HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?

 By Phillip Starr

I used to ask my students, “Have you lost your mind?” They'd look at me quizzically and I'd continue with my query, “Where did you put it?” And they'd continue to stare at me...

When someone grabs you or punches at you, where does your mind go? Where does it fix itself? For most people, the mind instantly becomes attached to the spot where they are being seized or on the opponent's fist...and this is a serious error. Remember, where your mind goes, so does your attention, your body, and your energy.

As an experiment, have a partner firmly grasp your wrist. If you place your mind and your attention on where he has clutched you, you will be unable to free yourself or move much at all. However, if you focus on your One-Point (my term for the dantien or “tanden” in Japanese) you will find that your body can move in any direction. Your elbow and your shoulder have not been immobilized either, and you can move them quite easily. Thus, you have many options for dealing with this form of attack...unless you fix your mind on the spot where you have been attacked.

If your partner intends to punch you, you mustn't focus your attention on his fist. In swordsmanship, you are told not to focus your mind on your opponent's sword. If you do, you will very likely lose the battle.

So, where should you fix your mind, you ask? The best example I can think of has to do with swordsmanship. You are holding your sword and are poised in front of your opponent who also wields a sword. What is your objective? If you answer that your primary intention is to stay alive, then you will probably fail. The correct is, of course, to cut your enemy! Your mind and intention should be fixed on him rather than on yourself, his weapon, or where he intends to cut you.

The opponent is, of course, at a disadvantage; he must attach his intention to a particular part of you. He must know if he's going to direct his cut at your head or shoulder, if he's going to punch you in the nose, or seize your left wrist or right lapel. This means that HIS MIND IS FIXED and not free to move about. His mind is focused on a particular form of attack, which is directed at a specific target. Consequently, it cannot immediately respond to any kind of counter-measure. It can only direct its single attack; it cannot react defensively. This is the great flaw of attack.

So next time you practice, especially with a partner, make sure you don't lose your mind... :-)

FORMS AND FIGHTING, FIGHTING AND FORMS

 by Phillip Starr

*Excerpted from “Martial Maneuvers” by the author.

Beginning piano students spend countless hours practicing simple finger exercises and eventually move on to study the classics – compositions that were created by masters of ages past. The martial arts masters who contributed to the creation of the traditional forms, the classics of Eastern martial disciplines – are our Bachs, Beethovens, and Mozarts.

The forms of your chosen craft are representative of your art and are intended to teach you how it is to be applied in combat. Therefore, the manner in which you fight should look very much like, and have have the flavor of, your forms. Unfortunately, this isn't true for most contemporary martial arts practitioners. Let me give you an example of what I mean...

Many years ago, I was invited to help officiate at a large Chinese martial arts tournament. I witnessed some truly remarkable forms that day. Performed with great celerity and precision, they were absolutely beautiful and I looked forward to watching the freestyle sparring competition because each martial discipline has its own flavor, its own way of applying various techniques as shown and practiced in its forms. However, my enthusiasm wilted when the sparring competitors, suited up with all the appropriate headgear and hand and foot pads, blasted into each other with all the finesse and technique of a second-grade schoolyard slugfest. It resembled an abysmal, ineffective mishmash of sloppy Western boxing and slipshod Muay Thai. No one demonstrated any particular style at all; they all looked the same, regardless of what form of kung-fu they practiced!

Clearly, these people did not make the connection between form and fighting.

Much of the reason for the lack of real martial skill has to do with the WAY in which many of today's practitioners train. Forms are often practiced as a matter of tradition with little attention given to the information they contain and the fighting skills that they are intended to develop. Simply running through a form “by the numbers” isn't enough; the various fighting techniques and tactics must be extracted and practiced repeatedly until they can be performed correctly without conscious effort. Unless this is done, we cannot hope to achieve “form.”

FEAR NOT!

 By Phillip Starr

Remember way back when you were about to break your very first board? Do you recall your teacher's instructions? I imagine he said like, “Aim for the center and try to hit something BEHIND THE BOARD!” Essentially, he told you to put your mind on something behind the board...and your fist passed through it without much difficulty, right? This was probably one of the most valuable lessons you ever learned but so many of us miss it altogether...

What your mind believes to be true, becomes true (for you).

This applies not only to breaking boards, but to virtually every aspect of your life. In your martial arts training it is absolutely crucial that you understand this simple principle. It is one of the most important reasons we practice freestyle sparring! It's also a good reason to engage in competition. After all, martial arts is primarily about training the mind; training the body is secondary to training the mind.

In sparring practice or competition, a fear of losing will certainly result in a quick defeat. Actual combat is slightly different; in competition the object is to win but in a real life and death skirmish, the object is to NOT LOSE! Either way, you must remove the fear of losing from your mind altogether.

