UNCOMMON

 by Yang Shuangxing

There is a saying that tells us, “Excellence is doing a common thing in an uncommon way.” For instance, in chado (the Way of tea ceremony), there's much more involved than simply brewing a cup of tea and drinking it. The same is true of other Ways such as calligraphy, sumi-e, ikebana (Japanese flower arranging), maintaining a “zen garden”, and so on. Of course, this would include the martial Ways as well.

There's much more to an overhead cut with a katana (Japanese sword) than meets the eye. Years of practice are required just to learn the proper grip! And the teacher's basic reverse punch or front kick looks and feels quite difference from those of a novice although the teacher seems to use less effort. His forms look and feel – even to the observer – much different from those of a novice.

And so it goes on the path to mastery. There are no shortcuts. The process cannot be hurried in any manner. The master appears to move in a very natural way, exerting very little effort. This might make the uninitiated think that he/she isn't really trying or that he/she is weak. Not so at all. I recall seeing Master Hidetaka Nishiyama (shotokan) deliver several reverse punches to the chest of my friend, Chris Smaby, as they demonstrated a particular timing drill. The punches were very sharp and crisp, but didn't seem to have any “oomph” - any strong power – in them at all. A bit later as we changed out of our uniforms to go out for lunch, the master's skill was revealed; every spot that Nishiyama sensei's fist had gently touched Chris...had caused blood vessels just under the skin the explode!

One who has mastered the Way reveals it in his every action. Every “common” thing that he does is seen (to those who have the eyes to see) to be very uncommon. Mastery of his art, regardless of which art it is, carries over to pretty much everything he does...from sitting down to standing up, picking up a cup, eating...everything. And so it is that I often laugh at those who proclaim themselves as “masters”; their level of “mastery” can be seen by the way they pick up a cup and take a drink...any one of ten thousand common things. This carryover isn't necessarily the result of conscious effort; it occurs naturally.

I remember watching a true taijiquan master as he walked into the spacious gym where we'd be practicing. It was clear to me that, although he appeared to be walking normally, he maintained complete control over his body at all times; he could easily stop on a dime or change directions easily, without losing his balance or control over any part of his body. There was no swaggering, “tough guy” machismo air about him at all.

This is why two genuine masters (emphasis on the term, “genuine”) can “read” each other's level of ability by simply sitting down and enjoying a cup of tea together. Or pretty much anything else. They have learned to do common things in very uncommon ways, depending upon their level of real skill. Life has become art. Without extra effort.

THE “DO”

 by Phillip Starr

The “Way.” It is rather obscure, even at its beginning. The first awkward steps seem shrouded in mist and the heights toward which it leads are rather opaque and cloud-covered. And that's really for the best; to see too clearly what lies ahead would be much too intimidating. The sobering realizations come about only in retrospect...the traveler has left behind his familiar and comfy place and started a journey more challenging and rewarding than he ever could have imagined. As he travels further, he sees that although his Way is to a “destination” that remains unfathomable but still intensely attractive to him.

Although this Way isn't a particular place to which one must be transported, it is very rare to find a follower who's able to travel its length without ever leaving home. It is a journey of the mind and spirit and ultimately, the soul. The character for this way is pronounced “doe” in Japanese and “dao” (sometimes spelled “tao”) in Chinese. The strokes for “principal, main” are joined with those of the radical for “movement.” Thus, “do” is “an important road.” Usually, it is intended to mean “a way, a path”; a way to follow in harmony with the vicissitudes the universe provides, a path along which to discover for oneself the essentials of a worthwhile life.

Traces of the Way in this sense are very old; it took form the first time an individual engaged in some activity with a consciousness beyond the utilitarian and past the restrictions of the ego. True, it may produce art...it may be of practical value but the attainment of the Way is in the PROCESS. It is the doing of a thing not for its own sake but because the doing releases us from certain constraints of the limited self; narcissism, self-centeredness, preoccupations with the fears, worries, and doubts that diminish us in daily life. It draws us into the realm of self-realization, cultivation, and aims at self-perfection.

