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.

BOARDS DON'T HIT BACK...?

 by Phillip Starr

In the classic martial arts movie, “Enter the Dragon”, the famous martial arts actor of the day, Bruce Lee, faced off against the opposition's main axe-man who began the match by tossing a board into the air and breaking it with a quick thrust. “Boards don't hit back”, Lee sneered...and then went on to pummel his foe into the ground. Another well-known martial arts figure once stated that, “Bricks and boards give a resounding thwack, but bricks and boards don't hit back.”

True enough. I've heard the same thing from numerous martial arts teachers over the years but I always wondered if they'd ever considered that heavy bags and striking posts don't back, either. I realize that they were saying simply that the ability to break various objects with the bare hands and feet are not necessarily indicative of one's martial skill in so far as fighting is concerned, but then...neither is striking the heavy bag. I think that people who makes such statements are missing the point. After all, silhouette targets that are used by firearms enthusiasts don't shoot back, either...

They would likely argue that hitting the heavy bag fosters the development of strong technique (if it's done correctly... and a great many people use it incorrectly). I think I would counter with the same argument regarding board and brick breaking. More importantly, the breaking techniques promote the development of a strong spirit and teach practitioners how to extend their yi (mind, intention, will...), which isn't always the case with using pieces of equipment like the heavy bag. Different training devices assist in the development of different aspects of a chosen martial discipline; there is no single piece of equipment that helps to develop all of them.

The legendary Masutatsu (“Mas”) Oyama, founder of the Kyokushin style of Japanese karate, emphasized the importance of the breaking techniques because he regarded them as invaluable aids in the promotion of a strong spirit. Although he said that they can be used as a sort of barometer by which we can measure the power of a given technique, the main idea was the development of an indomitable spirit and it is this point that so many contemporary practitioners miss.

If you fail to make a particular break, it's because:

• Your technique is flawed one way or another

• You failed to extend your yi properly, or

• Your spirit is weak

Or any combination thereof. All of these things are necessary for the development of real fighting skill. At the same time, you can hit the heavy bag incorrectly (which is something that many people do everyday without knowing it), you can strike it without extending your yi (ditto), and it does not necessarily reflect a lack of spirit. So there.

The breaking techniques were not intended to be used as a form of showmanship. Back in the old days it was practiced primarily in the training hall, out of sight of the public at large. It was when the martial arts were brought to the West that these practice routines were used to enthrall audiences. The idea snowballed and before long, we had people performing all kinds of breaking techniques that had little to no value as far as training goes, but the public loved them! Of course, the same happened with freestyle sparring and the demonstrations of forms.

So, to those who say that breaking techniques are without value, I say, “take a closer look.” You'll be surprised at what you find...

YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU DON'T KNOW

 by Phillip Starr

In the study and practice of martial arts everything should be learned progressively, one step at a time. In the beginning, novices are introduced to basic techniques and a few fundamental principles. Those who persevere will be taught additional principles, which give birth to additional techniques and movements. The few who are genuinely interested in learning will strive to understand how each (new) principle applies to the forms and techniques that they have been taught. Good instructors will assist them in doing this. And so it goes. For a lifetime.

Even after their teachers are gone and they themselves may have become teachers, they will continue to study and realize new principles that can, and often do, change the way they see and practice their forms and techniques. This idea is applicable to many fields of endeavor...not just martial arts. Consider how it applies to mathematics, music, and various other subjects.

I sometimes tell senior students, “You don't know what you don't know.” This is another way of saying, “The more you learn, the more you can learn.” For instance, it is said that most, if not all, forms contain a variety of joint twisting and grappling techniques. These techniques are often concealed beneath a layer of other movements, which act as a sort of “camouflage.” However, unless you are familiar with a fairly wide variety of such techniques you'll never “see” them. You don't know what you don't know.

Once you find them, the way in which you execute a given form may change a bit. Remember that forms are the “books” that contain all relevant information about a particular system. But if you can't read, books are of little use. If your reading ability is very basic the books may prove useful, but only to a very limited degree. This is why I disdain Bruce Lee's terrible piece of advice; to “discard what is useless, keep what is useful, and add what is specifically your own.” You don't know what is useless. You don't know what you don't know. Neither did Mr. Lee. And, by the way, he actually did practice forms quite regularly.

Those of you who study karate or taekwondo will readily recall your first form, pinan (or heian) shodan (or nidan, depending on the system you train), or chonji. And what is the first movement? You step to the left and perform a low block, right? And you were probably told that is was a defensive blocking technique that is applied against an aggressor who is standing to your left, right?

Not.