Whatever your mind is focused on is what will occur. Thus, if you focus on losing, you're guaranteed to fail. If your mind is concerned about losing, it will interfere with your ability to see clearly what is happening. You will miss opportunities and perhaps misinterpret movements that your foe makes, causing you to react inappropriately. Your qi (energy) is withdrawn and your spirit waivers, preventing you from acting boldly at the moment of truth. If your enemy possesses any real skill he'll see and “smell” your fear and take full advantage of it.

We are humans and as mortal creatures we experience fear from time to time. The key is not giving in to your fear (of losing). You must learn to control it, to put it in the back seat while you continue to press forward. This is the real meaning of bravery. The legendary actor, John Wayne, put it very succinctly when he said, “Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.”

You must focus your mind on succeeding, on achieving your goals, and you must see yourself as being victorious. Success in anything is not the result of luck; it is almost always due to a courageous spirit, the willingness to do whatever must be done to achieve it, and the firm belief that losing is simply not a possibility.

DISCIPLINE!

 By Phillip Starr

It's said that a life of martial arts is a life of discipline, but just what does that mean? In my view, there is only one real discipline and that's self-discipline; the willingness to do what must be done to achieve a particular goal. It requires a strong spirit and personal courage. It means training even when you feel tired or when your muscles ache.

I tell other instructors that they can certainly maintain a disciplined class but students doing repeated reverse punches and front kicks when they call cadence and students doing them when training on their own are two different things. Forced discipline isn't what it's all about. A student must develop a strong self-discipline. Otherwise, he's just exercising.

The discipline of training tends to be carried into one's daily life. This is as it should be. To resist it; to maintain discipline in class and leave it at the door of the training hall when you leave is rather pointless; the discipline of training is intended to be carried over into daily life.

Personally, I believe that a strong spirit and self-discipline are closely intertwined. One cannot really exist without the other. As one develops and becomes stronger, so does the other.

And as one unknown author put it, don't forget that the first discipline is showing up for class!

THE DEATH FACTOR

by Phillip Starr

For all the spiritual insights that one might achieve, it is often well to remember just what the various martial disciplines were designed for; killing other human beings as quickly and efficiently as possible. They were not intended to get you in touch with your inner child, reduce stress, or help you get rid of those nasty extra pounds. Certainly, there are many benefits to be gained from regular practice of a martial discipline but don't mistake a benefit for the primary purpose of the art.

Now, I'm not advocating the practice of some kind of so-called “reality martial art” where we all wear spiffy camouflaged pants and combat boots. What I'm saying is that it is essential to practice as if our lives depend upon what we do; as if we're engaged in actual combat. When you practice your basic techniques at full-tilt boogie, when you burn through your kata, when you practice basic one-step or freestyle sparring with a partner, it should be done with the feeling that the slightest error, the smallest loss of balance, power, or anything else will result in your immediate demise. Don't just “lob” your kicks out there, don't dance your way through your forms, and don't just toss your techniques at your partner as if you're playing catch. Gichin Funakoshi, the “Father of Japanese Karate” put it very succinctly when he said, “Practice should be done with deadly seriousness.”

Sure, there are times for playing and laughing but for the most part, training should be very serious. For beginning students, it is perhaps a little less serious because they are still learning how to execute the various movements and control their techniques (to avoid injuring their partners as well as themselves), but for more senior practitioners it is much more serious. When two seniors square off to practice one-step fighting, the receiver must understand that if he makes a mistake, he may well be knocked down. He must feel as though he is looking death in the face. He must face up to the primary underlying fear that we all have in our hearts...the fear of death. And he must overcome it.

It is this experience that's vital to acquiring a real understanding of the essence of martial arts. It's one thing to attend class and enjoy the social life that it offers. It's quite another thing to face a partner who will surely knock you out of your socks if you make an error. It needn't always be this way but such serious training is a very necessary part of traveling the martial path. I once met a female taijiquan teacher who assured me that she KNEW that taiji had never been a martial art. She disdained fighting in any way, shape, or form and insisted that taijiquan had been developed to improve health and awaken a certain sense of spirituality. There was no convincing her otherwise.

Another taijiquan school had a sign outside that said, “Taijiquan; The Harmless Martial Art.” Kind of a paradox, I thought. But I was walking with some friends and decided to turn away from that one. Just another flake in a bowl of granola.

Intention is another key factor. If your training partner doesn't have the INTENTION to knock you down, how can you expect to ever learn to connect with him and FEEL his intention? The ability to do this could well mean the difference between life and death in a serious struggle.

