A BETTER PERSON?

 By Phillip Starr

We often hear (or even tell people) how training in a given martial art will turn us into better people. This is often told to parents to encourage them to enroll their children in classes. But is it true? If you believe so, why?

For what it's worth I don't think that learning the fundamental movements and techniques of any martial art will necessarily produce better people at all. Moving our arms and legs in various ways has no impact on character or behavior. The movements we make as we go through the motions of our chosen discipline aren't magic.

The discipline that's required to acquire any real measure of skill, the focus, the striving and sweat, the willingness to persevere even if it hurts...these are the kinds of things found in our training that build character. However, they must be done because the student WANTS to do them, not because he is simply forced to do them. I was taught that the only real discipline is self-discipline.

It's the spirit of the art that develops character. Otherwise, in so far as character-building is concerned, martial arts is no more useful than jumping jacks.

So it's important that the instructor kindle a DESIRE in the students rather than just running them through class like so many cattle. And it's more than a little difficult to learn how to do this.

 

YOUR BALANCE

by Phillip Starr

In Japanese and Chinese arts and modes of physical conditioning, balance is often stressed at least as much as strength and stamina. I'm not saying that Western activities exclude balance, but you rarely hear a Little League player being lectured on balance in the batter's box. Our football players are encouraged to be faster and stronger; there are plenty of running drills and practice with blocking dummies...but not a lot of conditioning exercises that are intended to develop balance.

For the Japanese, stressing the importance of balance may have its roots in Sumo. In Sumo, you lose if any part of your body other than the soles of your feet touches the ground. So it is a contest of balance as well as strength, speed, and agility. And of course, there's Judo... In China, Mongolian wrestling (from which the ancient art of shuai-jiao is descended) features much the same rules (northern Mongolian wrestling has the same stipulation as Sumo).

Think your balance is just peachy? Okay...try standing on one foot one minute. No problem? Try doing the same with classmates running in circles around you. It's a bit more challenging, huh? Maintaining your balance under relatively serene conditions isn't too difficult but doing it in the midst of chaos is another thing. And combat isn't serene by a long shot.

Fortunately, there are many exercises in various martial arts that foster the development of balance; from “one-legged Sumo” to practicing kicks in slow motion, the varieties are almost endless. But one of the best exercises is just to stand with your feet shoulder-width apart for 2-3 minutes or more. Let your arms hang naturally. Check your entire body, from the crown to the soles of your feet, for tension of any kind and let it go. Do you have any tension in your ankles or feet?

One of the secrets to maintaining balance is to imagine breathing (inhaling and exhaling) through the acu-point known as “bubbling well” (yangquan), which is found at the base of the ball of the foot. This point is well known to practitioners of the internal martial arts, but it's also known to practitioners of numerous Japanese martial disciplines. Take a few minutes each day to practice this simple, gentle exercise (it works for standing on one leg, too).

WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING??

 By Yang Shuangxing

Heian (aka., Pinan or Ping-An) Yondan. First posture. Looks like an overhead block and knife-hand block done simultaneously. Then, seemingly without countering, we turn and do the same thing in the opposite direction! When I asked my instructor about it he said, “That's just how it's done.” Period. So I shrugged it off. But there were other things I wondered about...

The so-called “augmented block.” The enemy's attack is so strong that a normal forearm block can't stop it? And what about the so-called “X blocks”, high and low? If you do it low, the upper half of your body is left wide open to attack. If you do it high, your lower body is defenseless. Kind of stupid, I thought. But I didn't dare ask my sensei. And there were numerous other postures in various kata that just didn't seem right...

It would be quite a while before I'd find the answers to my questions. Sensei Oyata Seiyu laughed when I asked about the movements in Heian Yondan. “No, it is not a block!”, he said. Then demonstrating with a student, he showed me how it is actually a joint technique and takedown, akin to aikido's “ikkyo” technique. “This join technique and takedown are implied”, he said. “In many places within the kata are implied techniques. They are not shown openly.”

The others; the augmented block and the “X blocks” were also hidden joint techniques. Only the entry to each technique was demonstrated in the kata. Inscrutable! But WHY didn't the authors of these forms openly show the complete technique? That question had been answered by my gong-fu teacher, W. C. Chen. He would instruct us to practice a particular movement at home and then return to demonstrate it's true application. Of course, as often as not, we all got it wrong. This was especially true of the arcane art of baguazhang. But it was also to be found in taijiquan, and to a lesser extent, in xingyiquan and shaolinquan.