There are a number of “red flags” that fly up here:

• Why on earth are you advancing into an attack? That's pretty foolish, isn't it?

• If you advance, your block is going to hit his thigh...and he'll manage to kick you, anyway!

• If you advance to perform a block, how will you manage to apply the second technique (which is a lunging punch)? You'll be way too close to do that! The distance factor is completely fouled.

You don't know what you don't know. Those of you who are wise will pick up a copy of my book, “Hidden Hands”, to find out how to discover the answer to this question and many others. It will teach you how to “read” your forms and it might just change the way that you perform (and appreciate) all of your forms.

Besides learning the obvious, outer movements of the form, you must also seek to master the principles upon which they are based. Principles are more important than learning a ton of really cool techniques. But principles must be learned progressively. You cannot learn advanced principles until you thoroughly understand and can perform the more basic ones with a high level of skill. Understanding them intellectually is one thing; being able to physically perform them is another.

Actually, you cannot really understand them until you can perform them masterfully. Oftentimes, students mistakenly think that they understand them but their error is made clear when they attempt to apply them to their techniques and movements. We can compare this to learning how to apply the brakes of your car. When you were first learning to drive you were told that in order to stop or slow down you simply had to depress the brake pedal. The first time you did this, both you and your instructor probably discovered that although you thought you fully understood the principle, you really didn't...and you couldn't skillfully perform that basic movement, either. If you had your seat belts fastened, they probably saved both of you from going through the windshield!

Eventually, you got the hang of it but consider how long it took you to master this simple action! It took a while but now you can apply the brakes and slow down easily without giving yourself a whiplash, right?

And so it is with your martial arts. You may think you understand a given principle but you really don't. It takes lots of practice (the translation of this is, lots of sweat) over a period of time. This is the meaning of “gongfu” or more commonly, “kung-fu.” And until you master the basic principles, you cannot really grasp the more advanced principles. In fact, until you have acquired a pretty fair level of skill with the basic principles, you're physically incapable of performing more advanced movements and principles! It's like going from basic mathematics to calculus. It has to be learned in stages and you can't hurry the process. If you can barely add and subtract, you're going to have lots of trouble learning division, trigonometry, and nuclear physics...

So, study and train deliberately and pay attention. Go step by step. Principles can be learned from a variety of teachers and arts. I'm a kung-fu stylist but I have been most fortunate to have studied under some of the finest karate masters of the last century. I will be the first to stand up and say that they taught me a great deal about my kung-fu and I am forever in their debt.

You're never too old or too highly skilled to learn.

WHY VITAL POINTS?

 By Phillip Starr

Oftentimes, in the practice of basic three-step, one-step, or freestyle sparring, we focus our blows at what I call “general areas” instead of directing them at specific vital points. Some martial arts enthusiasts believe that training to strike the enemy's weak points is unnecessary; that a strong punch or kick is all that is needed to do the job, regardless of where it lands. I disagree.

Surely, the teachers of times long passed wouldn't have held vital points in such high regard if they weren't important. Numerous ancient Chinese martial arts texts illustrate various weak points in the anatomy and the so-called “Bible of karate”, the Bubishi, likewise emphasizes the importance of striking the enemy's weak points. My own teacher, Master W.C. Chen (a disciple of the renowned master, Zhang-Zhaodong), often spoke of using one's strongest weapon(s) against an opponent's weakest point(s). I remember him telling me, “If you fail to strike the enemy's vital point, you might as well just slap him across the face.”

Moreover, some of the old forms (kata) – just SOME of them, not ALL of them - have odd movements that indicate WHERE (on which vital point) a particular technique(s) should be focused! Yes, they're that important.

In so far as vital points are concerned, there's no need to try to remember a large number of them. One old text focuses on 36 points, which is more than adequate. I may teach students about a considerable number of points, but that's primarily for their overall education; in actual practice, we focus on much fewer.

Now, there are those “combat experts” who argue that striking small points under high-stress conditions such as a life and death struggle is next to impossible due to the concept affectionately known as “lizard brain.” They allege that due to extreme stress, one' s fine motor functions become seriously impaired such that striking small points on a moving target is more than extremely difficult and subsequently, dangerous.

Certainly, the phenomenon of the “lizard brain” exists. I know from firsthand experience, having served in various capacities as a peace officer. However, this condition can be overcome by a process known as TRAINING. It is not a process that can be hurried; it requires time and a great deal of arduous, repetitive practice that should be frequently bolstered by executing the proper movements under various stressful conditions. Peace officers and military personnel undergo this kind of training regularly. Martial arts devotees should, too.

