THE UKE; MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE

by Phillip Starr

In the practice of almost all of the traditional martial ways, participants often engage in prearranged forms of attack and defense. One of them assumes the role of the attacker who will “receive” the counter-attack of the “defender. This person is referred to as the “uke.” In the martial art of judo, the uke may not necessarily initiate an attack; he may simply receive his partner's technique.

Many students assume this role with a sense of passivity, lobbing unfocused kicks and punches at their partners. There is no real power, no spirit, no intent, no real technique. The uke often regards himself as little more than a human dummy; he participates in the exercise only to provide his partner with a live target. He's anxiously awaiting his turn; when he and his partner switch roles. That's the fun part of the exercise, isn't it? So, he puts up with having to play the part of the uke and this mindset is a huge mistake for both of them.

The defender must learn to respond appropriately to a genuine attack rather than a sterile, lifeless technique and it is the attacker's job to assist him in doing so. The uke should do his level best to execute a sharp, properly focused technique. Certainly, the level of power that he uses should be commensurate with his partner's level of expertise. That's a fancy way of saying that one should not apply the same level of technique against a beginning student that one would apply against a more senior practitioner. But the technique should be clean and strong. If he just passively chucks his technique out there without proper focus and celerity he is doing two things, both of which will eventually have a negative impact on him and his training partner.

First, he will develop the habit of launching sloppy, half-baked techniques instead of crisp, properly spirited technique. He is either ignoring or doesn't believe in the tried and true axiom that says, “You will fight exactly as you train.” This could be a real problem should he ever need to call on his martial prowess to defend himself against an assailant who's intent on suddenly and traumatically altering his dental structure or worse. I've heard many students say, “Well, I'd perform differently if it was for real.” This statement is completely untrue. Persons who make this kind of statement have probably never been in a real fight and they have no clue what they're up against. Whether or not they believe it, they will perform exactly as they've practiced because it's become an unconscious habit!

Secondly, he is doing his partner a terrible disservice by helping him learn him to respond to weak, sloppy techniques. His partner doesn't get the kind of training that he needs and, keeping the aforementioned axiom in mind, will more than likely come up short in a real skirmish.

It's important that both participants benefit from this type of training exercise. The uke should perform to the best of his ability (again, with the issued power and speed being consistent with his partner's level of skill) and when he receives the counter-attack, he must make no attempt to block or evade it. Should he do so, he would be demonstrating a mistrust of his partner and this is regarded as extremely rude. This kind of training routine is based on a sense of trust. Both parties must strive to control their punches and kicks, so as to avoid actually striking each other. Until a student is able to effectively control his techniques and stop them just short of contact, he should not engage in two-person training exercises.

Perhaps one of the most neglected aspects of the uke's role is that of intention. That is, he must have the intention of actually attacking his partner. Of course, he will control his attack to ensure that he doesn't injure his classmate but he must mentally feel that his objective is to strike him down.

You may wonder just why is this intention thing so important. The technique is going to be the same with or without intention, isn't it? Well, on the surface it would seem so. But with continued practice, the difference becomes obvious. If you apply the principle of intention to your practice, your partner will eventually learn to “sense” the moment when you are about to attack. Such a skill is invaluable in a real encounter. However, if there is no intention, there is nothing to “sense”; there is no real attack. It's essential that when practicing with a partner, we always bear in mind of the maxims of judo; “Mutual welfare and benefit.” And by ensuring that your training partner derives benefit from your practice with him, you will do the same for yourself.

TRADITION AND DISCOVERY

 by Phillip Starr

Consider the most notable names of the traditional martial artists of times past and how long they actually trained under their teachers. You'll find that many of them spent only a few years at the feet of of their venerable instructors. How did they learn so much after training with them for only a few years? Is such a thing possible?

I'll bet a month's wages that many of you will answer with something like, “Well, they must have had a special talent for learning martial arts. This is how they were able to assimilate so much knowledge and skill in such a short time.” And for the most part, you're wrong. Sure, a handful of them may have had natural ability and they hay have been able to learn physical movements much faster than the average student. But many of them expressed a deep spiritual understanding of their respective disciplines and this isn't something that can be handed down from teacher to student in a short time. So, after training with their teachers for such a limited time, how did they do it?

Quite simply, they took the initiative; they didn't wait for, nor did they expect, the teacher to “spoon feed” them, as it were. Rather, they realized that they had to learn how to learn. And you must do the same. This will require some considerable effort on your part but it is essential if you are to continue to progress.

