THE PREMISE

 by Phillip Starr

Ask most martial artists what the basic premise of their art is, and you'll likely get the well-known “deer in the headlight” look or an answer that may well be fairly laughable. I have often encountered this when speaking with practitioners of the internal Chinese martial arts but it is equally applicable to virtually any style or art...

“Upon what premise is this style/art based?”, I ask. The answers vary as much as do the hairstyles of the people I encounter, but it shouldn't be that way. The problem is that most of us have never considered the question.

First you must scrutinize the “hallmark” or “signature” of your style/art. Many martial arts devotees honestly don't know. It's the MAIN THING that sets your style/art apart from the others. You must identify what that is. The premise is the basis for that hallmark. It's the “why” of it.

For instance the style of baguazhang's hallmark is an exercise known as “walking the circle.” Okay...I've asked numerous bagua zealots about the reason (premise) for such a bizarre exercise and I've received various different answers such as:

• It confuses the opponent and may make him dizzy.

• It makes you a moving (and therefore, difficult to hit) target. Wishful thinking...

• It's a form of qigong (an important part of a neijia style).

• It develops balance, agility, and tones/strengthens the legs and hips.

• All or several of the above.

I remind them that the premise can only be one thing. So they choose one of the singular answers...which is, of course, incorrect. To date, I've never met a bagua devotee – not a single one - who could answer this question correctly (including Chinese “masters”, some of whom are/were very well known or even revered).

Very frustrating.

Oftentimes, it is necessary to do some detective work to find the answer. It's going to take some research and time. You may have to dig into the history of the style/art's founder and the country in which he lived. It's the same kind of work that you should do if you want to truly understand why your forms/techniques are done in a certain way...

• What kind of person was the founder? Short-tempered, serene, or what? Was he large and strong, small and thin? What did he do for a living? How would he have dressed on a day to day basis? All of these factors could (and likely did) impact his fighting style.

• Did he have any prior experience in a form of martial art?

• Was he well-educated or not? If he came from a well-to-do family, he likely was. If not, it is much less likely. He may well have been illiterate. This could impact how effectively he could transmit his teachings.

• What was the weather like in that part of the country? Cold in the winter or tropical? And what about the topography? Flat and smooth, rocky, mountainous...?

• What was the political climate like? Civil unrest or peaceful? High violent crime rate or not? Was there a war going on?

And so on...try to take into account everything that might have impacted the development of a fighting art.

For instance, in southern China squabbles were often settled in VERY narrow alleys. To engage in a fight on the street would quickly attract the police (who didn't and still don't care who started it...) and a huge number of witnesses. Their styles had to be suitable for very close-quarters combat.

If your founder served in the military at the time, he would likely dress in rather heavy clothing and wear very heavy cotton-soled boots (the soles of these boots are VERY thick) and these factors would inhibit certain types of movements. If violent crime was common or there was warfare, the forms may contain various methods of dealing with armed adversaries...and so on. It may also contain techniques for use against an armed adversary when one has lost one's weapon and is dressed in armor.

There are many factors that would have had a strong influence on the development of a given style/art. They must all be carefully considered.

Determining the premise of your style/art can strongly influence how you understand and perform it. Believe me, it's worth the effort.

OMOTE AND URA

 by Phillip Starr

Many, if not most, new participants in a given martial art are interested primarily in learning effective self-defense. And there's no denying that outwardly, the martial ways appear the be violent to one degree or another. The aim of Japanese ikebana (roughly, “flower arranging”) would logically seem to be to present a beautiful arrangement of blossoms and the traditional tea ceremony's goal would certainly seem to be to quench one's thirst.

But no, not quite.

There is a kind of apparent contradiction between that which is (or seems) obvious and readily observable, known as omote, and that which is not, is ura. For instance, if you watch a group of judoka jostling and tossing each other on the mat, it would appear that the main aim is to throw your partner or force him to submit to a joint lock or choke. An observer of kyudo (Japanese archery) might think it's a bit stiff and ritualistic, but the goal must be, HAS to be, to hit the bull's eye. Right?