A fine way to learn to strike vital points is to ALWAYS direct your technique(s) at them, whether you're practicing basic 3-step or 1-step fight (both as the attacker or receiver!), freestyle 1-step, or freestyle sparring. And I mean ALWAYS. It goes without saying that this will require that you exercise a considerable measure of control with your blows, lest you injure your practice partner. Your partner may consider himself to be very fit and strong and perhaps he is; he may sport very solid, developed muscles...but those are of little benefit if you should strike him in certain points. Remember, vital points are the WEAK points of his anatomy; points that generally cannot be protected by layers of muscle and regardless of how big or strong he is, if you strike one...he's going down. This is why a small woman (and a small woman is about the size of the average Asian of a couple of generations past) can easily take down a large man.

Surely, if you can learn to fire a modern handgun at a distance of several yards and hit “center mass” every time, you can learn to hit a smaller target at a much closer distance! Learn where the points are located. They're not tiny spots; most of them are about the size of your palm or even larger. Yes, some are rather small (about the size of a 50-cent piece or a bit larger)... but you CAN and you MUST learn to hit them! Your life may well depend on it.

WHY LEARN GRAPPLING?

 By Phillip Starr

Anyone even vaguely familiar with the current martial arts scene will immediately recognize the term, “mixed martial arts.” These disciplines refer to themselves as “mixed” because their repertoire consists of a variety of both percussive and grappling techniques. This, they claim, makes their “art” more effective both in and out of the competition ring.

I have to agree with them on that point; in my opinion, a given martial discipline must necessarily include both percussive and grappling techniques in order for it to be effective on the street. The renowned judo master, Gunji Koizumi (“Father of British Judo”, who also established the Budokwai) said, “Any martial artist who relies strictly on percussive techniques is doomed to failure.” He was right. The opposite is equally true; any grappling art that fails to teach effective striking techniques (known as “atemi waza” in jujutsu and aikido) is likewise incomplete.

Why did Master Koizumi make such a statement? Aren't percussive techniques more likely to take the fight out of an opponent than a grappling technique? Well, it depends... on many things. Anyone who's ever been in a couple of good barroom scraps will tell you that regardless of how much training you have in punching and kicking, you'd better be able to handle yourself at extremely close quarters – under conditions that are considerably less than optimal for striking and kicking. There's a technical martial arts terms for people who are unable to do this. It is DOGMEAT.

Now, I'm not saying that karate or taekwondo enthusiasts should train assiduously in some of the better-known judo/jujutsu throws such as the shoulder throw, spring hip throw, and the like. But they DO need to learn some simple but effective throws/takedowns to complement their percussive skills. I should mention, by the way, that such grappling techniques have always been part and parcel of the karate repertoire and are to be found in certain katas. The older, original form of taekwondo also included a number of grappling maneuvers which, sadly, seem to have been erased from their modern, sport-oriented curricula. On the other hand, martial arts such as Shorinji Kempo are about half percussive and half grappling.

Although many throws are intended to damage or even kill one's foe, most of them are intended to place the hapless receiver in an untenable position (that's an indefensible position for you rednecks out there). The aggressor is thrown and then struck instantly. To do this quickly - especially in combat - requires great skill, which is not something that can be acquired quickly. Moreover, grappling also necessarily includes a number of joint-twisting techniques. Many throws utilize such techniques as entries to the throw; resisting the throw will result in a broken bone... but going along with it may not allow the receiver to fare any better.

In China, the arts of grappling are referred to as “shuai-jiao” (which is tricky for me because “shuei-jiao” means “go to bed/sleep” and my wife was often perplexed when I got the two mixed up...). Training is extremely rigorous but it produces high-spirited, rugged fighters. Qin-na is the art of joint-twisting, seizing, and choking. It is said that if you are to effectively apply such a technique, your skill must be at least three times greater than that of your enemy. Nonetheless, there's a time and a place for everything and my students train with them very thoroughly. The odds of effective application are greatly increased when preceded by a sharp blow that produces sharp pain...

So, the idea of “mixed martial arts” is nothing new. All traditional martial disciplines were and are, mixed. If they weren't, they wouldn't have survived to the present day.

WHAT IS THE TRADITIONAL WAY?

 By Phillip Starr

When I hear someone say that they were trained (in a particular martial art) “in the traditional way”, I wonder if they really understand what they're saying? I suspect that most of them have no idea.

The truly traditional martial ways retain much of the culture that spawned them. For a beginning student, this can seem like a form of “culture shock.” But it is necessary; acquiring a measure of understanding of the art's native culture is essential if one is to have any hope of acquiring a deep understanding of it. I have had prospective students tell me that they would not bow to anyone...I explained that this gesture has nothing to do with religious beliefs or admission of subservience in any way. It is simply being polite and respectful; those who refuse to adhere to this custom are in the wrong place.

