ETIQUETTE

 by Phillip Starr

I would hope that the majority of my readers would be more than a little familiar with the basic forms of etiquette that are typically practiced within the training hall. Students line up prior to the start of class, bow to the instructor, and then begin the training session. The same thing is done at the conclusion of the training period. Most of the participants don't give it much of a second thought. It's simply a way of “showing respect” to the teacher; an “Eastern oddity” that is practiced more as a form of tradition and simple courtesy than anything else. It requires no more than a few seconds, anyway. No big deal. Or...is it?

To the average person, such quaint customs are nothing more than polite gestures that they are expected to learn and then regurgitate at the appropriate time. Usually, they are devoid of any real substance; they are regarded as old-fashioned, cultural oddities that were developed and practiced by our ancestors. However, to the bugeisha (a person who practices the traditional martial ways of the East), they are much more than that. Much. More.

For instance, let's take the beginning of class. Students are ordered to line up. Their lines should be straight and students adopt the position of “readiness.” In some schools, the most senior student (who may assist the instructor) stands off to one side at a right angle to the students and the instructor. Your stance should never look limp or sloppy. Your uniform should be neat and clean. Your body, mind, and spirit are held in a state of readiness. It is a preparation for learning, a preparation to face yourself. Your eyes should be directed straight ahead but peripheral vision must be maintained. You should not shift their eyes from side to side or turn your head. You remain focused on your instructor.

At this point, some schools have the students and the instructor perform a standing bow. Others, particularly Japanese disciplines, order students to kneel down (and yes, there is a special way of doing this) in the position of seiza with the feet tucked under the buttocks. Beginners will find this position more than a little uncomfortable but they must avoid any display of discomfort. To do so is to show that one's spirit is weak and in a martial arts school this is entirely unacceptable.

In Japanese schools the command of “mokuso!” is uttered by the instructor. Students sit quietly with their backs straight and their eyes almost shut. Many people refer to this as a period of meditation prior to the beginning of class but this is incorrect. Rather, it is a period of quiet introspection. It is way of leaving your mental and emotional “baggage” at the door so that it will not interfere with training and your ability to learn. It is a time for focusing on what you want to achieve during this particular class. You “clean” yourself and prepare to receive instruction.

After a short time, the teacher may turn to the front of the school (with his back to the students) and they all perform a formal kneeling bow to the front of school. He then turns to face the students again and they exchange bows to show respect for each other.

As with everything else in the training hall, there is a proper way to execute the standing and kneeling bows. For instance, I remember when I first received instruction in this ancient tradition. We were told that even when bowing, one must not take one's eyes off the opponent (or whomever one is bowing to). Thus, we craned our necks and rolled our eyes upwards when we bowed so as to keep our partners in view. As you might expect, my instruction came from a Westerner who didn't clearly understand how the proper bow is to be done. The first time I did this in front of a Japanese instructor, I was quickly corrected. To crane one's neck and raise the eyes as I was doing is considered very rude because it demonstrates an obvious mistrust of the person(s) to whom one is bowing. Rather, the neck is kept aligned with the back and the eyes are are allowed to drift slightly upwards (without raising the eyebrows) so as to allow a reasonably full view of the other person.

And of course, all movements must be performed from the tanden (in Chinese, dantien) so as to permit complete control over one's body at all times. Moving from this area, which is located about three finger-widths below the navel, not only grants full control over one's physical movements but it also affects one's mental and spiritual stability as well.

Regardless of procedure or the culture from which a given martial form originated, this act of exchanging bows is extremely important. In my opinion, it is vital to maintaining the spirit of the class because it sets the “tone” of the class and reminds us that we are about to engage in the practice of a special Eastern custom whose roots reach back to antiquity. Although not a drop of Eastern blood may course through our veins, we are links in a chain of a very special tradition and it is crucial that we keep that tradition intact so that it can be bequeathed to the next generation in its entirety.

I lived in China which, contrary to what many Westerners believe, is not “the land of bowing.” Japanese culture emphasizes bowing as a form of courtesy; Chinese culture does not. Thus, Chinese martial arts instruction generally does not begin with any kind of formal bowing. The lack of such “old-fashioned formalities” is readily apparent and it is my opinion that it has a negative impact on their training.

A formal training period concludes in much the same manner. Students line up and, in the case of most Japanese martial traditions, kneel down and the command of “mokuso!” is repeated. Students will take a few seconds to consider what they have learned and prepare themselves to re-enter their daily lives. The teacher and students then exchange bows. Students then rise and again adopt the position of “readiness” before being dismissed.

