WHAT HAS THE WEST CONTRIBUTED?

 By Phillip Starr

After all I've written in previous articles about how the deterioration of the traditional martial arts can be ascribed, at least partly, to the West – commercialization, sportification, and on on, it would seem that I believe the West has contributed virtually nothing of value to the ancient arts. But the truth is quite the opposite, actually...I believe that we have contributed a great deal.

For instance, in China (and perhaps Japan as well), a student NEVER questions the teacher. Ever. To do so often results in a quick and rather painful response. It's a carry-over from Confucianism; to question the teacher is considered disrespectful and an affront to their position of authority and knowledge of the subject as. But in the West that's how we learn. From the youngest age, we're encouraged to ask questions. Numerous Eastern teachers who came to the West and began instructing Westerners discovered that we're always asking questions and many of them responded as they would in their native cultures (my teacher was one of them). But many of them eventually came to understand that questioning the teacher (in the West) is not a show of disrespect. On the contrary, we're asking the teacher because we respect him and we believe that he knows the correct answer.

Some Asian instructors quickly realized that THEY didn't know the answers to their student's questions...they'd never questioned their teachers! So they had to dig deeper and find the answers and this helped advance the arts a bit further.

One of the largest contributions made by the West has been in the fields of physics, exercise science, and kinesiology. Our forefathers knew that moving in certain ways worked very well but they didn't necessarily know WHY. Now we do...or we can find out. Much as many of us hate the admit it, a great many of our martial arts forefathers weren't particularly well educated. Some were functionally or even totally illiterate. Many lacked the verbal skills to adequately express what a student was supposed to do or feel. The “science” of the day was, in many cases, what we'd consider very crude. But thanks to modern technology, we've been able to determine exactly what happens when we move in certain ways and even find the most efficient ways of performing them. This has given the arts a HUGE boost forward.

SECRETS OF MARTIAL ARTS WEAPONS

 by Yang Shuangxing

How often have I witnessed a weapons competition or demonstration that involved tossing the weapons into the air and catching it, or placing it on the ground and then doing a shoulder-roll over it, and other such ridiculous displays of half-baked gymnastics and tumbling!! What's worse is that many of these young people actually believe that that's how the weapon is to be used! In actual combat, anyone tossing his weapon into the air would be long dead before it hit the ground. And those who do spectacular flying kicks and cartwheels? They wouldn't have to buy shoes in pairs anymore...

Many contemporary competitions allow participants in the Weapons Forms Divisions to use replicas of actual weapons...and they've been produced strictly for showy competition. Modern Wushu utilizes sword that feature ultra-flimsy (and very lightweight) blades that would never hold up in a real fight. Moreover, modern Wushu performer would be hard put to perform with live steel, which is considerably heavier than their “make believe” swords; in fact, they'd likely injure themselves!

And Karate stylists can be seen using very thin, synthetic staffs when they walk into the ring. Such flimsy “weapons” are not permitted in competition in Japan or Okinawa for obvious reasons. The Japanese katana is sometimes used (and abused) by such performers, who sometimes place the sword on the ground in front of them and do somersaults or cartwheels over it before grabbing it again and swinging it around like a Louisville Slugger (a well-known baseball bat from my youth) or twirling it around in cute curved and circles (much like baton twirling) with one or both hands... such movements are testaments to their (and their teacher's) lack of knowledge on the subject of real swordsmanship.

And Chinese swordsmanship isn't taught at all anymore, even in China (where the government fears that if they learned such things, the people might revolt someday). Gong-Fu stylists learn forms, but that's all. And they may even do them very well, but they openly display a total lack of real fighting skill when they perform.

My teacher was one of the last real swordsmen of China back in his day. Thankfully, he insisted that I learn how to actually use a sword apart from practicing forms. I learned that there's much more to the traditional form than most people realize; special forms of cutting and even disarming the opponent. I would eventually develop what I call “dirty tricks”; techniques that are not found in traditional forms, such as a couple that cause the opponent to slice his own throat...with your sword! In mock fights with wooden and aluminum blades, I have found these techniques to be successful 100% of the time! I teach them only to my most senior students.

