THE KATA OF JUDO

 by Phillip Starr

Some of our younger martial arts enthusiasts may be surprised to hear that judo actually employs the use of kata! But yes, it does… and not just one or two. There are several kata employed in judo, all of which require the assistance of an uke (receiver). Unfortunately, most judo kata are not practiced much anymore; since judo sold its soul to the god of sport and his right-hand man, the Olympics, most practitioners no longer saw (or currently see) the need for the kata anymore. And for the most part, the judo we have nowadays is no more like the original, traditional version than an apple is to a horse. One of my senior students who began his martial arts career in judo refers to the current version as “brudo” or brute-do”, which I think is probably pretty accurate.

In the judo kata, the movements must be very precise. And in the Nage-No-Kata (which demonstrates a number of throws), even the uke’s form must be perfect. The photo below is a fine illustration of this. The form and movement of both participants must be flawless… and isn’t this the same thing for which we strive in the kata of karate, taekwondo, kung-fu, iaido, kyudo, and other martial disciplines?

It is because we’re interested in more than just whacking someone as hard as we can or body slamming him into the ground. What we do is an art. We strive for perfection. One of judo’s maxims is, “Maximum effect with minimum effort.” Trying throwing a 6’5”, 280 lb. linebacker sometime. If your technique isn’t really good, you’re going to end up underneath him! It doesn’t mean the technique is worthless. Au contraire. It means that YOUR rendition of it is seriously flawed. You need more work. More polish…mentally, physically, and spiritually. And the kata is the main form of “polishing.”

In the percussive arts we utilize solo forms of kata but when we practice one-step and three-step fighting drills, they should be performed with the same precision as the kata of judo. The attacker should fire out a letter-perfect textbook technique with sharp focus and an appropriate degree of power. And he should attempt to touch his partner. This is critical since, if he pulls his attack short, the receiver learns to respond to an attack that isn’t going to hit him! It develops an incorrect sense of distance.

The receiver should respond with razor-sharp precision and his counter-technique should be sharp and crisp - delivered with enough power to knock his partner down (at the very least). BUT it must be so finely controlled that it stops just short of contact. Sadly, most instructors nowadays don’t insist on this kind of precision and power nowadays. And that’s one reason the arts that we claim to love so dearly have degenerated so badly.

Watch the performance of kata. Then watch the students engage in randori (as in judo) or jiyu-kumite (as in karate). There should be a very definite relationship. If the two look entirely different, if the kata is sharp and clean but the sparring looks like a sloppy kickboxing match or a backyard slugfest, there’s a serious problem. The kata and kumite should look very much the same… performed with the same precision and focus.

This same thing is true even in combat shooting. Yeah - I saw your eyebrows jump… well, consider it. Take a week and go to a combat shooting school. There, you will learn - step-by-step - how to begin your draw…how to step, turn…everything has to be done just so because your life will depend on it. The weapon is “presented” (brought to the position for shooting) and fired. Everything has to be just right and you’ll practice it over and over again, both in class and at home - because when the chips are down, you’re going to have to be able to pull this off without thinking. Otherwise, you’re going to end up as a messy stain on the sidewalk. And what is this if it’s not a type of KATA? And yet, there are those who say kata is worthless…

I hope this gives you a new perspective on your kata and your chosen martial art. There’s so much more to it than most people suspect. I keep discovering new things… like peeling off the layers of an onion, there’s always another layer of knowledge and skill to be explored. Want to join me? Here…have an onion.

Is Your Martial Arts Practice “Hard Style” or “Soft Style?”

 By Phillip Starr

Is your style of karate or kung-fu considered a “hard style” or a “soft style?”  Most Western practitioners of these disciplines are able to answer this question in a heartbeat.  They may elaborate on the subject a bit, but they immediately understand the question and what it implies; “hard styles” rely on the development and application of brute, muscular force while “soft styles” emphasize relaxation, minimal muscular effort, and the utilization of qi (internal power).  I remember when the terms “hard style” and “soft style” were first introduced to Western martial arts enthusiasts by the martial arts media back in the 1960’s.  I’d never heard of these phrases and I asked my teacher, Master W. C. Chen about them.  I was astounded when I saw that he was every bit as confused as I was.  These appellations have never been used in China or any other part of Asia.  They were, as nearly as I can determine, created by the martial arts magazines of the day.

Some karate and kung-fu enthusiasts elaborate a bit further and explain that “hard styles” utilize techniques that travel in straight lines and “soft styles” promote the use of circular techniques.  I’ve never understood how anyone could accept this terribly flawed explanation and when would ask for some elaboration, the answers I received were almost comical.  “We use straight punches”, they would say.  I would counter this statement and remind them that the so-called “soft styles” utilize exactly the same type of forefist thrust.  Moreover, this type of direct punch employs a (circular) turn of the hips as well as a (circular) screwing motion of the wrist just prior to contact.

Not to be so easily dissuaded, they would argue that their kicks were directed along a straight path.  They would happily demonstrate a front snap kick and a side thrust kick as proof of this.  I countered easily and showed them that both kicks travel along arcs (as they must, since they are chambered from the height of the kicker’s knee).  I would also show them techniques such as sword-hand and backfist strikes, both of which travel along semi-circular paths.

