SECRETS SEEM VERY SMALL

 by Phillip Starr

When I first undertook the study of baguazhang under my teacher, Master Chen, he would walk past me and slap the backs of my hands and growl, “Dead hands! You must have LIFE in your hands!” I didn't understand. OF COURSE my hands were alive; I was alive, wasn't I? So, I asked just what he meant.

He showed me that what he called a “dead hand” was a normal, relaxed hand. In baguazhang, as well as xingyiquan, taijiquan, and other martial forms, the hand had to be held just so; the fingers had to be stretched and placed in the proper position(s). Otherwise, he said, qi cannot be properly expressed through the hands or arms.

He held up one hand as if to show me that he ha all five fingers. “This kind of hand is dead”, he said. “No life. No power.” Then he adjusted his fingers into what he called a “willow-leaf palm” with the forefinger stretched back and said, “This hand has life.” The fingers were to be stretched forward, as if extending them away from the palm. They should not be tensed, he said. Tension in the fingers would cause tension in the arm, making it too wooden and block the flow of qi. Sure enough, the tendons in the fingers do, in fact, run into muscles in the forearm that connect to the elbow.

Sometimes a tiny, seemingly insignificant and barely perceptible adjustment makes all the difference in the world. For instance, in iaido (the art of drawing and cutting with the Japanese sword), when the sword is initially drawn with the right hand, there are several seemingly minor things that one absolutely must master if one is to have any hope of acquiring genuine skill. For one, the right hand does not grasp the handle of the weapon (tsuka) by wrapping the fingers around it as doing so restricts the movement of the wrist. Instead, the hand is kept “soft” and open. As the right arm moves, slight pressure from the thumb and forefinger allow you to control the sword.

The scabbard (saya) is actually REMOVED from the sword by pulling it back with the left hand (which should be positioned just so). The right arm does NOT unsheathe the sword. The initial horizontal cut demonstrated in the first basic kata (Mae) is NOT made with the right arm.

Nor does it begin from the mouth of the scabbard (once the scabbard has been removed from the blade); instead, the little finger of the open, “soft” right hand puts pressure on the grip to bring the sword into a perfectly horizontal position BEFORE cutting. The cut is then made by closing the fingers around the grip, starting with the little finger. And all this is really a gross oversimplification...

All such teeny details, but they make a huge difference! In the movement of “push” in taijiquan, we see many practitioners (some of them very senior) starting the push with the palm pointed directly at the target. To do it correctly, the (pushing) hands should travel towards the target palms down (as if to strike with your fingertips). Only at the last second are the fingers raised so that the push is made with the palm(s). This “wrist snap” at the very last inch of the technique maximizes its velocity so that the blow is made with maximum power. To do otherwise results in a “shove.”

In making a side thrust kick, I was told that the toes (especially the big toe) of the kicking foot should be pulled back so as to create adequate tension and strength in the ankle so that the ankle won't “buckle under” upon impact. Initially, I had trouble doing this but I was very young and a few nasty experiences with a heavy bag convinced me that this was a tiny but vital principle that had to be mastered.

There are countless minuscule, ostensibly negligible or meaningless movements (and even non-movement) liberally sprinkled throughout all of the various martial ways. You can easily spend a lifetime seeking to find them, but the rewards are more than worth it!

THE REALITY OF FIGHTING

 by Phillip Starr

Many modern martial arts afficionados have convinced themselves that freestyle sparring and engaging in a real fight are pretty much the same thing. Never being one to hold my tongue very successfully, I'm afraid that I must burst that bubble and refute their beliefs. While the practice of freestyle one-step, freestyle sparring, and form serve as invaluable aids in increasing combative skills, they're not the same animal at all. Consider miltary basic training; during the Vietnam war, replacements quickly learned that although training at the firing range taught them how to use their rifles, it didn't prepare them at all for using the weapon in actual combat. Some were fortunate in being taken under the wings of those who'd been in the bush for awhile and who showed them the realities of action in that particular theater and how to use their weapons effectively.

Forms and freestyle sparring are performed under ideal conditions. In an real skirmish, the surface that you're standing on is often less than sterling and may well be slippery, spotted with chunks of gravel or other detritus, or even muddy...and it may be sloped or uneven rather than flat. Top that off with the fact that you're probably going to be wearing shoes...maybe boots or, God forbid, ladies may be wearing heels! This is going to impact your footwork, believe me. And your balance. And regardless of what some contemporary “experts” espouse, you DO NOT want to go to the ground!