WANTS VS. NEEDS

 by Phillip Starr

Sometimes, students feel that their teacher is providing less than fulfilling instruction because he/she isn't teaching them what they want to learn. The instructor, however, knows better than they do what they NEED to learn and that may not sit well with the student. And there are times when the student thinks he/she NEEDS to learn one thing, but the teacher knows better and proceeds to teach them what they really need to learn. And the student may be a bit miffed…

This kind of thing rarely happens in the East, where students join the class with the understanding that the teacher will teach them what they need at the appropriate time, regardless of what it is that they want to learn. His judgement isn't questioned. Ever.

In the West, some students feel that since they've paid money to receive this teacher's instruction, they should be taught exactly what they want...kind of like ordering a hamburger. Not. You may compensate the instructor, but you have no choice about what is on the curriculum. All items and subjects, however, are required. There's no picking and choosing. You will get all of it (if you stick around long enough), in the proper sequence, and at the pertinent time.

Just as a young child (or student) may THINK that what he wants to eat for dinner (or, in the case of martial arts instruction, learn) is the right thing, and may feel that his parent (teacher) is being unfair to insist that he or she eat (learn) something else (and the child may even claim that it tastes terrible), so it is in the training hall. Nutritious food, like basic techniques, give you strength and fosters good health (and necessary skill). Sweets (more advanced techniques) may come after a good, nutritious meal but they're no substitute for it.

UNDER THE MICROSCOPE

 by Phillip Starr

There is much more to your traditional forms than what you see. Much more. Many of you already know this to be true. But oftentimes, it's very informative to place your form “under the microscope, so to speak and examine it in minute detail. By doing so, we can become aware of numerous small elements that might otherwise go unnoticed. You must proceed very slowly, movement by movement. Hurrying will result in your missing key points.

For instance, take the first movement and examine it very closely. If it's a defensive technique of some kind, some naysayers (those who disdain the practice of forms and regard them as useless and unrealistic) will argue that, “In a real fight, you don't have time to chamber your arm like that before you do such-and-such technique...” Fine. But what makes them (or you) think that that preliminary chamber is what it seems...a preparatory movement for the execution of a particular technique? Very often, it isn't what it appears to be. A dear friend of mine who teaches traditional Okinawan karate, can demonstrate (rather painfully) just what that alleged “chamber” really is.

At times, the microscope has to be even more finely adjusted. In that singular movement or just before it, is there a subtle shift of the weight? How, exactly, do the hips move? Where should the eyes be directed? Do you turn your head before moving or do you initially catch the enemy's movement with your peripheral vision? When you make that step, do you step heel first, slide your foot, or what? Yes, it matters...sliding the foot along the floor is next to impossible to do outdoors and it's bloody well impossible on uneven, rocky, or muddy ground. If the foot slides, it would be an indication to me that this set was intended for use indoors...

There are some forms (especially Chinese sets that were developed by Buddhist monks) that sometimes contain what seem to be numerous nonsensical movements...until you're told that these monks were known to conceal small weapons under their billowy sleeves, on the lower legs or ankles, or even sewn into the hems of their sleeves! The seemingly silly, pointless movements are actually techniques for retrieving a concealed weapon! Movement(s) following this retrieval sometimes represent actual use of the weapon (which may involve throwing it at the enemy).

Some ostensibly infinitesimal, inconsequential movements may even be blows or seizing techniques directed at specific vital points, which are subtly delineated in the set. The “follow-up” techniques may be based on the opponent's reaction to the aforementioned strike or seizing technique (many of these reactions are involuntary; the opponent cannot help but react in a very explicit way). However, you must be able to “decode” such movements (which occasionally appear in traditional Okinawan and Chinese forms) and to learn to do that, you'll need to train under a qualified teacher. I'll go out on a limb and say that most current instructors are wholly unaware that these techniques even exist.

So...adjust your microscope and get to work. You may be very surprised at what you find!

THE TELEGRAPH

 by Phillip Starr

The student was quickly taken down onto his back before his partner applied a bent-wrist hold, which bends the wrist backward with pressure and then twists it around in a screwing action. Admittedly, the pain is intense and the uke made that clear as he gave a shrill squawk, stamped his feet on the floor, and tapped out with the speed of a machine gun with his free hand.

