DIRECT MIND

 by Phillip Starr

Zhixin in Chinese (直心) is pronounced “jikishin” in Japanese. The first character (zhi/jiki) means “directly, immediately, without delay.” The second character (xin/shin) literally means “heart”, but as the heart is thought to be the seat of the mind as well as the emotions, the term zhixin/jikishin translates as “direct mind.” In the city of Kyoto (Japan), there is a small chaseki (single-room hut used for the tea ceremony) that was built by the 17^th century warrior and tea master, Furuta Oribe. As with most of these traditional huts, an alcove can be found in one corner of the room where flowers and a single scroll are usually placed. Oribe's favorite scroll was one that read, “Jikishin kore dojo” - “jiki-mind is the place to practice.”

This phrase is simple and very straightforward, and the term “jikishin” can even be found in the names of a couple of very old and traditional Japanese martial ways (one involves the use of the sword, and the other centers on the naginata). Although the term “jiki/zhi” seems very basic, it isn't easily appreciated and has wider significance for the martial arts practitioner. Consider how most of us experience our environment every day; obviously, the way we spend our waking hours is considerably different from the way our early ancestors spent theirs. Their experience with the world tended to be direct and immediate. If a man was hungry, he went out to find something to eat; he either impaled it with his spear or grubbed around in the ground or bushes. Even as recently as a century ago, many of our forefathers butchered their own livestock and harvested their own crops. Nowadays, we rarely see food that has not been processed and wrapped in plastic. This important distinction in the way we relate to the world as compared to how our ancestors did can be seen in numerous cultural and personal practices.

We don't bury our own dead, women rarely give birth without the attendance of a doctor and oftentimes, the administration of medicines that actually distance the mother from the act of bearing the child. Today, people live life (or a lot of it, anyway) filtered through all kinds of artificial filters or mediums. Now, I'm not complaining; I'm very happy that I didn't have to kill and butcher the cod that I ate last night, and I love my air-conditioning. But the point remains that we live our lives without a lot of the immediate, direct experiences that were an everyday fact of life for our ancestors.

These filters of our day-to-day experiences impact the way that our current generation organizes their thought processes. If a predator (such as a lion) with an empty tummy showed up at the entrance to his shelter, early man didn't stop to rationalize about it; he had little use for such philosophy. He reacted instantly, grabbing his spear or whatever was handy and did what he had to do. If he was slow or took time to think about it, he'd end up as a very icky spot on the ground. America's pioneers faced an environment equally as hostile and they dealt with it in an equally direct and simple way. That's why you're here, reading this article today.

But the current genre of dangers and challenges we meet are usually of a different type altogether. They're often just as serious, often in the forms of lawsuits, and legal or financial crises. But again, we have intermediaries such as lawyers, accountants, and politicians to deal with them for us. Now, there's no doubt our ways of dealing with many problems are more sensible; if someone hits your car, it's better to sue for damages rather than cutting him in half with a sword. But if we rely too much on the intermediaries and filters, we can lose something valuable in ourselves; we can lose the ability to act and react as directly and immediately as our forefathers did.

To get an idea of what I mean, just watch the reactions of a student in the training hall react the first time he is “attacked” in even a remotely realistic manner. Sure, he's practiced the proper response many times but he's always had time to think and rationalize about it. But when the attack is made without warning or prior instruction, and it's made with a fair measure of intensity, the “filters” are gone. The reaction must be visceral and immediate, much like the cave-dweller facing that lion at his door. But most of the time, the student will jump back or attempt a frantic and usually ineffective parry. Afterwards, he may think that he needs a LOT more practice or rationalize it all and claim that he wasn't “ready” (which is the whole point). He may even claim that that's not how it would happen “on the street.” But all of the excuses (accurate or not) are immaterial; there's no need and no place for excuses, no matter how relevant they may be. We cannot rely on intermediaries or filters; we must respond with zhixin/jikishin...direct mind.

We must react without conscious forethought. A lawyer may succeed with clever rhetoric, a businessman may prevail by using careful economic analysis that gives him an edge, and a scientist may advance through careful study and deliberation. Not so in the training hall; all such approaches go right out the window. In the training hall, we are reminded of Oribe's scroll, “the direct mind is the place to practice.”

