POLISH AND PERFECTION

 by Phillip Starr

There's often a lot of talk about being a good fighter and a good martial artist, and there's a qualitative difference that I think many people miss. Fighters train to be better fighters; to win the prize (in the case of competitive fighting), or to defeat their opponents. Period. A traditionally trained martial artist trains to “not lose”, which is different from “winning.” Moreover, he strives to perfect his movements and technique for purposes of self-perfection, which cannot be achieved in a single lifetime but he strives for it anyway.

In martial arts, the idea is to perfect the technique and everything associated with it (ie., body movement, stance, posture, and so on). The idea is to do more with less. This isn't necessarily the case with “fighters.” My experience has been that they tend to have a different mindset.

Traditional martial arts involve much more than just practicing certain techniques, movements, and squaring off against a training partner or an opponent in a competition. Certain traditions, which have been maintained for centuries, must be followed (and that often involves some considerable practice) and (and this is vitally important) understood very thoroughly. Without understanding, they become meaningless caricatures. There are those who say that “This is America (or any other Western nation). Why should we have to follow meaningless, pointless, Oriental traditions?”

Such statements are made by those who haven't taken the time to deeply study these traditions and they don't understand them or the need for them. Sadly, one of the things they fail to grasp is that the understanding and continued practice (still seeking perfection) of these arcane traditions actually impacts one's overall martial skill.

The true martial artist is never satisfied with his skill. In that regard, he lives outside of a “comfort zone.” He is constantly polishing various aspects of the art that he practices. Like a mirror...

THE ONE CHANCE MINDSET

 by Phillip Starr

In a old thread on a martial arts forum, an instructor who is a close friend of mine presented a quote from Master Chosin Chibana, wherein he emphasized that (traditional) karate training is directed towards developing the ability to kill in a single blow. This was a very apt quote and one with which both the karate teacher and I (as well as many senior Yiliquan practitioners) agree whole-heartedly. Although I've done two or three lectures on this concept I'd like to toss out one more, which has to do with the mindset of this concept which seems to have been tossed by the wayside in most of today's modern martial arts schools.

Actually, the Okinawan and Japanese schools have always emphasized this more heavily than the Chinese. Insofar as kung-fu is concerned, the implementation of this concept and type of rigorous training varied from one system to the next. In some forms of Shao-lin boxing, the idea of killing in one strike was heavily emphasized, but in other styles such as Wing Chun and others, it is not (the idea is to land a "hit" and eventually beat the poop out of the other guy). My primary kung-fu teacher stressed the importance of developing this kind of skill and intent, and, of course, my early karate teachers pushed the same thing.

The idea of, and training for, killing an opponent with a single blow is one of the main things that separates traditional Asian percussive martial arts from their more modernized counterparts (many of which have become "sportified") as well as from numerous martial disciplines from other parts of the world. European fencing, for example, is not necessarily directed towards this end. Traditional Japanese kenjutsu is. Filipino arnis is not directed mainly to kill the enemy in a single strike, either...nor is western boxing, French savate, Russian systema (as nearly as I can determine considering my limited exposure to it), or South American caperoira. Karate (the original version) is. *Note: Grappling arts such as judo, sambo, jujutsu, and others are not percussive martial disciplines and do not really enter into this part of the article.

This is why the past Okinawan karate teachers were so selective about their students (the same is true of numerous Chinese styles) and why they were so insistent that training be approached with the utmost seriousness. Students were, after all, training so as to be able to kill another human being in one blow; of literally turning their bodies into living, breathing weapons which were capable of penetrating through light armor and ending the life of the person inside. In one strike.

The Japanese sword is not designed for lengthy sword fights such as one might witness in a European-style duel. The styles of Japanese swordsmanship did not provide training for such drawn-out affairs; the idea was to end the fight with a single cut. This is what their sword is made to do...to kill a man in a single blow (most swords are not capable of withstanding that kind of powerful shock). If you failed, you died. End of conflict.

I have seen dozens and dozens of teachers and styles both of karate and kung-fu which say, "If the enemy attacks like this, I can do this and this and this...." and so on. The oldsters would have simply shifted and dropped the bad guy where he stood. No fancy "twisting like a dragon" movements. Just shift, BANG!, and it was over. However, this kind of approach to fighting is foreign to us (Westerners). I suppose it has to do with our being accustomed to boxing matches and "fair fights" (whatever that is) and perhaps our sense of "morality" which shrinks from the thought of killing another human being. In the ancient Orient, such "morality" would get you dead very quickly. The old saying, "He who hesitates is lost" was never more apt.