“No!”, the instructor grimaced. “Don't do that!” Both the students stopped immediately and the receiver replied, “It was an involuntary response.” The teacher nodded his head and said, “Maybe...but you are telegraphing!”

We're all familiar with the act of “tapping out”, which is sometimes referred to as “mibune” in Japanese. It means, “to make a sign or gesture.”

For instance, a karateka may slightly dip his shoulder just before he's going to punch. A kendoka may lightly tap the tip of his weapon against that of his opponent's just before he launches an attack. A judoka might blink just before he moves in with a foot sweep. I once had a student who would makes a tiny, tiny step with his front foot just before he attacked. These “telegraphs” are a real handicap, especially since most of us aren't even aware that we're sending them. But a sharp opponent might and if he does, it gives him a tremendous advantage over you. This is one reason why I disdain the rhythmic “bouncing” that is seen at tournaments everywhere nowadays...it sets up a rhythm, which can be suddenly disrupted by a skilled opponent. But it is a real danger when done in a real conflict because telegraphing is its natural by-product.

So, why was the student (mentioned at the beginning of this article) berated for telegraphing? The reason is that a skilled fighter doesn't give away ANY clues or telegraphs to his opponent, regardless of his situation. For instance, let's imagine that in an actual fight, your enemy breaks your arm (and in the case of an actual life and death conflict, a broken arm would be the least of the injuries you could expect). Prior to the battle, you must be willing (psychologically) to accept the probability of injury and you must conceal it from your opponent. You may be hurt but you don't want him to know it. He might feel certain that he broke your arm but you're not clutching it and crying; you show no emotion at all as you continue to fight. Frankly, I'd be a bit worried if I was the aggressor...I KNOW I broke that arm – I heard it snap and felt it give – but you show no real concern.

I realize the training with a partner isn't the same as an actual fight, nor should it be. To continue training with a broken arm is just plain stupid. It should be treated as quickly as possible but turning it into some kind of drama is unnecessary and can infer to students that melodramatic reactions are okay. They're not. In an actual fight, such reactions signal the enemy that you are seriously wounded and you don't want him to know that. In practice, when a joint technique is applied, it is done so in degrees until the pain is sufficient to let you know that injury is imminent...and then you tap out.

I've had partners (some were well-ranked instructors) who were more than ready to tap out when such techniques were applied. In fact, I recall one fellow who, at the instant I touched him to begin the technique, would start tapping out and even grimace! Tapping out at the appropriate time is necessary for the sake of safety but the stamping of feet or squeals of pain are not and the serious practitioner should learn to avoid doing these kinds of things, lest they become unconscious habits. After all, we're not playing games in training; we're preparing for actual combat. Certainly control must be emphasized and measures should be taken to ensure safety but in the end, we're training for a real fight and our lives may well depend on it.

THE TEA HOUSE

 by Phillip Starr

The old Japanese tea hut (chaseki, but also known by other names) is rather small; often just a single room used for tea ceremony (chado). Sparsely decorated, it often features an alcove in one corner where a scroll and flower(s) are displayed. And that's it. No gawdy pictures or posters, no fancy furniture (one sits on the matted floor), and usually, no windows. The focus is on the ceremony itself (which maintains very precise movements not unlike kata) rather than on gulping down tea.

Sen no Rikyū, also known simply as Rikyū, is considered the historical figure with the most profound influence on chanoyu (known also as chado), the Japanese "Way of Tea". He was also the first to emphasize several key aspects of the ceremony, including rustic simplicity, directness of approach and honesty of self. It was Rikyu who determined that the entrance to the hut should be small so that persons wanting to partake of the ceremony would have to enter on their knees.

The entrance is quite small; so small, in fact, that it's not possible to simply walk inside. You must get on your knees to crawl through the doorway. This applied to anyone wishing to enter the hut, even the shogun himself. There were no exceptions. Why was the doorway made in this way? It was done so that all who entered would have to humble themselves first.

I can scarcely imagine some of today's swaggering “masters” (many of whom have the title plastered all over the back of their training uniforms) humbly entering such a place. Too bad we don't have something of this sort for competitors at tournaments nowadays...

