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.

THE LARGEST OBSTACLE

 by Phillip Starr

     Like most martial arts teachers, I frequently subject my students - all of them - to various and sundry "tests" from time to time.  Administered without their knowledge (if they knew they were being "tested" the results would be tainted), these small and sometimes seemingly insignificant character tests allow me to look into their personalities or, as my teacher would have said, "see into their hearts."  This helps me to better understand each of them; how and why they learn or fail to learn, why they think and behave as they do, what they fear, what they believe (especially about themselves), and so on.  This enables me to be a more effective teacher.

     Over the many years that I have been involved in teaching, I have found one particular obstacle that is more insidious than all of the others combined.  It has ruined careers, destroyed countless relationships, and stunted the growth of many martial arts enthusiasts.  Of all the obstacles that are encountered by those who choose to follow the martial path, it is the largest and most dangerous.  It is also often the most difficult to see.

     And what might this obstacle be?

     Ego.

     Think about it.  Whenever someone fails to achieve something, they often think or say, "I can't do this."  The actual translation of that thought or statement is, "I won't do this."  Now, the why of that statement can vary considerably.  Some of the why’s would include:

· I don't really want to do it.

· I'm above doing that.  Doing that is beneath me.

· I'm too embarrassed to try.  Others will laugh at me.

· I'm afraid to try it but I don't want anyone else to know that I'm afraid.

· I don't want to put out that much effort.

And so on.

     Some time ago, I told my students at the end of class that we needed to clean up the training hall.  It needed to be dusted, vacuumed, and so on.  I watched to see who would pitch in and help.  Quite frankly, I was more than a little disappointed to see who didn't!

     On another occasion, a former student of mine went to the school of another martial arts teacher.  His ego wouldn't permit him to don a white belt and become a beginner again.  Instead, he behaved like a customer in a fast-food burger joint; he wanted it “his way!” He informed the instructor what it was that he wanted to learn and he fully expected the instructor to comply with his request!  Naturally, the teacher, who is a dear friend of mine, declined his request and when I heard of this incident I was very embarrassed and ashamed. It reminded me of an old story, which I will relate here...

    There was once a young swami who was training under a very well-known and highly-respected guru in the foothills of the Himalayas.  Part of his training involved traveling around the countryside and teaching the Vedas (holy Hindu scriptures) to the people. He erected a platform so he could sit and look down at the people while he lectured.  Subsequently, his ego began to grow at an alarming rate.

     A very powerful, older swami heard of this and came to see him.  Sitting amongst the crowd of followers, he was barely noticed by the young teacher who treated him like one of his followers and ordered him around every day.  When the older man would pose a question that he knew the young man couldn't answer, the young swami acted as though he knew the answer and would brush the query aside.

     One morning when the young swami was at the river brushing his teeth, the older swami, posing as a student, approached him and began to ask a question.  "I'm brushing my teeth right now," the young man said.  "Go and get me a bucket of water."  The older man nodded and said quietly, "That's alright.  You go on brushing your teeth."

     The young swami's teacher found him by the river two days later.  His gums and jaws were swollen and he was still brushing his teeth with his finger although he was barely conscious.  After some time, his teacher managed to bring him around and scolded him for being so egotistical.  "The man who did this to you is a very powerful swami," he said. "You were rude to him and he has taught you a valuable lesson.  Be sure that you learn from it."

     I've met countless martial arts teachers over the years, many of whom would make the aforementioned pompous swami look rather humble.  It has been my experience that those who insist on being addressed as "Master", "Grandmaster", "Great Grandmaster", "Hanshi", "Soke", "Grand Ultra-Cosmic Poohbah", and all other manner of eloquent titles...aren't.  Their egos are strangling them.

     I've met and trained with some of the greatest martial arts teachers of our time - Hidetaka Nishiyama, Seiyu Oyata, W.C. Chen - and none of them were ever addressed as "Great Master So-and-So."  Known simply as "sensei" or "sifu", they were exceptional men whose skill was of the highest caliber.  They weren't interested in titles; their sole concern lay in the development of real skill and in imparting that skill and knowledge to others.

     Another fine example of such a teacher was my friend, Sherman Harrill.  He had trained in Isshin-ryu karate under the founder, Tatsuo Shimabuku, and had spent decades perfecting his skill and researching what he had been taught.  For years, "Sherm" wouldn't wear a colored belt at all.  He'd wear a karategi (karate uniform), but no belt.  I used to harass him about it and he ignored me until I mentioned that a uniform without a belt just looked plain dorky.  I must have struck a nerve because shortly after I made that remark, he began wearing a belt. But...he insisted on wearing a white belt!

He said that he was really just a beginner and so began another round of me harassing him about not wearing the appropriate colored belt.  It took several years of loud complaining before he finally acquiesced and put on a proper black belt. Sherm didn't know the meaning of the word "ego."  I don't believe I ever heard anyone refer to him as "master" and I shudder to think what he might have done to who anyone who did.  Sherm cared nothing for titles.  Or belts (obviously).  What he cared about was knowledge and skill and he'd go to whatever lengths he needed to endure in order to learn.

     Another excellent example is that of another close friend, Mr. Ron Christenham. Known far and wide simply as "sensei" (I imagine there are many people who don't know his real name - even other martial arts instructors, including me, refer to him as "sensei" and everyone knows exactly who we're talking about), he exemplifies what a genuine martial arts teacher should be.  He doesn't try to do it; he has simply become it.  His unassuming, humble, and polite manner conceals his remarkable skill and extensive knowledge of the arts.  He is the perfect antithesis of the sort of teacher who revels in being called "master", grandmaster", or other high-flying titles.  He doesn't strut around with a puffed-out chest and his uniform is not adorned with patches that proclaim him as "instructor", "master", or anything else.  But if you were to walk into his aikido class, there would be no question as to the identity of this man.  You can feel his spirit from across the room!

     Martial arts are much more than learning some fancy punches, kicks, and throws. They’re more than a pretty uniform with patches all over it (I've seen some uniforms that resemble colorful maps of downtown Los Angeles) or black belts with half a dozen hash marks on one end.  At the end of the day, martial arts is learning about yourself - good and bad - and striving to perfect your character.  That means laying ego aside and that can be a very, very difficult thing to do.  Just when you think you've finally done it, the ego creeps up from a blind spot and returns. 

     Do you feel proud that you've finally eliminated ego?  Then you'd better look again...

     Have you ever cleaned the training hall when no one else was around or watching you?

     Have you ever (or would you) clean the toilets?

     Remember, character is what you do and how you act when no one else is watching. Ego strangles the development of character.  And everything else.  I have some former students (and some still consider themselves students although they never manage to attend class) who are truly “unteachable”.  I say that they are beyond teaching because they won't jump into class with everyone else and pour sweat.  They don't have the beginner's mind that thirsts for knowledge and skill.  They are unwilling to push themselves (especially in front of others) and admit their weaknesses.  If they will not own up to their weaknesses and failings, how can they hope to overcome them?

     Take time for self-introspection.  You might be surprised at what you find.