In a sense, the old-time martial arts practitioners were akin to the gunfighters of the old American West. He wouldn't hesitate for an instant to blow you away and anyone who hesitated for even a microsecond because the thought of killing another human being was distasteful (or whatever) would end up with a new bodily orifice and a bed of pine wood. An old friend of mine from my law enforcement days who was a special agent for the FBI told me, "Never draw your weapon unless you intend to use it. And when you shoot, shoot to kill." It was a line I'd heard many times before but somehow, it meant more to me hearing it from him.

If someone makes a "small attack"; one that is not overly-dangerous, it can be handled with simple self-defense techniques. But if the situation is more severe, remember his words. "Never draw your weapon (karate/kung-fu) unless you intend to use it. And when you shoot (strike), shoot to kill."

Many, perhaps even most, of our contemporary versions of alleged "martial arts" are not directed towards this end; towards downing the enemy in an instant. We have "submission" wrestling (I still can't figure out how "submission" works in a street fight, especially when your life is on the line), "reality" fighting (I guess the traditional martial arts represent the "fantasy" forms...huh) - most of which has had very limited or no testing in reality...go figure, "natural" forms of fighting ("a baby moves his arm like this, so it's natural...and this is how you should strike, because it's natural")...except I've never seen an infant win a street fight...and God knows how many other variations on the theme. I think that when you get down to it, most people simply don't want to put out the effort required to develop the high levels of skill which are demanded in the traditional martial arts.

Whatever.

I know how I'm going to continue to practice. How about you?

MUSIC AND MARTIAL ARTS

 by Phillip Starr

Many moons ago, the founder of Kyokushin karate, Masutatsu Oyama, remarked on the types of people who are able to achieve skill in karate rather quickly. He included musicians (and secondarily, those who love to listen to music) in his rather short list. It was some time before I figured out why.

To become a skilled musician, you must acquire an understanding of rhythms; you must understand half-beats and even quarter-beats... and the same is true of those wishing to become skilled in the martial arts. For someone who is unfamiliar with the (musical) concept of rhythms, the idea of striking an enemy in a half-beat seems quite foreign. It is no coincidence that many of the finest and best-known warriors of times past had a genuine appreciation of music and more than a few were accomplished musicians themselves! Inscrutable.

Consider that everything in life has rhythm(s). We have the four seasons, which rise and fall with a certain rhythm (except in southern China where I lived); it's not unusual to skip Fall and go directly from Summer to Winter. I guess it's a “skipped beat!”. Your gait has a certain rhythm. Relationships, health, the life cycle, dancing, and even painting all have rhythms. And there are rhythms within rhythms. If you can become finely attuned to your opponent's rhythm, how can he ever hope to successfully attack you? Were he to make such an attempt, he would be instantly defeated.

In the West, we've pretty much adopted the four-beat rhythm in our music. One noted author believes that this may be largely due to the rhythmical beat of horse's hooves. On the other hand, he says, most people in feudal Japan, Okinawa, Korea, and China didn't ride horses. For one thing, acquiring and keeping a horse was quite expensive. Another consideration is that of the local roads, which were really dirt paths of varying sizes. Special passes were often required of those wishing to ride horses or pull heavy wagons over these trails; the wheels of too many wagons would result in deep ruts, which would inhibit foot traffic considerably. And horse's hooves would simply tear up the smoothed dirt. In the West, travel by wagon or horse was much more common and I guess they didn't care about ruts (heck, they didn't even care about cleaning themselves after defecating; it was the Chinese who introduced the use of “toilet paper” to Europeans).

The aforementioned author goes on to say that in the East, musical “rhythms” were taken from nature; the dripping of water after a rain, for instance. Thus, the reason for the differences in tempos between Eastern and Western music. For purposes of gaining a deep understanding of rhythm, I think it's a good idea to appreciate both types of music. In my classes, I always played Eastern music, figuring that my students got their fill of Western music on their own...

Not all kata utilize the same rhythm. Each one has its own special rhythms. Different sections of a given kata employ different rhythms and unless you know and practice them, you're doing little more than a sophisticated forms of jumping jacks. You have to study them in detail because they can change the entire meaning (breakdown) of a form. The vast majority of martial arts practitioners (and that includes instructors) are missing this vital element in their kata. I've even seen a number of world-renowned teachers plopping through their kata without so much as a whisper of rhythm! So, please make it a point to learn the various rhythm of your kata and always include them in your practice.

