RUMINATION

 by Phillip Starr

In his last days, the revered father of Japanese karate, Funakoshi Gichin, was largely bedridden. One of his youngest students, Tsutomu Ohshima, helped care for him. Ohshima would carry his teacher on his back down the stairs and into the dojo when he was scheduled to do a demonstration. When Funakoshi's feet touched the dojo, it was as if he was suddenly 20 years younger and he would perform magnificently...but afterwards he was exhausted and Ohshima would carry him back upstairs to his bed.

One morning, Ohshima arrived to find his sensei sitting up on the edge of his bed and practicing the basic seiken-tsuki (forefist thrust). Funakoshi looked over at his student and said, “I think I've finally got it!” This humble man had never spoken of his great skill before. Ohshima wept. Funakoshi passed away a few days later.

Kofujita Kangejuzaemon Toshinao was a master swordsman of feudal Japan who devoted his entire life to mastery of his art. Although he began in the style of the Chujo ryu, he was later accepted into the dojo of Itto Ittosai Kagehisa, who founded the famed Itto (“One Sword”) style of swordsmanship. The primary tactic of this school required a fine sense of timing and total confidence in one's ability to execute a single blow at precisely the right moment. Kofujita took to this concept with great enthusiasm.

He became a recognized master and authority of the art and was titled a “shihan” (“a model for all others”). One day as he was in his garden practicing, an old classmate visited him. His friend stood inside the house and quietly watched so as not to disturb the master. He saw that Kofujita was practicing a basic exercise of using his hips to precede the action of cutting. This was the very first thing that Itto-ryu novices were taught. The aging classmate could see that his old friend was wholly focused on the technique.

After a short time, Kofujita saw his friend and realized the classmate had tears in his eyes. “it is the first thing our master taught us”, Kofujita said. “I don't think it's quite good enough yet, do you?”

Kofujita's introspection and incessant struggle to examine his own progress, reflect on it, and strive for improvement (no matter how long he'd practiced it) is characteristic of a master. In Japanese, this attitude is called “ryomi”...intense, ongoing, self-evaluation.

In contemporary martial arts, the title of “traditionalist” is given to those who practice the ways of the past. You won't find them wearing glitzy uniforms or strutting around at tournaments with their chests puffed out. They're on a journey of self-discovery – which would be frustrated by following current fads. They believe in what they do and can be quite obstinate. Many regard them as people who see themselves as faultless paragons, paladins of the Way of the warrior. Traditionalists rarely challenge this view while they engage in self-citicism only in secrecy and amongst their own kind. It's a fault for which they must be forgiven.

Self-criticism is not pleasant nor easy to do. The main reason is that the arts that they follow far exceed the more modern “eclectic” forms. A second reason is that the criticisms of their art are often offered by those who are quite ignorant; one self-appointed critic may ask “what has all this practice of forms got to do with real fighting?” Such ones might just as well ask an auto mechanic what possible value a drive shaft could have in making a car go...

The overall problem faced by traditionalists is that although their world is filled with excellence, it is usually too small and often extends only to the walls of his dojo. This can foster rather narrow views. But there's nothing at all wrong with spending time in the schools of other accomplished martial artists, asking questions, and getting to know other traditionalists. This is actually following a very old and valuable custom of the martial arts.

Some traditionalists come to see themselves as purists, fine examples of their arts, and faultless. They are wrong. And if a master like Kofujita and Gishin could submit themselves to the self-criticism of ryomi, then today's practitioners could survive and even benefit from a little of the same.

PRACTICE, COMPETITION, AND COMBAT

 by Phillip Starr

Nowadays, it seems that many martial arts devotees equate practice (with a partner) and/or success in the competition ring with combat skill. I've often heard remarks like, “He's a really strong fighter! He's won two grand championships. Nobody messes with him!”, and variations thereof. But the brutal truth is a very different story.