Your clothing may be a bit restrictive and the clothing of your opponent can even present you with some problems. Your surroundings are usually not as open and clean as the training hall floor and certainly nothing like the competition ring. There may well be a variety of obstacles all around you, which can create unexpected problems (this includes other people as well). And the odds are good that your antagonist will be armed.

Then comes the reality of the fight itself. You're wired and excited. Your enemy probably feels the same way. You have no time for fear; you must focus fully on the moment and determine that you will NOT LOSE! A real fight is usually messy and extremely exhausting (even if it there doesn't seem to be any real reasons for it to be physically draining, it will be). Real fights don't normally last very long, regardless of what Hollywood would have you believe but you'll feel so debilitated that it seemed as though it lasted all afternoon. It's up close and personal; you can smell the stink of your opponent's sweat, smell and feel his hot breath, feel the shock and warmth of the blood... and regardless of what you'd like to believe, you're very likely going to get scuffed up. How badly you get scuffed up depends on how much and how thoroughly you've trained for this moment.

THIS is what the forms and practice routines (such as one-step, freestyle one-step, and freestyle sparring) have prepared you for...but like learning to shoot on a clean firing range, they're still a considerable distance from the real thing.

THE NATURE OF JYU-KUMITE

 by Phillip Starr

Actually, jyu-kumite (freestyle sparring) is the newest addition to the various form of kumite (practice involving a partner). In the “old days”, freestyle sparring did not exist and the legendary masters of those times never engaged in it. They developed their extraordinary skills through regular, vigorous practice of other training routines. Jyu-kumite (as we know it, more or less) was created shortly after the end of WWII. It is thought that its creator was none other than Gogen “The Cat” Yamaguchi of Goju-ryu fame...

He introduced the concept of “controlling” one's blows so they either did not strike one's partner will full force or they were pulled about two inches short of contact. When the Japan Karate Association (shotokan, JKA) began developing competition events, jyu-kumite was a very important part of it. The younger participants were particularly excited about it. The JKA instituted very stringent rules (to which they still adhere to this day) and all officials were senior karate practitioners and/or instructors who were required to undergo thorough training, pass strict examinations, and become certified.

In order for a technique to be called for a full-point (which meant that the opponent would have been destroyed or rendered incapable of continuing the fight), it had to meet three requirements:

• It must have destructive power in it such that if it had struck the opponent, it would have destroyed or neutralized him.

• It must have correct timing; if the technique scores as the opponent is moving away from it, it cannot be awarded a full point. The opponent must be standing still or (better yet) be scored on while moving forward, into the technique.

• It must have correct distance. The technique must not strike the opponent with full force; it may make “jacket contact: or be pulled an inch short of contact. This is a critical safety feature.

There were no flying taps to the head or hopping around and kicking with the same leg repeatedly like a crippled chicken. No boxing punches or spinning knife-hand strikes. And it remains so to this day.

When the padded mittens and foam footgear were first introduced onto the American tournament scene, I warned that using them would result in a slow deterioration of technique. Nobody listened. Instructors were tired of teaching students how to control their punches and kicks (which requires some considerable training); it was easier just to bundle up their hands and feet and let them have at it. As I had predicted, within a couple of generations students were throwing wild punches and many of them sustained nasty injuries.

Back in the day, jyu-kumite was practiced in class primarily to teach students how to use their techniques and tactics in an unrehearsed manner. It was a way of testing yourself and learning as opposed to trying to “win” against classmates or simply have fun. It was practiced with deadly seriousness and control – two things that seem to be completely absent from today's training regimens.

LIVING TWICE

 by Phillip Starr

“You only live twice;

once when you are born,

and once when you look death in the face.”

-Old Japanese Saying

In 1980, a television mini-series that told the fascinating but fictional story of several Dutch seamen and their English captain who had been shipwrecked on the coast of Japan in the 17^th century. The Englishman was favored by one of the most powerful leaders in the small island nation and he insisted that the foreigner be taught how to speak Japanese as quickly as possible. This was a daunting task and the daimyo (territorial baron) decided that the responsibility for this task would fall to the local villagers with whom the Englishman had daily contact. If the Englishman was unable to speak Japanese within six months, every living soul in the village would be put to the sword.