A DASH OF SOYA

 by Phillip Starr

When I first arrived in China, I knew next to nothing about Chinese cooking. According to my wife, I knew less than nothing about REAL Chinese cooking. So I was a fine student; she was quite adept at it and I wanted to learn. I didn't bring any preconceived notions along with me. I wouldn't stand next to her and say, “Oh yeah, that's how Jones showed how to do it in his book, which I've read twelve times”, or “That's not how they ground up the peppers in the television show I watched about this...” Nope, I'd never watched it done, nor had I ever read anything about it. I was a blank slate and ready to be filled with new information. I soon learned that although a dash or two of soya is used in preparing some dishes, it is very rarely found on the table and used after the meal has been served...it's regarded much the same way as ketchup; I was asked, “Why would you ruin the taste of a good meal by pouring soya on it?” My bad.

The average person who's interested in the traditional martial arts of Japan or China (and also those who have an interest in Korean martial arts although taekwondo is not a traditional martial discipline of Korea...it's much too recent) really doesn't know much about them. He knows nothing about their structure or how they are propogated. And that's fine. What is NOT fine is that oftentimes, the average person fails to recognize his/her lack of knowledge. And he/she believes that he/she knows quite a bit about the subject – perhaps even more than the teacher – but this is never through personal exposure to them.

This kind of prospective student may have read a book or two, watched some questionable videos or movies, or spoken to someone who was once involved in the study of a traditional martial discipline (or better yet, someone whose kids have been involved). When the class doesn't meet his/her expectations, he/she is disappointed.

I am sometimes asked to give talks about living in China (as opposed to simply going on a tour). I always enjoy doing this but the biggest obstacle I often face is not the relative ignorance or misunderstandings that most Westerners have about China; it's those who are absolutely convinced that they KNOW the subject, even if they've never even been to Chicago. One lady was so angry about what she perceived as a tone of flippancy on my part regarding food in China. “Preparing meals in China is almost a sacred thing”, she hissed. I asked if she'd ever been to that country and she replied, “No, but I've read A LOT about it...” Exactly the same kind of attitude we sometimes see in people regarding the traditional martial ways; they've read A LOT about the subject and they KNOW.

This problem of preconceived notions is one of the biggest problems faced by exponents who teach traditional martial arts outside of their native cultures. Another big obstacle is that of the Mistaken Assumption. Some time back on an internet forum, the subject of tatoos came up. One inquiring individual asked if having easily visible tatoos would be a problem in approaching a teacher of the traditional martial arts. One very senior Chinese exponent said that he would not allow a student to begin studying with him if he sported that kind of body art. Of course, there was an immediate outcry that rivaled the bombing of Dresden...the teacher was accused of being a prude, of being insensitive, of being too stiff-necked to allow for this kind of artistic expression. Yet, none of the protesters had had anywhere near the experience with a traditional martial discipline that the teacher had (some had NO experience with a traditional form) but what caught my eye was that none of them bothered to ask WHY the teacher had such a policy.

This is a fine example of people with little or no experience assuming that they know more than the teacher. These folks had mistakenly believed that the traditional disciplines must meet their standards; they must be democratic, open to everyone, and tolerant of individual tastes and needs. They have to be “fair.” Instead of asking why the teacher maintained the aforementioned policy, the respondents blazed away with their mistaken assumptions.

Nobody enjoys being told that they don't know what they're talking about; we all hate to think that all of our reading about a particular subject has been a waste of time. And we really resent having our ignorance pushed into our faces. The next time you're tempted to become angry about having your preconceived notions or mistaken assumptions are held up to you, please think about Chinese cooking. Think less about having your ideas shot down and open yourself to being exposed to something new. It isn't always pleasant and may be something you don't want to hear, but it's the best way to learn how to cook Chinese style...

CORRECT USE OF YOUR STRIKING POST

 by Yang Shuangxing

Okay...you've got your striking post in place and you're all set to start using it. But just how is it to be used correctly? Over the years, I've numerous karate devotees go to the trouble of constructing a good striking post, only to use it incorrectly.

*PRACTICE MUST BE REGULAR. Daily is preferable. Practicing only twice a week will get you nowhere; all you'll have are sore hands and you'll probably quit altogether. You also can't practice regularly for a month or two and then slack off for a month. It's better not to even start than to practice irregularly.

*REMEMBER WHY YOU'RE DOING IT. Training with the striking post is NOT DONE TO BUILD CALLOUSES. First and foremost, it is done to teach you to strike THROUGH your target. Additionally, it aims at improving your structure and toughening the striking surfaces to some degree (but it should not result in the formation of large callouses). Over time, it will cause the bones (involved in the blows that you practice every day) to become extremely hard and strong.

