HOW MANY REPS?

 By Yang Shuangxing

I have a suggestion for those of you who really want to understand your forms and who have the gumption to undergo a rather tedious process of training. It is simply this: In addition to whatever else you do in your daily training, practice just one of your forms five to eight times a day. Every. Day. For 30 days. Don't skip a day. If you miss a day for any reason, start over from Day One. Want to give it a try?

I can hear some of your starting off with, “But...” If you said that word (“but”), don't bother with this exercise. You're not ready. Not committed to learning. Maybe try it later, sometime.

It's well to do this exercise with your most basic form the first time around. Most of those who object to this type of practice prefer to be “spoon-fed”; they want someone to show and tell them everything that their form contains. They don't want to put up with the tedium and sweat of digging for themselves. Theirs will be a shallow art.

If you do this training exercise with your system's first form, you'll probably be very surprised at how poorly you perform (at first). Many of us, once we've learned that form and passed the basic examination(s) that require it, just toss it to the wayside and ignore it for a very long time. It gets pretty rusty. But it shouldn't.

YOUR HANDS MUST HAVE EYES

 by Phillip Starr

Some time ago, I was teaching more senior students how to strike certain vital points. One of them was located on the upper arm and when hit correctly (using the second knuckle of one finger), the strength on that affected side of the body vanishes and the opponent is unable to continue the fight. Striking this point isn't particularly dangerous if practiced under supervision, however.

One student had quite a bit of difficulty striking the point...he kept missing. I told him what my teacher told me many, many years ago; “Your hands must have eyes.” Of course, I was confused when he first spoke those words. But over time, I came to realize their truth. It required a great deal of practice with live partners (no, nobody was ever injured during such practice sessions) until it seemed that my hands “knew” exactly where to go, as if they could actually “see” the points.

Numerous gong-fu styles, particularly southern forms such as white crane, dragon boxing, white eyebrow, and southern praying mantis, are designed for very close-quarters combat. Many of their strikes are very short-distance techniques, intended to strike certain vital points. Learning to issue any substantial power with such short-range blows requires a great deal of special training; even more is required if one hopes to have hands that “see” the vital points, and strike and hit the mark without the slightest hesitation.

This same skill can and should be developed with martial disciplines that utilize longer-range techniques.

THE FIRST ATTACK POSITION

 by Phillip Starr

At last...we reach the novel's climactic fight scene. Having gone through a couple of hundred pages filled with domestic and foreign intrigue, exotic romantic encounters, and plenty of very detailed violence, we've reached the moment when the good guy meets the bad guy. Finally! Up to this point, larynxes have been crushed and bodies dismembered with Japanese katanas and now we know this is going to be a real hellion of a battle because our hero, katana held firmly in his hands, has taken up the “first attack position.”

These kind of novels (and movies) are exciting to read and watch and they sometimes show that the writer has done a bit of research. But...when the plots calls for characters to take up their trusty swords, we see that most of the time, much more colorful imagination is employed rather than reliance on reliable background sources. The “first attack position” is a good example...

It seems that many (if not most) books/movies of this genre place the hero in similar positions as they brace for battle. Perhaps this is because Western fencing makes use of something similar, numbering various attacks and defenses. However, every kendo practitioner or devotee of other martial arts that utilize swords have been taught that defense and attack must be as nearly simultaneous as possible. In so far as Japanese swordsmanship is concerned, there are no “attack” or “defense” positions. Likely, the authors mean “kamae” when they refer to a particulr position. Kamae actually refers to an attitude expressed through posture rather than some dramatic pose.

Fight scenes often include other misconceptions... The writers/choreographers often spice things up a bit by including acrobatic flips and kicks! Such theatrics may keep audiences tuned in, but they're as phony as the teeth-clenching tsuba-zeriai where the combatants stand glare-to-glare with their swords crossed, locked at the guards.

Most unarmed combat systems developed because their exponents didn't have ready access to weapons or for religious or other reasons, preferred not to carry them. Well-armed combatants did not deliberately compromise the effectiveness of their weapons in favor of kicking and punching. Despite romantic claims to the contrary, in a fight between skilled and experienced exponents, a weapon is a great advantage. Only under the most extraordinary circumstances would one kick at an opponent armed with a sword and leave the skirmish as a biped.

And only under the most desperate and dire circumstances would a skilled swordsman ignore the great value of his weapon and resort to striking with his hands and feet....and related to this kind of dramatic fantasy is the literary and cinematic device of the hero tossing his weapon aside to engage his enemy with bare hands. This is an unbelievably stupid strategy and a classic example of cross-cultural confusion.

An even more dramatic example is that wherein our hero, armed with a katana, overcomes a gun-wielding enemy! Not likely. At. All. But although the serious martial artists realizes that these films and books are nothing more than pure fantasy, they have still managed to have some impact on our arts. Oftentimes, prospective students enter class expecting to be able to perform such impossible feats. It is sometimes very difficult to dissuade them. What are we to do?

Just assume the “first attack position” and carry on, I guess...

