THE MYSTERY OF QI

 by Phillip Starr

Okay, here we go...into the “forbidden” realm of that most elusive aspect of martial arts; the subject of QI! In traditional Chinese culture, qì or ch'i (pronounced “chee”, and known as ki in Japanese culture) is an active principle forming part of any living thing. Literally, qi translates as "breath, air, or gas”, and figuratively as "energy", or "life force". It is the central underlying principle in traditional Chinese medicine and martial arts. Clearly, there is an important connection between breath and qi. More about that later...

Qi used to be be written 氣 . This is a pictogram of boiling rice. The “simplified” method is 气 , wherein the character for “rice” has been removed, Another version of the simplified method is 気 .

But just what is qi, really? What do we know about it? Is it a real, tangible form of energy or is it just so much mystical mumbo-jumbo? Identical concepts can be found in many cultures; In India there is the concept of prana, in Japanese it is ki, pneuma in Greece, mana in Hawaiian culture, lung in Tibet, and ruakh in the Hebrew language and culture. Even Native American languages had words for it. Indeed, it would seem that all ancients civilizations had words for the same concept! So, the idea of a “life-force” is not peculiar to China or the Orient at all.

Nowadays, we refer to it by its Chinese or Japanese (or Korean) name, or we just call it “vital energy” or any one of a dozen different terms. It is a very real form of energy that has nothing to do with religion, psychology, or philosophy anymore than light or heat has to do with these things.

The real problem, of course, is that as yet, we are unable to measure this “thing” in any way. We simply don't know how. Many people argue that sinc it can't be seen or measured, it cannot exist. I call such people the “Flat Earth” people. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that long ago that our ancestors were utterly convinced that the earth was flat...because all of their “up to date” science said so. The TRUTH, of course, was that they had not yet developed any accurate equipment to find out. They just insisted that their “scientific equipment and methods” were more than adequate to justify their findings. It's the exact same argument that we hear from their more contemporary counterparts...if it can't be seen or measured by the kinds of instruments we now possess, it simply can't exist.

And the earth is flat.

It's time to admit the obvious; science has SOME answers but certainly not ALL of them. Science is not the immovable pillar of truth that we've always thought. Were that so, we'd never have had to change various scientically-proven “facts” so many times! I don't know about you, but much of the “hard science” I learned in high school has since been proven erroneous and replaced with newer, improved, enriched facts that are TRUE for sure...this time. Until they're disproven again. And real TRUTH is immovable. It is always true.

The fact that there are a great many flim-flam scam artists out there doesn't help things. They provide phony demonstrations to fool people into believing that they possess a high level of skill with the mysterious force known as qi. But that doesn't mean that the concept of qi is false. Not by a long shot.

So, what IS it? To be sure, no one knows for certain. But we can witness its presence by what it can do. In so far as martial arts is concerned, some people think of it as a “force” that can be magically applied to one's movements to make them more powerful. I call this the “star wars” approach. It's a cute idea but it isn't real.

Scientists who are investigating this subject have found that when an internal kung-fu stylist releases his power (fajin), they are able to detect a small electro-magnetic pulse (e.m.p.). Similarly, they have detected an increase in the electro-magnetic field around the body of a qigong practitioner when he/she is engaged in the practice of qigong exercises. But I don't believe that qi can be defined as electro-magnetism; rather, an increase in electro-magnetic activity is a by-product of it.

As I said earlier, there is a clear connection between the breath and qi; after all, “qi” means “breath” or “air”...but it is really more than that. In the Orient, it is believed that when we inhale, we take in more than just oxygen and a few other elements. We also absorb something very subtle. We inhale the life-force of the universe; qi. All living organisms do this. The mind (one's “will”) is used to direct the life-energy. The stronger the mind's ability to direct, the easier it is to do this. Thus, one of the main reasons for training the mind to focus on a single task.

LITTLE FINGERS AND TOES

  by Phillip Starr

The late, great, judo master, Gunji Koizumi, was once asked about the "secrets" of his art.  "Little fingers and toes," he replied with a smile.  No doubt, this left the journalist who had asked the question more than a little puzzled, but to me it is a fine example of Koizumi's genius and deep understanding of judo and, in fact, of all martial arts.

     Judo practice begins with both participants grasping each other's jackets and maneuvering for an advantageous position, trying to cause the opponent to lose his balance momentarily or just feeling when he inadvertently places himself in an unstable or vulnerable position. I must note that this so-called “vulnerable position” is not limited to the opponent's physical body, but also to his mind and spirit as well.

     There is often some maneuvering for the grip on the jacket itself and this sometimes subtle struggle for one's favored grip is more than just a gross placement of the hands and arms in preparation for a throw.  It is also a placement of the spirit.  The real technique of grasping the jacket is very subtle.

