A NEW WIFE?

 By Phillip Starr

As the prospective student sat down in my office to inquire about enrolling in class, he said, “I have a herniated disc in my lower back. So is it okay if I don't participate in any of the 'rougher stuff'?” I told him that although I'd be happy to do what I could to ensure that he didn't irritate his condition, he'd have to participate fully. He didn't care for my response...

Another young man said that he didn't have enough money to pay for classes, but he'd happily compensate me by doing various cleaning chores and he asked if we had any kinds of “scholarships” available. I told him that, no, we didn't offer scholarships of any kind. I noticed a pack of cigarettes tucked into his shirt pocket and, being a smoker myself, I knew how much he spent on that habit. I suggested that he use that money to pay for classes instead of smoking. I never saw him again.

I was reminded of an old story about a falconer. Falconry involves the raising and training birds of prey – falcons, hawks, and even eagles – to hunt. It's a very old art that requires a great deal of study regarding the behaviors of these predatory birds, and it demands a lot of discpline and patience to tame them and accommodate their highly strung natures. Falconers typically spend several hours a day with their birds, which is why it was/is an art of aristocrats who can afford to do so. Anyway, the falconer met a fellow who said that he'd love to take up falconry but he was afraid that his wife wouldn't adapt well to having such a fierce-looking predator as a permanent resident of their backyard. What should he do? The falconer turned to him and said calmly, “Get a new wife.”

As Churchill said of our modern civilization, we wish to have so much while expending so little. Kind of like having your cake and eating it, too. Parents want to raise perfect children while simultaneously pursuing careers that prevent them from seeing their offspring for more than a few minutes each day. We have single people who seek to establish deep, lifelong relationships by placing some witty lines on an online dating site. And more pertinently, we have wannabe martial arts devotees who expect to reap the benefits of the martial ways without making any real sacrifice.

The fact is that raising good children requires commitment and many sacrifices. Building a meaningful relationship demands more than just a few cute lines in an ad, and developing real skill in the martial arts requires the same things. Those who think that they can really make any meaningful headway in the martial arts without commitment and sacrifice are just fooling themselves.

Although the falconer's advice was a bit harsh (and probably not serious, either), the point he was trying to make was that an involvement into such a demanding discipline requires some fairly uncommon dedication. The fellow who asked his advice would likely not have to give up his wife, but he'd have to be willing to make some significant changes in his life if he was really serious about taking up the art.

Contrary to popular opinions, not all of the avocations available to us are alike. Many martial arts promoters and teachers offer it up as an interesting pastime – a hobby much like bowling or playing bridge. They suggest that one can slip down to the training hall one or two nights a week and then leave it all there when leaving class – kind of like joining a health club. But the real martial ways and their goals are considerably different. We have nothing like these multifaceted disciplines in the West. They require a very vigorous, demanding physical effort, a dedication to very old and often foreign cultural values, and a willingness to submit to a method of teaching and transmission of knowledge with which we are largely unfamiliar. For instance, simply moving across the floor with a peculiar form of stepping and moving the hips just so requires considerable effort. No one with less than a decade of constant training can even hope to understand the basic concepts involved. And to make matters worse, qualified instructors are still as rare as they've ever been and training may involve some travel.

The aspiring martial artist must consider all of these things, which are quite different from the things he/she would have to consider before joining a gym, softball, or an aerobics class. Martial arts are not pastimes that are ordinary, and neither can be those who want to become involved in them. Those who, for whatever reason(s) are unable or unwilling to give them the time and attention that is required to make them a truly meaningful part of their lives would be better off steering clear of them altogether.

To the fellow who happily spent money on smoking but was unwilling to make an equal investment in gong-fu training, I honestly don't know what to say except that someone with that sense of priorities would likely find that the cost of following the martial way is just too expensive.

MORSELS

 by Phillip Starr

At different times when I was studying under my gong-fu instructor, he'd drop what I call “morsels” for me to chew on. Some seemed rather small and seemed insignificant; I'd discover their real value later on. What was important was whether or not I noticed them, picked them up, and consumed them. He was always watching to see what I'd do. Some of my classmates would ignore these crumbs of information and those who did found fewer and fewer tidbits were dropped for them. They expected full-blown “meals” of a sort but they never got them...

Of course, I asked why such small crumbs were presented at different times; wouldn't it be more efficient to give me the whole meal? My sifu shook his head and frowned a bit as he replied, “No. I give you small pieces only when you are ready for them.” He went on the explain as best he could in English that to give me a whole meal would be like setting a full Thanksgiving dinner before a toddler whose teeth had not all come in yet. The youngster simply isn't physically capable of partaking of the sumptuous feast and even if he could, he's too young to truly appreciate it. He'd stuff his mouth full of everything that would fit – kind of like a hungry squirrel – and he'd fail to savor the various flavors of the different dishes.

