WHAT THEY DON'T DO

 by Phillip Starr

Not long ago, a former student asked me about what made a given martial art or style really effective. I replied that the traditional arts and various styles of them work very well in so far as what they were designed for and that although the student-teacher relationship is important, the main factor in a given art being genuinely effective depends primarily on the one thing that most students (and many instructors, themselves) DON'T do...practice regularly outside of class!

Participating in class twice or even three times a week just isn't enough to really hone your martial skills and prepare you physically, mentally, and emotionally for real self-defense. In class, your teacher probably runs through some basics, reviews what you learned in the last class, and may go on to present you with new material. It isn't enough...your techniques must be drilled so that they become second nature, even when you are under considerable physical or emotional stress.

In an actual conflict, you'll have to “think” about what to do (if you can think at all under the emotional stress) and that's going to slow you down or cause you to hesitate. In a real self-defense situation, the slightest hesitation can result in your being transformed into a common breakfast food...toast!

And what do I mean by “emotional stress?” Well, when you realize that what's happening is real, you have a response something like, “OMG! THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING!” Its almost surreal; things like this always happen to other people but not to you! You heart begins to go on full-tilt rock 'n roll and you experience FEAR. But if your daily training has been strong, you'll push through that veil and do what you must...what you've trained yourself to do. On the other hand, if your daily training has been spotty, weak, or non-existant, you may well succumb to your aggressor.

Don't let anyone try to convince you that they don't experience a jolt of fear when they are suddenly assaulted. Anyone who makes that claim is either lying or in need of some serious mental therapy.

Style or art makes little difference. It's your training outside of class that will be the determining factor in combat.

WHAT THE NEIJIA ARE MISSING

 by Phillip Starr

Waijia (external school) stylists and devotees of other martial disciplines often muse at how neijia stylists are unable to effectively apply their arts combatively. And rightly so. Many of them cannot truly defend themselves against a real assault, even though they've practiced their arts for years. They may be able to demonstrate how a given posture is supposed to work, but their demonstrations and effective utilization (of their arts) are galaxies apart. Why?

I think one of the main reasons for this is because, unlike other martial disciplines, they generally don't train or practice the individual technique(s) (which comprise their postures) at all. A “posture” is made up of several smaller movements (some of which seem rather insignificant), which are actually techniques. For instance, the posture of “single whip” in taijiquan is shown in one photo below. But there are actually a small series of movements that are performed when transitioning into that posture. These movements are actually individual techniques. This is especially true of baguazhang where the movement(s) that are employed when performing a given posture are made up of numerous individual techniques (and subsequently, applications).

And they aren't practiced individually. Ever. The forms are practiced quite assiduously, but not the individual techniques. So it's like learning something like karate or taekwondo and only practicing the forms while neglecting to train the individual techniques that make up the form!

Secondly, they rarely (if ever) practice applying their techniques in forms of one-step fight. When they do, the attacking partner simply “lobs” his attack out there with very little (if any) force or intent in it. And the aggressor is very compliant in his role. Real skill simply cannot be developed this way. At all.

I have always started my students out with first learning the postures and the individual movements that comprise them, Once those can be done correctly, students begin each class with many vigorous repetitions of them. Then they begin to learn how to apply them in one-step routines, against a variety of attacks and from three basic beginning positions; formal, fighting preparation, and normal.

In the formal method, the attacker draws back in preparation for his assault. The receiver takes up a position to prepare for meeting the attack. In the fighting preparation position (which is practiced only after a good level of skill has been acquired with the previous training routine), both participants begin from a “fighting stance.” When an adequate level of skill with this method has been achieved, they move to the “normal” position, which is just that...one or both participants begin from a normal standing posture.

At the beginning of each of the aforementioned routines, the attack is not necessarily very strong and the aggressor is relatively compliant. When the receiver has developed a good level of skill with that, the attack is made faster and stronger. The final stage is reached when the attacker fires out a full-blooded attack with strong intent. Thus, the receiver learns to respond to a real attack (however, he must be careful to control his counter-blows so as to avoid injuring his partner).

Third, neijia sylists never really engage in any form of freestyle sparring or freestyle one-step (as discussed in my book, Martial Maneuvers). This is critical. They must learn to move freely (according to the style they study) and execute the techniques/postures in an unrehearsed, freestyle manner. Until they can do this skillfully, they cannot truly depend on their arts for real self-defense.