However, below judo's superficiality (omote) as a fine sport the art is an ura, a dimension of profound spirituality and hoary, venerable symbolism. The same holds true for kyudo and virtually all of the martial ways. Ikebana may initially attract those who want to learn to create attractive floral arrangements but if one's sensei is good, one will come to understand that such is simply the omote of the art, The ura lies in harmonizing oneself with nature and letting go of the ego through the rigid and demanding process of arranging floral geometrics in a timeless, fragile way.

In the martial ways, below the omote of outward violence lies the ura of a special way of life, a journey towards dignity, respect for oneself and others, and a path that exemplifies that which is moral, good, and beautiful. Although not easily seen on the surface, it is certainly there.

There is no question that the greatest danger that the martial ways face in the West is the celebration of their omote and the ignorance of their ura. The omote of these arts travels very easily but the ura is difficult to export. We see this in many of the martial arts now practiced in the West; many have become little more than athletic contests or a means of developing “self-defense” skills. Some practitioners use them as a means of attracting followers by prancing through fancy, homemade forms, smashing piles of lumber, or demonstrating what they tout as supreme self-defense skill. It is only through the guidance and persistence of of talented masters that the hearts of Western exponents will be captured.

LEARNING...STILL LEARNING

 by Phillip Starr

“I’m still learning.” These were the parting words of famous Italian Renaissance artist Michelangelo. This man died at the ripe old age of 88; quite a feat, considering it was 1564 and people were lucky if they made it past 40. And 40 was a long time ago in my case and I have to agree with the Italian genius....I'm still learning.

I began my walk along the martial path more than 60 years ago, starting out with judo. Before I had travelled very far, I fell passionately in love with these old, arcane arts. So began a love affair that continues to this day. When my teacher taught me something new, it was like receiving a special gift and I was always very excited. Like many youngsters who are given new gifts, I delighted in trying to take them apart to find out how and why they worked. Little did I suspect that my teacher was giving me so much more than a new technique or form...

He was stoking a flame that he saw burning within me; the desire to learn all I could about whatever he taught me. He would always encourage and support me in my efforts. And that flame still burns.

After my teacher passed away, I was often very surprised at how I learned things (often found in the forms) on my own. Then I realized that that's exactly what he'd always encouraged me to do. And there's so much to be learned (just within the traditional styles that he taught me), that I never need to worry about completing all of it. To this day, when I find something new I can hear his voice congratulating and encouraging me to continue further.

People sometimes ask me why I continue to study the martial ways. Well for one thing, I still love learning new things and there's no shortage of new goodies to be found! Sometimes they're buried rather deeply or they lie underneath a heavy stone, but I know the treasures are there. And I'm as determined as ever to find them.

Then there's the question of improving. Pablo Casals was a brilliant cellist, and I love a remark that he reportedly made when he was in his eighties or nineties. He continued to practice intensely with his cello in those golden years, and when he was asked why he was so diligent he replied with one of these statements:

“I think I’m making progress.
I think I see some improvement.”

If he can do it, I can do it. How about you?

HOMEWORK

 by Phillip Starr

When many of us attend our martial arts class we are excited about the prospect of learning something new but we fail to realize that if we don't do our “homework”, our progress will be slowed considerably. If the instructor teaches something new, it will probably take up only a fraction of the time spent in class, which is mostly a review and polishing of material already learned. And during the time spent on review, the teacher can very readily assess just who has done his/her homework and how well.

The time we spend at home reviewing and honing material we've already learned needn't be as boring or sterile as the homework we had to do in school. I always looked at that as being about as interesting as watching paint dry. Doing your martial arts homework is a time for exploring, digging, and discovery. By taking the time to do it (and yes, that includes repetition of basic techniques and forms), you learn how to learn and this will be a critical skill when comes the day that your instructor is no longer readily available for class.

My gong-fu teacher knew perfectly well that improvement of techniques and forms could not be achieved if students practiced them only in class. He KNEW who had and hadn't been doing their homework and those who'd been skipping it were held back in their training. This often disappointed and even angered them, but sifu Chen knew that they simply hadn't yet developed the actual physical and/or mental skills necessary for moving forward. He said that they weren't truly serious about their training. And he was right.