If you ask most karate or taekwondo teachers about the purpose of 3-step fight, most of them will tell you that this familiar exercise, which confuses beginners and bores advanced students half to death, is intended primarily to teach the applications of various blocking techniques. They secondarily teach the application of basic striking, thrusting, and kicking techniques. This has become the “traditional” explanation because most people have been doing it this for generations. When beginners first learn to practice this form of kumite, it is very useful in teaching them basic applications of techniques as well as how to properly advance and retreat. Advanced students, however, rarely practice 3-step fight because they have acquired a good level of skill in these things.

But.

3-step fight is also an exercise through which students learn about rhythm; they learn how to “break” the opponent's rhythm. This is a crucial aspect of kumite that is often overlooked. A detailed, illustrated explanation of this is provided in my book, “MARTIAL MANEUVERS.” If you don't already have a copy, get one!

The next step is 1-step fight, which not only teaches evasive maneuvers and the applications of technique, but also a slightly more subtle (and hence, more difficult) method of learning to feel and respond to an opponent's rhythm. This is virtually impossible to do unless one has mastered the methods that are to be learned in 3-step fight. Only after achieving some appreciable skill in understanding rhythm via 1-step kumite, should one engage in vigorous jyu-kumite (freestyle sparring).

The discerning practitioner will soon discover that “speed”, per se, isn't nearly as important as being able to detect and respond to the opponent's rhythm. If you can feel his rhythm, there's no need to “hurry.” This is how and why aging masters seem to be extraordinarily fast and able to defeat much younger adversaries with ease; their ability to feel and react to an opponent's rhythm (their “timing”) is razor-sharp. Let's face it, no 80 year old, regardless of how physically fit he may be, is ever going to be faster than a 25 year old. As the years pass, our speed declines and there's simply nothing we can do about it. But timing can always be improved, regardless of age. So when a younger opponent attacks an older master with great speed and power, the latter responds at the right instant and this gives the illusion that he is moving at extremely high speed.

It takes study, introspection, and LOTS of practice... not just in martial arts, but in other aspects of daily life, too. And an understanding of rhythms can lead to a deeper understanding of other things as well. Now, go back to your first kata and find the rhythm. It is how your kata speaks to you. Listen to it.

KUZUSHI

 by Phillip Starr

*Portions excerpted from the book, “Martial Maneuvers” by the author.

In Japanese martial arts such a judo, “kuzushi” refers to breaking the opponent's balance. The characters for kuzushi are pronounced “bengjun” in Chinese. The first character means “to collapse.” The second character refers to balance. One author translated the first character as “demolish” and that infers a violent, explosive action and kuzushi needn't be so conspicuous. A smooth and often subtle movement causes the opponent's equilibrium to collapse, to fall in on top of itself. This is really an art form of its own.

In judo and other highly sophisticated grappling arts kuzushi was once practiced very assiduously. After all, it's very difficult to throw an opponent whose balance is intact. Not only is it difficult to throw her, it's very risky attempting to throw someone whose balance is intact because she's easily capable of countering any attempt to bring her down. She can then quickly apply powerful striking or grappling techniques of her own.

Learning how to break the opponent's balance and use her own force against her is in keeping with one of judo's famous maxims, which reminds practitioners to strive to obtain maximum effectiveness with minimum effort. There's a lot more to that statement than meets the eye.

If an opponent pushes against you and you push back or try to hold your ground, you are resisting him. In such a situation, the stronger person will win. However, if you yield to him and pull him in the direction he is pushing, you can easily gain control of his movement.

The same is true if the opponent pulls you towards himself. If you'll yield to his force and push him, his balance is easily broken and he can be brought under control without too much difficulty.

In both cases the object is to yield to the aggressor's force and thereby displace his center of balance. Once that's achieved, he's helpless unless he's allowed to regain his balance.

In the practice of aikido the art of breaking balance is a little more intriguing. When the opponent attacks, his mind (intention, known as “yi”) leads his body. A skilled aikidoka is capable of exploiting this fact, allowing the opponent to overextend himself by subtly encouraging him to do so. The enemy's force and movement can then be easily intercepted and redirected.

In both of these grappling forms, students move from the grossly overt to the fine and subtle. That is, a beginning judo student usually fails to apply kuzushi at all. He'll grunt and strain as he tries to literally lift his opponent and throw him. As he continues to study and practice the art, he'll discover the importance of kuzushi. At that point he usually grabs his partner's jacket in a death-grip and starts yanking, pushing, and pulling in outwardly gross attempts to effect kuzushi.