The Way is open to all who have the desire and resolve to walk it. Those who do may select from a variety of disciplines, for the Do extrapolates from the specific to the general. Tea ceremony, flower arranging, brushing calligraphy – each is a route of the Way. We have chosen the martial route. And while the particular form the Way takes doesn't matter, the route we have taken brings us into the most immediate confrontation with the elementary struggles of reality such as life and death, pain and comfort, temporal matters and matters of the soul. It requires moral stamina along with visceral and emotional courage. It demnds a social conscience as well as physical endurance. Each of these qualities will be sorely tested on the journey and they may be purified (tempered) and fortified in the process. But they must already be present in the traveler to some degree from the outset if he expects to travel very far at all.

Such an individual must be brave and virtuous and possess a sense of commitment as well as a sensitivity to the values of the past. But he also suspects something important is missing from his life and so, he sets out along the Way despite observations by others that such a Way is outmoded, naïve, and/or idealistic. He continues, knowing that other have gone before and because of the call of the Way. He has set out on a lifetime journey because, as the character for Do shows... this is the principal road for him. It will lead him to a place very much worth the going...

SIMPLICITY

 by Yang Shuangxing

An important part of being a highly-skilled martial arts practitioner is the ability to see past what appear to be complicated movements and turn them into very simple ones. And one of the marks of a skilled instructor lies in his/her ability to explain and demonstrate a complicated movement or concept in a simple way, so that students can understand it more fully.

I can, and have, easily spend four hours or more teaching students how to execute a proper reverse punch. There's a LOT more to it than meets the eye and once a student has acquired a good deal of experience imitating the outer movement(s), she's ready to learn the less obvious but critical principles involved. When it's all put together, it seems rather complicated. And it is. But with enough practice, the rough edges are smoothed and polished and it becomes quite simple to do. This can't be accomplished in a week or a month, or even a year. Don't be concerned with how long it'll take; just practice. You'll get there eventually. And in time, you'll refer to it as a very “simple” technique.

The fundamental, “signature” exercise of baguazhang, walking the circle, looks and sounds like it's pretty simple. Beginners learn very quickly that it isn't... what LOOKS simple is a galaxy beyond what they expect. Eventually, if the instructor is worth his salt, it becomes very simple and feels “natural.”

“Simple” is a subjective term. What is simple for one person may be very complicated for another. Progress is made by learning step-by-step until that which seems complicated becomes simple. The key is repetition. After 10,000 repetitions, a movement becomes very simple. If you do that movement (say, a reverse punch) 100 times every day for a year it'll take about 3 years or so. That's also the average time it takes to reach the level of shodan (yiduan in Chinese)...

A SHODAN, BUT NO BLACK BELT?

 By Phillip Starr

So...you've received your shodan in iaido (the art of drawing and cutting with the Japanese sword). You get a nice certificate...but no black belt, such as would be the case in karate or judo. What's the deal?

The koryu (traditional martial arts of Japan, which does not include newcomers like judo and karate) never awarded colored belts; instead, they awarded a “menkyo.” The menkyo ( 免許) refers to a license to teach within the school or ryu. This system dates back to the 8^th century. And although it is often thought to be used for martial arts, it was, and is, used for other Ways, such as sumi-e (painting), the tea ceremony (chado), flower arranging, kado (also known as ikebana, or flower arranging), and even calligraphy (shodo).

It should be mentioned that in Japan, there are no “kyu” grades (under shodan) for adults in arts such as iaido. I am unsure about arts such as chado and the others. In the U.S., kyu grades for iaido are given to adults, but not in Japan where such grades are only for children.

Moreover, you will never hear a genuine shodan (or above) practitioner of an art such as iaido or any of the koryu refer to him/her self as a “black belt.” There are no belts given for grading...only certificates. One may refer to oneself as a shodan or sandan, but no mention of a colored belt is ever made. And anyway, the obi (cotton sash) worn beneath the hakama to assist in supporting the sword is considered nothing more than a tool and may be any color, depending on one's taste.