After all, there will come a day when you and your teacher part company. This may be due to one or both of you moving away or perhaps your teacher will shuffle off this mortal coil. Maybe he will finally tell you, “I have no new forms to teach you, no more techniques. Now you must learn how to learn.” And you are left to stand on your own. At this point, some students begin to make changes; they change the forms they've struggled to learn. Some students feel that they aren't all that important and they eliminate some or perhaps all of them. They alter techniques. They feel that they've become “adults” in the martial arts world and they can do as they please. I was certainly guilty of this in my younger years.

But life and time are persistent, unmerciful teachers; sometimes subtle and sometimes more than a little forthright. To those who pay attention, they beget wisdom. Eventually, the student begins to more fully understand what his teacher taught him...and much of what he taught was not readily apparent. Even now, at my advanced age, I occasionally stumble across a nugget of information tucked away in a movement of one of my forms or perhaps in a single technique and I realize that my teacher had alluded to this inconspicuous but profound principle many years ago! And finding that single piece of information often paves the way to further discoveries! When this began to happen to me, I realized that this is how we learn; this is how our teachers continue to teach us long after we have parted company.

TIMELY MOVEMENT

 by Phillip Starr

The swordsmen of feudal Japan practiced their art with the utmost intensity. In battle, success or failure was usually decided in a split second. There were rarely any second-place winners. A single blow would decide the outcome of the conflict. If their technique failed, the result was certain; they wouldn't be joining their families to enjoy a second helping of Mom's rice pudding. If the technique was successful, they'd live to fight another day.

A tiger approaches its prey very carefully. Every movement is calculated and precise. The movements are small, some are almost imperceptible as the tiger focuses on what it is about to do. If it fails to bring down its quarry, it may not get another chance to eat for a couple of days or more!

Both the swordsman and the tiger appear to be relaxed. There's no fidgeting around, no bouncing up and down. They are what we call “centered.” Can you imagine what would happen if the swordsman started bouncing round, or began jiggling his sword? I can. It would be a very, very short fight.

When many of the martial disciplines became “sportified”, we began to see a lot of twiddling, jiggling, and wiggling coming into play. The duel was no longer a matter of survival; it was (and still is) simply a question of who wins the game this time. The operative phrase in that last sentence is, “this time.” When one contestant loses, he can always try it again at the next tournament. However, this was not the case for the feudal warrior. If he lost, he lost it all.

In the traditional martial forms of China, Okinawa, and Japan, movement is never performed for its own sake. That is, you don't move just to be moving. Each and every movement, even small shifts of the feet, are done for a reason. Energy is conserved and the trained fighter represents the very essence of economy. The breath is controlled and calm, movements are never wasted.

If the enemy should attack suddenly, the fighter must be able to respond in an instant. This doesn't necessarily mean that he simply avoids the incoming blow(s); he must be able to respond and take advantage of this”window of opportunity.” He knows that within every movement, no matter how slight, there is a moment of vulnerability. If the movement is small, the “window” is likewise small. However, if the “window” is large enough and he is in precisely the right place at exactly the right moment, he can slip through it and bring his opponent down. Naturally, if he is hopping around like a rabbit on steroids or busily fidgeting about like a young man on his first date, he will be unable to breach the “window” and any attempt to do so would probably end in disaster.

I can see the young man in the back waving his hand excitedly. Is there a fire? Oh, you have a question...okay, fire away. You say that boxers stay on the balls of their feet and bounce and weave to confuse the opponent? And you say that they believe that a moving target is harder to hit? Well, let's have a look at your query... I'll start with a question of my own. What is the purpose of a boxing match? What is each contestant trying to do?

You say that they're trying to knock out the opponent? Well, that's only partially true. You see, the objective is not necessarily to render the opponent unconscious; the objective is TO WIN! And you don't necessarily need to knock anyone out in order to win the bout, right? Right. That's because boxing is a GAME. There's a winner and a loser. At the end of the match, both competitors shake hands and go home to nurse their bruises. However, real combat is not a game. It's about “not losing.” It's about survival. In a life-and-death struggle there can be only one survivor (and sometimes, there are no survivors). There are no rules, no “points”, no referees, and no rounds. It ends when one of the participants dies.

Now, let's address the idea of bouncing around so as to confuse the opponent and to present him with a target that is difficult to hit. A trained fighter won't be at all confused by his enemy's movements. He remains focused on his intended target without any expectations. Secondly, a moving target is not at all difficult to hit. Remember what I said about each movement presenting a “window of opportunity?” A fighter who prances around is presenting his foe with numerous “windows” and sooner or later, the enemy will find one that's well within his timing and the fight will end abruptly.