“Alright”, you say. “So, this is part and parcel of a martial arts class. It's a cute ritual but what has it got to do with living in the modern world? And the answer is, “More than you suspect.” Discipline and control are two of the key elements.

In this regard, discipline has to do with proper conduct and perhaps more importantly, self-control. The two go hand in hand and they are very important ingredients if you expect to enjoy a successful, satisfying life. These virtues are easy enough to nurture when you're healthy and in good spirits but the real test lies in your ability to cultivate them when you're not feeling well. After all, anyone can maintain a fair level of self-control when they're feeling “up” but it's another story when they're angry, frightened, frustrated, discouraged, depressed, or in pain. Learning to preserve your composure under such adverse conditions requires a fair measure of discipline and is one of the objectives of your training.

The discipline and control that are developed in the training hall should be carried over into your daily life where it will affect everything that you do, from how you stand up and sit down to how you drink your morning coffee, cook up some pasta, and even how you brush your hair. Of course, it also impacts the larger, more dynamic elements of your life such as how your perform your job and the relationship you have with everyone who walks into your world; your co-workers, your boss, your spouse, your friends, family, and ultimately...yourself.

And it all started with what seemed to be a simple bow.

THE SPACES IN BETWEEN

 by Phillip Starr

There is a saying that tell us, “The music is not in the notes, but the silence in between.” This is a very profound statement that can apply not only to music, but to martial arts as well. Just because there seems to be a “space” between the notes doesn't necessarily infer that they are void. And the next time you watch the performance of a kata, pay close attention to the the spaces that seem to exist between the individual techniques and postures. Is there anything there at all; are they truly empty?

I have seen many practitioners almost prance through their sets, placing great emphasis on the techniques but the spaces in between their blocks, punches, and kicks were just so much dead territory. They were simply “posturing”; their forms amounted to nothing more than a rather lengthy facade of martial arts poses, as if they were being photographed for the cover of a magazine. Oftentimes, they would drop their hands to their sides before executing the next technique!

In genuine, traditional forms the placement of the hands and feet in the so-called “empty space” is very specific. There are reasons for that, not the least of which is the fact that various striking, kicking, joint-twisting, and throwing techniques are often concealed within them. The spaces are not really empty at all! Moreover, dropping the hands or waving them about meaninglessly provides the (imaginary) opponent with large openings, “windows of opportunity” through which he can deliver an effective counter-strike.

This same idea applies not only to the performance of kata, but to the practice of combination techniques as well. What seems to be an “empty space” in between the individual techniques must not be barren. You must ensure that you don't open the “window of opportunity” too wide and provide your enemy with easy entry. The placement of your hands and arms, your legs and feet, and your physical posture must be very precise so as to afford you maximum protection during the execution of your combination.

In the practice of traditional martial arts, nothing is wasted and nothing is done haphazardly. Every movement, every gesture, is to be done just so. There's a reason for everything, including what appear to be “empty spaces” because they really aren't empty at all.

ELEMENTS TO REMEMBER

 by Phillip Starr

In earlier writings, I've mentioned the concept of “kyo”, which is the chink in your opponent's armor; it is an opening, a “window of opportunity” through which you can quickly enter his defense perimeter and bring him down. Well, that's what you hope to do, anyway.

I can see that you're a little perplexed. “Whaddya mean, 'what I hope to do?'” Well, you're going to barrel through that window and...then what? Stop and consider that once you enter that window, not only are you close enough to strike the opponent...but he is equally close to you! Ah, yes...I saw some eyebrows jump. Hadn't thought about that, had you? You bet. So, you'd better bring him down because if you fail, it'll be his turn.

There are five key elements that must be studied and practiced repeatedly if you are serious about developing real martial skill. We're going to look at each one individually.

SURPRISE OF ENTRY: This would seem pretty obvious but many people miss it. Your movement (not just your technique) must occur suddenly and without warning. The enemy must have no clue that you're on your way and when it happens, he should be taken by complete surprise. This means that you have to train to eliminate any “telegraphs” (small movements or physical signals) that indicate your intentions. If you fail to do this; if you inadvertently “telegraph” your plans to your foe, the results will be disastrous.

SPEED OF ACTION: In this wise, I'm not talking about how fast you can deliver a punch or kick; I'm talking about how swiftly you can move your entire body and deliver your techniques . You dare not be too slow or pause in the middle of your attack lest you provide the opponent with your own moment of “kyo.” Your movements must be smooth and quick, never wooden, clumsy, or “jerky” as if you were a robot. Everything flows together seamlessly, without a break.

