CONTEMPORARY KUNG-FU; MYTH OR REALITY?

 By Phillip Starr

Currently, there are a number of kung-fu teachers from the People's Republic of China (or who allege that they trained there) providing interesting and rather expensive seminars throughout the West. In fact, some of them will actually certify Westerners as instructors if they attend enough seminars over a period of time. In my view, this is something akin to becoming a neurosurgeon by attending several seminars. It simply can't be done. I believe that a martial arts system can be learned only through regular, hands-on training and by “regular”, I mean attending a class at least two or three times weekly. Yes, you can learn some valuable material at seminars and I'm very much in favor of them but I don't believe that it is possible to learn an entire system that way.

Some time ago, one of my students told me that he'd met an older Chinese gentleman who had moved to the West from mainland China. He was highly skilled in a particular martial art and allegedly possessed a very high level of fighting skill. Really? I told my student to look at China's recent history and then do the math... Let's have a look.

Dynasty, there were numerous martial arts groups throughout China. However, at the beginning of the 20^th century the government collapsed and the country was in turmoil. Warlords vied for power with one of them finally becoming the leader; his name was Jiang Jieshi (we know him as Chiang Kai-shek). But he was at odds with a youngster named Mao Zedong and they locked horns.

It was during this time of political upheaval that Japan attacked China. This occurred in 1937. The Japanese poured into China, ravaging the country and bombing the larger cities. Not much of a time for managing a martial arts school... At the end of the war, Mao and Jiang went back to butting heads and Mao's forces eventually drove Jiang and his followers off the mainland and onto the island of Formosa (now known as Taiwan). The communists established the People's Republic of China in October of 1949.

One of the first things the new government did was to forbid the practice of any and all martial arts. After all, kung-fu practitioners had been at the head of the anti-Qing forces and the new government didn't want a replay; they didn't want anti-government underground groups to come together as they had during the last dynasty. All martial arts schools shut down and teachers were forbidden to teach the martial ways.

Yes, I see the guy in the back waving his hand. You say that martial arts teachers could have continued to teach inside their homes, away from the prying eyes of the government during this time? Not likely. You see, China had, and still has, the best internal intelligence system in the world. For many years after the establishment of the new government, everyone was required to attend regularly scheduled classes and meetings in which the many benefits and superiority of communism were espoused. These meetings were broken down into small groups, which were divided into smaller groups, and those were further divided into even smaller groups... until there groups of only 3 people. Believe me, if you were doing something that was regarded as illegal, the authorities would find out about it post haste! So, no, teachers didn't dare teach students behind closed doors. In China, every wall has many ears (this is still true today) and at that time, it simply wasn't possible to keep an activity such as martial arts instruction hidden.

Then things got worse. The Cultural Revolution began in 1965 and lasted for ten years. During this time, all educational institutions were shut down and anyone who was representative of the “old China” - which, of course, included martial arts teachers – was severely punished. Many were “re-educated” (I'll leave that to your imaginations). The bottom line is that martial arts practice was still strictly forbidden and anyone caught teaching or even practicing such things was putting his life on the line.

After the end of the Cultural Revolution, China's leaders began to realize what treasures China really possessed; traditional Chinese medicine, martial arts, traditional dancing, and so on. The development of contemporary wushu (a combination of gymnastics, martial arts, and Chinese opera) went into high gear while various forms of taijiquan were modified so that older people could practice them without having to over-tax their bodies. However, to teach wushu, it was necessary to be a college graduate and the majority of traditional martial arts teachers didn't meet that requirement. They were free to teach in the public parks just as they still do today.

However, they were restricted to teaching technique and forms only. Two-person routines or any form of sparring was not allowed. The authorities claimed that they were concerned about people being injured through such training but I suspect that they were also concerned about people learning how to apply traditional martial arts. So they permitted people to practice “sanda”, which is very similar to kickboxing with some grappling thrown in.

Regardless of what style you'd learned – praying mantis, xingyiquan, or anything else, your fighting practice was limited to sanda. Thus, everyone, regardless of style, fought in the same way... so “styles”, in so far as fighting was and is concerned, simply vanished. While it was possible to learn forms and exercise routines, one could not practice applications at anything close to full speed and sparring of any kind was out of the question.

As far as practical experience goes... well, that's another can of worms. The Chinese law enforcement authorities take a very dim view of any kind of violence and what we'd call a simple street fight are extremely rare. Extremely. Rare.

Now, if someone says that his teacher from mainland China is, say, in his 50's, well....I'll let you do the math. What was happening in China when he was in his teens or a bit later and allegedly learning a traditional martial art? If he's 50, he was born in 1970 (during the Cultural Revolution) and by the time he was old enough to begin serious training, he'd be learning the “shells” of forms in a local park with no fighting experience whatsoever.