The captain argued that this was terribly unfair; he could not possibly learn the language in such a short time and his failure to do so would result in the deaths of many innocent people. Even so, the daimyo's order stood. The foreigner considered the situation and then quickly scooped up a tanto (dagger) and threatened to take his own life if the order wasn't rescinded. He held the knife to his belly while the daimyo reminded him that suicide was against the foreigner's religious convictions. But the Englishman was determined and swore that he would kill himself unless the daimyo canceled the order. The daimyo flatly refused.

The tension was almost palpable as the foreign captain realized that the daimyo had called his bluff. The scene was played very well and I could easily imagine what was going through the captain's mind as he considered his options. A samurai who served the daimyo was seated next to the captain and his body tensed slightly as he sought to feel what was in the foreigner's mind.

Then the Englishman's countenance seemed to relax and his eyes looked far into the distance. He had accepted his fate and smilingly accepted death's coming embrace. As he moved the plunge the dagger into his belly, the waiting samurai lunged forward and wrestled the weapon away from him. The captain realized that he was not, in fact, going to die. He had looked death squarely in the face. The young lady who accompanied the foreigner everywhere and acted as his interpreter touched his shoulder and told him that he had entered into a new life; he had been “born again” because his former life had, for all intents and purposes, ended when he had looked into the eyes of death. He had stepped into a new life.

The concept of losing one's fear of death is, I believe, central to the practice of any martial art. Death is, after all, at the hub of all human fears. It is perhaps the most basic fear that we carry in our hearts and although it is useful in so far as ensuring that we don't act foolishly and do something terribly stupid, it is a stumbling block for those who tread the martial path.

I WANT TO BECOME A MASTER!

 By Phillip Starr

Many years ago, one of my new students approached me and said, “I want to become a kung-fu master...like you.” I nodded and then I broke his heart. “I'm not a master of anything,” I said. “I just enjoy training and teaching, that's all.”

My response didn't dampen his enthusiasm, however. “Well, I want to become a master,” he repeated. I shook my head. “You'll never make it.”

The young man was clearly confused. “Why not?” he asked.

“Because you WANT it,” I said. “That desire will blind you. You have to forget this idea. Just train. Forget about becoming a master or whatever. Just practice. Every day.” He didn't get it. Ever. He was gone within a couple of months. So much for his fiery desire...

Over the years, I have met a good many people who aspired to become “masters.” Some even had the audacity to proclaim themselves as such! It's a nice-sounding title. It has that ring of greatness to it and I'm sure it's very helpful in attracting new students. But...

I'm not even sure what a “master” is. Nowadays, I see lots of people calling themselves by different high-flying titles – everything from “hanshi” to “soke” to “doctor” to “grand ultra supreme high poobah.” Funakoshi Gichin, the “father” of Japanese karate, was never awarded the title of hanshi... Yamaguchi Gogen, the “Cat” of Goju-ryu fame, was never referred to as hanshi or soke... and there are countless others.

The very few martial arts teachers who actually WERE given a title never used it... they were never, ever referred to as “hanshi so-and-so.” And they probably would have slapped anyone who did refer to them in that way. They weren't much into wearing titles.

I remember attending a karate tournament a few years ago and noticed a karate teacher strutting around with the word “Grandmaster” printed on the back of his jacket! Good grief. I suppose he did that so he wouldn't forget what he was. It would sure be fun to watch him wear that uniform and strut into a traditional karate class in Japan or Okinawa. I suspect the fun would be very short-lived, however.

I have been most fortunate in having been given the opportunity to train with some of the finest martial arts masters in the world. Mr. primary teacher was W. C. Chen, a direct student of the legendary Zhang Zhaodong. I also met and trained briefly with Hidetaka Nishiyama and Seiyu Oyata (who became a personal friend). I even studied Filipino arnis with Leo Gaje. And none of them were known as “hanshi” or “soke.” I referred to them simple as “sensei”, “shihfu”, or “tuhon”... that's what they preferred. So, it kind of grates on my nerves when I see some character wearing a title like “Grandmaster” smeared across the back of his karategi...

How about you?

