiquan, xingyiquan, and baguazhang) insist that a given posture (of a form) is absolutely fixed and cannot be altered in any way in so far as application is concerned. How foolish! The postures (and/or their applications) are not, and were never meant to be, carved in stone. Don't mistake what is on the outside for that which lies inside.

EXPECTING THE UNEXPECTED

 by Phillip Starr

A line from an old Japanese martial arts maxim tells us to “Expect that which is unexpected.” This is sage advice and should be closely followed by all martial arts enthusiasts. But what, exactly, does it mean? An old story about a tea master and a local samurai illustrates this idea pretty well...

This incident occurred long ago, when armed samurai roamed the streets of old Japan. Back then, it was pretty easy to inadvertently insult such a noble and such things were often settled with a quick draw of the sword. Anyway, it happened that a local tea master was walking down the street and accidentally bumped the saya (scabbard) of a passing samurai who was wearing his sword in the common manner (thrust through the obi; a wide sash).

This was regarded as a form of insult and disrespect and the warrior turned quickly and bellowed at the frightened citizen that such an indiscretion would cost him his life. Cringing, the older man apologized profusely, knowing that he was very fortunate that the samurai hadn't instantly taken his head. But his words fell on deaf ears. The samurai ordered the fellow to meet him at a particular place on the following day and they would settle the matter with blades.

Terrified, the tea master told his opponent that he didn't own such a weapon but this did nothing to dissuade him. The angered samurai said that he would bring an extra sword for the unskilled fellow to use.

The tea master, frightened beyond words, walked glumly back to his home. There was no doubt that this was his last day on this earth. Early the next morning, he walked out to the spot indicated by his opponent who was already there. He handed his hapless victim a sword and stepped back, assuming a fighting posture. This was going to be a quick and justified kill.

He could see that the old fellow had never held a sword until today; he didn't even grip it properly and he didn't take a proper fighting stance. The tea master knew this was it; he was certainly taking his last few breaths and sweat rolled down his face.

The samurai tired quickly of waiting; he quickly stepped forward to cut the sweaty old fart down. The horrified tea master turned his head and shut his eyes as he thrust out with his blade. It was the only thing that he could think of to do...and his unexpected thrust pierced the heart of his foe who unwittingly impaled himself on it! The samurai's face paled and grimaced as he fell to his knees and dropped his weapon. The fight was over.

The samurai had neglected to expect the unexpected. He was too self-assured for that. This was to be a quick, one-sided duel. He was figuratively “wearing blinders” both physically and psychologically.

Please be careful that you don't don a set of “blinders” at any time; not just in the training hall, but in day-to-day life as well.

THE 3 GEMS OF COMBAT; PART ONE: DISTANCE

 by Phillip Starr

*Partially excerpted from “Martial Maneuvers” by the author

In all forms of combat, whether it involves single or multiple opponents and armed or unarmed situations, there are three elements that must be considered and applied to your advantage if you are to have any hope of defeating the enemy. It doesn't matter what martial discipline uou practice; whether it's karate, judo, kenjutsu, taijiquan, and or anything else...these three elements are critical to the effective application of your art. These are Distance, Timing, and Rhythm. If you fail to correctly apply any one of these concepts, you are looking defeat in the face. None of them is “superior” to the others, they must all work together perfectly. If one is left out of the equation or your skill in applying it is lacking, none of them work properly. It's like a machine; if one part doesn't work, the whole thing breaks down.

The first of these is Distance. I'm not talking about close, medium and long distances, such as is sometimes envisioned by some martial arts aficionados as the differences between punching and kicking distances; this kind of thinking is for beginners only. In the art that I teach (yiliquan), we recognize 3 distances, which are labeled as First Distance, Second Distance, and Mutual Distance. To truly grasp the essence of distance, we need to examine and train with all three...

First Distance is defined as the distance from which you can deliver an effective blow (in no more than one step). It isn't something that needs to be measured in feet and inches; rather, it is FELT and you must practice assiduously to find it and then to LENGTHEN it as much as possible. Exercises for doing this are shown in my book, “Martial Maneuvers.” Lengthening the First Distance can be critical to increasing the efficiency of your techniques.

Second Distance is the distance from which your foe can deliver and effective blow in no more than one step. This can be determined by observing how he holds himself, how he moves, and other factors. Like First Distance, it is something that must be felt rather than measured in feet and inches.

The third distance is known as Mutual Distance and is the distance between you and the opponent. It is very plastic and always changing as you both shift and move about. You must always be aware of this distance, which is also known as “the gap.”

Another factor that must be understood in s far as distance is concerned is that of the “defense perimeter.” If you extend your forward arm (if you have one foot advanced) and swing it around in a half-circle from side to side, that is your defense perimeter. Anything that penetrates that perimeter, even if only a small distance, can probably strike you before you will be able to react appropriately. And vice-versa. So if your enemy's leading hand penetrates your perimeter for only a small distance, he can strike you almost instantly and you are equally capable of striking him before he can react. And whoever lands the first effective blow will probably be victorious. Once your perimeter has been breached, you must make a decision instantly and you have but two choices; you can attack immediately or withdraw and set up a new perimeter. If you spend any time considering what you should do, your assailant may well land a successful attack! It's akin to a military situation. If you have enemy sappers coming over the (barbed) wire and into your perimeter, this is NOT the time to call a staff meeting to determine just what you should do! You must attack them immediately or pull back and establish a new perimeter before you are completely overrun!