Both of these first two elements, Surprise and Speed, have to do with the concept of timing and rhythm. These concepts are discussed in detail in my book, “MARTIAL MANEUVERS.” It presents special training routines that will help you polish your timing and better understand the idea of “rhythm” and how you can apply it to your best advantage. I strongly suggest that you save up your beer money for a couple of days and purchase a copy.

CLOSING WITH THE ENEMY: The objective here is to take the opponent's ground! You must close with him as quickly as possible while simultaneously firing out powerful blows. You are already inside his defense perimeter and he must do his best to defend himself against the onslaught. He has no chance to mount a counter-offensive; your blows force him to focus on defense. Train to apply the techniques with which you are the most comfortable, including both grappling as well as percussive techniques. You must figuratively “grab him by the belt” and don't let go!

VIOLENCE OF ACTION: This goes hand in hand with the previous element. Your attack must be overwhelming and extremely violent. This isn't to say that you must become angry or otherwise lose control of your emotions. On the contrary, you must control your feelings and keep your spirit calm. Bear in mind that your objective is to take his ground (remembering that no battle was ever won by letting the enemy keep his ground...) and run over him. Literally.

CONTROLLED EGRESS: Once the enemy has been brought down, you must immediately move out of his striking range. Keep in mind that thugs rarely hunt solo; he'll likely have friends very close by. You must be prepared to deal with them, so don't pause, “pose”, and admire your handiwork as if you're in some grade B kung-fu movie. Maintain eight-directional zanshin and prepare for whatever may come next.

Here endeth the lesson.

DOTTING I'S AND CROSSING T'S

 by Phillip Starr

     I'll bet I studied something in elementary school that the rest of you didn't (except for some of the oldsters out there).  And what might that be?

Penmanship. 

     Really.  We actually had inkwells built into our desks and used pens with removable heads which you dipped into the ink!  After class, we had to wash off the inkpen heads and remove them from the stem (of the pen).  It was just about one klik up from using the old featherpens of the 19th century.

     As lousy as my memory tends to be, I clearly remember those boring classes.  We had lined paper which featured a thick, solid line and then a dotted line...then a solid line, then a dotted line...all the way down.  Upper-case (capital) letters had to touch the top and bottom of the solid lines while the lower case letters touched only the top of the dotted line.

     We'd practice just making loops and circles and wavy lines...I thought I had it down pat, but the teacher was always at my side telling me that it was terribly sloppy and to start again.  I remember getting really frustrated.  Then she demonstrated what she meant and her circle and whirls were flawless.  Really smooth and beautiful.  So I did my best to imitate that.  We practiced how to hold the pen correctly between the thumb and forefinger with the shaft resting on the side of the middle finger.  It had to rest at a specific angle.  They were very persnickety about all of this business.  And when you finished a few loops, you had to learn how to soak up the excess ink with a "blotter."

    Eventually, we got around to writing individual letters.  They had to be just so.  The loops, dots, and crosses had to be just right and pleasant to look at.  We practiced every day.  For two years.  Later, if you wrote something and the teacher didn't like the handwriting, he'd give it back to you and tell you to do it over!  It didn't matter if the material was correct or not, if it looked even mildly sloppy, you'd get to do it again. 

     Years ago, I watched as a local police officer (a good friend of mine) wrote out an incident report.  I could barely make out his writing.  It was tiny and the letters weren't clearly formed.  I suppose you notice junk like this as you get older.  I never used to pay much attention to it... So I teased him about it and he made reference to my personal hygiene and ancestry.

     Later, I wrote a check at one of the registers in a department store.  The young lady looked at the writing and remarked, "What pretty handwriting!  I've never seen a man write like that."  Actually, I thought it was kind of sloppy, but compared to my police officer friend, it was a work of art. 

     I have my paternal grandmother's high school autograph book.  Seriously.  Some of the poems and autographs in it are dated back as far as 1867.  What is most incredible is the magnificently beautiful handwriting in it.  Even the boys had beautiful writing and many must have used broad-tipped pens.   

     You don't see writing like that anymore.  It was just too much extra work, I suppose and nobody saw a need for anyone to have to learn it.  And that's my point. 

     The martial arts is exactly the same thing.  We used to do our best to imitate our teacher's flawless movements.  A lot of martial arts don't do that anymore; they have a kind of 1970's "do your own thing" sort of approach...which doesn't work.  Your "own thing" will likely be wrong.  Stick to the things that have been proven to work over time.  It may be boring, tedious work, but it's worth it.