Yes, I'm aware that there have been contests pitting boxers and even wrestlers against practitioners of various martial disciplines and the boxers or wrestlers frequently win. These have all been fool's games, with “games” being the key word. No one was ever killed. The rules were fairly stringent so as to avoid serious injuries. However, traditional martial arts were never intended to be practiced as games. I wonder what the outcome would have been if no protective gear was worn – no gloves or footpads, no groin cups, no mouthpieces. And what if there had been no rules whatsoever? Combatants would be allowed to use any and all techniques at their disposal, including kicks to the legs, seizing techniques, biting, and whatever else came to mind. And what if there were no rounds? The fighters couldn't rest until the fight was finished. And what if the fight would end only when one of the combatants was killed? It would certainly make for a completely different approach to the match, don't you think?

In real martial arts, nothing is wasted. The feudal swordsman appears to be relaxed and calm as he faces his enemy. His movements are slight and made only when necessary. His mind is focused. When the window slides open he'll dart through in an instant and maybe, just maybe, he'll go home when it's over.

The Traditional Way

 By Phillip Starr

      In a recent conversation with an old friend I was told that within the past few years there has been a movement back towards "traditional martial arts."  However, a senior student told me that, in his opinion, many of the "traditional" schools aren't really training in the "traditional way" anymore.  Huh. 

      Even more recently, I was congratulated on being able to trace my martial arts lineage.  I've never been much of a stickler for establishing one's pedigree because in the long run, it doesn't necessarily mean much.  I've known a good many "blue bloods" who weren't worth a damn when the chips were down and more than a few "mutts" who I'd be more than happy to have on my side should a situation ever go south.

      When I served as National Chairman for the AAU Chinese Martial Arts Division I traveled the length and breadth of the U.S. and met a good many of the nation's foremost kung-fu "leaders."  Naturally, all of them could trace their lineage back to the nth degree and many of them looked down their noses at anybody who couldn't.

      Now, I've always been pretty much a pudding taster - like in the saying, "The proof of the pudding is in the eating."  Purebred or not, what mattered to me then and what matters to me now is whether or not a practitioner can make his stuff work.  Does he really know what he's doing and can he make it work or is he just going through so many empty (but traditional) movements?  Therein lies the truth of it.

      I also recently read an editorial in a martial arts magazine that stated that "bending the truth" about the origin of one's martial art system is actually considered traditional in the Orient.  The author was right.  I mean, look at some of them:

• Zhang Sanfeng (Chang San-feng) is said to have originated the art of Taijichuan although there is no concrete evidence that he even existed.

• The founder of Baguazhang (Dong Haichuan) allegedly learned his art from a Daoist hermit who was living up in the mountains.  This is a favorite fable and many kung-fu styles point to enigmatic hermits as the originators of their arts.  It makes you wonder if there was some kind of conspiracy going on with a bunch of hermits...

• Xingyichuan points to the legendary general, Yueh Fei, as its originator.  This is a second favorite fable.  Yueh Fei is revered throughout China and although he died at a fairly early age, he's been given credit for having originated several kung-fu schools, including Eagle Claw.  Very creative fellow...

• In Japanese martial arts, more than one school of swordsmanship credits their origin to ghosts or goblins who, for some obscure reason, decided to teach certain warriors their special technique

   And so on-

     I'm reminded of a scene from one of my favorite movies, "Monty Python and the Holy Grail", when King Arthur is trying to explain to a group of peasants just how he became king...that Excalibur was given to him by the Lady of the Lake.  And the peasants make disparaging remarks about why it's not logical to base a system of government and leadership upon a story wherein "some watery tart lobs a scimitar at you..."

     Hilarity aside, they have a point.  As funny as that entire scene might be, we, as martial arts enthusiasts, base entire martial arts systems on similar tales.

     Now, I'm not going to say that these kinds of things can't happen.  I know that they can.  BUT -  let's try to keep these stories to a minimum.  In Asia, lineage - the past - is everything.  Confucianism, which spread all over the Orient, stresses the importance of one's lineage (whether it's one's family lineage, martial arts lineage, or whatever) and subsequent obligations to ancestors.  

      So.  Back to the point I was making at the beginning of this lecture... I believe that a "traditional" school should practice in the "traditional way", more or less.  I think that that's what makes a school traditional (or not), regardless of their actual lineage.