I RECOMMEND JUDO!

 By Phillip Starr

It is my opinion, for what it's worth, that the best martial art for a young person to learn initially is judo. Or shuai-jiao (Chinese grappling) if it's available. Certainly, this must sound very strange coming from someone who is known as a kung-fu teacher but when I first stepped onto the martial path many eons ago, I began with judo. This isn't to say that one should not take up the study of karate or kung-fu and it certainly has nothing to do with one art being superior to the others, but I do suggest judo as a beginning point. I can see the young guy in the back waving his hand...either he has a severe case of intestinal distress or he has a question...

Ah, you want to know just WHY I recommend judo? Well hold on, Spanky. I'll lay it all out for you. The first consideration is that from the very beginning, judo (and other grappling arts) deal with one of the most basic human fears...falling. Face it; it's a basic fear that most humans have, even if they don't openly verbalize it. Children are very much afraid of it and older folks (like me) are terrified of it. If you think about it for a minute, you'll realize how true this is.

And one of the most important things that we do in our study of martial arts is directly face our innermost fears, starting with the most basic, simplest fears...like the fear of falling down. And we learn to deal with it. We MUST learn to grab this bull by the horns and bring it under control. We must, in fact, master it. Once that basic fear is mastered, we realize what we can do. We realize that WE create our own fears and only WE can overcome them. This has a lot more applications to life than just learning some simply breakfalls but at the moment we discover that we CAN fall down without injuring ourselves, at the moment that that fear falls from our shoulders, we are unaware of just what it really means. Later, our instructors should sit down and point it out to us...

Secondly, judo requires that you “close with the opponent” quickly and decisively. There can be no hesitation when you move in for the throw. This actually fosters the development of courage and a strong spirit. In karate, taekwondo, kung-fu, and a host of other martial disciplines, there is often no need to “close with the opponent.” You can easily maintain distance from him/her as you fire away with a barrage of kicks and punches. But that generally isn't how real self-defense works and if you're unable or unwilling to close with the enemy quickly, you're in a bad spot!

It's much the same in the military. Nowadays, troops are accustomed to sitting back at some distance and blazing away at the enemy. I remember the days when soldiers were well trained in close-quarters combat and dreaded the command, “Fix bayonets!” You knew you were about to look death in the face, up close and personal. But you'd swallow your fear, tighten your gut, and do it. And in combat, that's what it's all about...the willingness to close with the enemy, stare death in the face, spit in his eye, and do what has to be done.

Here endeth the lesson...

HARAGEI/FUYUN

 by Phillip Starr

Haragei (腹芸) is a term that may be occasionally heard in connection with the Japanese martial arts but less so in the Chinese arts (in Chinese it is “fuyun”). It means “belly art” and in Japanese, it is sometimes used to denote a type of interpersonal communication that doesn't involve the spoken word; it is a non-verbal method of learning to “read” the other person's intent, which can be very useful in business dealings. However, in the practice of martial arts, it has another meaning.

In the verbage of the martial arts, haragei refers to the ability to sense, to feel danger before it arrives, even at a distance. It is a rare skill, even amongst masters...but it is very real. To the best of my knowledge, there are no specific training exercises for this skill; it comes only after a lot of arduous practice with a partner, experience, and time.

Stories abound about masters who possessed this rare skill. O-Sensei Uyeshiba (founder of modern aikido) was said to have it. On one occasion when he was travelling by train with three of his students, he refused to board one of the connecting trains because he could feel that further down the line, there was trouble. His students thought that he was just being something of an obstinate old man,,,until they learned that, indeed, there had been an accident further down the tracks (a train had been de-railed).

Haragei is much like the “8-directional zanshin”, which was/is spoken about by some well-known swordsmen of old Japan. The idea is that zanshin must be directed all around oneself, not just forward. Then threats may be more readily detected. It is thought that all things project ki (in Chinese, qi...life energy) constantly and this is particularly true of animals and humans. And, just as we project energy (like a sort of transmitter), it is possible that we can eventually learn to pick up these “signals” (like a receiving device). We know for a fact that the human brain (and the brains of all creatures who have them) continuously emit electrical charges. Therefore, is it not possible that our minds, which act as transmitters, can also be used as receivers?

Just HOW this may be achieved, I don't know. However, I do know that haragei exists.