     I have to admire the systems that adhered so closely to their teacher's movements that they even imitated little quirks.  The founder of Isshin-ryu, Tatsuo Shimabuku, had a crippled leg due to his getting rickets when he was very young.  He could never execute a proper kick with it (I think it was his right leg).  He made a kind of little short, jerking kick with it because that was the best he could do.  His American students (who didn't speak much Japanese or Okinawan dialect) imitated it perfectly.  To this day, their kick(s) in certain kata are done just as he did them...but the kicks made with the other leg are different because his left leg hadn't been so severely crippled.

    Another Okinawan karate master (Azato, I think), had had beriberi when he was a youth.  He couldn't completely straighten his fingers.  When he formed a shuto (knife-hand), his little and ring fingers bent inwards considerably.  Consequently, his students imitated that form and it has been carried through to this day.  The karate styles which descended from his teachings all use the same form of shuto.

     Many years ago, one of my own students noticed that the forefinger of my right hand did not flex fully when I made a fist.  It remained nearly straight at the first knuckle.  Knowing that some Okinawan karate styles use a similar form of fist, he figured that that was what I was doing...and he formed his fists in the same manner.  I didn't notice it for years and then when I saw it, I asked WTH he was doing making a geeky-looking fist like that.  He told me that he was making his fist in the same manner as I formed mine.  I had to laugh and I told him that when I was young, the flexor tendon of my right forefinger (first knuckle) had been severed and I couldn't bend it!  That was why I formed a fist the way I do.  But I have to give him credit; he was watching very closely for the little things that might make a difference.  Like how to make a smooth and beautiful loop with an old inkpen. 

     The old and beautiful form of handwriting that existed only four or five decades ago is now gone.  Think about that.  People didn't see the need for it and stopped practicing and teaching it.  Now it's gone.

     Let's not let that happen to the real martial arts.  It doesn't take long for things in this world to disappear forever.  Keep practicing those loops and learning how to correctly dot your i's and cross your t's. 

DO WHAT YOU CANNOT DO

 by Phillip Starr

“Do what you cannot possibly do.

Make the impossible possible.”

-Masutatsu Oyama

Founder of Kyokushin karate

I first heard those words many, many years ago and I took them to heart. Martial arts were my great passion and they remain so to this day. I wanted to push the envelope; to see just how far I could go. I read about numerous masters of times past and determined that I would do what they'd done. After all, they weren't gods; they were men just like me. If they could do it, I could do it.

Many of you are probably shaking your heads and thinking, “What a fool... That's a fine way to get hurt very badly. Or killed. You were certainly a very foolish young man.” And looking back on those days, I'd have to agree with you. But I wasn't stupid.

I read about the legendary “arrow catch”, which is an extremely dangerous technique that involves catching an arrow in mid-flight. The legendary “godhand”, Master Masutatsu Oyama, said that of 1,000 students, only one or two would attempt to learn such a technique. And of the 1,000 who set out to perform it, only a couple who be successful. It kind of makes you wonder what happened to the 998 who failed, doesn't it? But I didn't consider that. I was never much good at math, anyway.

I was still in college and young enough to think that I was invincible; that I could be one of the “one or two” who would succeed. “If they can do it, I can do it”, I thought. One of my students was a very skilled archer who owned a good recurved bow and he agreed to work with me, We spent months practicing together. Eventually, I would face him at the opposite end of a basketball court. An arrow-net was placed behind me to prevent arrows from striking the walls of the old college gym. Just as he released the arrow, I'd pivot and catch it.

This isn't something that can be accomplished after only a couple of weeks of practice. I may have been foolhardy but I wasn't stupid. We started out by having me simply stand off to one side and observe how quickly the arrows passed by me. Then I would reach out and try to grab them. It was a slow and gradual process that required some considerable time. I would go on to demonstrate this technique at several demonstrations.

I also wanted to test myself by breaking large stones. Starting with very small ones, I eventually succeeded in cutting a 25 lb. stone with my sword-hand. My hand shook uncontrollably for three days but I was pleased that I had accomplished what I'd set out to do. I continued to train until I could shatter a “paver” brick (which is a little more than an inch thick) with my fingertips and split a coconut with a single blow.

Now, I'm not bragging. I've never been one to indulge in self-aggrandizement. I've never had much time for people who do. The point of this short essay is simply this; although what I pushed myself to do was often very dangerous, it had a very profound impact on my mind and spirit. Martial arts isn't just about learning some exotic forms of kicking and punching; it's also about pushing yourself beyond what you perceive as your limits. It's about setting goals and then going beyond them. If you mindlessly practice a few punches and kicks once or twice a week, you're not really practicing martial arts; you're dancing. Without proper spirit, martial arts devolve into little more than some nifty-looking calisthenics.