The size of the morsels had to be just right (so I could physically “chew” and digest them without too much trouble) and they had to be dropped at the right time (age, in martial arts terms). And in the right sequence.

And so it is with my own students. Occasionally, one will ask, “Why didn't you mention this earlier?” I tell them that they weren't yet ready to hear it or physically able to do it. Then there are a few who allege, “You CHANGED it!” I calmly tell them that nothing has been changed; they're just seeing another aspect of what they've already learned. Further outbursts will put a quick end to any new morsels...

THE FLOATING BLOSSOM

 by Phillip Starr

I've previously addressed the subject of Westerners trying to “get” the essence of Chinese and Japanese martial arts many times and I've often spoken of the difficulties involved in trying to transmit a part of one culture into another many times...so many times that readers may believe that I think Westerners are all dumb as a stump when it comes to appreciating the deep, profound aspects of the martial Way. Not so at all. In fact, I tend to believe that the West offers people a greater potential for exploring other cultures than any other. For instance, I know Americans who can spot a genuine 16^th century katana from a block away, who are knowledgable about every step of its creation, and who are skilled in its use. But I don't know a single Chinese person who has similar qualifications for, say, Appalachian folk pottery. Are there many (or any) corresponding experts in Japan on the weapons and tactics of the American Revolution? I really doubt it.

So, I have no quarrel with the West but I do have a contention...that it is very difficult to truly understand some aspects of a foreign culture and that misunderstandings, which are quite frequent, are liable to have unexpected and undesirable consequences. This is true when Westerners try to delve deeply into an Eastern subject, and it also happens when Easterners try to master a Western art...

“Many students practice faithfully and train very hard but I wonder if they really have a feel for it” and “It's impressive on the surface but it's actually rather shallow” are quotes you might think that I've made about Westerners struggling to learn the martial ways of the East. But actually, they're made by musicians speaking about Western music...as it's played in Japan!

Western music is hugely popular in Japan as well as China. There are at least a dozen professional symphonies in Tokyo alone. Products from soap to beer often use Western music in advertising and every high school in Japan has a classical orchestra. Pieces from Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart are as well known to the Japanese as any native composer. And it's not just the adults; Japanese symphony halls seem to attract large numbers of young people as well. It would seem that classical Western music (as well as more contemporary types) have been assimilated and adopted into Japanese and Chinese culture but if you look deeper, you get a different perspective...

Numerous critics note that much of the time (especially in the case of younger folks), concerts are more about socializing than enjoying and appreciating the music. They also complain that Japanese and Chinese performers are too mechanical. Their music, although technically correct, never shows any individuality. One critic noted that his countrymen didn't seem to have any strong opinions about the music they play. A music professor at a well-known university (one that specializes in teaching Western music) compared classical music in the East (or at least his country) to a blossom floating on a pond. He said of this subject, “It's big and beautiful...but it has no roots.”

Interesting...many of the same criticism that I've made about Westerners trying to master the martial ways are made by Eastern critics regarding Western music that's been imported to their cultures.

Many Western martial art devotees stress that martial arts transcend culture and they dismiss the native cultures of the arts they practice as, at best, a superfluidity. In a sense, they're correct; the movements, lessons, and spiritual path provided by the martial ways are open to all who are sincere and dedicated. However, they are wrong to insist that the attendant culture of their chosen arts carry no weight. For instance, a Westerner who's been raised in a culture deeply colored by Christianity (even though he may not be a Christian himself) has a different “feel” for music that was inspired and composed in the paradigm of that culture. The religion that inspired the music influences it. The culture in which a piece of music was written and played for centuries had a great influence on more than just the notes and composition; a familiarity with that religion and a lifelong conversance with the culture that spawned it provide insight and perspective on the music that is extremely difficult for someone not similarly equipped.

So, does this mean that an ensemble in Grand Island, Nebraska will automatically perform Bach's minuet better than one in Kyoto or Shanghai? Not likely. It means simply that the people in Nebraska would have a perception and shared aspects of the music that would be difficult for a foreigner to grasp. That doesn't mean it's impossible...just more difficult. It's very ignorant to assume that one's race or place of birth somehow conveys a special, privileged power for mastering or even understanding various aspects of a given culture. At the same time, it is very arrogant to believe that each of us is automatically equal in grasping various other cultures of the planet.

This is a challenge we face in trying to master the traditional martial ways. But the obstacles we face aren't insurmountable; we're not doomed to never “get” the real thing and penetrate its depths. But we must admit that the parent culture of these arts is considerably different from our own and we must understand that the influences of the parental culture(s) have not been slight or incidental. We don't come to class with a set of “cultural decoders” that break down the barriers that stand in our way. It's a daunting task...more formidable than those faced by Japanese or Chinese musicians trying to get to the heart of Bach. Are you up to it?

