NOT LOOKING, JUST SEEING

 by Phillip Starr

Ancient warriors who survived numerous conflicts wrote that “the eyes must take in everything and nothing.” Many left instructions as to where one's gaze should be directed; some are rather practical while others seem rather mysterious or obscure. But these are concerned with the fixing of the gaze in combat as it relates to martial strategy. What about what is known as “kan kan shiqing”...the ways that we look at things in daily life?

In daily life, training, working, and relating to others as we pass through this world, we strive to adopt the proper way of looking at things. “To look into things” has a special significance to artisans of all kinds (not just martial arts practitioners). When a potter examines a ceramic bowl, he looks at the glaze on it and the outer form of the bowl, as would anyone else...but as an artist, he looks deeper. He sees into the essence of the bowl. One famous ancient potter said that when he held a bowl he could “see its inner formation and see, too, the character and shape of the individual who made it.” He was talking about “seeing INTO” rather than simply “looking at.”

Traditionally, students of an art or Way rarely look directly AT the lesson being taught to them. Trainees may lower their gaze slightly or focus their vision at a place just past where the action is. Some schools encourage students to watch what's going on from “sanpaku” (meaning “one-third white”), which refers to positioning one's head so that it is very slightly tilted down such that the bottom third of the eyeball – the white beneath the iris – is showing,

It sounds pretty silly and impractical; after all, if we want to learn a technique, we have to watch how it's done. But remember, we're talking about seeing into rather than looking at. Next time you're recovering from an injury or illness and unable to jump into class, go anyway and watch how others learn. You'll learn quite a lot when you see how they respond to new material when it is presented to them. Most of them are looking AT but they don't see IN.

For instance, in learning how to do a particular kick, they look AT it and see the foot shoot out where it would strike the intended target but they often miss key points; when the instructor shifts his weight, exactly where was his kicking knee directed, how did his hip(s) move...and so on. So they set about clumsily trying to imitate it. Much later, they will see into it and focus on specific points and then put it all together, They will see more than just a foot kicking out or just disparate parts of a kick; they'll appreciate it as a complete technique.

Focusing directly on an object tends to localize our perception, reinforcing previously formed judgements. One reason why beginners kick so awkwardly is that their only other likely exposure to kicking is in kicking something like a ball. They fail to grasp all that's involved in the performance of a proper front kick. It's similar to the fellow who looks at a tea bowl and concludes, “Huh...damned poor beer mug.” He's not seeing the tea bowl. He sees only a drinking implement that fails to measure up his narrow standards.

Seeing INTO goes far beyond observing simple objects or movements. A spouse snaps at her husband, who beats a hasty retreat to avoid the unpleasantness without pausing to try to see into the reason for her anger. A young man listens to his grandfather's stories, never stopping to consider that such stories are a great source of wisdom for him. A gong-fu student attends class week after week, month after month, never stopping to consider that his art is anything more than a sophisticated form of hand-to-hand fighting. The world is full of people who are perfectly happy looking only at the surface of things. But the aspiring martial arts practitioner must keep his eyes open to the path – the Way – set before him. Every. Day. Not just a glance now and then, but a long, deep look INTO things.