SHUGYO

 by Phillip Starr

All of us, at one time or another, run up against obstacles that seem to block our progress along the path (of martial arts). Actually, we run into them with some considerable frequency.

Too early in the morning to practice? Get out of the sack and train. Is it a bit cold or wet outside? Get dressed and train anyway. Weary of the whole journey? Suck it up and train. Persevere with an iron will. This is the advice given to the martial artist who runs up against (what he/she perceives as) an obstacle along the Way. It is advice that is usually lost on the novice.

When a beginner undertakes the study and practice of a martial discipline, he cannot imagine what kinds of obstacles will eventually drop in front of him. And if they appear at this early stage, he'll likely discontinue his training altogether. The art has not yet become a regular part of his daily life, so he can quit without any damage to his psyche. But for the more advanced practitioner, quitting can have serious emotional and psychological consequences and he must turn to shugyo (austerity; austere training) in order to persevere.

The novice often regards training in a martial art simply as a hobby or interesting pastime, so quitting is no big deal. But for the more advanced practitioner, it has become a part of his life. It's important to him; a daily habit, if you will.

Both the novice and the more advanced practitioner will ultimately hit a plateau in their training; a period of time when it seems that no progress is being made. The advanced devotee has probably encountered this phenomena before but as his training progresses, the plateaus seem to last longer and longer. He may consider just giving up...after all, this “art” produces no real tangible rewards and seems to have little practical value. Friends and even family may encourage him to simply quit and do something “more useful.” And the novice may well succumb to his own thoughts and the prodding of others who know little or nothing about this exotic exercise that he does.

The martial arts practitioner who has ventured more deeply upon the martial path is not necessarily so easily dissuaded. Although the master often simply encourages him to continue with his training, he is watching closely. He is keenly aware of his student's frustration, discouragement, and pain. But he knows there is really nothing that he can do other than encourage his student to continue.

The student has reached a crossroads. What will he do? If he persists in his daily training, the practitioner will come out of the plateau and realize that he has reached a new level of the martial Way. His austere training has brought him through the barrier(s) that faced him.

SEEKING SHELLS AND COSMETICS

 by Phillip Starr

In most contemporary martial disciplines, there's a lot of emphasis placed on exactly, precisely how a given technique is to be performed. To be sure, this is necessary when first learning a technique or movement but oftentimes, practitioners get stuck in this particular rut. Their minds focus on whether or not they (or someone else) do the movement exactly so. This stunts their growth and becomes a bad habit that can be very difficult to break. They begin to think of their techniques and movements in terms of exactly how the foot should be placed, and so on. Without necessarily being consciously aware of it, they're focusing on learning and practicing the “outer shell” of their particular martial art. Many of them never progress beyond this stage...like an egg that never hatches.

This isn't to say that students should be free to perform the various techniques and movements however they wish...I call that the “general idea” approach. Executing a particular punch or kick must necessarily be done in a very specific way. But once that stage has been reached, students must move beyond it. Many never do (and some go on to become instructors). This anal retentiveness is very common within the neijia (internal Chinese martial arts) community. A great many of them focus their attention almost entirely on exactly how the feet (and even the toes) are to be placed, and so on. Very nitpicky. Very. Nitpicky. Too nitpicky.

What should be focused on after the student is able to perform the technique properly is/are the principle(s) involved. Without this understanding, he/she may well be doing the technique or movement incorrectly although it may have the outward appearance of exactitude. Unfortunately, many of those who teach aren't altogether certain themselves of just what or which principle(s) are involved. They got stuck themselves in the rut of “technique.”

Others concern themselves with how they LOOK when they perform the technique/movement. To them, it's about cosmetics. They're concerned with “looking good.” This path leads to nowhere. I laugh when I tell people that the southern kung-fu systems are actually rather homely unless you know what to look for...there are no jumps, twirls, flying kicks, or any of that. No make-up. No “styled hair.” Real martial arts are oftentimes rather plain or even homely...

Then there are those who, after learning how a technique or movement is performed, get all tangled up in combat application and self-defense. This becomes their new polestar. Certainly, understanding application and being able to practically use the technique is very important, but it's not the end point. Not yet.

They miss the importance of “feeling.” That is, how the technique/movement “feels” inside their bodies and how it affects (different areas of) their bodies. To do this requires a good deal of patience (which many aspiring martial arts “masters” seem to lack) and perseverance. One must “listen” and “taste” the technique/movement. Oftentimes, the flavor is rather subtle, so it's important to pay attention.

The technique/movement may LOOK right – it may even look really cool – but it's nothing more than a doughnut. Nothing inside. Kind of like a politician. Practice it SLOWLY and FEEL how it affects different parts of your body. If you know the principle(s) involved in its execution, you should be able to feel them easily. You might be surprised to discover that they're just not there! You might discover certain parts of your body being involved in the technique when they shouldn't be. If you listen carefully and savor the movement, you may be surprised at what you find.

PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER

 by Phillip Starr

“There is no magic in punching like this”, my teacher told us as he performed a crisp corkscrew punch. I didn't altogether understand what he was trying to say because I was simply too young and all wrapped up in learning various movements (techniques) that I thought would bestow great power upon me. As the years passed and I continued my training – and most importantly, as I began teaching – I finally realized what his words really meant. I have since often repeated them to my own students.

The key to any given martial art isn't so much in the technique; the real secret(s) lie in the proper body structure. This is one of the reasons I wrote MARTIAL MECHANICS. But I later wrote a sequel to it that delves deeper into the subject (MARTIAL STRUCTURE).

There's much more to martial art than simply standing in a certain manner and executing a particular technique. Much. More. Body structure is what gives the technique real power. There's no need for what I call “oomph strength” in a given technique. Just precision and correct structure. If those two things are added to the mix, the technique suddenly becomes enormously powerful and devastating with minimal physical effort.

Proper structure is one of the main reasons for the regular practice of zhan-zhuang (stake standing). Many practitioners of Chinese martial arts believe that the main reason for their use (mainly in the internal arts) is for the cultivation of qi but I believe they are mistaken; the main reason for their regular practice is to teach correct structure and alignment (which will naturally lend itself – once it is thoroughly learned – to the cultivation of intrinsic energy).

Internal martial forms such as taijiquan, baguazhang, and xingyiquan, are all about proper structure. It's one thing to get it when you're standing in a static posture (and even that takes some time!), but it's quite another to maintain proper structure when you move...hence, the reason taiji is practiced mostly in slow motion and why all three of the neijia emphasize the importance of “holding” certain postures.

The study of proper body structure must necessarily involve more than an understanding of the various laws of physics. It must also involve a good understanding of kinesiology (how the human body works). Sometimes the two seem to be at odds with each other and in those cases, kinesiology wins out.

For instance, physics will tell us that the greater the size of the base (your stance) relative to the height of the object (how tall you are), the more stable it is. But this isn't necessarily true when we're dealing with a human body. According to strict physical laws, your horse-riding stance should be very stable if you widen your base by spreading your feet as far apart as possible...and we all know how that's going to work out! So we must figure in the principles of kinesiology...

Did all of the martial arts masters of times past know about this? I don't think so. Many clearly did, as seen by the emphasis placed on structure in the methods that have been passed down to us. However, quite a number didn't know about this as evidenced by the same thing. Many of these principles were regarded as secret and not taught openly and/or were taught only to trusted worthies. So the secrets remained secret and are still secret (for the most part) to this day.

One highly respected Japanese master, sensei Akira Hino, “re-discovered” many of these principles by studying ancient texts and training as they directed him. He began training in Goju-ryu karate and had been told that the kata of Sanchin was really the heart of that art. He would practice this kata for several hours every day and eventually realized that its value lay in what it teaches in terms of structure. Sensei Hino began carefully studying and analyzing ancient texts on the various ancient arts. He subsequently developed a special method of training that focuses on correct structure and currently teaches in Japan and offers seminars worldwide.

So the secrets remain safely obscure to this day...unless you know where and how to look and you have the willingness to cast aside your pride and be as a blank slate.

THE PREMISE

 by Phillip Starr

Ask most martial artists what the basic premise of their art is, and you'll likely get the well-known “deer in the headlight” look or an answer that may well be fairly laughable. I have often encountered this when speaking with practitioners of the internal Chinese martial arts but it is equally applicable to virtually any style or art...

“Upon what premise is this style/art based?”, I ask. The answers vary as much as do the hairstyles of the people I encounter, but it shouldn't be that way. The problem is that most of us have never considered the question.

First you must scrutinize the “hallmark” or “signature” of your style/art. Many martial arts devotees honestly don't know. It's the MAIN THING that sets your style/art apart from the others. You must identify what that is. The premise is the basis for that hallmark. It's the “why” of it.

For instance the style of baguazhang's hallmark is an exercise known as “walking the circle.” Okay...I've asked numerous bagua zealots about the reason (premise) for such a bizarre exercise and I've received various different answers such as:

• It confuses the opponent and may make him dizzy.

• It makes you a moving (and therefore, difficult to hit) target. Wishful thinking...

• It's a form of qigong (an important part of a neijia style).

• It develops balance, agility, and tones/strengthens the legs and hips.

• All or several of the above.

I remind them that the premise can only be one thing. So they choose one of the singular answers...which is, of course, incorrect. To date, I've never met a bagua devotee – not a single one - who could answer this question correctly (including Chinese “masters”, some of whom are/were very well known or even revered).

Very frustrating.

Oftentimes, it is necessary to do some detective work to find the answer. It's going to take some research and time. You may have to dig into the history of the style/art's founder and the country in which he lived. It's the same kind of work that you should do if you want to truly understand why your forms/techniques are done in a certain way...

• What kind of person was the founder? Short-tempered, serene, or what? Was he large and strong, small and thin? What did he do for a living? How would he have dressed on a day to day basis? All of these factors could (and likely did) impact his fighting style.

• Did he have any prior experience in a form of martial art?