In class, we must strive to practice “controlled violence” that is neither excessive nor insufficient. This is done for obvious reasons. The same is true for competition, although to a lesser extent. Blows may be thrown with great power, but careful control must be exercised to avoid striking and injuring one's partner. It happens from time to time, but such is the nature of the beast.

Hollywood's celluloid martial arts heroes have given many people (including a great many martial arts practitioners) a totally false impression of just how martial arts are used in actual self-defense. For starters, there's usually very little distance between you and your opponent and there's very rarely time or space to adopt some kind of “fighting stance.” The attack, more often than not, is unexpected.

There are no rounds, no referees, and no rules. It's quick and brutal with no quarter given. The odds are that you'll get fairly scuffed up even if you “win.” You can smell the enemy's breath and sweat, and feel his rage. It's usually over very quickly. But you mustn't dwell on having emerged victorious; he may have friends waiting in the wings. You must remain alert and sensitive to your surroundings (“zanshin”). Fear grips your gut as you realize that this isn't practice (where your partner makes an effort not to injure you) but your determination must wash over your fear and blot it out until the fight has ended.

The whole affair is usually over very quickly...within a few seconds. Long, drawn-out fights such as we enjoy on the silver screen don't exist (for all intents and purposes) in real life.

ONE, TEN, RICE, AND BEYOND

 by Phillip Starr

一, 十, 米; yi (one), shi (ten), mi (rice)...in Chinese. These are the lines that most forms follow. In Japanese, it is referred to as the embusen (演武線, which means “martial play line” in Chinese). Almost all forms should begin and end on the same spot (known as kiten or the embusen point in Japanese). And they follow the embusen.

Many Chinese sets use a simple “yi” line, which is straight. Others may use the “shi” or, for more complexity, the “mi” line(s). And most of them stress the importance of ending on the spot where you began the form; it's a fine way to ensure that your footwork is as it should be.

But the use of the embu line has been misunderstood for some time. If you stay exactly on the line(s), you'll soon discover that many of the form's techniques can't be effectively applied (this is especially true in the case of taijiquan). To find more application(s), you have to “come off the line” for at least one step or so.

For instance, step offline at an angle and see how it affects the application(s). Bear in mind that oftentimes, only the entry is shown in the form; the rest of the application is IMPLIED and not necessarily shown openly.

The original use of the embu line was probably for reasons of practicality; practicing in a fairly small area. Back in the “old days”, there were no roomy, warm training halls. Most practice was conducted outdoors in area that were a bit...tight. The old Chinese “courtyards” (that only fairly wealthy families could afford) were quite small and getting more than a half dozen students into one for training would be tricky. I know; I've seen such places firsthand.

Strict adherence to the embu line has led to some problems in so far as correct application is concerned. This is especially true of arts such as taijiquan, much of which is intended to be applied angularly. But because it (and many other Chinese forms) follow strict lines, today's adherents struggle to force the applications to work...and they just don't. In their zeal to maintain what they think is “tradition”, devotees refuse to alter their approach and hence, their way(s) of thinking. Their minds become as inflexible as the stones into which they believe their “traditions” are carved. But such “traditions” aren't really traditions at all... they have become pitfalls.

NOT EMPTY NOR HOLLOW

 by Phillip Starr

Practitioners of karate, taekwondo, and most styles of gong-fu are told that they must strongly visualize their opponents as they practice their forms. However, devotees of taijiquan, baguazhang, and even xingyiquan are rarely, if ever, given such instructions. They focus on doing the postures and footwork methods correctly but scant attention, if any at all, is paid to applying the postures.

To perform these sets properly, there are several things that must be considered. The first is visualization of the opponent(s) and extension of the yi (intention). Remember that extending yi automatically extends qi. Without yi, the form is about as worthless for actual self-defense as jumping jacks.

For many practitioners, they must get over the idea and practice of moving with all the power and spirit of a damp rag. The body should be energized (a technique I call “engaged”, which is discussed in my book, DEVELOPING JIN) and blows must land with force! To do this does not require muscular tension but it does require proper structure.