*DON'T GET SLOPPY. Don't just lackadaisically throw various punches and strikes. That will get you nowhere at all. Set up in a proper stance (usually and Forward Stance or Horse-Riding Stance) so you can feel the reaction force of each blow all the way to the soles of your feet. Make full, deliberate, and complete strikes and punches. Do a given number of repetitions with each hand before switching to doing a different technique.

*MAKE SURE PRACTICE IS ADEQUATE. Don't just perform a half-dozen reps of one technique and expect to see results, even over time. If you're going to do 100 reps of a given technique, you can break it up into sets of 25 (interspersed with other techniques). They don't have to be done all in one set, but they do have to be done.

*IF YOU INJURE YOURSELF, STOP...until the injury is completely healed. Never try to “tough it out”; that only results in prolonging the healing process and/or you may end up with a permanent injury. Practice smart!

*TAKE YOUR TIME: To see any results from this training is going to take some time. Don't hurry! Within 6 mos., your bodily weapons will become signififcantly stronger. After one year of daily practice your blows will land with much greater impact and after 3 years, you will be able to drop even a very large assailant with a single strike. So, take your time. You'll get there, eventually.

COMBAT EFFECTIVE?

 By Phillip Starr

I occasionally receive mail from readers asking if a particular traditional martial arts system is “combat effective.” Some even state outright that a given traditional system is not. My knee-jerk response is to tell them that a traditional system, particularly those that are fairly old, MUST be “combat effective.” Their age is a good indication that they were likely used in combat. This is especially true of traditional Japanese martial disciplines – known as “koryu” ( 古流), which means roughly, “old style” and refers to disciplines developed and used prior to the Meiji Restoratio in 1868)- which were very likely to have been used on the battlefield. Those systems that weren't effective died out along with their practitioners... only those that proved efficient survived for obvious reasons.

Most traditional Chinese martial art systems were never formally used on the battlefield, although they were applied repeatedly by their adherents, most of whom were civilians at the time. Like the more formalized systems of Japan, those that didn't work well were buried along with their founders/followers who realized the inefficiency of their method too late.

More modern martial arts such as aikido, karate, and judo were never tested in battle, although the forerunners of judo (forms of jujutsu) and aikido (aikijutsu) certainly were. Much of the concern as to their “combat effectiveness” seems to be regarding the fact that they place so much emphasis on form/kata and not necessarily (if at all) much emphasis on various versions of freestyle sparring...

The two-person katas used in most Japanese koryu are, in my opinion, just as, or more, effective in developing combative skills than freestyle practice. This kind of training was also used widely in many gong-fu schools. What a neophyte sees as simple “one-step fight” drills involve much more than what appears on the surface. Practitioners develop and fine-tune their sense of distance, timing, and rhythm.

A more advanced method, known as “freestyle one-step fight”, is also utilized by many systems. This is a highly effective training exercise, which is, in my opinion, more difficult than freestyle sparring. It really hones all of the skills required for actual combat; it hones them to a much finer edge than just “sparring.” The legendary masters of days gone by didn't engage in “sparring” because it was regarded as being too dangerous and no one had taken the time to develop it as a training routine; they felt that to do so would be superfluous. And they were correct. The training of freestyle one-step is the bridge between one-step fight routines and form/kata. This training exercise is covered in my book, MARTIAL MANEUVERS.

The true test of “combat effectiveness” is, of course, to test the system in actual life-and-death combat, which is a bit impractical nowadays. And there other drawbacks, as well. There could be no rules that would enhance safety and only one combatant would walk away from the encounter. And maybe not. In any case, it's a bit unwise. So we rely on the traditional forms that are comprised of movements and techniques that our martial arts forefathers used with success. Why try to reinvent the wheel?

BEYOND TECHNIQUE

 by Yang Shuangxing (Phillip Starr)

Yes, I'm using my Chinese name this time – just for fun. It was given to me by my family in China and I'm proud of it...

I am often rather surprised at the number of martial arts practitioners who don't know that there is a dimension to their art that lies beyond technique and it is even more discouraging to hear them say that there is nothing beyond the punches and kicks and forms that they claim to practice every day. They insist that they KNOW this is true. Unfortunately, theirs will always be a shallow art.