Go to our website at :omahagongfu.com for class location and times

THE TRAINING UNIFORM...WHAT AND WHY?

 By Phillip Starr

Many traditional martial arts require that students wear a type of practice uniform. The names for these numerous forms of apparel often vary from one discipline to another but there are certain common elements that are found in all of them:

• They tend to be what we refer to as “rather baggy” and “loose fitting.” Stylish looks mean nothing in a training hall where efficiency is the key word. Clothing that is tight or restrictive is not particularly conducive to quick, smooth movements.

• They are devoid of items that may result in injury to one's training partner or oneself. Zippers, snaps, and hard buttons are not to be found on traditional martial arts uniforms. And anyway, zippers and snaps simply didn't exist at the time these uniforms came into existence. In fact, several types of traditional uniforms are versions of ancient streetwear.

• They are usually made of fairly rugged material that will stand up to rigorous physical training. This especially true of the grappling arts.

• Students are expected to keep their training uniforms clean and in good repair at all times.

In other articles I have written about the evolution of various training uniforms; in this one I'd like to discuss why I feel that wearing the proper uniform is an important part of your martial arts practice.

As a lifelong practitioner of the Chinese martial arts, let me begin by admitting that except for the grappling art of shuai-jiao, there is no such thing as a standardized kung-fu uniform. I lived in southern China and martial arts enthusiasts generally wore the same attire that they have always worn for martial arts practice; their street clothes! Some wore what are referred to as “Tang clothes” (so named because they are thought to have been popular during the Tang Dynasty) but by and large, they wore sports shirts or t-shirts and everyday trousers. Nothing special.

Consequently, many Western kung-fu schools disdain the wearing of any kind of formal training attire. I think this is a serious mistake that adversely affects their training. Participants dress casually and, because how we dress affects how we behave, they tend to approach their training in a rather casual manner. This isn't particularly conducive to the development of a strong (martial) spirit or maintaining a well-disciplined class.

Moreover, street attire was never intended to hold up to the rigors of a spirited martial arts class. Shirts and trouser are easily torn and ruined and their buttons, snaps, and zippers can easily result in injuries to both participants. So, instructors are left with one of two choices; they can either conduct a proper class and watch as their student's clothes are gradually reduced to shredded scraps, or they can tone down the training and ensure that their students (and their wallets) remain happy. The latter is almost always the choice that is selected.

Training uniforms were developed over many years because the martial arts practitioners of times past understood that ordinary street clothes were simply not suitable for training. Also, a consideration that is often overlooked is the fact that in most martial arts schools, all training uniforms look the same...or very nearly so. This is a policy that is often strictly enforced. Students must understand that they are all equal and they are all “related”, as it were. They are members of a martial arts “family.” Thus, they all wear the same uniforms.

The training uniform gives the new student the feeling of authenticity; a feeling of, “Now I'm really doing it!” He becomes enthusiastic about training. This is exactly why many martial arts schools include a uniform with a new student's first tuition payment. It has a considerable impact on the student's attitude about his training and his place in the school.

It is for this same reason that I tell my students to wear their uniforms when they practice at home. Putting on the uniform reminds them that they are “really doing it” and they are less likely to slack off or cut their training period short when they get a little winded. They try just a little harder because of that special uniform. However, sometimes they are unable to wear the full uniform. I tell them that in such cases, they should at least wear the trousers. And it helps. Training without the uniform just isn't the same.

TAKING THE CENTER

 by Phillip Starr

In the practice of some martial arts (particularly aikido and kendo), we hear about a concept often referred to as “taking the center.” To what does this expression refer? Let's take a closer look...

As you face your opponent, you have your own “space” and he has his. You feel, in a sense, that you own that space and can control anything that steps inside it (or you should be able to...). It's like a sphere that engulfs you from head to toe and as you move around, it moves with you; it's kind of like walking around inside a large ball. Anything that penetrates your “ball” is capable of striking you instantly and you'll likely not be able to react appropriately. The same is, of course, true for your opponent.

So you have yours and he has his. Between the two of you is a sort of “no man's land”, right? This is what we call the “mutual distance”, which moves and changes as the two of you move around (even if the “movement” is only mental). It can also be viewed as a sphere.