     Modern judo is, in my opinion, not what it used to be.  One of my most senior students has an extensive background in this fine art and often refers to the modern version as "brudo" or "brute-do."  Many contemporary judoists focus on the development of great strength and seek to overpower their opponents with brute force.  They seem to have forgotten that judo's founder, Dr. Jigaro Kano, was a very small man even by the Japanese standards of the time but his skill was truly extraordinary.  Master Koizumi had studied and mastered the art under Kano's instruction.

     Koizumi's reply is easily applicable to any martial art.  The "secrets" are simple but also very subtle and not readily understood by novices.  They are learned through constant training and study of the art.  It isn't enough to simply "go through the moves"; you have to study them in detail.  You must take time to sit, think, and consider. 

     Beginning students start by learning the gross, large movements.  Until these are mastered, they cannot hope to understand the subtleties of the art.  If their teacher has acquired a high level of skill with the more sophisticated aspects of the art students can aspire to learn them as well, although they won't even recognize them for some considerable time.  Rarely are these delicate and subtle aspects taught openly.  Students have to watch closely and they must have a good measure of experience and understanding themselves before they will be able to see these little "extra somethings."  Little fingers and toes.

     There are small, seemingly insignificant details that accompany the teacher's way of punching, striking, and kicking.  It isn't always seen in his striking hand or kicking foot.  Sometimes it's elsewhere.  Sometimes it has to do with angles but even that statement is a gross oversimplification.  In a sword-hand strike, the placement of the finger(s), the angle of the strike, the angle at the point of impact...all of these are things that the beginning student will not notice.  And even if he tries, he will not necessarily see it until he has mastered the basic strike himself.  But I want you to be aware that these little things exist so that you will recognize them when you’re ready.

    Forms lend even more complexity to the situation.  It is important for the student to do his best to imitate the teacher's movements exactly.  When the instructor stamps his foot rather than stepping down normally, there's a reason for it.  Sometimes his steps seems to "glide" and at other times they appear to be quick and lively or heavy. Watch for the tension in the legs as he moves.  The placement of the hand (which is precise even though it may not appear to be), the rhythm in certain segments of the form, the breathing pattern(s) and how they relate to the movement(s); there are many, many little things that you must look for if you aspire to discover the real art and master it.  Little fingers and toes.

LI AND QI

 by Phillip Starr

“Li” (力) means “strength” or “force” in Chinese and is one of the radicals used in the characters for “kung-fu” ( 功夫). I remember my teacher telling me not to apply too much li in my practice of xingyiquan but it confused me; was he saying that I shouldn't use muscular effort/strength? Was I supposed to remain relaxed?

This is a sticky issue with many people who practice a form of the neijia (the so-called “internal” arts of taijiquan, xingyiquan, and baguazhang) and in fact, any form of the martial ways. We are told not to use strength and/or to relax, which seems contrary to the delivery of powerful techniques, What are we to do?

Ancient writings (or “songs”, as they are often called) tell us that Yi (one's imagination, will, idea, mind), Li, and Qi go together. If your mind is directed towards a certain thing, your Qi naturally extends towards whatever your mind engages. But to effectively emit Qi, you must use your body. This is where it gets tricky...

To effectively emit Qi, one must use no more Li than absolutely necessary; excessive muscular tension cuts the flow of Qi to a trickle. For instance, when you push a door to open it you use only as much strength as you must; the amount of resistance offered by the door determines exactly how much force you must apply. It's the same with picking up a pencil or any other mundance, everyday object. To grab a pencil, you don't use all, or even most, of your (muscular) strength. If you did, you'd probably be unable to accomplish this simple task. This is why toddlers have difficulty in picking up things like pencils; they haven't yet learned not to “over-muscle”it; they use too much strength and have trouble picking up the item. You, on the other hand, can instantly feel exactly how much (minimal to a very small degree) strength is required and you can pick up a pencil almost effortlessly (I say “almost” because some use of muscular effort is, in fact, required).

And so it goes with everything...such as braking your car (remember when you were first learning to use the brakes and almost put your teacher through the windshield?), opening and closing doors, tying you shoes, and so on. And this same idea applies to martial arts as well.

Focus on making your technique as perfect as possible. Let impact (resistance) determine and CREATE the (minimal) amount of tension you require. Don't try to do it yourself; you'll only muck it up and “over-power” your technique. If you concentrate on the technique being as perfect as possible, power will come...naturally.

LEARNING IN A CRISIS

by Phillip Starr

   Have you ever noticed, in other people or perhaps yourself, situations like these:

* For instance, a woman who is easy going and articulate in a one-to-one situation becomes tongue-tied or withdrawn when she's present at some large social function?

* An athlete (or musician, or whatever) does extremely well when he practices with his friends but when he's in front of an audience or when the chips are down, his skill seems to disintegrate?

* In a given class, a student does very well with his day-to-day work but when an examination comes up his mind goes blank?