     Certainly, it's fine to employ training methods that may not have been used back in the day - but the old ways of training and the attitudes involved therein are what made the martial arts what they were and what they should be.  Our martial arts ancestors didn't have the nicely made heavy bags that we enjoy, nor did they have many other pieces of modern training equipment.  If they had, they almost certainly would have used them.  But it's the spirit with which they'd use them that makes the difference.

      To me, it's the spirit in which training is conducted that determines how "traditional" a school may be - not the sheepskin upon which a lineage is written.

THE IMAGE

 by Phillip Starr

The phrase “martial arts master” seems to have a particular sort of image associated with it. Many people immediately picture a white-haired, bearded, wizened old recluse of some kind who spends at least half of his time meditating on the mysteries of life and the other half practicing ancient martial arts techniques that have been cloaked in secrecy for several hundred years. The master is wise in all things; he is able to provide sage advice in every aspect of life, including (but not limited to) personal finances, marriage, virtually every facet pertaining to physical and mental health (and, by the way, he is perfectly capable of treating most illnesses and injuries via his high level of knowledge and skill in ancient forms of Eastern medical therapies), purchasing a home, preparing one's annual income tax return, or even how to field dress a deer.

I can see some of you smiling while others laugh openly. Those who laugh are probably those old martial arts teachers who've actually had students approach them with questions about such things. I have. All of them (that's right; go back and look through the list). How to field dress a deer?, you ask. You betcha. And many other equally bizarre subjects about which I know absolutely nothing. Yes, I have practiced and taught kung-fu for most of my life. I am also an acupuncturist and I hold black belt grades in two forms of Japanese karate. I enjoy practicing iaido, too. But my understanding of personal finances, investing money, marriage, and generally understanding women are right up there with my knowledge about how to field dress a deer, rebuilding a truck's engine, or treating schizophrenia. I have, by the way, been asked about each item mentioned in this paragraph.

People will not be easily dissuaded from the image of the wizened old master that they hold firmly in their minds. A perfect example would be my dear friend, Master Arthur Lee (dec.). Arthur was probably the world's highest authority on the old Shaolin Fut-Ga system and his skill was truly second to none. But you'd never guess that this kind, well-dressed Chinese gentleman knew anything about the martial arts. Slightly built, soft-spoken, and extremely polite at all times, Arthur's demeanor never revealed his tremendous skill. He had worked for Sears for many years and was always ready to laugh and share a joke.

My kung-fu uncle, Master Ming Lum (dec.), is another fine example. One of Henry Okazaki's earliest jujutsu pupils in Hawaii, Master Lum was also very highly skilled in Choy Li Fut. And he would certainly be one of the last people anyone would suspect of being a master of a martial art. He stood perhaps 5' 4” (on his tiptoes), had one prosthetic arm (with a blunted hook instead of a hand), and smoked like a train. And no matter what the weather or the event (such as festivals, funerals, and weddings), Uncle Ming always wore a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt. However, he was hailed as a renowned master by virtually every martial arts teacher who ever met him.

Authentic masters may well work as train conductors, plumbers, school teachers, or any other profession. The real ones don't walk around with their chests puffed out, proclaiming their accomplishments. They're ordinary people except for one thing; they've walked a path that most people will never see.

I CAN'T!

 By Phillip Starr

     "I can't" is an expression that should all but be removed from the vocabulary of all martial arts practitioners. Here are some reasons why:

*Henry Ford failed and went broke five times before he finally succeeded.

*18 publishers turned down the story about a "soaring seagull" before the MacMillan company finally published it in 1970. Within five years, Richard Bach's book, “Jonathan Livingston Seagull”, had sold over five million copies.

*21 publishers rejected the idea of a comedy set in a medical camp during the Korean War. Richard Hooker kept going until M*A*S*H was published by one company. It became a runaway best seller and spawned a movie and TV series.

*General Douglas MacArthur was turned down twice by West Point when he applied to become a cadet.  On his third try, he was finally accepted. The rest is history.

*When NFL running back Herschel Walker was in junior high school, his coach told him he was too small and suggested that he go out for track. Walker ignored this advice, built himself up through intensive training, and won the Heisman trophy a few years later.

*Colonel Sanders went to over 1,000 places trying to sell his chicken recipe before he found a buyer for his Kentucky fried chicken!

*Dr. Seuss's first book was rejected by 27 publishers before being published and selling 6 million copies.