Moving with speed is critical (no one ever won a fight by moving in slow motion) and the proper rhythm is also vital to mastering the form. Where and when is power applied (fajin)? And you must learn to emit the power very quickly. Without an understanding of how this is done makes your form no different than the forms of shaolinquan or even karate. This is not to say that shaolinquan and karate aren't effective; they definitely are, but their methods of issuing power are considerably different than those used in the neijia (internal martial arts).

The set should follow a particular rhythm. When you engage a flesh-and-blood assailant, combat does NOT adhere to a nice, even, 4-beat rhythm. Your instructor should be able to show you the proper rhythms of the form.

You must never be completely “empty” or “hollow” as you move through the form. You must be “engaged” at all times (that is, the connective tissues are “inflated” with energy; qi). You never hold your breath and inhalations must occur at just the right moments. To do all of these things and remain relaxed (which is a relative term which means, roughly, “not stiff like a wooden soldier”) requires a huge amount of practice over and over. Trust me, you won't get it right – or even close to it – for some time. You need lots and lots of repetition and focus.

NO MATTER WHAT SHAPE...

 by Phillip Starr

Back when I managed my own full-time martial arts school, I had many prospective enrollees come in and inquire about classes. It wasn't unusual for them to tell me something like, “I'll start classes once I'm in better shape...” Or something like that. That always struck me as making about as much sense as someone saying, “I'll start school when I'm smart enough.”

I tell prospective students who are concerned about their lack of fitness (as well as those who feel that they're in very good shape) that I always assume that every new student is in terrible shape. They won't be expected to be especially flexible or strong when they first begin... Anyway, I prefer flexibility over strength.

A new student (or even a current one) who works at becoming stronger by developing large muscles will find it's a hindrance in his training with me. But most new prospective students are at the other end of the spectrum; they feel that they're not fit enough to begin martial arts training. Maybe they expect to be asked to perform very high kicks or gymnastic-style aerobics but they needn't fear that at all!

I do want to ensure that their health will not be impaired by rigorous exercise and I always check to see if they have any health conditions that might be at risk. If they have a risky condition, I require that they obtain a doctor's note giving them permission to begin training. But most prospective enrollees are more than healthy enough to start training. They may lack flexibility and feel that they're not very strong physically, but the most important requirements are their spirit and desire to learn.

MODERN SELF-DEFENSE NEEDS?

 By Phillip Starr

Anyone who's practiced a traditional martial art for some time has no doubt heard the expression, “That traditional, old-fashioned stuff won't work nowadays”, or something similar. And then there are those who speak authoritatively on “reality-based” methods of combat (as opposed, I guess, to the “unreality” methods). Oddly enough, I've never heard one of these “authorities” explain just why the traditional methods don't work, and if they ever did, exactly when did they become obsolete?

Apparently, a good number of these critics believe there actually was a time when an aggressor chambered one fist on his hip and advanced with several straight punches that the intended victim blocked effectively when stepping back into a solid front stance...kind of like a fight scene in an old 1970's grade B kung-fu movie...or a basic karate/taekwondo class. When was this? When did the local thugs attack with crisp reverse punches and clean lapel grabs that enabled the victim to perform nifty joint techniques?

I've followed the logic of these “experts” for a very long time and it seems that the change in how people fought occurred sometime back in the 70's...about the same time that “full contact” karate came into vogue. It seems that someone woke up one morning and had an epiphane; real fights involve head butts, eye gouges, punches thrown in flurries, and wrestling maneuvers. Wow! How brilliant of these innovators to realize these previously unknown truths and to have set out to remedy things! We should all be thankful for their insight!

It's typical of some people, usually those of an adolescent mentality, to believe that nothing important happened prior to their own lifetimes. They seem to believe that before the advent of grappling, contact-type sports, fighting arts consisted of dorks attired in weird pajamas throwing “unrealistic” punches, fancy kicks, and, of course, “judo chops” at each other. And we must conclude that the old “traditionalists” were either involved in some massive cult-like deception, or that bad guys back then were really stupid and easily defeated by such methods.