Just learning how to execute a reverse punch and side thrust kick doesn't mean that the training is traditional. Not by a very long shot. If you've learned the original form(s) of your chosen style of martial art doesn't necessarily mean that your training was traditional. Wearing traditional uniforms also doesn't infer that the training done in them is traditional.

Authentic traditional training can be, and often is, just this side of brutal. After all, the martial ways were originally created as forms of self-defense and one's life, as well as the lives of one's family, might very well depend upon one's fighting prowess. They had little or no interest in a sporting aspect of their art (back in the day, the martial ways had virtually no sportified versions), and so on. Things that we now take for granted such as forgetting (a portion) of a form that we learned last week or a year ago and asking the teacher questions about exactly how to perform a technique or the applications of a movement in a form were unheard of because such things (and many more) are simply not a part of the culture and asking a question could very well result in a very painful experience. I know because I experienced it. More than once. I'm a slow learner...

TITLES

 by Phillip Starr

I've had several conversations with martial artists about instructors who are referred to as “sensei”, “sifu”, and so on, and it became immediately clear to me that many of them don't have a firm grasp of what such titles really mean or why they're used in the first place.

The title, “sensei”, is used in Japanese and Okinawan martial disciplines and means, “one who has gone before.” It is applied to all manners of teachers, from high school teachers to college professors as well as to lawyers, doctors, and other persons who are in authoritative positions. Naturally, it is used in all martial arts schools to refer to the teacher. He is, quite literally, “one who has gone before”, in terms of experience within his chosen discipline.

The title of “hanshi” (Japanese) is tossed around quite a lot nowadays. One who holds this title has achieved the highest level of expertise within his martial art and is a model citizen; he is a pillar of the community, a teacher of teachers, and an exemplary role model. I have to chuckle at the dozens of teachers who now refer to themselves as hanshi. Legendary martial arts teachers such as Gichin Funakoshi, Gogen Yamaguchi, Masutatsu Oyama, and many (perhaps most) others were never given this title, nor did they yearn for it.

Some even reference themselves as “soke” (pronounced “so-keh” as opposed to “soak”, like some ignoramuses pronounce it), which is the founder or headmaster of a particular martial discipline or style. In Chinese, it is “shihzu”, which infers that one is an ancestral teacher (something like a grandfather, if you will). In Cantonese, it is pronounced “sijo.”

The Chinese use the term “laoshih” to refer to any teacher, from primary school to university profs. It is generally not applied to martial arts teachers, who are usually called “shihfu” (or “sifu” in Cantonese). However, it isn't the same as the Japanese term, sensei. Shihfu means “teacher-father.” In China it used to be common for aspiring students to “adopt” the shihfu as a sort of surrogate father. If the student was not an adult, his parents would often present him to the teacher at a special ceremony wherein the shihfu adopted the student. The instructor would, from that time on, have more authority (in so far as the student's life was concerned) than his real father!

In the People's Republic of China, most martial arts teachers are often referred to publicly as “coach” and sometimes laoshih. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) frowns on the use of such honorific terms as shihfu...but they are still used. Beyond that title there are no further titles save for “zushi” or “shihzu”, which refer to the founder of a given school.

Referring to teachers as “Master” or “Grandmaster” is unknown in China. My own teacher never used these terms when referring to legendary martial arts figures of the past. Using the terms, “Grandmaster”, “Professor”, and “Doctor” actually were coined by Ed Parker's kenpo stylists back in the late 1960's and early 1970's. And it's only gotten worse over the years...

Now, some contemporary martial arts enthusiasts insist that titles of any kind are unnecessary and they prefer to call their teachers by their first names. And some instructors seem to prefer it as well. In my opinion, this is an error. I remember the first time I heard a student refer to his teacher as “Sensei Judy.” And she smiled. And then there are those who skip the use of the term sensei or shihfu altogether and just call the teacher Bob or Fred. Good. Lord. Can you imagine what would happen if you referred to your commanding officer (in the military) in the same fashion? I know I can!

The title should be used as an outward show of respect for the teacher. In my opinion, to do otherwise is to be rather disrespectful and/or to place oneself on a par with the instructor. No truly respectful student would ever do this. I recall a discussion I once had with one of my senior students when he asked if I thought of us as friends. “Of course, I do,” I told him.

“Well, what I mean is... are we 'buddies'?”, he asked.

“No”, I replied. “We can be friends...we can be very good friends. But we'll never be 'buddies', as I understand the term”, I said. “I will always be your teacher.”

I'm not sure that he fully understood the implications of what I said. I hope you do.