The Yagyu Shinkage-ryu is an old, traditional style of Japanese swordsmanship. Yagyu Muneyoshi is accepted as the founder of this remarkable school. After many years of striving for techical perfection with the sword, he realized that technique would take him only so far. There was more to it than that...the secret was simple but extremely profound. It took him beyond technique and made his form of swordsmanship so effective that it was rumored that the warriors of this clan actually received special instruction from the “tengu” (spiritual goblins that were thought to inhabit various forests in Japan) and other supernatural beings.

To achieve genuine high skill, it is necessary to supersede physical technique. There's much more to the art than just learning how to punch and memorization of forms. It has to do with training the mind and spirit. I have been most fortunate in having met and trained with masters who realized this truth. On the other hand, I've met a good number of “masters” who not only had no clue about this feature of martial skill; they didn't even suspect.

How is this level of skill to be reached? First, one must be certain that there is a realm of skill that lies beyond technique; technical proficiency will only take us so far. Then it is most helpful if one has a teacher who has himself realized this truth and gone beyond. There are many who sense that going beyond technique is not only possible, but essential for those wishing to truly master the art. However, many such believers lack the gumption to train hard enough to attain physical perfection or anything close to it. Muneyoshi trained single-mindedly every day for years; he was obsessed with perfecting his skill. Most modern martial arts aficionados don't do this or anything close to it. It was only after his physical abilities had a reached an extremely high level that he was able to go beyond technique.

YOUR IAIDO SUCKS!

 by Phillip Starr

The iaidoka (iaido practitioner), a full 7^th dan and the foremost authority of the art in the U.S. began his kata again, for the umpteenth time. His teacher, the foremost authority on the art in the world, was visiting from Japan. But there was a problem; the performing iaidoka was nisei (2^nd generation Japanese, born in America) and spoke very little Japanese. His teacher, very old school, spoke no English and he was berating his student about something or other. The senior student tried to argue, but to no avail; his English words fell on Japanese ears. He was frustrated. At long last, his wife, a Japanese with a full command of the language and a skilled martial artist herself, stepped up to him. He looked at her with inquiring eyes.

“He says your iaido sucks!”, she said. “Do it again!” And so he started the kata over.

True story. I won't mention names because the senior iaido student is my iaido grandfather. But the phrase that his wife repeated for him stuck...”Your iaido sucks!” My teacher was present when this incident occurred. His teacher (my grandfather) is not known for handing out compliments (on one's performance), regardless of how well one has demonstrated his skill. When my teacher took his last examination, he anxiously awaited the posting on who'd passed the test. I knew my teacher would pass the testing; his technique is very, very good and his kata performance is equally excellent. When the posting was put on the wall, his name was on the list! His teacher was standing behind him and scowled.

“I passed you”, he said. “Barely.....”

These seemingly harsh admonitions aren't intended to be caustic at all. Rather, they are intended to keep the practitioner “honest”, aware that his skills can and should be polished further. Praise is extremely rare; the closest phrases to indicate approval might be something like, “That's better”, or something like that. In this way, the aspiring practitioner understands that he is slowly improving but still needs more polish. He is never allowed to be content with his performance. Those who look for, expect, or need accolades are in the wrong place.

WHERE'S THE MEAT?

 By Phillip Starr

I often tell people that I regard the “posture” known in taijiquan, baguazhang, and xingyiquan as “wuji” (aka., “quiet standing”) as the single most important movement – or non-movement, depending on how you look at it- of the entire set. It holds true for the position of “yoi” in karate and taekwondo, which occurs prior to any defensive or offensive movements. And as you might well imagine, I'm often asked why this is so.

Most practitioners hurry through this beginning position because they don't understand what it is and what it's for... This initial posture sets the “tone” for the rest of the set. In forms of neijia, it should be relaxed and qi/breath should sink to the dantien (tanden) while the spirit calms and the mind becomes focused and sharp. It is much the same in arts such as taekwondo and karate.

If the body or mind is tense, the form will be too tense and wooden. If the breath is shallow and high (in the chest), there is no “root”; balance is easily lost, and the spirit is in disarray. If the mind is not focused on the (imaginary) battle that is about to ensue, it becomes scattered and the movements will lack real power and focus.

Therefore, I encourage students to take a few seconds to relax (drop the shoulders naturally), sink the qi/breath, and focus the mind before beginning the actual form.