But the technique of the master judoist is much more subtle. Knowing that taking a powerful grip on his opponent's jacket can lead to entanglement, joint twists, and other problems, he gently HOOKS his partner's jacket with his fingertips and a delicate touch. His touch is fine so that he can feel his opponent's movements and thereby detect his intentions. This is not unlike taijiquan's “tui-shou” (push hands) exercises. When he unbalances his opponent it is done so subtly that the opponent himself is often unaware of it until he's airborne.

An aikido novice often focuses on how to turn the joint or the arm or whatever and pays little or no attention to the concept of kusuzhi. She uses her own strength in an attempt to force her assailant's joint to turn this way or that, and after just a few minutes of practice she's soaked with sweat.

The master seems to glide along a current of air and her uke (receiver) often feels that he has no control over himself at all. He is caught up in a whirlwind of movement that may result in his being tossed several feet away or brought down quickly in a painful joint twist. The more effort he uses to attack the master, the easier it is for the master to throw him or bring him into submission.

The same thing is true in Japanese kenjutsu. The two swordsmen face each other with their weapons positioned just so. There is very little overt movement; no hopping around like a rabbit on amphetamines. The first one to make an error will be struck down instantly. They're focused on what they're doing, joining their minds to feel each other's intent.

Obviously, if one stumbles, he will quickly become a popular breakfast food – toast. But there's little chance of that because they've trained long and hard to maintain physical balance. If either fighter initiates an attack with a large, gross movement, he will be struck down instantly.

They're not just standing still and admiring each other's pretty eyes. They're feeling each other's mind and spirit. If one swordsman's spirit should become unbalanced – if it should waver for even an instant – the fight will be brought to a sudden close because his opponent will sense it and destroy him. This kind of kuzushi is extremely subtle.

There is a story told about the founder of modern judo, Dr. Jigaro Kano. A British boxer who was a sailor on a ship was asked by the ships captain to have a bout with the famous judo master. He felt that a grappling art was no match for Western fisticuffs. Although Kano was dressed in a business suit, he agreed on the spot to demonstrate the effectiveness of his art. The two contestants squared off. Kano reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and deftly tossed a handkerchief into the air. As the boxer glanced at it, Kano skilfully took advantage of the moment and threw him, being careful to cushion his opponent's head so that he wouldn't be injured by the fall.

There's more to the story that just a chuckle. Kano distracted his opponent by UNBALANCING HIS MIND and as I've said before, mental and physical balance are inseparable. Once his opponent's mental balance wad disturbed, his physical balance was likewise (although very subtly) disturbed. And he was vulnerable. Consider the true qualities of balance. That is, one's equilibrium consists not only of one's physical posture but also one's mental poise. Thus, you can execute kuzushi and place the opponent in a very vulnerable condition by unbalancing either his body or his mind!

Of course, you must have very fine technique to take advantage of such a subtle thing. Kano's technique was so perfect that he was able to utilize that microsecond of vulnerability and throw his opponent.

There are other very subtle forms of kuzushi, particularly in so far as self-defense is concerned. For instance, when an aggressor speaks (as in giving a command), his mind is focused largely on what he's saying and his reaction time drops by almost 50%. The same is true of laughter. If he laughs, he's highly vulnerable. One officer with the Arizona Border Patrol was faced by two assailants. One held a pistol while the other aimed a shotgun at him. His own weapon was still holstered. He told them that if they'd lay down their weapons, he'd simply arrest them; otherwise, he'd be forced to kill them both. He darned well knew the reaction he'd get. They both laughed. And he killed the two of them.

Here's another useful tip. Have a partner stand normally, with his feet spread about shoulder's width. Step forward and place one foot directly between his feet. Place weight on your foot. Your partner may lean back or perhaps even stumble a bit. In any case, he will feel very uncomfortable and “unbalanced.” This is because you are stepping on what I call his “third foot”, which is actually his center of gravity. For a moment, he is quite vulnerable. This can be a useful tidbit of information when it comes to throwing, executing joint techniques, or striking (in which case you aim to step on his third foot but it will be necessary to land your blow before your foot touches down).

Remember, there's more to kuzushi than just pushing or pulling. “Balance” consists of two parts; physical balance and mental balance. Strive to improve your skill with kuzushi until you can apply it in very subtle ways. Highly advanced, masterful forms of kuzushi are not easily seen.

HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?

 By Phillip Starr

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FORMS AND FIGHTING, FIGHTING AND FORMS

 by Phillip Starr

*Excerpted from “Martial Maneuvers” by the author.

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

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

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

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

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