Whoever “takes control” of that center sphere controls the outcome of the conflict. Bear in mind that if you move forward, so the center sphere likewise moves in front of you. The same is true of your opponent. But the center sphere is not affected by physical movement only; it is also affected by mental “pressure” that is applied against, or through, it. Your “yi” (your will, determination, intention) can push up against it, much as if pressing against a large balloon.

And bear in mind the principle that tells us “where your yi goes, so does your qi (“ki” in Japanese, referring to vital energy) and shen (“shin” in Japanese, meaning spirit) go.” If you are thinking of yourself; your personal safety or the correctness of your stance or technique, your yi is withdrawn and not affecting the “middle/center sphere.” In fact, your “withdrawal” of qi tends to draw the center sphere towards you. If your opponent is well trained and experienced, he will be able to “feel” this and he'll know that your spirit is flagging; you're weak and unable to attack (and possibly unable to adequately defend yourself)! If he attacks quickly and powerfully, he can easily overwhelm you. Of course, if the situation is reversed, you can overwhelm him!

As you face him, even if only for a second, your yi (and consequently, your qi) must be POWERFULLY directed at him. This makes the center sphere expand and press against him (physically and mentally); you are “putting pressure” on him and he'll feel it. At the moment he shrinks back, you should attack forcefully. In kendo this is known as “seme” (攻め, “to attack...” and “gongme” in Chinese).

Whenever the opponent attacks you – even if it's something as basic as a grab – his yi (and qi) is directed (must be directed) towards you and, in the case of a grab, at the spot where he's applying the grab. As he advances, so the center sphere must move towards you and you should be able to feel this, especially if he attacks forcefully and/or with the intention of hurting you (remember, intention is yi and where his yi goes, his qi goes).

If your mind is focused on the spot where he is grabbing you or on the area that he is trying to strike, where is your yi? It is WITHDRAWN; your personal sphere is shrinking and you are in a weakened state! In this case, whoever is stronger, wins. So your yi should be directed elsewhere, preferably at the aggressor. As your yi extends, so does your qi. You remain strong and you are able to defend yourself.

And so it is with your daily practice of forms and even basic techniques. Never withdraw your yi. Keep it extended towards your foe. Consider these things when you practice...

THE SPIRIT OF THE KATA

 by Phillip Starr

I believe that it was in the mid to late 1970's that I witnessed what was probably the finest performance of kata that I have ever seen. It occurred at a tournament that was sanctioned by the old USKA (United States Karate Association) and was performed by an American. The young man who demonstrated this kata was Randy Holman, the adopted son of Mr. Phil Koeppel of Peoria, IL. Mr. Koeppel passed away some years ago and was one of the finest karate teachers in the country.

I was sitting on the panel of judges for the Black Belt Kata Division. We had already judged several kata, all of which were done very well but when Holman's name was called, the entire gym went suddenly quiet. I mean DEAD quiet. Those of you who have attended tournaments know how noisy and confusing they can be, right? They're about as calm and quiet as the bombing of Dresden in 1945.

Unlike many competitors who sat at ringside in a rather slovenly manner, Holman had been seated in a cross-legged position with his back straight and no expression whatsoever on his face. He never moved while the other competitors performed their kata. When his name was called it was as if a tiger had come to its feet. There was a spirit to him that commanded respect and the room fell silent. The “bombing” came to a sudden halt!

He walked calmly up before the panel. He did not scowl at the judges or shout his name as many competitors do nowadays. He spoke quietly, respectfully, and firmly. He would perform Seiunchin (a kata from the Gojy-ryu style). He backed up, bowed, and prepared himself. I swear, you could almost SEE his assailants beginning to surround him!

And then it began. Every movement was perfectly measured and masterfully executed. Clearly, he could SEE his opponents...but the strange thing was, I COULD SEE THEM, TOO!! At about the halfway mark, I realized that I was unconsciously tensing and relaxing my body in synch with his! My breath matched his breath... I had been DRAWN INTO HIS KATA!

I saw what he saw, felt what he felt. And when he had completed his performance, I was sweating! Honestly! He didn't kiai with every movement, didn't over-dramatize his kata, didn't strike any theatrical poses...he simply performed the kata the way it was intended to be done. And it was perfect.

Perfect.