Real skill isn't developed in class. It's developed outside of class. Some martial arts practitioners of arts such as judo, aikido, kendo, and other methods that involve training with a partner sometimes try to argue that it's pointless to try to train at home without a partner.

Nonsense. It's always possible to train “dry-run” (solo, without a partner) and doing so allows you to focus on pertinent aspects of your art, such as posture, footwork, breathing, correct placement of the hands and arms, and so on. When a partner is present, you often fail to really focus on these important points. Without a partner, there is no pressure on you to succeed in doing/finishing the technique. You can focus on more minute aspects of the art.

A good martial arts teacher won't “spoon feed” everything; he knows that many things mean so much more to you if and when you discover them for yourself. What he isn't showing you is as important as what he does teach openly. But you'll find these things if you do your homework!

HITTING THE MARK

 by Phillip Starr

In kyudo (Japanese archery; “the Way of the bow”) the object is quite dissimilar to that of Western archery. The beginning of archery in Japan is prehistoric. The first images picturing the distinct Japanese asymmetrical longbow are from the Yayoi period (ca. 500 BC – 300 AD). Although the familiar katana is associated with the samurai (and sometimes referred to as the “samurai sword”), the bow was the original weapon of the warrior class.

The changing of society and the military class (samurai) taking power at the end of the first millennium created a requirement for education in archery. This led to the birth of the first kyujutsu ryūha (style), the Henmi-ryū, founded by Henmi Kiyomitsu in the 12th century. The Takeda-ryū and the mounted archery school  of Ogasawara-ryū were later founded by his descendants. The need for archers grew dramatically during the Genpei War (1180–1185) and as a result the founder of the Ogasawara-ryū (Ogasawara Nagakiyo), began teaching yabusame (mounted archery).

From the 15th to the 16th century, Japan was ravaged by civil war. In the latter part of the 15th century Heki Danjō Masatsugu revolutionized archery with his new and accurate approach called hi, kan, chū (fly, pierce, center), and his footman's archery spread rapidly. Many new schools were formed, some of which, such as Heki-ryū Chikurin-ha, Heki-ryū Sekka-ha and Heki-ryū Insai-ha, remain today. During the Edo period (1603–1868) Japan was turned inward as a hierarchical caste society in which the samurai were at the top. There was an extended era of peace during which the samurai moved to administrative duty, although the traditional fighting skills were still esteemed. During this period archery became a "voluntary" skill, practiced partly in the court in ceremonial form, partly as different kinds of competition. Archery spread also outside the warrior class. The samurai were affected by the straightforward philosophy and aim for self-control in Zen Buddhism that was introduced by Chinese monks. Earlier archery had been called kyūjutsu (the skill of bow), but monks acting as martial arts teachers led to creation of a new concept: kyūdō (the Way of the bow).

Kyūdō practice, as in all budō, includes the idea of moral and spiritual development. Today many archers practise kyūdō as a sport, with marksmanship being paramount. However, the goal most devotees of kyūdō seek is seisha seichū, "correct shooting is correct hitting". In kyūdō the unique action of expansion (nobiai) that results in a natural release, is sought. When the technique of the shooting is correct the result is that the arrow hits the target. To give oneself completely to the shooting is the spiritual goal, achieved by perfection of both the spirit and shooting technique leading to munen musō, "no thoughts, no illusions". This however is not Zen, although the Japanese bow can be used in Zen-practice or kyūdō practised by a Zen master. In this respect, many kyūdō practitioners believe that competition, examination, and any opportunity that places the archer in this uncompromising situation is important, while other practitioners will avoid competitions or examinations of any kind.

Unlike Chinese, Korean, and Mongolian bows (which are rather short), the Japanese bow will run from 84” to 97” in length. When I visited Japan in 2016, I saw several young ladies dressed in kimono and carrying very long silk or cotton bags, which contained their bows. They would take the subway trains to their classes and nobody thought anything of it.

