THE TATEMAE AND HONNE OF KARATE'S HISTORY

 by Phillip Starr

Honne and tatemae are Japanese words that describe the contrast between a person's true feelings and desires (本音 hon'ne, "true sound") and the behavior and opinions one displays in public (建前 tatemae, "built in front", "façade").

Honne may be contrary to what is expected by society or what is required according to one's position and circumstances, and they are often kept hidden, except with one's closest friends. Tatemae is what is expected by society and required according to one's position and circumstances, and these may or may not match one's honne.

In so far as the history of karate is concerned, most of us have been taught the tatemae (accepted and presented to the public) version. That is, karate was learned primarily by commoners – farmers and peasants – who employed their skills to protect themselves and their families from the vicious Japanese samurai who invaded and occupied their nation in 1604...right? The actual truth (honne) is a far different story, however...

We've all been told stories about how the ancient karate masters and their pupils trained in the dark of night (when it's considerably cooler, too)...but what did they do during the day? WHO were these guys? Now we get down to the honne...digging into the true history of the art indicates that the art arose mainly in Shuri (which was and still is the capitol city) and if you dig a bit further, you'll find that these masters and most of their pupils were of the bushi class; they were the knights and nobles who were actually employed by the government that centered in Shuri!

A cluster of buildings located in and on the grounds of Shuri Castle served as the seat of the government. The main building, the Seiden,was the king's office and throne room. Most of the early karate masters worked in administrative jobs only a few yards from the throne room. They worked and enjoyed lunches together and likely walked to work and back home together.

The Japanese (who controlled the government such that the king was king in name only; he had no power) stayed out of sight for the most part. The Chinese, with whom Okinawa was closely allied, turned a blind eye; they didn't want a war with Japan and so long as the Okinawans sent in their annual tribute, they didn't care what was going on there.

The early karate masters would, I'm sure, talk not about their boring jobs as they enjoyed the noon-time meal and walked back and forth from home to work; it's most likely that they talked about their passion...karate. I'm quite sure that they exchanged techniques and ideas. After all, they depended upon each other because their actual main function in the castle was not as administrators...they were BODYGUARDS to the king! That's why they were all positioned quite close to the throne room!

Japan forbade Okinawa from engaging in any foreign trade whatsoever and if they did, the king would suffer for it. In the 1800's Western whaling ships often docked at Shuri. These sailors had been at sea for many months and when they arrived in Okinawa, they were looking not just for re-supply; they wanted a little R&R on the island! Some alcohol, some women...but no, they had to be turned away and told that they had to leave immediately. Consider that. These fellows brandished all kinds of common Western weapons and as they shouted in excitement about finally getting some shore leave... how do you think they'd react to being told that they had to get back aboard their ships and leave NOW? And whose job was it to break the bad news to them? Yep...the karate masters, acting as government mouthpieces drew the short straws and were handed this wonderful task. So they did more than just protect the king.

And they weren't allowed to possess weapons (such as swords) because such items were outlawed. The Japanese didn't impose that ban; it was done by one of the kings of Okinawa and the Japanese simply maintained the existing ban. This is why the original karate masters stayed up at night refining their combative skills and tempering their bodily weapons; they NEEDED them regularly.

Certainly, I imagine that a few commoners learned martial arts from various Chinese individuals who, for whatever reason, found themselves in the island nation. But the most famous names; Azato, Sakugawa, Matsumura...were upper-class nobles who were tasked with protecting their king...

TAKING THE INITIATIVE

 by Phillip “Pete” Starr

Most practitioners of Okinawan/Japanese karate and especially kendo will be very familiar with the terms, “Go no sen, Sen no Sen and Sen sen no sen (aka., 'Sen').” The term “sen”, as used in these martial disciplines, means roughly, “initiative” (in Chinese, “zhu” or “zai”). In the style that I teach (yiliquan), these are referred to as the Three Rhythms.

Go no Sen (“later initiative”) is known as the “Broken Rhythm” in yiliquan, striking the opponent after he has initiated his attack (but before he can generate a second one). It is “striking between beats” or “striking in a half-beat.”