Face it....in so far as hand-to-hand fighting is concerned, people have fought (whether on a battlefield or a local bar) in much the same way that they always have. Physiologically, we haven't changed much in a long time! True, culture plays a role in how we fight. I remember when I was very young, anyone who kicked in a schoolyard scuffle was regarded as a sissy. Of course, that's very common now. A century ago, an English schoolboy would expect his opponent to admit defeat if his nose was bloodied. City gangs back in the 50's often had semi-elaborate rituals and posturing as they approached each other in anticipation of a fight. Nowadays, they just drive by and spray gunfire. And practical aspects of daily life can influence the approach to combat...for instance, feudal Japanese martial arts rarely involve kicking because wearing a kimono or hakama made kicking very problematic.

But those are secondary considerations. When it comes to single hand-to-hand combat, we haven't discovered anything new. That's why it's silly to talk about “traditional” forms of fighting or “reality” combat disciplines. It's more important to think of differences in APPROACHES to learning how to fight effectively. Naturally, there are inferior and superior ways of teaching and learning how to engage in personal combat. A karate, taekwondo, or gong-fu school that practices forms robotically (as a rote exercise) is not engaging in traditional training. In fact, what they are doing is practicing an inferior method...probably because the instructor learned it that way from someone who didn't know any better and passed on his inferior method to his students, who will pass them on to others. A grappling school wherein students go to the mat immediately and never provides regular practice of the fundamentals...providing haphazard instruction in the hopes of finding “what works” in the heat of the moment, is not doing anything new at all. It's just bad training...akin to tossing someone off the end of a pier to teach them how to swim.

If karate or judo practitioners fail to adequately defend themselves, it is certainly no indication that their arts don't work. If I am practicing a sort of pantomime, watered-down version of judo or taekwondo and I don't fare well in a fight, it's no reflection on the effectiveness of the art. I'm simply not doing it correctly. They certainly worked very well in the past (taekwondo made its debut in Vietnam where it was shown to be highly effective at close-quarters).

To argue that these arts are no longer effective because we've “moved on” is to say that an M1 Garand is no longer a viable weapon...the military no longer uses it. But even the most modern rifles aren't effective if instructors fail to teach recruits how to use them effectively.

One chooses to practice a martial Way not because it is magical, perfect, or flawlessly reliable. One practices it because it is a serious way of confronting and dealing with violence...a Way that has been proven again and again over many generations. However, you can, if you so choose, believe that people just didn't know how to fight as effectively in the past as we do now; that the “traditional” Ways are outmoded and you are witness to (and may have participated in) a new and unique creation in the field of personal combat. Congratulations...

MISSING THE POINT

 by Phillip Starr

Why do you practice martial arts? For that matter, why do I? It would seem to be a pretty simple question with a fairly simple answer.

Is it because we want to get in better shape and stay fit? Well, that can be accomplished in a a few weeks. Is it for reasons of learning self-defense? Okay...but basic self-defense skills are achieved within a few months. So really, why are you still doing it – especially those of you who have been at it for years or even decades?

And just why we continue to do it is often confusing to friends, family, and associates who don't understand what we do and often tend to view of it something of an exotic Asian hobby. And every now and then, we ourselves take time to consider just why we're still doing this...

Uechi-ryu karate Master, Kanei Uechi, said, “Karate is not something so simple as to teach only fighting.” Very true, and his words apply to all traditional martial arts. Just as in our forms, there is more to them than what we see on the surface...so it is with the whole of martial ways. Initially, we seek technique with which we may combat an opponent “out there.” And we polish and polish...and then, if we are truly focused, we realize that it is not really all about what is “out there.”

We push ourselves, seeing just how far we can go. And more importantly, we continue to polish ourselves physically, mentally, and spiritually. It is an exercise in seeking perfection, which, we know, cannot be realized in this lifetime. And that's okay. It's the struggle; the polishing itself that we're after. The path is the goal..