Jumping up from the chair in which he often sat and observed practice, sifu Chen would perform the movement(s) as they were shown in the form. “It looks like this”, he said. “But it is really this...”, and he'd continue through with a hidden joint technique, throw, or strike (or a combination thereof). “The real application is hidden”, he said. The main reason for constructing forms in this way was to prevent unwanted observer from learning them, Chen told me. In China, training was almost always conducted outdoors (the same was true of Okinawa) and people could watch from positions of concealment. So the true technique was often hidden or camouflaged with an outer layer of movements.

The odd duck in the bunch was baguazhang. Styles such as taijiquan, xingyiquan, and shaolinquan (from which modern day karate emerged) often concealed techniques, openly revealing only the entries. Bagua, according to sifu Chen, was often very different. “You can only punch this way and this way and this way”, he said as he demonstrated various thrusts. What he meant was that there are only so many ways in which a human body can move and execute certain techniques. “Bagua is an art of principles”, he told me. “You learn them and you can apply them to your techniques. Then they become different.” It would be many years before I fully understood what he was saying.

This is what led me to write HIDDEN HANDS, my fourth book. Within the traditional forms is a great wealth of knowledge. They are, in a very real sense, books. But before we can discover their secrets, we must learn to read.

UNCOMMON

 by Yang Shuangxing

There is a saying that tells us, “Excellence is doing a common thing in an uncommon way.” For instance, in chado (the Way of tea ceremony), there's much more involved than simply brewing a cup of tea and drinking it. The same is true of other Ways such as calligraphy, sumi-e, ikebana (Japanese flower arranging), maintaining a “zen garden”, and so on. Of course, this would include the martial Ways as well.

There's much more to an overhead cut with a katana (Japanese sword) than meets the eye. Years of practice are required just to learn the proper grip! And the teacher's basic reverse punch or front kick looks and feels quite difference from those of a novice although the teacher seems to use less effort. His forms look and feel – even to the observer – much different from those of a novice.

And so it goes on the path to mastery. There are no shortcuts. The process cannot be hurried in any manner. The master appears to move in a very natural way, exerting very little effort. This might make the uninitiated think that he/she isn't really trying or that he/she is weak. Not so at all. I recall seeing Master Hidetaka Nishiyama (shotokan) deliver several reverse punches to the chest of my friend, Chris Smaby, as they demonstrated a particular timing drill. The punches were very sharp and crisp, but didn't seem to have any “oomph” - any strong power – in them at all. A bit later as we changed out of our uniforms to go out for lunch, the master's skill was revealed; every spot that Nishiyama sensei's fist had gently touched Chris...had caused blood vessels just under the skin the explode!

One who has mastered the Way reveals it in his every action. Every “common” thing that he does is seen (to those who have the eyes to see) to be very uncommon. Mastery of his art, regardless of which art it is, carries over to pretty much everything he does...from sitting down to standing up, picking up a cup, eating...everything. And so it is that I often laugh at those who proclaim themselves as “masters”; their level of “mastery” can be seen by the way they pick up a cup and take a drink...any one of ten thousand common things. This carryover isn't necessarily the result of conscious effort; it occurs naturally.

I remember watching a true taijiquan master as he walked into the spacious gym where we'd be practicing. It was clear to me that, although he appeared to be walking normally, he maintained complete control over his body at all times; he could easily stop on a dime or change directions easily, without losing his balance or control over any part of his body. There was no swaggering, “tough guy” machismo air about him at all.

This is why two genuine masters (emphasis on the term, “genuine”) can “read” each other's level of ability by simply sitting down and enjoying a cup of tea together. Or pretty much anything else. They have learned to do common things in very uncommon ways, depending upon their level of real skill. Life has become art. Without extra effort.

TURN, TURN, TURN!

 By Phillip Starr

As you perform various techniques and forms, do you ever take note of where your knees and toes are pointing? Are they pointed in the same direction? They should be! Many martial artists, including quite a number who are of very senior practitioners err in this regard. And to do so is more than a little risky...