Sen no sen is to strike the enemy at the instant he initiates his attack (known as “Mutual Rhythm” in yiliquan). And Sen sen no sen (or just “sen”) is to strike the opponent at the instant his “mind moves” and gives his body the signals to attack. He is struck just before his body moves into the attack mode.

But you likely already know this. However, can you readily apply these forms of sen? If not, the problem may be found in your mind rather than in your technique. Proper mindset is the main thing that makes techniques work. Conversely, an incorrect mindset can cause even refined technique to fail.

Consider...when you face your opponent and it is clear that he is going to become aggressive and violent, what is your objective? Are you concerned with your own personal welfare and keeping your hindquarters intact? If so, THAT is the problem. Your mind (and subsequently, your energy) is withdrawn; you're thinking about YOURSELF!

If you answer that your objective is “to win”, what does that really mean? You are still thinking in terms of a duality...yourself (“me”) and “him.” Of course, you want to avoid getting whacked. So once again, you are thinking (if only partially) about yourself...because you have the image of duality in your mind. I tell my students not to be so selfish and self-centered. Stop thinking of yourself!

The objective should be to bring the enemy down as quickly as possible; all of your attention and energy should be focused on HIM! When the opponent becomes “kyo” (showing a chink in his armor), the window of opportunity may be rather small and it's open for only a short time. If at all possible, you must take advantage of this opportunity.

In that split second, the outcome of the conflict is decided and the quality of your spirit and technique will be clear.

SMALL WORDS

 by Phillip Starr

How many times have we allowed some small, seemingly insignificant remark made by our teachers to pass through our consciousness...and it flies away, never to return? Too often, I'm afraid. It may have to do with a technique, a form or movement(s) from a form, a training exercise, or even pre-class stretching and warm-up drills.

I was reminded of this a short time back when, a few days after showing a novice a peculiar warm-up routine I casually mentioned to him that the exercise loosens and stretches not just the shoulders, but the entire upper body – but only if the movements were made rather large and somewhat exaggerated. He hung on every word, went home, and practiced it just as I had shown and explained it to him. He was amazed at how thoroughly it loosened his upper body and waist. He'd remembered exactly what I had casually mentioned...and made a wonderful discovery.

I remember my own teacher casually mentioning several things more than 50 years ago, such as...

• “Some of the warmup exercises are directly related to the boxing...”

• “How you balance at the beginning of the form sets the tone of it”...

• “'Relax' doesn't mean what you think it does”...

• “You can move faster if you relax, but move quickly...”

And so on. It took awhile, but I finally managed to grasp just what he was saying. I discovered that he wasn't speaking in some kind of code or couching anything in mystical, sage-like phrases. He meant EXACTLY what he said. But it took time to figure it out. And now I wonder what seemingly insignificant statements I missed...

I realize now that he figured I'd remember what he said; I was an astute pupil. But remember every word? Not.

So I encourage you to hang on to everything your teacher tells you, even if it seems unimportant, because someday – if you continue with your training – you may find some gold in his words.

SHODO

 by Phillip Starr

A friend of mine recently posted this anecdote. I find a lot of truth and value in it... Shodo, by the way, is the art of writing Chinese/Japanese characters with a brush...It pertains to traditional martial arts as much as it does shodo...

___________________________A woman who had practiced the art of shodô for more than 40 years came to speak to a group of beginners attempting to learn the fundamentals in a local class. She told them that they were going learn a little bit about the art by trying it. “But first,” she explained, “it is important that you understand that shodô is more than writing. It requires a very deep practice.”

Deep practice . . .

So to begin, she held up a brush and asked the group of students to do the same.  “This is called a 'fude',” she said. “You can’t hold it like you would hold a pencil or a pen for writing.” Demonstrating for them, she then held the brush in the center of the handle and turned it so that it was pointed down at a ninety-degree angle from the paper below. “This is how the brush is held,” she explained, “and this is how it will be used.” Placing a long, thin paperweight (a 'bunchin', she called it) at the top of the white page, she then gently placed her left hand on the lower corner of her paper and dipped the brush into the black ink, and held it in her right hand exactly perpendicular to her paper. “This is the form. When you brush, you must keep this form.”