FORMS AS TRAINING TOOLS

 by Phillip Starr

Serious martial artists are always looking for new ways to improve their training and performance. Typically, most of them look into the latest up-to-date technologies. It is sad that so many folks see their world only in a linear progression; the past is something to be tossed away or maybe improved upon. Only the future holds lessons of any worth to them.

I'm not saying that many newer innovations (that can be used in martial arts training) have little or no value, but those who follow the ancient path of the martial Way know that many of the most valuable lessons and tools come from the past. For instance, a practitioner of karate, taekwondo, or gong-fu may recognize the value of his forms in some respects but he may not necessarily be aware that these routines can be used as an excellent type of aerobic training tool.

The usual approach to a form is to do it with the correct speed, focus, rhythm, and power one or more times. Sometimes it is repeated several times, especially if the repertoire is rather limited. Other training sessions may ask for the performance of each form, one after another. These methods are fine and are probably the only ways to learn the form's “shell” (outer movements) and memorize them, and the form's place within the curriculum of the style. Once it's been well-learned, however, it can be used as a training device.

For instance, select a single, simple form that doesn't involve a great many movements and do it at the usual speed but without any real power or focus...25 times. That may sound easy enough, but by the time you get to 15 or so reps, it gets a bit challenging. Don't stop...as soon as it's been completed, do it again. If you manage to finish, you'll have a deeper understanding of it and you'll see how a form can be used as an excellent tool for building stamina!

There's another way of doing it. Once it's been thoroughly learned, do the first two or so movements. Forms tend to begin with a defensive movement, which is followed by an offensive action. Do these movements 10 times in a row, then go to the next defensive-offensive sequence and do the same thing. As you focus on doing these small portions of the set, you'll begin to notice things that, in ordinary practice, you have overlooked...what part of your body moves first... are you turning your head so that you can clearly see your enemy before you defend against the attack? Does your knee turn into the technique to drive the hip forward?

This kind of practice quickly becomes exhausting but the kind of physical challenge it offers is a bit different from that of performing the whole thing without force. Both of these methods of practice illustrate how your forms can be used as training tools. They shouldn't replace your regular form training and they're not meant to. But you can use them to expand your appreciation of what a valuable facet of your art they are.

THE FISHBOWL

 by Phillip Starr

There's a saying that tells us, “A fish grows according to the size of its container.” Fish that are kept in small fishbowls don't get very large. Those kept in larger aquariums can become much larger. And so it is with the martial ways. When I was much younger, one of my taijiquan teachers (a fine Chinese gentleman whose taiji was a joy to watch and I'll just call him Bing) determined that he would enter a local tournament – in Chicago (!!!) - and show them just what gong-fu was all about. He was accomplished not only in taiji, but seven-star praying mantis and long fist (changquan) as well. He had no idea what he was up against, but I did and I tried to warn him. He thought karate was a weak martial art and he'd show them some genuine skill. When the sparring competition began, I saw many of my friends – all karate practitioners – and I warmly greeted them. This upset my taiji teacher a bit and when it came time for him to compete, he happily jumped into the ring.

Now, this was long before the invention of hand and foot pads worn today AND it was Chicago...their tournaments were notoriously violent and bloody in those days of the early 1970's. The two contestants bowed and the contest was on full tilt rock 'n roll. Bing's opponent's backfist smacked him fully in the face. He hadn't even seen it coming and his hands hadn't moved at all. The point was given to the attacker. Bing got up from the floor and settled into his fighting stance again...and was immediately knocked down with another backfist! The match was over and Bing's confidence in his fighting skill was so badly shaken that I had a tough time convincing him not to give up taiji and his gong-fu. But I did quickly convince him that he needed to get a “bigger bowl.”

I remember one karate instructor who told me that fighting Shotokan (a form of Japanese karate) stylists was easy because they always attacked in a straight line, leaving their flanks exposed. I asked how many Shotokan stylists he'd fought. You guessed it; he'd never squared off with one. Ever. I told him that they were darned tough and very dangerous because, although they do tend to attack directly forward, they're incredibly fast and their attacks are truly overwhelming. But he'd grown up in a small fishbowl. He didn't know any better. He found out. Painfully.

In those days, there was quite a riff going on between gong-fu and karate stylists. Much of it was created and maintained by the martial arts magazines of the day to promote higher sales. It worked, too. I met numerous karate practitioners who were convinced that gong-fu stylists were all about fluff and looking fancy, but couldn't fight their way out of a group of Girl Scouts. Many of them found out how wrong they were when they had to square off against the likes of John Morrow (one of my students), James Cook, Al Dacascos, or – God forbid – Tayari Casel (who is the fastest human being I've ever met).