Even so, they would not be dissuaded.  “Our blocking techniques are circular but our punches are straight”, they argued.  I had to shrug my shoulders.  There’s no point in quibbling with a closed mind.  Their convictions were based on remarks made in their favorite monthly martial arts publications, so there could be no doubt as to their validity, right?

You bet.

These were the same magazines that avowed that “soft styles” such as taijiquan and baguazhang didn’t require the application of any muscular effort whatsoever.  Many aspiring martial arts masters understood this to mean that any “98 lb. weakling” could easily become an expert at time travel by knocking his larger opponent into next week!  The few taiji schools that were available were soon packed to the gills with students and the cash flowed quickly and easily.  But the truth got lost in there somewhere.

Some karateists prided themselves on practicing systems that were touted as being both hard and soft.  Goju-ryu is a prime example.  “Go” means “hard”, they would say.  And “ju” means “soft.”  So there you have it, right?

No, not quite.  Like the early practitioners of judo, who believed that the “ju” of judo meant “soft, gentle”, they didn’t bother to learn something of the Japanese language and culture.  The word “ju” does NOT mean “soft.”  Not by a long shot.  Rather, it refers to a type of pliability such as we might see with the flexible limbs of a young tree.  Push against it and it gives way easily.  It does not, however, collapse entirely.  When you release it, the limb will snap back to it’s original shape.  This kind of elasticity is what “ju” refers to.

All martial arts, from karate to kendo, aikido, kung-fu and kendo underscore the importance of doing more with less.  That’s a fancy way of saying that one shouldn’t use any more (muscular) strength than is absolutely necessary.  Ever.  A highly skilled practitioner of karate, which is generally referred to as a “hard style”, will perform his techniques with celerity but without excessive brute force.  I have trained and socialized with some of the finest karate masters of the last century such as Hidetaka Nishiyama and Seiyu Oyata.  Their techniques were crisp and quick, delivered with minimal muscular effort.  To the novice, such techniques would appear to be lacking any real destructive power but those senior practitioners who had had the dubious pleasure of being on the receiving end of those techniques knew better.

At the same time, I have known a great many practitioners of taijiquan who prided themselves on their ability to push a foe some distance.  The fact is that their pushing technique was seriously flawed and was more of what I call  a”shove” rather than a “push.”  And in any case, I’ve never known a push to end a serious conflict!  Taijiquan, as well as baguazhang and xingyiquan (the three classical “sister” styles that are generally referred to as “soft” or “internal”) utilize a wide variety of punching, striking, and kicking techniques that, when applied correctly, are terrifically powerful.  But if you’re thinking of finding someone who can demonstrate such skill to you, you’d best plan to travel for a long, long time.  Such skill nowadays in the “soft styles” is extremely rare, even in China.

The terms “external style/school” (waijia) and “internal style/school” (neijia) are often used interchangeably with “hard” and “soft”, respectively.  Again, such phrases are rarely used in China.  They were originally coined by a famous teacher of the neijia, Sun-Lutang, back in the 1930’s.  Some people argue that they actually refer to where a given style originated; those that originated outside of China were called “waijia” and those that were native to the Middle Kingdom (that’s China for you rednecks) were referred to as “neijia.”  Put simply, this argument is wrong.

Sun wanted to differentiate between styles that rely on the development of “coiling power” (chansi-jin) and the manipulation of small, inconspicuous, internal tissues and those that focus solely on the use of the larger, overt muscle groups.  Such a distinction does, in fact, exist.  Most contemporary karate styles do not utilize coiling power at all.  However, my research indicates that the early Okinawan forms of karate did.  Over the generations, most of this information has been lost or forgotten.  However, this would qualify such styles as forms of neijia!  That statement probably won’t help me win any martial arts popularity contests, but it’s true.

So, hard or soft, internal or external, what counts is that you learn to perform your techniques and form correctly.  Hard and soft eventually become one.  And THAT is where real skill lies.

INVEST IN LOSS

 by Phillip Starr

The well-known Taijiquan teacher, Chen Manching, once said, “To acquire real skill, you must invest in loss.” Over the years, I have repeated these words of wisdom to my own students but very few of them really understand and make use of them.

I have known tournament competitors who simply could not tolerate losing. I knew one who was so obsessed with winning the first-place trophy that he discarded all lesser awards! How foolish. He did not understand that the arts we practice are not intended to impress audiences, win us many fans and accolades, or fill storefront windows with trophies. No, our arts are aimed at self-development. If you manage to win some awards along the way that’s fine but in the end, it’s how we have developed ourselves that really matters.

In order to learn, it is first necessary that you lose. Many, many times. You will practice with students who are senior to you and instructors who are senior to them… and as a novice, you cannot defeat them. You don’t expect to do so, either. As your skill slowly increases, you perform at a higher level and perhaps the number of your losses decreases…but that’s not really the point. If you think it is, if you are obsessed with winning; you are incapable of learning. You’re blind.