Certainly, I'm not suggesting that you run to the nearest sporting goods store and purchase a good bow and a handful of arrows or drive through the countryside until you can find a 20 lb. stone. After all, techniques such as the arrow-catch are fraught with danger and anyone who aspires to do them must train very carefully and gradually. You must push yourself slowly, step by step. Remember that when I trained to perform these things I was young, in excellent physical condition (I suppose my mental condition could be called questionable), and I had practiced martial arts for a very long time.

What I'm suggesting is that you strive to push yourself past your “limits.” After all, it's YOU who set those limits in the first place! It's going to take some considerable work and sweat to get to the very edge of your limits... and then it'll require more than just sweat to go beyond them; it's going to take time, guts, and belief in yourself.

DID YOU EVER WONDER...?

 by Phillip Starr

I remember watching a martial arts demonstration many years ago where the instructor informed the audience, which was comprised largely of other teachers, that he and his students would be performing an ancient Japanese martial discipline. He then proceeded with his exhibition, which featured various and sundry forms of punching, kicking, and swordsmanship. To say that his use of the Japanese katana was somewhat flawed would be a very serious understatement; I, for one, was amazed that he didn't cut himself as he whipped the blade around with one hand, flipping it this way and that.

His empty-hand sets weren't much better. They featured the usual variety of punches, strikes, and kicks, including roundhouse kicks, side snap kicks, and...HOLD ON! ROUNDHOUSE KICKS? SIDE SNAP KICKS? Yep. Little did he suspect that techniques such as these are far from “ancient” and most martial arts enthusiasts would never suspect the truth, anyway. So here's a couple of eye-openers...

The roundhouse kick, as we know it, didn't exist until the 1950's! That's right. The familiar form of executing the kicks with the thigh raised up parallel to the ground and striking with the ball of the foot was actually developed by an instructor of the Japan Karate Association (he was a classmate of the President of the JKA, Masatoshi Nakayama) in the 50's. It was designed for use in jyu-kumite (freestyle sparring) competition and it has worked quite well in that regard. But this is also why this popular kick is not to be found in ANY of the original Okinawan karate katas; it simply didn't exist!

The old Chinese forms sometimes used a form of roundhouse kicking that actually bears a closer resemblance to the muay-thai “cutting kick.” The foot is chambered lower and contact is usually made with the top of the instep as the kicks comes in at a rising angle. In my opinion, it lacks the destructive power of the newer Japanese version. But this kind of kick is also very rare in Chinese forms, appearing only in a very few sets of northern Chinese origin. It does not appear in southern kung-fu styles and it is from these styles that most Okinawan karate forms evolved.

The method of using the top of the instep to strike with a roundhouse kick actually was rather uncommon prior to the development of foot pads in competition. This is because such a kick could easily become a religious experience; if your kick connected with an opponent's elbow or other similar bony protrusions, you'd swear you could see God! When the foot pads came along, competitors saw that they could point their toes and make contact with the tip of the pad to score a point. The pad provided them with up to an extra twelve inches of reach. This led to many instructors actually teaching their students to execute this kick with the instep rather than with the ball of the foot.

The same thing is true of the side snap kick. Now, there are two ways of executing a “side kick.” One method utilizes a quick snapping movement from the knee (the snap kick), and the other drives the edge of the foot out in a straight line, more or less (the thrust kick). In chambering the side snap kick, the kicking knee points out at an angle. If you're facing north and you chamber your right leg, your knee will point towards a northeasterly direction. The thrust kick is done differently because it is very powerful and requires a strong hip rotation. When you chamber the leg, your knee will be pointed straight ahead (in the same direction that you are facing).

The snap kick is considerably weaker than the thrust kick and is not to be seen in any of the ancient Okinawan kata. Moreover, the old katas don't include ANY kicks that travel above the level of the waist. The side thrust kick is almost always directed at the knee of the opponent. To kick much higher would expose the groin to a quick counter-attack which wouldn't necessarily require much power!

Nonetheless, the JKA developed the side snap kick for use in kata competition because it is exciting to watch and allowed for more variety in (kata) kicks than seeing the same old front snap kick performed repeatedly.

Many shotokan karate stylists broke away from the JKA because of these changes but the influence of the JKA was felt throughout the entire karate community. Taekwondo and Tangsoodo, both of which are Korean arts, were developed from shotokan and subsequently include these peculiar kicks.

So, there you have it; a short but interesting lesson in the history and development of modern-day karate. And there's more. Much, much more.