• Was he well-educated or not? If he came from a well-to-do family, he likely was. If not, it is much less likely. He may well have been illiterate. This could impact how effectively he could transmit his teachings.

• What was the weather like in that part of the country? Cold in the winter or tropical? And what about the topography? Flat and smooth, rocky, mountainous...?

• What was the political climate like? Civil unrest or peaceful? High violent crime rate or not? Was there a war going on?

And so on...try to take into account everything that might have impacted the development of a fighting art.

For instance, in southern China squabbles were often settled in VERY narrow alleys. To engage in a fight on the street would quickly attract the police (who didn't and still don't care who started it...) and a huge number of witnesses. Their styles had to be suitable for very close-quarters combat.

If your founder served in the military at the time, he would likely dress in rather heavy clothing and wear very heavy cotton-soled boots (the soles of these boots are VERY thick) and these factors would inhibit certain types of movements. If violent crime was common or there was warfare, the forms may contain various methods of dealing with armed adversaries...and so on. It may also contain techniques for use against an armed adversary when one has lost one's weapon and is dressed in armor.

There are many factors that would have had a strong influence on the development of a given style/art. They must all be carefully considered.

Determining the premise of your style/art can strongly influence how you understand and perform it. Believe me, it's worth the effort.

OMOTE AND URA

 by Phillip Starr

Many, if not most, new participants in a given martial art are interested primarily in learning effective self-defense. And there's no denying that outwardly, the martial ways appear the be violent to one degree or another. The aim of Japanese ikebana (roughly, “flower arranging”) would logically seem to be to present a beautiful arrangement of blossoms and the traditional tea ceremony's goal would certainly seem to be to quench one's thirst.

But no, not quite.

There is a kind of apparent contradiction between that which is (or seems) obvious and readily observable, known as omote, and that which is not, is ura. For instance, if you watch a group of judoka jostling and tossing each other on the mat, it would appear that the main aim is to throw your partner or force him to submit to a joint lock or choke. An observer of kyudo (Japanese archery) might think it's a bit stiff and ritualistic, but the goal must be, HAS to be, to hit the bull's eye. Right?

However, below judo's superficiality (omote) as a fine sport the art is an ura, a dimension of profound spirituality and hoary, venerable symbolism. The same holds true for kyudo and virtually all of the martial ways. Ikebana may initially attract those who want to learn to create attractive floral arrangements but if one's sensei is good, one will come to understand that such is simply the omote of the art, The ura lies in harmonizing oneself with nature and letting go of the ego through the rigid and demanding process of arranging floral geometrics in a timeless, fragile way.

In the martial ways, below the omote of outward violence lies the ura of a special way of life, a journey towards dignity, respect for oneself and others, and a path that exemplifies that which is moral, good, and beautiful. Although not easily seen on the surface, it is certainly there.

There is no question that the greatest danger that the martial ways face in the West is the celebration of their omote and the ignorance of their ura. The omote of these arts travels very easily but the ura is difficult to export. We see this in many of the martial arts now practiced in the West; many have become little more than athletic contests or a means of developing “self-defense” skills. Some practitioners use them as a means of attracting followers by prancing through fancy, homemade forms, smashing piles of lumber, or demonstrating what they tout as supreme self-defense skill. It is only through the guidance and persistence of of talented masters that the hearts of Western exponents will be captured.

LEARNING...STILL LEARNING

 by Phillip Starr

“I’m still learning.” These were the parting words of famous Italian Renaissance artist Michelangelo. This man died at the ripe old age of 88; quite a feat, considering it was 1564 and people were lucky if they made it past 40. And 40 was a long time ago in my case and I have to agree with the Italian genius....I'm still learning.

I began my walk along the martial path more than 60 years ago, starting out with judo. Before I had travelled very far, I fell passionately in love with these old, arcane arts. So began a love affair that continues to this day. When my teacher taught me something new, it was like receiving a special gift and I was always very excited. Like many youngsters who are given new gifts, I delighted in trying to take them apart to find out how and why they worked. Little did I suspect that my teacher was giving me so much more than a new technique or form...

He was stoking a flame that he saw burning within me; the desire to learn all I could about whatever he taught me. He would always encourage and support me in my efforts. And that flame still burns.

After my teacher passed away, I was often very surprised at how I learned things (often found in the forms) on my own. Then I realized that that's exactly what he'd always encouraged me to do. And there's so much to be learned (just within the traditional styles that he taught me), that I never need to worry about completing all of it. To this day, when I find something new I can hear his voice congratulating and encouraging me to continue further.

People sometimes ask me why I continue to study the martial ways. Well for one thing, I still love learning new things and there's no shortage of new goodies to be found! Sometimes they're buried rather deeply or they lie underneath a heavy stone, but I know the treasures are there. And I'm as determined as ever to find them.

Then there's the question of improving. Pablo Casals was a brilliant cellist, and I love a remark that he reportedly made when he was in his eighties or nineties. He continued to practice intensely with his cello in those golden years, and when he was asked why he was so diligent he replied with one of these statements:

“I think I’m making progress.
I think I see some improvement.”

If he can do it, I can do it. How about you?