When the scorekeeper called for our scores, I gave him a 9.5 (in those days, kata was judged by full and half points only and one could NOT give a 10; it simply wasn't done). Mine was the highest score. The other judges, all well-known and highly-respected karate teachers from around the U.S. , looked over at me and raised their eyebrows. “That kata cannot be done any better than that by any living human,” I said. A couple of them nodded their agreement.

I asked Holman to step forward and he did so. “Mr. Holman,” I said in my most commanding voice, “If I EVER see you perform a kata like that again... (I could see he was holding his breath, wondering what he'd done wrong)... “I will award you a score of 10.” He smiled broadly and thanked me very quietly.

A few weeks later at another fine USKA tournament, I kept my promise.

I do not know whatever became of Randy Holman. A few years later, he disappeared from the martial arts scene and I have never heard of him since. But I have always remembered the day that I was literally drawn into another person's kata and physically felt its spirit. It is something for which we all should strive.

SHOWING THE TRUTH

 by Phillip Starr

I believe that it is through the assiduous practice of martial arts that we see our true selves as we really are; martial arts act like a mirror, which reflects our egos, fears, and shortcomings. This is, I think, why many people give up training. Not only do they see their image and deficiencies...so does everyone else. Our flaws are laid bare for all (our classmates and instructors) to see. And for many people, that's simply unbearable.

Training tests us in many ways. Sometimes, breaking through one particular barrier isn't terribly difficult but others appear larger and stronger. We grit our teeth and give it all we think we've got but sometimes, that just doesn't seem to be enough. So we endure and it's all we can do to hang by by our fingernails until the storm passes. These “storms” expose our “shadow side”; that part(s) of us that we normally hide from everyone else as well as ourselves.

We may try to keep them under wraps (which we normally do), but any attempt to do so only reveals what we're trying to do! Weaknesses such as poor attitudes, envy, self-pity, criticism (of self or others), insecurities, and anger bubble to the surface where they're readily seen.

The fact is that we've lived with these "shadows" for so long that we've developed our own personal ways of handling them.  They've become a part of us - habits, if you will - and we've become so accustomed to carrying them around that we don't even notice them until we get involved in martial arts training, which is really very different from most other physical activities because we're dealing with the basest form of human relationships...a punch in the mouth.  We have to learn to respond appropriately to physical attack while we must simultaneously "be with ourselves" under gradually increasing levels of physical and emotional pressure.

Before long we must face the ways in which we typically handle this and other forms of stress; how we armor ourselves against them, how we withdraw (into ourselves) or attack aggressively and what we see may not be pleasant.  We're exposed not only to ourselves but to all of our classmates as well.  The way we defend ourselves under great pressure (as when a partner tries to punch us in the face) shows us how we work to survive in daily life.

As Wilhelm Reich said, your body acts as a "prison" that holds "you" (or what you perceive as "you") in place.  Although you can see an open door before you, you are held back in your "prison" by your limiting beliefs, attitudes, and so forth.

     A skilled and caring instructor will see immediately what you see but he cannot present you with an instant "cure."  All he can do is encourage and guide you and you must listen. He's been where you are.  Your chosen martial art can be used as a vehicle to explore those things that you find undesirable in yourself - your fears, what threatens you, feelings of inadequacy and inferiority, and so on.

You face your opponent (your training partner) and he becomes you.  You project your fears, your weaknesses, and even your strengths onto him and confront them as you practice fighting.  And as you strive to "not lose", it isn't really your opponent who you are trying to defeat.  It's your "shadow side."  This is why practice fighting is so very important because in actual combat it's the same thing.  Your opponent, whether he's just a training partner or a real assailant, is a mirror.

     I believe that the willingness to face our "dark side" and striving to understand and eventually overcome our weaknesses, fears, and the many things about ourselves that we would rather keep stashed away is what makes a true warrior.  You must begin by being bold enough to admit the truth of what you see about yourself.  Then you must be strong enough to resolve those aspects of yourself that you find undesirable.  This can be accomplished through correct martial arts training but it isn't easy and many students will quit training in order to avoid having to face themselves although many of them, perhaps even the majority of them, are unaware that this is the reason they're quitting.

Facing your shadow side is a necessary part of martial arts training and progress. It isn't easy to do but don't shrink from it...break through!