     The list is endless. The key element involved in each of these situations is pressure. When the "pressure is on" some people tend to slip and fall, as it were. Take the pressure off and they're fine but when the chips are down, they clutch. This doesn't necessarily infer that those who do well under pressure are superior to these folks; rather, it usually indicates that they have learned to react differently in "critical" situations.

     I am drawing from Dr. Maxwell Maltz's theories of Psycho-Cybernetics, remembering principles that I began practicing many years ago.

     The fact is that although you may learn well and you may learn quickly, people do not learn well in critical situations. If you toss a man into deep water he may learn to stay afloat and swim somehow, but he'll probably not become a championship swimmer. This is because the inept, awkward stroke that he used to survive becomes "fixed" in his mind and he may have a difficult time learning more efficient ways of swimming.

     It is my understanding that in both animals and humans, the brain forms a sort of "cognitive map" of the environment while they are learning. If the motivation is not too intense; if there is no crisis present when the brain is engaged in learning, these maps tend to be fairly broad and general. On the other hand, if the animal or person is overly-motivated or stimulated during the learning process, these maps tend to be narrow and restrictive. We learn just one way of responding or reacting to a given problem or situation and if this particular problem/situation should occur in the future, and the one way we have learned to solve or react to it is "blocked", we tend to become frustrated and often fail to discern alternative routes or detours. We have learned to respond in only one way and we lose the ability to react spontaneously to a new situation. We are unable to improvise.

     An example is given of people learning how to get out of a burning building. If the building is on fire they will take at least two or three times as long to learn the proper escape route as they would if there was no fire present. Some never learn at all. The automatic reaction mechanism is jammed with too much conscious effort ("trying too hard"). The ability to think clearly is lost.

Those who manage to survive will have learned a narrow fixed response. If you were to put them in another burning building which is constructed differently and change the circumstances slightly, they would react as poorly as they did the first time.

     However, you can take these same people and have them practice a "dry-run" fire drill when there is no fire present. There is no emergency, no crisis to interfere with clear thinking. They are free to concentrate on leaving the building correctly and safely several times...and should a fire ever occur, they will most likely react in the same way as they have practiced several times previously. Their muscles, nerves, and brains have memorized a broad, general, and flexible "map" and the attitude of calmness and clear thinking will carry over from their "dry-run" practice to the real thing.

     The surface moral to this story is obvious; practice without pressure and you will be able to perform better in a critical situation.

     It was "Gentleman" Jim Corbett who coined the term "shadow boxing." He used his left jab to cut the reigning heavyweight boxing championship, John L. Sullivan, to pieces. When he was asked about how he had developed his technique he replied that he'd practiced it in front of a mirror ten thousand times.

     Gene Tunney did the same thing when he prepared to fight the formidable Jack Dempsey. He'd watched Dempsey's fights, knew his every move, then spent hours "shadow-boxing." He imagined he was fighting Dempsey and countering his every move. And it worked.

    It's said that Billy Graham preached sermons to cypress stumps in a swamp before developing his electrifying speeches before live audiences.

     It occurred to me many years ago that this was one of the most important aspects of technique and form practice. The "father of Japanese karate", Funakoshi Gichin, emphasized that once you have learned to execute a given technique correctly and you can do it without difficulty, you must practice it as if a live opponent is standing before you. Don't just "throw the punches and kicks out there"...you have to visualize the opponent standing before you and attacking you.

      Your conscious mind knows, of course, that there isn't really anybody there and so, you are able to practice without pressure. You practice and your body-mind learns to respond correctly after repeating the movement or technique over and over.

     Form practice is intended to do exactly the same thing; to enable you to learn how to react correctly without pressure. If you practice your form and just count your way through it, you'll learn nothing. It becomes a set of memorized but relatively worthless movements which you won't be able to use spontaneously when the chips are down. But if you concentrate, vividly see your opponent, and apply your movement correctly - and you practice the form over and over and over - your muscles, nerves, and brain will build a flexible and effective "map."

     At the same time, there is the matter of emotion in a crisis. One doctor said that he believed there to be only one basic emotion - excitement. It can be manifest as fear, anger, courage, etc., depending upon your inner goals at the time. ..if you are inwardly organized and determined to conquer a problem, run from it, destroy it, or whatever. "The real problem," he said, "Is not to control the emotion but to control the choice of which tendency will receive emotional reinforcement."

     If you intention (your goal) is to move forward, make the most of the crisis and win out in spite of it, then the excitement of the occasion will reinforce this tendency and it will provide you with the courage and strength to go forward. However, if you concern yourself primarily with running away from the crisis, wanting to get past it by avoiding it - this tendency will likewise be reinforced and you'll experience fear and anxiety.

     If you want to develop superior technique and real skill, I recommend practicing without pressure - but practicing while visualizing an opponent. This must be done whenever you train your techniques and forms and it can also be done while you just sit back, relax, and close your eyes. Your imagination is your most powerful weapon and training aid.

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.