COMMONALITIES

 by Phillip Starr

“The stroke is executed by cutting back and then down”, is the teaching given in an ancient scroll, “followed by a swift, slight rise to the right like the movement of striking with a whip.”

Another scroll, almost equally antique, contains poetic (as well as enigmatic) about the practitioner's state of mind, likening it to a “flower scattering, falling without a sound upon moss, a flower scattering to be heard through the depths of the mountains.”

Only those unaquainted with the paradoxes of art and the cultures of China, Japan, and Korea would be surprised to learn that the first commentary is concerned with the gentle skills of calligraphy and the second to the art of swordsmanship. At the core, the particulars of instruction, the matters of effectuation contained in these two old scrolls are secondary to learning either art. It's the underlying principles, in a broad range of different arts of the culture – fine, folk, performing, and martial – are fundamentally synonymous. And these principles are vital to the mastery of any and all of them.

The actor in the Japanese Noh drama or Beijing Opera strives to make his way across the stage without a gap in his concentration and without a single superfluous movement. There is a sense of self and place surrounding the actor that is perfectly understood by the warrior in the perilous arena in which he performs.

The musician playing the shakuhachi (Japanese flute) or the Chinese pipa plays from his or her body's center and perfects his/her breathing; the Japanese swordsman strikes from his center and perfects his breathing because the efficacy of his blow is assured by proper attention being given to his respiration. The goals differ but the attitude is the same.

But it's not only in some technical details that the varied endeavors of these arts converge. From flower arranging to tea ceremony to archery, the aesthetics, the spirituality, and the motivations of these seemingly disparate arts have a wonderful commonality. The unity of these artistic forces is exemplified in two disciplines, seemingly discreet but at the very heart of Japan and China; the Way of the sword and the Way of the brush.

CLEARING THE COBWEBS

 by Phillip Starr

Throughout my high school and college years (in fact, for most of my life), my father paid scant attention to my first love; martial arts. I think he was disappointed that his son had no interest in going out for traditional American sports. But it was when I started my first semester of college that he gave me a piece of invaluable advice, which also indicated that he'd been watching me practice from time to time over the years.

Dad had graduated from college with a straight 4.0 grade point average and had been named to the Order of the Coif – an award given only to the top 10% of a law school's graduating class. And he meant for me to keep high grades as well. I was buried nose-deep in one of my text books, trying to make sense of what I was reading. Dad strolled into the room and announced, “I want you to practice your martial arts for at least an hour every day.”

THAT got my attention! He'd never spoken of this subject before...what was going on? I told him that I figured he'd want me to spend my free time studying.

“An hour's practice will sweep the cobwebs out of your mind”, he said. “It'll clear your head.”

I was only too happy to take his advice and, to my surprise, he was right! Coming back to my studies after an hour's training, I found that my mind was much sharper; it felt “refreshed.” Studies on the phenomenon would be conducted years later and their findings would validate what he told me.

So if you're in school, heed my father's advice. It works!

THE CIRCULAR STAIRWAY

 by Phillip Starr

The students had completed the rigorous examination for sandan (3^rd grade black belt). The board of instructors had completed their assessments and the group stood at attention before their teacher. “You have all performed very well. You have passed the test.” The students all smiled, some looking at the others and winking. “You have taken a big step forward”, the teacher continued, “Now, I hope you will all take a step back.”

The group was understandebly confused. It's understandable that we tend to view all of our undertakings in a linear fashion. That is, we think that our work, our learning, our relationships...everything that we try to accomplish in life, will progress in a series of straight steps that move us forward and upward as we continue. We begin school in the first grade and then move on to the second. Military personnel “go up through the ranks”, businessmen “climb the corporate ladder” and we all take things “step by step.” And we take it for granted that the progression follows a straight path. The second-grader doesn't expect to have to repeat the simple printing of the letters of the alphabet; the newly-promoted Colonel would be chagrined if he was told he had to practice close-order drill again with some new recruits, and the new corporate VP would be considerably less than thrilled to find himself having to learn simple secretarial chores. So, you can understand the newly-promoted sandans wondering why they had to go back and practice things that they'd learned in the earliest stage of training.

“Jiben” (in Japanese, “kihon”) are the fundamentals of all the martial Ways; the foundation upon which all other skills are based. But most martial arts enthusiasts see them as simple stepping stones, I think. The karate or taekwondo enthusiast must first learn the basics of a solid stance so that he can learn to execute well-balanced kicks...and then leaping kicks, and then against multiple assailants. He sees the basics as the first step in the process. But if he thinks that once a basic thing is learned, he can go on and never give it a second thought...he is sorely mistaken.

The martial Ways are an exception to the linear, step-by-step, vertical staircase concept of progress. Rather, they are like a circular, spiral staircase. But although you're moving in a circular, winding manner, you still moving UPWARD. When the advanced kendo practitioner comes to class and discovers that the evening's lesson will be on the basic overhead strike, he needn't be disappointed in having to do THAT again...not if he's smart. It's not like going back to the beginner's class where he was first introduced to this technique. Although he is repeating the same technique he learned as a newbie, he understands that he's progressed several flights up the staircase and he will be discovering new insights about this basic technique that are way over the head of a new recruit.