Let me take this opportunity to make a bunch of new friends by saying that I believe a good number of these teachers are simply exploiting their own ethnicity; they're Chinese, so they HAVE to know what they're doing, right? Yeah. I remember my high school years when we believed that any student who was even half-Japanese HAD to know judo and karate. I know of one Chinese school teacher in Iowa who claimed to be a master of what he called “Calligraphic Kung-Fu.” His students learn to draw Chinese characters in the air with their hands and he shows them how these movements can be turned into lethal blows. You. Betcha. BUT, he once had a very large following and last I knew, he was still at it!

Then there are those who claim to be Taoists who live in a monastery or some such abode in the cloudy mists atop some sacred mountain. Let me tell you, for all the cute photos they show everyone, there are no Taoist monasteries with adepts practicing exotic forms of qigong and martial arts all day. Not in modern China. The same is true for Buddhist temples. Yes, there are monks but the government determined that they needed to provide some sort of service to the state. They allow them to live in the temples (or nearby) and practice their faith BUT in return, they must help serve the tourists who visit the temples. Shao-lin Temple is a fine example. For all the bruhaha about it, what is being taught there is NOT a form of traditional shaolinquan; it is contemporary wushu. The “monks” aren't really Buddhist monks at all. For that matter, most of them know little of Buddhism but they shave their heads, wear the saffron robes, and thrill visitors with their demonstrations. For those who wish to learn authentic shaolinquan, don't go to China. It isn't there anymore. It moved to the West.

So next time you hear of some famous kung-fu master teaching a seminar (especially if it's at a high price), find out how old he is and do some simple math. You might surprise yourself.

BOARDS DON'T HIT BACK...?

 by Phillip Starr

In the classic martial arts movie, “Enter the Dragon”, the famous martial arts actor of the day, Bruce Lee, faced off against the opposition's main axe-man who began the match by tossing a board into the air and breaking it with a quick thrust. “Boards don't hit back”, Lee sneered...and then went on to pummel his foe into the ground. Another well-known martial arts figure once stated that, “Bricks and boards give a resounding thwack, but bricks and boards don't hit back.”

True enough. I've heard the same thing from numerous martial arts teachers over the years but I always wondered if they'd ever considered that heavy bags and striking posts don't back, either. I realize that they were saying simply that the ability to break various objects with the bare hands and feet are not necessarily indicative of one's martial skill in so far as fighting is concerned, but then...neither is striking the heavy bag. I think that people who makes such statements are missing the point. After all, silhouette targets that are used by firearms enthusiasts don't shoot back, either...

They would likely argue that hitting the heavy bag fosters the development of strong technique (if it's done correctly... and a great many people use it incorrectly). I think I would counter with the same argument regarding board and brick breaking. More importantly, the breaking techniques promote the development of a strong spirit and teach practitioners how to extend their yi (mind, intention, will...), which isn't always the case with using pieces of equipment like the heavy bag. Different training devices assist in the development of different aspects of a chosen martial discipline; there is no single piece of equipment that helps to develop all of them.

The legendary Masutatsu (“Mas”) Oyama, founder of the Kyokushin style of Japanese karate, emphasized the importance of the breaking techniques because he regarded them as invaluable aids in the promotion of a strong spirit. Although he said that they can be used as a sort of barometer by which we can measure the power of a given technique, the main idea was the development of an indomitable spirit and it is this point that so many contemporary practitioners miss.

If you fail to make a particular break, it's because:

• Your technique is flawed one way or another

• You failed to extend your yi properly, or

• Your spirit is weak

Or any combination thereof. All of these things are necessary for the development of real fighting skill. At the same time, you can hit the heavy bag incorrectly (which is something that many people do everyday without knowing it), you can strike it without extending your yi (ditto), and it does not necessarily reflect a lack of spirit. So there.

The breaking techniques were not intended to be used as a form of showmanship. Back in the old days it was practiced primarily in the training hall, out of sight of the public at large. It was when the martial arts were brought to the West that these practice routines were used to enthrall audiences. The idea snowballed and before long, we had people performing all kinds of breaking techniques that had little to no value as far as training goes, but the public loved them! Of course, the same happened with freestyle sparring and the demonstrations of forms.

So, to those who say that breaking techniques are without value, I say, “take a closer look.” You'll be surprised at what you find...