Imagine doing a powerful roundhouse kick but neglecting the pivot...! Not a pretty sight at all. The supporting foot remains planted while body turns at least 90 degrees. That places a lot of torque on the supporting knee and you may well tear ligaments! That's a bit of a drastic example (although I've seen lots of people do it), but there are infinite variations that occur with great frequency. That is, the toes are pointing in one direction and the knee is not aligned with them...

In the art of baguazhang (one of China's internal martial arts), this is a common problem, since the signature exercise is to walk around the rim of a circle. This “walking” isn't anything like a normal walk! One foot or the other is frequented angled inward or outward and it's crucial that the knee is aligned precisely with the toes. Moreover, there are strange movements that involve stepping or turning one foot outward (pai-bu) or inward (kou-bu) and in both cases, proper alignment of the knee with the foot is vital! Otherwise, you're constantly putting torque on the knee and although it may not be bothersome at first...it will be, eventually.

Also, bear in mind that where the foot points, the hip also points. If your rear foot is allowed to point outwards when you execute a reverse punch, you can't get nearly enough rotation of your hip into the blow! The rear foot should be allowed to point outward no more than about 30 degrees. Ideally, it points almost dead straight ahead (when delivering a strong blow).

Allowing the back foot to splay out when advancing into a forward stance easily develops into a bad habit that's tough to break. Don't let it happen and check all of your stances to insure that everything is properly aligned.

THE “DO”

 by Phillip Starr

The “Way.” It is rather obscure, even at its beginning. The first awkward steps seem shrouded in mist and the heights toward which it leads are rather opaque and cloud-covered. And that's really for the best; to see too clearly what lies ahead would be much too intimidating. The sobering realizations come about only in retrospect...the traveler has left behind his familiar and comfy place and started a journey more challenging and rewarding than he ever could have imagined. As he travels further, he sees that although his Way is to a “destination” that remains unfathomable but still intensely attractive to him.

Although this Way isn't a particular place to which one must be transported, it is very rare to find a follower who's able to travel its length without ever leaving home. It is a journey of the mind and spirit and ultimately, the soul. The character for this way is pronounced “doe” in Japanese and “dao” (sometimes spelled “tao”) in Chinese. The strokes for “principal, main” are joined with those of the radical for “movement.” Thus, “do” is “an important road.” Usually, it is intended to mean “a way, a path”; a way to follow in harmony with the vicissitudes the universe provides, a path along which to discover for oneself the essentials of a worthwhile life.

Traces of the Way in this sense are very old; it took form the first time an individual engaged in some activity with a consciousness beyond the utilitarian and past the restrictions of the ego. True, it may produce art...it may be of practical value but the attainment of the Way is in the PROCESS. It is the doing of a thing not for its own sake but because the doing releases us from certain constraints of the limited self; narcissism, self-centeredness, preoccupations with the fears, worries, and doubts that diminish us in daily life. It draws us into the realm of self-realization, cultivation, and aims at self-perfection.

The Way is open to all who have the desire and resolve to walk it. Those who do may select from a variety of disciplines, for the Do extrapolates from the specific to the general. Tea ceremony, flower arranging, brushing calligraphy – each is a route of the Way. We have chosen the martial route. And while the particular form the Way takes doesn't matter, the route we have taken brings us into the most immediate confrontation with the elementary struggles of reality such as life and death, pain and comfort, temporal matters and matters of the soul. It requires moral stamina along with visceral and emotional courage. It demnds a social conscience as well as physical endurance. Each of these qualities will be sorely tested on the journey and they may be purified (tempered) and fortified in the process. But they must already be present in the traveler to some degree from the outset if he expects to travel very far at all.

Such an individual must be brave and virtuous and possess a sense of commitment as well as a sensitivity to the values of the past. But he also suspects something important is missing from his life and so, he sets out along the Way despite observations by others that such a Way is outmoded, naïve, and/or idealistic. He continues, knowing that other have gone before and because of the call of the Way. He has set out on a lifetime journey because, as the character for Do shows... this is the principal road for him. It will lead him to a place very much worth the going...

SIMPLICITY

 by Yang Shuangxing

An important part of being a highly-skilled martial arts practitioner is the ability to see past what appear to be complicated movements and turn them into very simple ones. And one of the marks of a skilled instructor lies in his/her ability to explain and demonstrate a complicated movement or concept in a simple way, so that students can understand it more fully.