Different martial art koryū use different license; one outline is:

• Okuiri : enter into art.

• Mokuroku : certificate, and entered into official rolls.

  • Sho Mokuroku

  • Hatsu Mokuroku

  • Go Mokuroku

• Menkyo: License.

  • Shoden Menkyo

  • Chuden Menkyo

  • Okuden Menkyo

  • Hiden Menkyo

Menkyo Kaiden: Around thirty years' experience

The “Menkyo Kaiden” ( 免許皆伝), (めんきょかいでん), is a Japanese term meaning “license of total transmission.” “Kaiden” ( 皆伝) means “initiation into an art or discipline.” It is a license used by a school of the koryu to indicate that the student has learned the art fully and has passed all aspects of his/her training. It's the highest level of license under the menkyo system; it isn't determined in terms of time spent in training, but how well one has mastered the system. This usually requires about 30 years or so of continuous training. The holder of the menkyo kaiden is often, but not always, the de facto successor to the soke (founder, headmaster) of the koryu system.

Modern aikido practitioners may be surprised to learn that although aikido does issue black belts, they are (or at least weren't) worn with the traditional hakama. To do so was considered...well...tacky, to say the least. But many Westerners, in their demand for recognition, do it anyway.

In China, colored belts were never given to denote one's “rank.” In fact, belts weren't provided at all. What we now call a “kung-fu uniform” is a replica of old Chinese streetwear. No “ranking system” ever existed until fairly recently, when the All-China Sports Committee developed a structure for those of “duan” (meaning “grade” and written with the same character as is used for the Japanese “dan”) ranking. This is applied according to standards set by the Committee, which based it on contemporary wushu standards. Within the traditional martial arts community, there is still no grading system, which creates as many problems as those it allegedly prevents.

RULES? IN A KNIFE FIGHT?

 By Phillip Starr

One of my favorite lines in the classic film, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”, starring Robert Redford and Paul Newman, occurred when the two return to their infamous “Hole in the Wall” gang after a botched train robbery. Newman finds that one of his gang members wants to take over the leadership. He's a huge, bulging fellow who challenges our hero to a knife fight...and he's holding a large bowie knife.

Butch says that before they begin, they've got to get the rules straight. The challenger is no intellectual giant and responds, “RULES? In a knife fight?” And Butch proceeds to beat the bejeezuz out of him as he explains the rules. It's a hilarious scene but also worth some thought because, as we all agree, I'm sure, there are NO rules in a knife fight. Or any other real fight, for that matter.

I remember back many moons ago when kicking to the groin was considered very “unfair” in a schoolyard fight; in fact, it was understood that kicks of any kind weren't kosher. It was considered unfair and something only a brute would do... and if one of the participants said that he'd had enough, the whole thing was over. Brandishing a weapon of any kind was considered cowardly. Alas, times have changed!

Over the years, (especially those spent as a state police officer) I learned more of the truth of it. The object isn't necessarily to “beat the other guy.” The object is to ensure that I get to go home afterwards. That meant ending the conflict as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Our martial arts ancestors understood this very well. It isn't a question of winning; there are no gloves or groin cups, no referees or judges, no roped-off ring, no points awarded, and no trophies or prize money. It's a question of survival, of not losing. Only one of the participants will be going home (maybe). There's no sporting aspect to it, no “playing fair.” Rules are a convention that works only if ALL participants adhere to them.

RESPONSIBILITIES

 by Yang Shuangxing

Teaching and learning is a two-way street although many of us tend to sometimes forget about it. Moreover, real learning can only happen if both the teacher and the student accept their responsibilities.

The teacher must know, before class, exactly what he intends to teach. Ideally, he should follow a syllabus. Unfortunately, I've known instructors who would walk into class and ask, “Well, what do you guys want to work on tonight?” Good. Lord. THAT isn't an instructor by a long shot! Ideally, the instructor should arrive before class (never being late) and he should know exactly what the students need to work on. He must have a “map” in his head; knowing where he plans to go with training and how he intends to get everyone there. He must have both short and long-term goals in so far as the progress of the students is concerned.