*Once a week for four years, a black author received a rejection letter regarding his novel. He was traveling on a freighter and decided to give up and throw himself overboard. He claimed he heard the voices of his ancestors telling him not to give up and he decided to give his book one more try. Alex Haley's book, Roots, was finally published.

*In 1905 the University of Bern turned down a doctoral dissertation as being irrelevant and fanciful. The young physics student remained undaunted and continued in his efforts. His name was Albert Einstein.

There are thousands and thousands of similar stories. My own is one of them and will be yet again.

"Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there."

-Will Rogers

     One of the most important things we learn through our training in martial arts is that anything is possible if we just believe. We discover that the only obstacles we ever encounter are those we have placed in front of ourselves. And we are the only ones who can move them; nobody else can do it for us. If we believe that we will fail, then our destiny is certain. If we refuse to accept failure and believe that we will succeed, the same thing is true. We are what we believe.

     Of course, simple belief isn't enough. Absolute determination and the willingness to work hard and long are also elements which must be included.

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are nothing compared to what lies within us."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

     The process can begin with something as simple as a shoulder roll. Over the years, I have taught many young students who were terrified at the thought of doing such a thing. I coaxed and prodded and made each one of them do it. And then I made them do it again and again until their fear was a thing of the past and the obstacle had been removed. They were often overjoyed and wanted to practice rolling at every training session!

"It is better to be prepared for an opportunity and not have one than to have one and not be prepared."

Whitney Young Jr.

     At various point(s) in our training we all run up against the same kind of obstacles. Just because we overcome the first one doesn't mean that's the end of it. Far from it. We discover one obstacle after another. Some are very large and some are small but each one requires a certain measure of effort and belief in ourselves in order to overcome it. This is, we find, a continuous process in life. But if we realize what it takes to overcome these obstacles, we can ultimately overcome all of them one at a time.

"Never look where you're going.  Look where you want to go."

Bob Ernst

     A student once asked me how I was able to thrust my fingertips through small bricks. "First you have to learn the technique," I answered. "Then you have to believe that you can do it. Each time when I set up the brick to do that demonstration, I see myself doing it successfully before I hit it. That's the secret." He didn't believe me and gave up training shortly afterwards.

"I cannot discover that anyone knows enough to say definitely what is and what is not possible."

Henry Ford

     Now understand that technique is essential. A person who can barely read cannot become an author until he learns the technique. A scrawny youth who has never played football will never become an NFL star until he puts in the time and sweat and learns the technique.

     Your teacher can teach you correct technique. That's what he's for. Once you learn that, a good teacher can take you farther and show you what you can really do with it. A great teacher will go beyond the physical technique and show you how to live (it).

"The doctors told me that I'd never walk again, but my mother told me I would. So I believed my mother."

Wilma Rudolph

    Think about it. Masutatsu Oyama's real name was Choi Yong Li. He was Korean. He went to Japan in hopes of becoming a pilot during WWII, but the Japanese wouldn't hear of a Korean flying one of their fighters and he was turned down (fortunately for us). The Japanese have never been very fond of Koreans and the young man had difficulty even finding a job. He made money as a "milkman" driving a delivery truck and managed to get into the university. It was there that he saw Gichin Funakoshi teaching a karate class and he fell in love with the art.

     After several years and superhuman effort (which included living on a mountain for three years), he established his own karate system and developed the Kyokushinkaikan which became one of the largest karate organizations in the world! He was adopted by the Japanese people and took on a Japanese name.

     And it all started out driving a delivery truck and scrounging for meals.

"It never occurred to me that I couldn't do it.  I always knew that if I worked enough, I could."

Mary Kay Ash, founder of Mary Kay Cosmetics

     Morihei Uyeshiba, the legendary founder of aikido, started out running his own small business. His father had fronted him the money for it. He failed miserably.

"Luck is a matter of preparation meeting opportunity."

Oprah Winfrey

     Jigaro Kano, founder of modern judo, was a schoolteacher who was highly skilled in jujutsu and who dreamed of bringing the art into the schools and into the modern sports arena. Until a few years ago, it was the only martial art represented in the Olympics.

    Gichin Funakoshi was also a simple schoolteacher who was ordered to go to Japan to demonstrate karate in 1923 because he was well-grounded in Japanese culture. The Okinawans wanted to send someone who was well educated and familiar with the Japanese culture.  Funakoshi subsequently established the world-reknowned Shotokan karate system.

"If you don't hear opportunity knocking, find another door."

Omar Periu