I was fortunate in being able to train in Judo prior to taking up gong-fu. Later, I would study Kyokushin, and Shito-ryu karate (two Japanese forms; Shito-ryu is a close cousin to Shotokan) while I was also studying Chinese martial arts. Many years later I trained in Jeet Kune Do, too. I was curious. I took up Iaido in my mid-sixties and still practice it. I recall my gong-fu teacher, W. C. Chen, telling me that most gong-fu teachers, although they taught one particular discipline, almost always had trained in other forms as well. He himself, had studied not only the three neijia, but also Baixingquan (a form of shaolinquan), and Hung-Ga.

Over the decades that I've been involved in the martial arts, I've met many practitioners – students and instructors alike – who ridiculed various martial forms without ever having had any direct contact with them. Such people live in very small fishbowls.

THE DOOR

 by Phillip Starr

There is a Japanese proverb that tell us,

“A man is judged by how he opens the door.

A woman is judged by how she shuts it.”

 

To grasp the meaning of this statement, it's first necessary to understand something of the architecture (and doors), as well as some of the customs of ancient Japan. Unlike the hinged doors of the West, Japanese doors slid back and forth along grooved wooden tracks on the floor. They were generally opened in the same way; you knelt at the crack of the door and gently pushed it open before entering the room (often done by sliding on the knees). Well-bred people knew the you use the hand nearest to door to open it a bit (“the length of a forefinger”, according to one old school of proper etiquette), then switch hands and open it the rest of the way. This is an extremely simplified explanation of how this is to be done. There are all kinds of manners to be observed in the simple action of entering a room in so far as the protocols of old Japan are concerned. During the feudal times, even an ordinary thing such as entering a room had significance and a certain order that evolved around it.

Such a simple act, when performed with the proper spirit and mental attitude could be seen as a type of kata and the meaning of the expression shown at the beginning of this article is to be found in that spirit and attitude. Look...it'd be pretty easy to make a flashy, macho entrance through a Japanese style door. You could sling it open so it whacks the frame, swagger in, and stand tall. But in an old Japanese home, people sat on the floor and as you swagger into the room, you'll tower over all of them. Yes, you'll be an imposing figure and have everone's attention. To many people, this would seem like a fine way to enter a room...so why does Japanese etiquette require the exact opposite?

The answer would be that many of the manners found in Japan are aimed at preserving social harmony. Getting along with the other fellow was important, as was the idea that the individual's welfare was not so significant as the welfare of the group. This way of thinking can be found in other cultures but in Japan, it was of paramount importance. The higher one sat in the social order, the more humble and self-effacing was his conduct. That is, the “classier” the individual, the less he felt that he needed to display himself. Secure in his social position, he didn't need to remind himself or others of his status. He entered the room quietly and shuffled in on his knees so that he maintained a level equal to that of others in the room. So, a man can be judged by how he enters a room...but why the distinction between men and women? Is it indicative of a different standard of manners between the sexes?

Well, yes. In old Japan, women were often in subordinate positions; if a group of men were in the room, it would likely be a woman who served tea and various foods. She would then leave, closing the door behind her. But the distinction made in the saying about gender is superfluous; what matters is the spirit and attitude with which an individual conducts him or her self.

This spirit and attitude has pervaded Japanese culture and as the martial arts (of Japan) are a product of that culture, it should come as no surprise that such concepts are an integral part of the martial ways. And that's also why it's so disappointing to see many people who claim to be serious about making the martial ways a part of their lives remain determinedly ignorant of this spirit and who (worse still) choose to disregard it. Such forms of etiquette also exist within the culture of China, although they're not so easy to see. But if you know what to look for, you'll see them there as well.

How many times have I seen some martial arts “master” come strutting onto the floor of a tournament usually with the title emblazoned on the back of his uniform) or the winning competitor prancing around the ring with his hands held high! If you've seen similar things, then you've been an unfortunate witness to the arrogant and ignorant disregard for the traditions in which the arts were developed. The skills of opening and closing a sliding door are a part of “reishiki” (etiquette) as is moving in a balanced, graceful way when sliding on one's knees along the floor and it's this mastery of the self that allows us to get along with others and present ourselves to the world in a respectful way.

Sadly, such things are disappearing in our modern world. People who are conversant with these traditions tend to be exponents of the classical arts, such as martial arts and the tea ceremony; people who are willing to spend time to learn things that seem to be of little practical, modern value. Although in present day Japan, you'd get along just fine without knowing much about these things but still, some manners (which have been called those “unwritten laws by which the people keep even the kings in awe”) have a way of transcending time and immediate circumstance. We are all judged by the little things we do...like entering or leaving a building. Those who follow the traditional martial ways are aware that outer form is often an expression of an inner state. This should give you something to consider the next time you open or close a door, whether you turn the knob, push it, or slide it along a track...

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.”