And unlike Western archery, the primary object of kyudo is not necessarily to hit the mark (“bull's eye”). It is an art steeped in ritual and every aspect of it is pregnant with meaning. Zen-like in its approach, the focus is on strengthening, forging, and tempering the spirit. Each movement (including the steps taken to the spot from which the archer will shoot, nocking the arrow, and virtually everything else) is perfected and polished for its own sake. It is said that when the mind is ready, the arrow will release itself. In time, accuracy comes naturally.

It is rather the same in all forms of budo. However, we Westerners tend to focus too much on hitting the mark rather than perfecting each tiny movement. In our forms, we often rush through to the end, thinking something like, “There! I finished that form.” But the truth is far different. We did not take time to gently polish each movement, to experience and “taste” it. We hurry, like a child in a candy store...filling our mouths with so many candies that we can scarcely taste any one of them. Each candy (and movement) must be savored...delicately at first. Like the arrow in kyudo, accuracy will come along naturally.

ESSENTIAL INGREDIENTS

 by Phillip Starr

What's the first thing you do when you set out to bake a cake? If you're like me (I know almost nothing about the subject...), you first determine just what ingredients you need. If you leave out only one item, God only knows what you'll end up producing but the odds are good that you wouldn't necessarily want to eat it! It's the same in the study of any given martial art. You need the right ingredients...

• DETERMINATION (Strong Spirit): This is of the utmost importance but one that is often left out of the recipe. Having a strong spirit means never giving up; it means overcoming any and all “obstacles” that appear, regardless of how insurmountable they seem.

  
  
  

• COURTESY: True courtesy comes from the heart. It is not simply a series of empty gestures or hollow words. Believe it or not, practicing genuine courtesy (at all times!) will impact your training.

  
  
  

• FAITH: Having faith in your teacher is essential. You must have faith in what he or she teaches. He's been where you're going.

  
  
  

• OBEDIENCE: You must adhere to the instruction given to you by your teacher, even if it involves discomfort or inconvenience.

  
  
  

• DISCIPLINE: You must train regularly (and bear in mind that 90% of your practice is done outside of class). If your training is “hit-or-miss” you're just spinning your wheels and getting nowhere. Worse, you're opening yourself up to injuries that will only further hamper your development. Maintain a strict discipline.

  
  
  

• AN OPEN MIND: You're going to be introduced to new ideas, customs, and attitudes. Don't approach your training with a closed mind. Keep it open so that you can fully absorb new information. Avoid harboring preconceived notions about any parts of your training.

  
  
  

• PATIENCE: This is perhaps the one ingredient that is most often missing in Western students. To learn and develop new skills takes time. There's no way around it and no short-cuts, regardless of what some hucksters will tell you. Trying to hurry often ends in injury, disappointment, and frustration.

  
  
  

Like baking a cake, if you use all of these ingredients you can produce a very delicious and beautiful cake. If you leave out any of them, the end result will be less than desirable.

A COMPLETE FIGHTING SYSTEM?

 By Phillip Starr

The next time you practice a given form, here's something to bear in mind...each (traditional) form is a complete fighting system in and of itself. That's what Master Seiyu Oyata (dec.) told me and it's true. This is perhaps why some Okinawan karate masters of days past primarily practiced only one kata. Certainly, they knew others but for their own personal daily training, they'd mainly practice only one. The famous Choki Motobu was known to practice the Naihanchi (in Japanese, Tekki) kata above all others.

I think that the fact that each form is a complete combative method is indicative that the various forms contain a considerable amount of information; much more than we often attribute to them. The key is to learn to “read between the lines” of the books (forms). And that requires a great deal of introspection and time. Just plodding your way through a form won't cut it. Each and every movement, as well as what appear to be “empty spaces” between the readily distinguishable techniques, must be studied carefully.

The meaning and application of numerous movements may very well change as you explore different rhythms/timings and once you find an application that you favor for a given action, remember that it isn't enough to simply know that it's there; you have to PRACTICE it over and over until you can apply it without having to think about it. This is what kata is for.

And remember that the Asian people are very pragmatic. There's no such thing as an “empty” movement; each and every movement is pregnant with meaning. They contain jewels that wait silently for you to dig them up.