A rough parallel can be drawn between a soldier who has completed basic training and a veteran who has looked death in the face. They both know how to use their weapons; they both received the same training but the veteran has something that the newbie lacks. Experience. He's experienced the knotting of his gut, the surge of adrenalin that pours into his bloodstream by the gallon just before combat, the fear, the doubt, and many other things that occur just before he rushes into the jaws of death. He's learned to control them, to do what he must do regardless of the fear factor and the so-called “lizard brain” theory.

It is my contention that this kind of experience and subsequently, training that is as close to the real thing as we can get without going over the edge and actually injuring each other, helps to eliminate the “lizard-brain” concept. Repeated, realistic training is the key. Unrealistic practice, especially that which involves a partner who has no real INTENTION, leads to nothing.

And it is my belief that regular, repeated training of this kind can lead to a true understanding of the spiritual side of the martial ways. One who has never “looked death in the face” can never achieve this level of understanding. As the legendary Masutatsu Oyama (founder of Kyokushin karate) told us, “To truly understand the spirit of karate, we must face death and, if necessary, be willing to die.”

THE CRITICAL INTERVAL

 by Phillip Starr

In traditional Japanese swordsmanship there is a poem that tells us,

"To strike the opponent you must have your own skin cut;

To break the opponent's bones you must be cut to the flesh;

To take the opponent's life you must have your own bones broken."

The famous Japanese swordsman, Yagyu Jubei Mitsuyoshi (first son of Yagyu Tajima No Kami Munenori, who was head swordmaster for the Tokugawa shogunate) said, "The difference between victory and defeat lies within the distance of one 'cun'." A "cun" is known in Chinese as a "tsun" (or "cun", in Pinyin). It is the measurement of the body inch used by acupuncturists and is generally found by bending the middle finger and measuring the distance between the fold of the first and second knuckles.

It's pretty darned small.

A story is told of a duel in which Jubei participated. The challenger was a samurai of a daimyo whom Jubei was visiting and he asked for a lesson with bokken (wooden swords). Although such "lessons" could easily result in serious injuries, Jubei agreed. Once the swordsmen squared off, the action was quick and the two fighters seemed to strike at each other simultaneously. It was impossible for anyone to really tell who won. The challenger asked for another chance and it was provided, but with the same outcome. Members of the audience swore that the duel had ended in a "hikiwake" (a tie) but Jubei told them that they were unable to discern the true timing of his stroke.

His opponent then demanded that they have another go at it but with shinken (live swords). Jubei tried to talk him out of it but the young man would have none of it. Thereupon, they had at it one more time but this time the challenger's kimono was soaked with blood as he backed away. He collapsed, dead on the spot. Jubei's sleeve had been cut and he suffered a slight wound from his opponent's sword. It was then that he uttered his famous saying about the distance between life and death being no wider than one "cun."

Author Dave Lowry refers to this as "yuyo", which is, I think, called "yaoyan" in Chinese. It means roughly, "critical distance"...the distance between life and death, the very essence of timing and distance (which are actually the same thing). It is mastery of real technique.

If you want to see yaoyan in action, don't go to the next karate, kung-fu, or taekwondo tournament. You won't find it there. In those fiascos, one never sees truly refined, masterful technique. In fact, you'll not see it very often in today's martial arts schools (an unfortunate fact, but true).

However, if you chance upon a traditional school and observe well-trained students practicing three-step or one-step fight, you may get a chance to witness it. The attacker will fire his technique with absolute precision, aiming to just touch the receiver. However, the receiver will shift and execute a defensive maneuver or technique at the last possible moment and fire out his own counter-technique, which, although it is delivered with maximum destructive power, will stop just short of contact. It is directed at a specific target and its timing will be flawless. The attacker, putting complete trust in his training partner, will make no attempt to block or evade the counter-attack. He might blink, but he won't move because to do so might cause him to step into the blow and, even worse, it would show his partner that he doesn't trust him or have much faith in his skill.

Those who have refined this technique even further are capable of applying it during freestyle one-step and freestyle sparring practice.

This is becoming a real rarity nowadays, especially since the advent of the padded mittens and footies that are worn by many, if not most, contemporary martial arts practitioners. Wearing pads and other such protective devices not only inhibits the development of this fine skill, it encourages participants to use brute, uncontrolled technique. Since they're wearing armor they're not overly concerned with running into their partner's attack (and remember - he's wearing pads, too...). Real martial skill goes right down the stool in the name of safety.

I say, "get a grip." It should be understood from the outset that engaging in a vigorous martial arts program is likely to result in many minor injuries (split lips, black eyes, bruises, strawberries, and the like) and the very real possibility of serious ones. It's simply the nature of the beast. I have never used protective gear in my schools and I've been teaching martial arts for over 50 years. To this day, I've never had a student seriously injured. Not once. It's simply a matter of proper training with the right attitude.