And he will continue to learn new angles (little “tweaks”) for as long as he continues training. He'll make new discoveries...”Hey, I never noticed THAT before! So that's how this strike should be done!” He's made another revolution around the spiral staircase. He's undergone a change. The strike hasn't necessarily changed, but his understanding and mastery of it have progressed. So, always be ready to take a step back. It's the only way to get ahead in the martial Ways.

CALLING YOUR SHOTS

 by Phillip Starr

This article is for those of you who want to improve your own or your student's sparring skills. If you watch sparring in many (perhaps most) martial arts schools (especially in the West) or tournaments, what you'll witness is a poorly executed version of kickboxing, slipshod muay thai, or just a vigorous schoolyard slugfest. Technique and tactics have gone out the window and there is no relationship between what's going on (sparring) and the forms taught in the system.

Most aspects of our arts are taught progressively, starting at a very basic level and moving gradually towards more advanced levels. However, in most martial arts schools nowadays, this isn't the case with sparring. In some cases, students are introduced to sparring within the first couple of weeks after starting class! It's absurd and only leads to the development of bad habits or discouragement.

Basic formal fight routines prepare students for sparring. It's imperative that they learn to begin these exercise(s) at the proper distance; that is, the attacker should be able to touch the receiver with his technique in a single step. If they begin too close or too far away, the whole routine is pointless.

Once they become comfortable with the exercises, it's critical that the attacker tries to touch them with his attacking technique. And it's important that the attacker has the INTENTION to strike his partner with great force. He won't actually DO it, of course, but the intention must be there!

Students should begin by practicing 3-step fight routines, which teach them basic applications of the fundamental techniques and, to a lesser degree, how to step forward and backward correctly.

3-Step routines, which quickly become very boring, teach more than just how to use the basic techniques. They:

• teach the student proper use of distance. If, by the 2^nd or 3^rd attack the students find themselves too close or too far from each other, the receiver's distancing is flawed and he must learn to correct it.

• At an advanced stage, they are used to teach proper rhythm and timing. This is shown in my book, MARTIAL MANEUVERS.

  

1-Step routines are introduced only after students have acquired considerable skill in basic 3-step. There are no short-cuts. I remember practicing 3-step for at least 6 months before being permitted to attempt 1-step, which teaches:

• Applications of various techniques

• Use of special tactics, body shifting, and footwork

• Polishes timing and rhythm

  

After students become skilled at 1-step, freestyle 1-step may be introduced. This training exercise is invaluable and hones everything to very fine edge. I made my advanced students practice it in almost every class. There are several ways of doing it:

1. Attack is specified. Defense also specified.

2. Attack specified. Defense free.

3. Attack unspecified. Defense specified.

4. Attack unspecified. Defense free.

It must be practiced just so:

1. One participant serves as Attacker and the other is the Receiver.

2. They begin at a distance of 6-8 ft. apart and bow as if they are sparring. Then they adopt fighting stances.

3. They are free to move around as if they were sparring.

4. The Receiver will not strike at the Attacker until the Attacker attacks.

5. An attack is any penetration of the Receiver's “defense perimeter.” This includes penetration by technique, or a (usually inadvertent) movement of the Attacker that causes him the penetrate the defense perimeter of the Receiver in any way (even if he doesn't fire an attacking technique).

6. Therefore, both participants must be acutely sensitive to distance (their defense perimeters) at all times.

7. The Attacker will do his best to score on the Receiver with a single, appropriate technique in perfect form and power, as well as stability. Then he freezes in place.

8. The Receiver will defend himself with an appropriate single technique, delivering it in perfect form and with adequate power, timing, and stability. Then he freezes in place so the teacher can check his form, balance, stance, etc.

9. If the Attacker makes an attack and the receiver fails to immediately deliver a counter-attack, it is counted as a miss.

10. If either participants executes a technique that lacks adequate power, control, stance, stability, timing, or if the distance is to close or too far, or is something other than a valid martial arts technique, it is counted as a miss.

    

So the attack must be sudden and without a “telegraph” and the counter-attack must be letter perfect as well. Both participants must strive to do their absolute best and use textbook-perfect technique. This develops razor-sharp reflexes, timing, and stresses perfect technique. I liken the difference between this and the way most students spar nowadays to the difference between playing “slop pool” and “calling your shots.” A player of billiards who can call his shots with success will always beat one who plays “slop pool” (just shooting the ball out there and hoping it hits something).

And I maintain that acquiring skill in freestyle 1-step is considerably more difficult than sparring. There is no bouncing away and out of range when the attack comes; you must deal with it immediately and effectively. Hopping up and bopping your opponent on the head with a floppy backfist won't cut it, either. Your response must be as perfect as possible. Freestyle 1-step is the bridge between your forms and sparring. Don't ignore it.