I can, and have, easily spend four hours or more teaching students how to execute a proper reverse punch. There's a LOT more to it than meets the eye and once a student has acquired a good deal of experience imitating the outer movement(s), she's ready to learn the less obvious but critical principles involved. When it's all put together, it seems rather complicated. And it is. But with enough practice, the rough edges are smoothed and polished and it becomes quite simple to do. This can't be accomplished in a week or a month, or even a year. Don't be concerned with how long it'll take; just practice. You'll get there eventually. And in time, you'll refer to it as a very “simple” technique.

The fundamental, “signature” exercise of baguazhang, walking the circle, looks and sounds like it's pretty simple. Beginners learn very quickly that it isn't... what LOOKS simple is a galaxy beyond what they expect. Eventually, if the instructor is worth his salt, it becomes very simple and feels “natural.”

“Simple” is a subjective term. What is simple for one person may be very complicated for another. Progress is made by learning step-by-step until that which seems complicated becomes simple. The key is repetition. After 10,000 repetitions, a movement becomes very simple. If you do that movement (say, a reverse punch) 100 times every day for a year it'll take about 3 years or so. That's also the average time it takes to reach the level of shodan (yiduan in Chinese)...

A SHODAN, BUT NO BLACK BELT?

 By Phillip Starr

So...you've received your shodan in iaido (the art of drawing and cutting with the Japanese sword). You get a nice certificate...but no black belt, such as would be the case in karate or judo. What's the deal?

The koryu (traditional martial arts of Japan, which does not include newcomers like judo and karate) never awarded colored belts; instead, they awarded a “menkyo.” The menkyo ( 免許) refers to a license to teach within the school or ryu. This system dates back to the 8^th century. And although it is often thought to be used for martial arts, it was, and is, used for other Ways, such as sumi-e (painting), the tea ceremony (chado), flower arranging, kado (also known as ikebana, or flower arranging), and even calligraphy (shodo).

It should be mentioned that in Japan, there are no “kyu” grades (under shodan) for adults in arts such as iaido. I am unsure about arts such as chado and the others. In the U.S., kyu grades for iaido are given to adults, but not in Japan where such grades are only for children.

Moreover, you will never hear a genuine shodan (or above) practitioner of an art such as iaido or any of the koryu refer to him/her self as a “black belt.” There are no belts given for grading...only certificates. One may refer to oneself as a shodan or sandan, but no mention of a colored belt is ever made. And anyway, the obi (cotton sash) worn beneath the hakama to assist in supporting the sword is considered nothing more than a tool and may be any color, depending on one's taste.

Different martial art koryū use different license; one outline is:

• Okuiri : enter into art.

• Mokuroku : certificate, and entered into official rolls.

  • Sho Mokuroku

  • Hatsu Mokuroku

  • Go Mokuroku

• Menkyo: License.

  • Shoden Menkyo

  • Chuden Menkyo

  • Okuden Menkyo

  • Hiden Menkyo

Menkyo Kaiden: Around thirty years' experience

The “Menkyo Kaiden” ( 免許皆伝), (めんきょかいでん), is a Japanese term meaning “license of total transmission.” “Kaiden” ( 皆伝) means “initiation into an art or discipline.” It is a license used by a school of the koryu to indicate that the student has learned the art fully and has passed all aspects of his/her training. It's the highest level of license under the menkyo system; it isn't determined in terms of time spent in training, but how well one has mastered the system. This usually requires about 30 years or so of continuous training. The holder of the menkyo kaiden is often, but not always, the de facto successor to the soke (founder, headmaster) of the koryu system.

Modern aikido practitioners may be surprised to learn that although aikido does issue black belts, they are (or at least weren't) worn with the traditional hakama. To do so was considered...well...tacky, to say the least. But many Westerners, in their demand for recognition, do it anyway.

In China, colored belts were never given to denote one's “rank.” In fact, belts weren't provided at all. What we now call a “kung-fu uniform” is a replica of old Chinese streetwear. No “ranking system” ever existed until fairly recently, when the All-China Sports Committee developed a structure for those of “duan” (meaning “grade” and written with the same character as is used for the Japanese “dan”) ranking. This is applied according to standards set by the Committee, which based it on contemporary wushu standards. Within the traditional martial arts community, there is still no grading system, which creates as many problems as those it allegedly prevents.