The students were then each given a few sheets of old newspaper and she encouraged them to practice brushing a single vertical line. She asked the young group of students to pay attention to how the shape of the brush, the density of the ink, and the pressure from their fingers changed the line. “Do not rush,” she said. “You must go very slowly and very smoothly.”

Although she had just mentioned the importance of form, more than half of the group gradually slid their fingers down the handle and began to tip the brush into a deep angle as if for writing with a pen. She didn’t say a word, but the look in her eyes was very clear!  These were the students who could not copy.

They looked, but then (consciously or unconsciously) deferred to what was their habit. Then she showed them how to brush a single horizontal line – ichi – and asked them to do the same. “Please do this,” she said. “And please try brushing only one stroke for each page this time.” While some of the students started out this way, more than a few began to fill the page with doodles, or go back to working on the vertical stroke, or even tried to jump ahead to draw a kanji (Japanese/Chinese character) we had just learned in school, like the one for “Tiger” or “Nihon.”

As she walked around the room, her look was subtle - but there it was again…these were the students who would not practice.  Eventually, an aide brought the students each a few sheets of very delicate white paper to practice the kanji “川” for river/flow and while these sheets were being distributed, she said to them; “It is important that you brush each stroke of this idea in a very specific order. You need to brush these three lines from left to right. Brush one…then, two…then, three.”

By now, being much more comfortable with the tools, almost all of the students were using only the base of the brush to paint and many had pushed aside the paperweight so that it wouldn't be in their way. Some even whispered to each other that they didn’t see the point. “After all,” one said out loud, “you can draw the lines out of order and they still look the same.”

At this, she smiled and the other students could hear her tell him that she admired his creativity. These were the students who had discarded the form for their own ideas.

As the lesson went on, it was interesting to see that some abandoned the project because they ran out of paper and a few even decided that their work was no good because the flimsy school brushes were not as nicely made as the “real” ones. There were those who managed to get ink all over their hands, and then there was one or two who avoided brushing on the white paper altogether for fear of messing up. Some brushed so quickly that the characters ended up being unrecognizable, and some were so tense that each stroke had a worried-looking edge and the ink soaked through to the tablecloth from the pressure of their fingers. There were even a few who managed to watch and to copy as best they could, but when they finished they attempted to re-dip the brush and correct the angle of a completed stroke.

“You’ve made a mistake,” the Sensei said. "But you cannot stop and start over in the middle. The beginning has left already. You can’t re-brush the same line.”

Out of the sixty or so students who began the class, there were maybe three that caught a mild look of interest from the Sensei’s critical eye.

And at the end of the lesson, as the group of beginners began to put their brushes away, it was only to one that she leaned over and asked, “maybe you would like to begin to practice shodô?”

⊙ ÔTAGAKI RENGETSUNI (太田垣 蓮月), 1870

SEEING AND FEELING

 by Phillip Starr

All too often, I see practitioners of various forms of karate, kung-fu, and taekwondo execute their forms “by the numbers”, void of any real “feeling” of an opponent(s). Thus, the form has no “spirit”, no life. They might as well do jumping jacks...

Of course, you first have to memorize the individual movements of a given form. That takes time and you mustn't try to hurry it. But once your body remembers the form so that you no longer have to think about what comes next, it's time to breathe life into it. It's time to “create” it.

When you stand at the position of readiness, you must calm yourself; calm your spirit as you visualize enemies approaching or surrounding you. Strive to feel the tension, such as that which you get in your gut when a life or death struggle is about to ensue (most of you have never felt what this is like, so imagine it). Imagine actually SEEING them. Don't turn your head back and forth to look at them; keep your eyes straight ahead and see them with your peripheral vision.

Which one will attack first? How will he attack? Keep your One-Point and don't let these thoughts overtake your mind. When the first attack is launched, you'll have just a fraction of a second to respond. Keep your mind calm, like the surface of unbroken water that accurately reflects everything placed before it. This is what the Japanese call “mizu no kokoro”; a mind like water, anxiety, fear...emotions cause ripples on the surface of the water (this includes even joy) so that the reflection(s) become distorted and you can't see clearly. Your fate is sealed if this happens...