BEGINNER'S MIND

 

by Phillip Starr

Tsutomu Ohshima, one of Gichin Funakoshi’s last students (and now a senior instructor of Gichin’s legendary Shotokan style of karate) tells a story about his teacher that illustrates the importance of the basic techniques of the art. Originally a schoolteacher in Okinawa, Gichin had introduced karate to Japan in 1923. He passed away in 1958. In his last months of life, Ohshima would literally carry him up and down stairs whenever the master was scheduled to give demonstrations. A few days before his passing, Gichin was sitting up on the edge of his bed practicing the basic forefist punch. He turned to Ohshima and said, “I think I’ve finally got it!” Ohshima wept.

Mr. David Lowry, in his excellent book "Moving Toward Stillness" relates a story about the late kendo (Japanese swordsmanship) master, Mori Torao. Master Mori had studied his art under men who had had to use the sword in actual combat. Needless to say, the training was extremely severe; in fact, prior to WWII the art was often referred to as gekken which means "severe swordsmanship." Mr. Mori taught in the U.S. back in the 60's.

A friend of Mr. Lowry's attended a clinic conducted by Master Mori and arrived early. There he found the legendary Master already in his keikogi (practice uniform), preparing for the class. Mori asked the young man if he would train with him for a while. The young man held Mori in awe and was thrilled with the request. Now he would get the chance to see advanced kendo techniques and learn from the legendary master! He was shocked when Mori asked if he might practice shomen uchi which is a frontal strike learned by every kendoka (kendo student) in his first class. "I still don't have it right," Mori explained.

Students who are still in the junior stages of training envy their seniors who are learning the more advanced forms and techniques of our art. The instructor may call out a cadence and force them to practice the most basic punches and kicks, but you can bet that the juniors are watching (out of the corners of their eyes) their seniors in the corner practicing the advanced techniques and forms and longing for the day when they will learn them. They tend to judge progress by how much they've learned; how much they've acquired.

Several decades ago, a good friend of mine named John Hutchcroft, who trained in a style of Okinawan karate told me that students of that particular system never said, "Yes, I know that form," or "I know this punch." I asked why. He explained that to say that one knew the form or technique indicated that one had truly mastered it. Instead of saying that they knew a given form or technique, they would say that they trained or worked it.

It's a small matter of semantics, I know, but it does indicate how seriously these people were about training and true understanding or mastery of technique.

The legendary founder of Kyokushin karate, Masutatsu Oyama, once said that after 1,000 repetitions one could say that one could perform a given technique. Only after 10,000 repetitions could one say that one had mastered it. He was slightly more generous with forms; after 1,000 repetitions one could say that one had mastered a given form.

The legendary Xingyiquan teacher, Hong-I Xiang (who passed away in the 1980's), was known to practice his pengchuan (the basic punching technique of Xingyi) daily. Even after more than six decades of training, he focused on constant practice of the most fundamental techniques. Wang Shujin, one of the most famous twentieth-century exponents of Baguachang was known to train daily in the system's most fundamental form and exercise, the Single Change Palm.

Any given martial art system is finite; limited in scope and curriculum. There comes a time when there are no more new techniques or forms to learn. Having explored every road, the student finds him or herself with only one choice; to go back to the beginning. In this sense, the road is circular and the last teaching is also the first. The greatest secrets lie within the most fundamental techniques and movements. However, they cannot be grasped by those who have not yet traveled the whole length of the road or path.

In my school in Omaha, I had (amongst other things) framed Chinese calligraphy, the characters for which meant, "Beginner's Mind." This was not intended so much for junior students as it was for the seniors. Once one has "gone full circle," one must come back to the original "mind" of a beginner. Only after coming full circle and back to this stage can one truly grasp the more esoteric teachings of the art.

There is a saying that tells us, "The greatest secrets lie within the most fundamental techniques and movements. However, they cannot be grasped by those who have not yet traveled the whole length of the road or path."

Of course, there are some who, having reached a lower grade of black belt, assume that they have come "full circle." Puffing out their chests, they are proud of their accomplishments but the truth is that they have not come "full circle." They are still traveling on the "road." Those who have traveled its full length do not puff out their chests and rarely speak of their accomplishments. They have, after all, come back to the stage of "Beginner's Mind"; a blank slate upon which they will write and draw.

A WORD FROM WATTS

 by Phillip Starr

For those may not have heard of him, Alan Watts (6 January 1915 – 16 November 1973) was a British-born philosopher, writer, and speaker, best known as an interpreter of Zen. A one-time Episcopal priest, the church still utilizes some of his writings to this day. He was a prolific writer, particularly after studying Eastern ways of thought. authoring some 25 books and many articles. His first book, “The Way of Zen” (1957) remains a classic to this day. I was most fortunate in being able to meet him at a summer seminar in 1973 shortly before his untimely demise in an airplane crash later that year. I learned more from him than I ever suspected at the time and a number of things that he told me that day have stayed in my mind ever since. This article is in regards to one of them.