Many moons ago, I held the title of U.S. National Champion. I entered a small, local tournament that was being hosted by a friend of mine. Another friend asked me why I was competing that day. “Just for fun,” I said. He shook his head. “You don’t understand…if you win, it’s no big deal; people would expect that because of your reputation. But if you lose, you’ll lose a lot! You have nothing to gain and everything to lose. Don’t do it!”

I shrugged and did it, anyway. I lost that day. No, it didn’t damage my reputation and it served to help me improve my technique. So, although I lost in the competition ring, I had really won…in my heart.

Those who refuse to see beyond the ego cannot learn. They are enslaved by their own desires, by their own image of what they think they should be. You must put your ego aside if you expect to learn anything and make progress. The only place where winning matters is the battlefield.

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.

     I've met countless martial arts teachers over the years, many of whom would make the aforementioned pompous student 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.

GOING DEEPER

 by Phillip Starr

I've been involved in the martial arts for over sixty years now and over the decades that I've trained and taught, I've seen a huge number of martial arts enthusiasts achieve a given level of skill and then give it all up. Why? What happened?

For most of them, martial arts was simply a hobby, not a lifestyle. They were interested in learning the various techniques, how to apply them, and then moving on to freestyle sparring. And that was it. They failed to understand that it's important not only to polish the techniques, which are the obvious and easily seen part of the discipline, but the INSIDE must be studied and polished as well. The “inside” isn't so easily seen and is often missed or just glossed over by students and instructors alike.

If the “inside” isn't explored and refined, one's art will be shallow. The serious student must determine to go deeper – to look beyond technique – and see what is there. This isn't to say that technique isn't important. It is, more than many people realize. But there comes a time when the determined, austere student must strive to go beyond technique; to see what is within and then beyond it. Polish the inside rather than simply admiring the beauty of the outside.

When I was younger I was overly-concerned with the outside and how it looked. But as I continued training, I eventually began to see that the REAL martial arts – the TRUTH of the martial arts – was on the inside. I then understood the words of Alan Watts who told me that any physical activity that is carried to the extreme can become a true Way.

It is only then that the martial way can be fully understood.

THE FIST AND THE SWORD

 by Phillip Starr

Students are sometimes confused when I tell them that if they really want to improve their bare-handed skills they must learn traditional weaponry. I tell them that empty-handed training will get them to a certain level but they cannot pass beyond that level unless they learn to use these outdated weapons of yesteryear. In fact, they must not only learn to use them; they must train assiduously with them and acquire a high level of skill!

To use a weapon skillfully isn't nearly as easy as it sounds or looks. Watch an iaido demonstration and you'll understand what I mean. For those of you who are unfamiliar with iaido, it's the art of drawing and cutting with the Japanese sword. If you are not intimately acquainted with this venerable art, you'll miss all of the subtleties that make it what it is. It would seem that the swordsman, who usually begins in the position of seiza (sitting on the knees with the feet tucked under the buttocks), simply rises up to one knee, draws his sword, and makes a powerful cut. But there are many other small, obscure movements that are crucial to the correct execution of the technique and these delicate, sophisticated actions must be performed very precisely. Breath, mind, spirit, and physical movement must be in perfect synch. And for some reason, this seems to be more readily seen and felt when one is using a weapon than when one practices only with the bare hands.

Once a student has learned the fundamental techniques and form of a particular weapon, I tell him to perform the form without the weapon! The movements must be as smooth and precise as if they were wielding the weapon. This helps him grasp the relationship between weaponry and bare-handed fighting. After practicing in this way for a time, I tell him to change the “weapon technique” into a valid “empty-hand technique.” This often opens his eyes in more ways than one. He can clearly see the relationship between distance and timing, he can better understand rhythm, and he can see the many ways in which the striking and grappling techniques may be applied.

I once told my most senior student that if he really wanted to learn the essence of timing; if he really and truly wanted to understand it, he should take up kendo. Of course, the same thing holds true for other weapons with which martial arts enthusiasts practice but for reasons of safety, only a select few are suitable for “sparring”, per se. Kendo is the Japanese sport of fencing. But instead of using steel blades, they employ swords made of strong strips of bamboo. Even so, armor must be worn to protect the head, face, shoulders, torso, wrists, and hands from the powerful blows delivered with these bamboo “swords.”

In a kendo match, contestants must keep themselves “centered” as they try to connect to the opponent and feel his spirit and intention. If the opponent's mind or spirit flags for a moment or if he can be caught just as he begins an attack, one must commit oneself fully and strike!

The development of a strong but calm spirit, the real meaning of fully extending your yi (intention, mind) without the slightest concern for your own survival, the meaning of committing yourself fully, understanding the real meaning of distance, rhythm, and timing...these are crucial to the development of real skill but most practitioners of the bare-handed arts find them more than a little difficult to grasp and apply. It is my opinion that these concepts are more easily realized through the practice of weaponry. I don't know why this is true, but it is. And once they are realized through training with weapons they can easily be transferred to empty-hand technique.