Imagine that you can also HEAR and perhaps even SMELL your foes (maybe they're low-lifes who haven't bathed in a while...). This is, strange as it may seem, an important feature. Bear in mind that your “mind” can only experience reality through the body's five senses. And it can't tell the difference between what is real and what isn't...if you utilize only one sense, that's barely enough – but if you use as many senses as possible, your mind will (after enough repetitions of this form) believe that the experience is REAL. Thus, your body will be made to move as if this whole thing is actually happening!

The slightest error; the tiniest hesitation...such things will result in your immediate demise. There's no room for error. But if you do stumble...you don't pay the price that actual combat would have demanded. You get to try it again!

When the form is finished and you return to the position of readiness, you mustn't lower your guard. Keep your senses alert. Don't look around, just be aware of movement(s) with your peripheral vision. There may be other foes waiting in the shadows, ready to jump in and finish you off if you're distracted...and maybe one of the brutes that you struck down isn't out of the fight; maybe he's “playing possum”, only pretending to be down and out until you're momentarily distracted. You must stay sharp!

And be aware of another feature - one of which I wasn't really aware until my iaido teacher mentioned it – you have, after all, just taken several lives! How do you feel? Certainly, you wouldn't be proud or happy... You have survived a terrible fight and lives were lost. You're sweating, perhaps covered in blood. Remorseful? How do you feel?

Only when you are certain that all of your assailants are no longer among the living and there are no others preparing to jump you should you finally let down your guard (to “Condition Yellow”) and finish the set with a bow.

Believe me, this is an entirely different experience from just “walking through” the form and caring only that you remember it and look good. The form that you just executed no longer exists. But you can (and will) create another.

A PYRAMID SCHEME?

 By Phillip Starr

“Use your hips!”, my teacher would often bark as I practiced fundamental techniques. He would also remind me to “use your waist.” Whenever I heard him utter those words, I knew that he was reminding me of the importance of engaging the lower part of my body rather than relying on the strength of my limbs alone. Certainly, I got tired of hearing about it...he even went so far as to insist that I perform mundane, natural movements (such as opening a door or sitting down) “from the hips.”

Although there are no significant differences in the anatomy and physiology between Asians and those of us who hail from the West, there have evolved considerable cultural differences in how these cultures view, and generally apply, power. In the West, for instance, we often consider the measure of strength to be that which comes from the shoulders, chest, and arms. We use expressions like, “putting your shoulder to the wheel”, we admire a broad chest and muscular shoulders...the narrow waist and broad shoulders of the body builder.

However, in the East (in China and especially in Japan) the seat of one's power has always been lower, in the hips. “Koshi nukeru” is a Japanese phrase that refers to losing one's nerve. It means, “hips are loose” and a “koshinuke” is a person “without hips” - a coward. When using a Japanese saw, moving on the stage of a Noh play, or even making tea, the emphasis is on proper use of the hips and waist.

The personification of the typical Western perspective of strength is the broad chest and shoulders of our athletes. However, the Chinese – and especially the Japanese – ideal is in the thick, muscular hips of the sumo player and other such athletes. In a kind of abstract sense, the Western idea of strength would look like a pyramid turned upside down; wide at the top and narrow at the bottom (broad shoulders and slim hips). The Eastern idea is just the opposite...a pyramid set with the wide base at the bottom. Now, I'm not advocating anything like downing lots of beer in the hopes of developing a wide beer belly – we're talking about STRONG hips, not flabby, fat hips that lack any sort of tone.

I constantly admonish students to engage the waist and hips when they're performing various techniques, forms, or applications. I also remind them, as my teacher did, to do the same thing when they're moving about in daily life. This brings to mind an important distinction that must be made regarding the words “waist” and “hip” as they are used in China, Japan, and the West. In the West. The “hips” are generally regarded as the actual hip joints and the buttocks. In China and Japan, however, it refers to the area of the body from the upper thighs to the lower back and abdomen. When the gong-fu teacher tells you to move your “waist”, he means more than just the lower abdomen and when the Japanese instructor speaks of moving from the “hips”, he's not referring only to the ball and socket joints of the hips.

There's no magic in the movements made by the limbs when practicing various martial disciplines. All of them require the proper use of the hips and it's something that must be be studied assiduously by those who are serious about their training.