Few people, even most fans of his, know that Watts was an avid practitioner of aikido. I found out because I was young, didn't know much about him or his fame (thus, I wasn't awed by him in the least until a few hours later), and I asked him directly, “Mr. Watts, do you practice martial arts?” He glanced sideways at me and I told him that I was a teacher of Chinese martial arts. It was then that he admitted to studying....and loving, aikido. In fact, he was very interested in all of the martial ways and because it was a rarity to find a practitioner of Chinese martial arts in those days, we talked at some length.

As we discussed martial arts he said, “Any physical activity taken to its extreme, becomes a spiritual path and leads to awakening.” I asked what he meant by, “extreme?” I remember that he smiled as he answered me. “If you strive for perfection in it, it eventually becomes a spiritual experience.”

“Even something like...tennis?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Yes, even tennis...or baseball, or crocheting. Any activity.”

I've mulled this over for many years now. The operative phrase in his answer is, “strive to perfect.” If we attend classes on a regular basis, that isn't enough. If we simply engage in the practice of basic techniques, kata, two-person routines...it isn't enough. We have to CONSCIOUSLY strive to perfect our skills as this leads towards self-perfection. It is the underlying theory of all martial arts. It is why we continue to practice for decade after decade. We don't do it for the exercise, although that certainly provides many wonderful side benefits. And we don't do it for self-defense; heck, we've acquired more than adequate self-defense skills after a fairly short time in training. We (should) do it because we are aiming at self-perfection.

Is such a thing even possible? I would have to answer, “No, not in this lifetime.” But that shouldn't discourage you in the least.

YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU DON'T KNOW

 by Phillip Starr

In the study and practice of martial arts everything should be learned progressively, one step at a time. In the beginning, novices are introduced to basic techniques and a few fundamental principles. Those who persevere will be taught additional principles, which give birth to additional techniques and movements. The few who are genuinely interested in learning will strive to understand how each (new) principle applies to the forms and techniques that they have been taught. Good instructors will assist them in doing this. And so it goes. For a lifetime.

Even after their teachers are gone and they themselves may have become teachers, they will continue to study and realize new principles that can, and often do, change the way they see and practice their forms and techniques. This idea is applicable to many fields of endeavor...not just martial arts. Consider how it applies to mathematics, music, and various other subjects.

I sometimes tell senior students, “You don't know what you don't know.” This is another way of saying, “The more you learn, the more you can learn.” For instance, it is said that most, if not all, forms contain a variety of joint twisting and grappling techniques. These techniques are often concealed beneath a layer of other movements, which act as a sort of “camouflage.” However, unless you are familiar with a fairly wide variety of such techniques you'll never “see” them. You don't know what you don't know.

Once you find them, the way in which you execute a given form may change a bit. Remember that forms are the “books” that contain all relevant information about a particular system. But if you can't read, books are of little use. If your reading ability is very basic the books may prove useful, but only to a very limited degree. This is why I disdain Bruce Lee's terrible piece of advice; to “discard what is useless, keep what is useful, and add what is specifically your own.” You don't know what is useless. You don't know what you don't know. Neither did Mr. Lee. And, by the way, he actually did practice forms quite regularly.

Those of you who study karate or taekwondo will readily recall your first form, pinan (or heian) shodan (or nidan, depending on the system you train), or chonji. And what is the first movement? You step to the left and perform a low block, right? And you were probably told that is was a defensive blocking technique that is applied against an aggressor who is standing to your left, right?

Not.

There are a number of “red flags” that fly up here:

• Why on earth are you advancing into an attack? That's pretty foolish, isn't it?

• If you advance, your block is going to hit his thigh...and he'll manage to kick you, anyway!

• If you advance to perform a block, how will you manage to apply the second technique (which is a lunging punch)? You'll be way too close to do that! The distance factor is completely fouled.

You don't know what you don't know. Those of you who are wise will pick up a copy of my book, “Hidden Hands”, to find out how to discover the answer to this question and many others. It will teach you how to “read” your forms and it might just change the way that you perform (and appreciate) all of your forms.

Besides learning the obvious, outer movements of the form, you must also seek to master the principles upon which they are based. Principles are more important than learning a ton of really cool techniques. But principles must be learned progressively. You cannot learn advanced principles until you thoroughly understand and can perform the more basic ones with a high level of skill. Understanding them intellectually is one thing; being able to physically perform them is another.