SOME DETECTIVE WORK...

 by Phillip Starr

In my book, HIDDEN HANDS, I strongly recommend doing some investigative “detective work” on your forms, particularly in so far as the history of the founder (of a given style or form) is concerned. Piecing together what may seem like fairly insignificant details can eventually provide you with profound insights into the form and/or how it is to be done. This kind of investigation isn't at all easy; you're working what, in law enforcement terms, is a “cold case”...the person into whose character and background you're looking likely shuffled off this mortal coil quite some time ago. But even so, it is possible to gather some considerable information...if you're up for it.

Where and When?

1. Exactly where was the founder from? What is the economic climate like in that place? Blue collar, white collar...this can provide information on the kinds of adversaries he would have had to be concerned about. What was the political climate there at that time? Was there open warfare going on? A lot of banditry and other such crime? If so, the sets might contain tactics/techniques to be used against an armed assailant. If it was a peaceful area, there would probably be less concern about facing an armed opponent.

   

2. What are living conditions like in that area at that time? What was the terrain like? Rocky ground, hills, or smooth prairies, crowded cities...? Lots of rain (thus, mud)? These factors would impact footwork considerably.

   

3. The founder- what was he like, physically? Tall, short, fat, thin, very strong, average strength...? What were his hobbies (this can help you understand what kind of person he was and even how he thought, to some degree)? Married? If he was single, why?

   

4. What was his vocation? For instance, a professional soldier would wear shoes that had very thick bottoms and would affect kicking movements. He may have needed a lot hand/wrist strength for his job, maybe his job was of a higher level and he used his mind a lot...it would also give an indication of how he dressed. Someone who typically wore a long gown or robe would likely be able to move with greater freedom than someone who wore a lightweight shirt or no shirt at all.

   

5. Did he learn martial arts from someone else? Who? What was his background?

   

6. What was the founder's level of education? Let's face it; until fairly recently, most Chinese were only semi-literate and many were illiterate altogether. In Japan, things were better...in 1868, at the end of the Tokugawa shogunate, fully 40% of the people were literate (which compares favorably to many Western nations at that time).

   

And much as we may hate the admit it, some of our forefathers may or may not have been particularly bright or creative. This would impact their understanding, creation, and practice of the various forms and the information contained therein. Some of us would regard this statement as bordering on heresy, but it's a fact.

Doing a bit of detective work can yield a good deal of information about the system that you practice and help you better understand why certain things are done as they are. It's worth it, believe me.

THE PREPARATORY STANCE

 by Phillip Starr

A young gong-fu practitioner I know was telling me about his six-month stay in China where he'd spent time training in his particular style under an old and quite traditional teacher. His stateside instructor had written to the older instructor to let him know of his student's desire to learn from him and the older man smiled and asked the young man to participate in the class, which was already in session. Still a bit shaky from jet lag, the younger student endeavored to perform the same set as the other students in the park. Standing straight, he began and before he'd completed the first movement, the older instructor said, “No. Begin again.”

The young man was a little confused but he did as he was told. This time, he was told start over before he'd even executed the first move. “How is it wrong?”, he asked. “I didn't even begin.” He'd made a common error, although a very slight one. He'd started off with his feet placed firmly together, side by side. His teacher in the U.S. had always told his student to begin with “feet together” and this was how they all stood. It's a trivial thing, to be sure, but it was significant to the older teacher. He wanted the inner edges of the heels joined rather than the whole side of the foot. With just the inner sides of the heels touching, the feet were pointed outwards at about 45 degrees;

with the sides of the feet together, the feet pointed straight ahead.

Although not as significant as an error in a particular punch or kick, the “feet together” position was regarded as an error because it is somewhat less stable than the “heels together” stance. As it was explained to me many years ago, this posture is intended to foster a sense of self-awareness as well as acting as a sort of on-guard position. In the systems that I learned, the set(s) are begun from this position. Then the feet are often brought together (side by side) and the knees may be bent slightly as the fists or open hands are drawn to the sides of the waist just prior to the execution of the first actual posture.

Every single movement is performed just so for a reason(s). Most sets were not just tossed together haphazardly and our martial arts forefathers were very pragmatic. Very. Pragmatic. I like to think of the many tiny details (such as this one) of the Way as being ends of threads that all all wound up into a large ball. Pull on the thread, and part of the ball unravels. In this way, various facets of the Way are often revealed.