He/She should be upbeat and encourage students. NEVER discourage or insult them in any way. The instructor must act and perform as he/she wants the students to do. After all, they'll emulate their teacher. And when teaching a student on a one-to-one basis, the teacher must communicate with the student on the student's level. He/She must, at the appropriate times, “nudge” the students to push themselves, sometimes beyond what they perceive as their limits. The “nudging” is never to be harsh or demeaning.

The student's responsibilities include, among other things, showing up for class! Not only that, but the student must come to class with an open mind that is anxious to learn and a determination to do his best....as well as the proper attire. He must strive to develop a strong spirit and “push through” what he perceives as his limitations.

He must pay attention to the instruction he receives and must never, ever argue or question it. And students must faithfully do their “homework”; that is, they must train regularly outside of class and do their best to absorb and digest what they learned in class.

And students must bear in mind that their progress depends on them...not their teachers.

Repetitio Est Mater Studiorum

 by Phillip Starr

It's an old Latin expression that says, “Repetition is the mother of all learning.” Truer words were never spoken. You all know that in order to truly learn any given technique or form, it must be practiced many, many times. It's often rather tedious, and is quite demanding, both physically and mentally...but such practice not only develops “muscle memory”, but a strong spirit as well.

Muscle memory is a form of procedural memory that involves consolidating a specific motor task into memory through repetition, which has been used simultaneously with motor learning. When a movement is repeated over time, a long-term muscle memory is created for that task, eventually allowing it to be performed without conscious effort. This process decreases the need for attention and creates maximum efficiency within the motor and memory systems. Examples of muscle memory are found in many everyday activities that become automatic and improve with practice, such as riding a bicycle, typing on a keyboard, tying your shoes, entering a PIN, playing a musical instrument, poker, martial arts, or even dancing.

Because it is tedious, some instructors are hesitant to make students undergo such training. What they fear is that students will become bored and discontinue training. I say that such instructors lack imagination! When I ran a full-time school, I used various ploys to get students to (unknowingly) practice a given technique(s) several hundred times in each class!

The neijia (internal martial arts of China – taijiquan, baguazhang, and xingyiquan) speak about “getting the taiji body” and so forth, and this is a very unique skill that can be acquired only through endless (correct) repetitions of the form. But it's equally true for any given style of karate or taekwondo; each is intended to develop its follower's bodies in a certain way and only constant repetition of the form(s) will foster it.

If you could watch senior practitioners of a given style of karate, kung-fu, or taekwondo perform a form using only the footwork and body movements (no hand techniques or kicks), you could still easily identify from what art they come. The body movement(s) of taekwondo are dramatically different from, say, Goju-ryu, baguazhang, or any other style. This holds true for all arts and styles...and it is developed only through thousands of repetitions of their form(s).

NO SECOND PLACE WINNER

 by Phillip Starr

A well known master of the handgun once said, “In a gunfight, there are no second place winners.” True! In fact, in any life-and-death struggle it's the same thing. And that's how we must train our bodies AND OUR MINDS. You don't get a trophy or a medal for taking second place...you just get dead and a shovelful of dirt in your face.

Real fighting and sparring are two completely different animals. In a real skirmish, there are no judges or referees, no gloves or other protective gear, no trophies and no rules. The fight doesn't stop if, for some reason, you end up on the ground, or if you're injured. Or score a “point.”

The fact that you spar fairly well may be of some help once the fight is underway, but the truth is that most fights don't get “underway”; they're over within two seconds or less. There's rarely any “squaring off.” No fighting stances, no signals to begin or stop. And you have to be able to deal with getting “scuffed up”, at the very least.

You must be aware that the bad guy may very well be joined by one or more of his friends, especially nowadays. And you can pretty much rest assured that your assailant and/or his friends are armed with something. You must be prepared for this.

Sparring is useful in developing a sense of distance, timing, and several other important factors. But it's a far cry from real fighting where the only award you get is that you get to go home.