I often see that students have no concept of this principle when I visit various martial arts schools. As the combatants move around jockeying for position, their perimeters overlap, then separate (because they know not what they do), then overlap again, and so on... bouncing and bobbing or rocking rhythmically back and forth, they are combative disasters waiting to happen. Hollywood sometimes dramatically depicts “duels” wherein combatants cross their wrists at the beginning of the contest; this is very incorrect as it places both participants inside each other's perimeters!

One of the major problems to be avoided in both 3-step and 1-step fight is that of the practitioners beginning much too close to each other. I once gave a seminar at a school wherein everyone wore the padded mittens, even in 1-step fight (they'd never done 3-step). Holding their hands too close to their faces (akin to sloppy boxing), they had no concept of proper distance at all and it was very difficult to get them to toss aside this terrible habit. Still, they had no concept of distance at all.... They stood so close that if one them stretched out the leading arm, they could touch their partner. Much too close-

The stance must be “loaded” at all times; that is, it must be set on a hair trigger so that if and when the opportunity presents itself, you can move with explosive speed. That window (of opportunity) won't be open very far or for more than a split second, so your yi (roughly, mind/intention) must be totally focused on bringing the opponent down. Study this concept (distance) with a partner very carefully and thoroughly.

But there's more...! Once you understand the concept and can FEEL it, you must train to INCREASE the distance that you can explosively drive forward and deliver an effective blow. Training drills for this are also shown in my book, “MARTIAL MANEUVERS.” After all, being sensitive to the distance(s) is essential but if you are unable to take advantage of it, then it's of no use to you.

Most black belts that I've met can drive out and deliver an effective lunging thrust to a distance of about 6 ft. A reverse punch doesn't travel quite that far. When driving forward, the rear foot must remain flat, although it's permissible (and even desirable) to allow it to “slide” along the floor. The back and neck must be held straight (but not stiff). You must train assiduously to lengthen your drive. I've had students who were able to drive out more than 10-12 ft.! It's just a question of hard, regular, sweat-drenched practice. And it's best to learn from someone who is familiar with this subject. I often present it at my seminars.

BATTLE OF THE INTELLECT

 by Phillip Starr

It's not a new thing...in days long since past, samurai would sometimes sneer at a fellow who claimed to be highly skilled in swordsmanship and say something like, “He smells of books.” What they meant was that the self-proclaimed swordsman had no genuine, practical skill because (they believed) that he'd spent most of his time reading about various “intellectual aspects” of the art rather than pouring sweat in daily practice. We have much the same thing today, especially in the internal martial arts community...

The internal martial arts (such as taijiquan, xingyiquan, and baguazhang, as well as a few others) easily lend themselves to to various and sundry abstruse concepts and principles largely because the early writings about them tend to be rather cryptic. In fact, some of them are so enigmatic that the Chinese themselves have some difficulty understanding exactly what they mean.

Thus, there began innumerable opinions, discussions, and arguments about these arts...most of which have little or nothing to do with their original purposes and/or how they function. Groups of “internalist snobs” came into existence and although they could (and still do) talk the talk, most of them certainly can't walk the walk. They prefer to talk about their theories and intellectualize about these arts rather than sweat.

Many of them have all but forgotten (or ignored) the fact that these arts were created as martial arts, which are to be used for fighting rather than improving the functioning of one's liver, finding one's inner child, or bringing one to a state of near-nirvana. They were intended to kill an assailant as quickly as possible. Period. And the manner(s) in which they were to be applied towards this end are often more than a little gruesome.

Taijiquan, which is renowned for improving health, is actually a very vicious martial discipline. It's techniques can be very brutal and even lethal but only IF the practitioner studies and learns their applications...and then practices them in a “controlled violence” manner.

Many practitioners (and teachers, as well) of baguazhang become enamored with the concept of relating the art to the eight trigrams (for which the art was named). This idea was first formulated by a fellow named Zheng-Xingsan who was a well-known scholar and student of Yin-Fu. After the collapse of the Qing government in 1911, Zheng found himself suddenly unemployed. To keep himself occupied, he wrote down everything he had learned and tried to formulate a relationship between the boxing art and the Yijing (the ancient “Book of Changes”, which is based on the study of 64 hexagrams, which are formed by placing one trigram atop another. There are 64 possibilities.). This poor guy really needed a girlfriend.

Cheng-Tinghua was influenced by Ji-Fengxiang, who was an astrologer and who was also both a friend and a student. The result was that the theories of the Yijing and its eight trigrams, the sixty-four hexagrams, and their alleged relationship to the boxing art became closely related to virtually all aspects of training. This would inspire another of Cheng's students, Sun-Lutang, to further expound upon these ideas. Sun became very well-educated in Taoist forms of qigong and also made a detailed study of the Yijing. Between 1915 and 1927, he authored several texts that tried to show a definitive relationship between certain Taoist philosophies and the internal martial arts. Ultimately, it was Cheng who coined the name “baguazhang” for this art, which was originally named “zhuanzhang” (“turning palms”) by the founder, Dong Haiquan.

The sad truth is that there is no relationship between the eight trigrams and this boxing art. It's the same for taijiquan, which actually has very little to do with the cosmological principle(s) of Yin and Yang, and xingyiquan, which is NOT based on the “five elements.” Sun Lutang is responsible for that idea and in later life, he admitted that he had done it to confuse people so that only the most worthy students would learn the true art. Even so, most contemporary xingyi practitioners still adhere to Sun's deception...

It all makes for a lot of intellectual material that may be fun to discuss or bicker about, but it's all pointless. Sweat is the key; not intellectualizing.