Actually, you cannot really understand them until you can perform them masterfully. Oftentimes, students mistakenly think that they understand them but their error is made clear when they attempt to apply them to their techniques and movements. We can compare this to learning how to apply the brakes of your car. When you were first learning to drive you were told that in order to stop or slow down you simply had to depress the brake pedal. The first time you did this, both you and your instructor probably discovered that although you thought you fully understood the principle, you really didn't...and you couldn't skillfully perform that basic movement, either. If you had your seat belts fastened, they probably saved both of you from going through the windshield!

Eventually, you got the hang of it but consider how long it took you to master this simple action! It took a while but now you can apply the brakes and slow down easily without giving yourself a whiplash, right?

And so it is with your martial arts. You may think you understand a given principle but you really don't. It takes lots of practice (the translation of this is, lots of sweat) over a period of time. This is the meaning of “gongfu” or more commonly, “kung-fu.” And until you master the basic principles, you cannot really grasp the more advanced principles. In fact, until you have acquired a pretty fair level of skill with the basic principles, you're physically incapable of performing more advanced movements and principles! It's like going from basic mathematics to calculus. It has to be learned in stages and you can't hurry the process. If you can barely add and subtract, you're going to have lots of trouble learning division, trigonometry, and nuclear physics...

So, study and train deliberately and pay attention. Go step by step. Principles can be learned from a variety of teachers and arts. I'm a kung-fu stylist but I have been most fortunate to have studied under some of the finest karate masters of the last century. I will be the first to stand up and say that they taught me a great deal about my kung-fu and I am forever in their debt.

You're never too old or too highly skilled to learn.

WHY LEARN GRAPPLING?

 By Phillip Starr

Anyone even vaguely familiar with the current martial arts scene will immediately recognize the term, “mixed martial arts.” These disciplines refer to themselves as “mixed” because their repertoire consists of a variety of both percussive and grappling techniques. This, they claim, makes their “art” more effective both in and out of the competition ring.

I have to agree with them on that point; in my opinion, a given martial discipline must necessarily include both percussive and grappling techniques in order for it to be effective on the street. The renowned judo master, Gunji Koizumi (“Father of British Judo”, who also established the Budokwai) said, “Any martial artist who relies strictly on percussive techniques is doomed to failure.” He was right. The opposite is equally true; any grappling art that fails to teach effective striking techniques (known as “atemi waza” in jujutsu and aikido) is likewise incomplete.

Why did Master Koizumi make such a statement? Aren't percussive techniques more likely to take the fight out of an opponent than a grappling technique? Well, it depends... on many things. Anyone who's ever been in a couple of good barroom scraps will tell you that regardless of how much training you have in punching and kicking, you'd better be able to handle yourself at extremely close quarters – under conditions that are considerably less than optimal for striking and kicking. There's a technical martial arts terms for people who are unable to do this. It is DOGMEAT.

Now, I'm not saying that karate or taekwondo enthusiasts should train assiduously in some of the better-known judo/jujutsu throws such as the shoulder throw, spring hip throw, and the like. But they DO need to learn some simple but effective throws/takedowns to complement their percussive skills. I should mention, by the way, that such grappling techniques have always been part and parcel of the karate repertoire and are to be found in certain katas. The older, original form of taekwondo also included a number of grappling maneuvers which, sadly, seem to have been erased from their modern, sport-oriented curricula. On the other hand, martial arts such as Shorinji Kempo are about half percussive and half grappling.

Although many throws are intended to damage or even kill one's foe, most of them are intended to place the hapless receiver in an untenable position (that's an indefensible position for you rednecks out there). The aggressor is thrown and then struck instantly. To do this quickly - especially in combat - requires great skill, which is not something that can be acquired quickly. Moreover, grappling also necessarily includes a number of joint-twisting techniques. Many throws utilize such techniques as entries to the throw; resisting the throw will result in a broken bone... but going along with it may not allow the receiver to fare any better.

In China, the arts of grappling are referred to as “shuai-jiao” (which is tricky for me because “shuei-jiao” means “go to bed/sleep” and my wife was often perplexed when I got the two mixed up...). Training is extremely rigorous but it produces high-spirited, rugged fighters. Qin-na is the art of joint-twisting, seizing, and choking. It is said that if you are to effectively apply such a technique, your skill must be at least three times greater than that of your enemy. Nonetheless, there's a time and a place for everything and my students train with them very thoroughly. The odds of effective application are greatly increased when preceded by a sharp blow that produces sharp pain...

So, the idea of “mixed martial arts” is nothing new. All traditional martial disciplines were and are, mixed. If they weren't, they wouldn't have survived to the present day.