THE WHY AND THE HOW

 by Phillip Starr

There are really two aspects to performing a given technique or form; one is, of course the “how” of it...how is it to be executed? Exactly how? And understanding this aspect can take some considerable time and practice.

HOW do you bow? Exactly how should you kneel down or stand up? EXACTLY how is that punch/kick to be performed? And forms offer a whole new dimension to the question(s) of HOW?

But knowing the “how” is only half of it. It's essential that you learn and thoroughly understand the “why” as well. Understanding this aspect can alter how you understand and perform the “how.”

As you move through the ranks, from white to green, brown, and finally black belt...and through the grades of black belt, your understanding (and hopefully, your practice of) the various “how's” changes. What is correct for a white belt isn't necessarily what is correct for a black belt...

At the rank of shodan, a student should have a solid grasp of the “how” as it pertains to the fundamental techniques and forms (in system that don't utilize a grading system, this should be after about 3 years of regular study and training). Understanding the “how” will be enhanced further with the passage of time and, of course, more rigorous training.

It really isn't until the level of yondan (4^th grade black belt, which can be achieved after about 12-15 years of training) that one is usually introduced to the “why” aspect(s). WHY is a given technique, body movement, form, etc., to be performed in a certain way? A qualified sensei/sifu should know this...at least up to a certain level.

These twin aspects can and should be applied to every facet of your chosen discipline. For example, WHY do you wear your uniform just so? WHY do you kneel down/stand up in a certain way? WHY do you perform your bow (and there are often several ways of bowing involved) as you do? Right down to the smallest details...why, why, why? And the tired answer of, “Because that's just the way we do it”, isn't an answer at all. It's an excuse that veils ignorance much of the time.

Of course, there are some folks who feel that knowing the “why” isn't all that important and they don't bother to pursue the questions. However, such deadheads may well be doing the technique/form/whatever incorrectly because they've never bothered to peer beneath the surface.

And learning the “why's” is much like peeling off the layers of an onion. There seems to be another “why” to the “why” that was just learned...until you arrive at the core. Therein lies the truth.

WHAT ARE THEY REALLY TEACHING YOU?

 By Phillip Starr

If I had a nickel for every prospective student or alleged martial artist who told me, “Forms are a waste of time... Nobody fights like that; they're just fancy dances that have no application in today's modern world”, I'd be a very wealthy man. Those who make such statements don't understand the “why” or even the “what” of form practice (often because they became bored and/or confused with the arduous training in what they regard as an antiquated practice) and many of them have shut their minds on the subject, refusing to reconsider.

To begin, forms are much more than just memorized movements that our forefathers found to be useful in combat. They knew, probably much better than we do, that “people don't actually fight like that.” But they also understood (also much better than we do) the real nature of hand-to-hand combat, unlike many of the current generation of “full-contact” sportsmen who wear padded gloves, are required to follow certain rules, fight in timed rounds, and – win or lose - go home at the end of the contest.

The forms that were developed by our martial arts ancestors were designed to teach principles and techniques that are essential to survival in actual combat. Different forms will provide training in various methods of weight shifting, body movement and footwork, transitioning from one type of posture or movement to another, timing, balance... And this is often performed differently, depending on the style being learned.

Karate, kung-fu, taekwondo, and other such forms of pugilism are not static postures. Our forefathers knew that. Rather, they are forms of movement. BUT they must be studied very carefully if they are to be fully understood. Real combat is very fluid and dynamic, not fixed. So are forms if you understand and are performing them correctly, as they were intended.

In a very real sense, each form teaches you to “think” in a different way. When I was young, I hated math (especially algebra) and I asked my father why we were required to learn this stuff (I knew even then that I'd never actually use algebraic formulas in my daily life and I was right). His answer was simple but very profound, “Because it teaches you to think in a different way.” I considered his answer for years and finally came to really understand just what he meant. When I mentioned this short conversation to my kung-fu teacher, Master YZ Chen, he smiled and fully agreed with my father. “Yes!”, he replied enthusiastically. “It is like that with the different sets” (forms).

In a very real sense, different forms of different styles are like different languages. If you truly want to become fluent in another language, you must learn to THINK in that language as you speak rather than first thinking of the words in English and then trying to translate them into your second language. This is something that can't be achieved overnight and it requires considerable practice on a regular basis.

Learning and practicing the individual techniques (main nouns and verbs) isn't enough. You may make yourself understood in some instances but it's a far cry from being fluent. You must master all of the other parts of the language (compare this to various forms of transitioning, body shifting, footwork, and so on). But even that isn't enough. Then you must learn the structure of the language – does the verb come before or after the noun, etc. And remember, you must practice enough that speaking this language becomes “natural” for you; you THINK in that language (and then you're truly understanding the form).

Language is fluid and dynamic. It is made up of more than just nouns and a few verbs (techniques and fixed postures) that you commit to memory. The new language isn't particularly useful at all. You can't really have a conversation that way. But if you're willing to put in the necessary study and practice, you'll eventually become fluent (fluid) enough to do so. THEN it becomes useful.

THE WAY

 by Phillip Starr

The word “do” in Japanese (“dao”, often spelled “tao” in Chinese, 道) refers to a “way” of doing things; a way of life and living it. We are familiar with its use in words that cite various martial disciplines such as judo, kendo, aikido, karate-do, and so on. However, it is also to be found when speaking of other arts such as chado (tea ceremony), kado (also known as ikebana; working with living flowers), shodo (writing calligraphy with a brush), and numerous other less violent arts. In Japan, these non-violent forms of “do” are regarded as every bit as demanding as their martial cousins and, in some ways, they're related. “How can that be?”, you ask.

The “Way” that is followed by our cousin arts is essentially the same path that we tread, full of pitfalls, thorny bushes, and uneven ground and stones that cause us to stumble and curse. Traveling it is no easier for a chadoka (student of the tea ceremony) than it is for a karateka or judoka. As with the martial disciplines, it requires great perseverence, discipline, an iron will, and a strong spirit. The “Way” is not reserved only for martial arts enthusiasts.

Bear in mind that the “Way” - the path – is essentially singular. There is really only one “Way.” The truths that are revealed along this path are the same, regardless of the discipline one follows. But long before they can be truly realized and understood, the neophyte must begin by learning the fundamentals of his chosen art. There are no short-cuts and attempts to hurry the process come to naught. The basic front kick, reverse punch, basic brush strokes...must all be repeated many thousands of times, with an eye towards perfecting them (as opposed to just counting them off). The process takes time, which moves at a snail's pace...so you might as well relax and enjoy the journey.

Do all of these different forms of “do” lead to the same truths? Yes. There is only one path and the truths to be found there are the same for everyone. You might ask, “How is it possible for something like shodo to come to the same truths as something like karate-do?” The truth, uncomfortable as it may be for some to swallow, is that what the “do” reveals has nothing to do with technique (per se) or violence. It is beyond such shallow, temporal things. It is beyond technique but the only way to get to it is through repetitive, concentrated practice of technique.

The truths it teaches cannot be sought after. The harder you look for them, the more you seek to grasp them, the more easily and quickly they vanish like a wisp of smoke. And many of the truths that are gradually revealed to the disciple cannot be expressed verbally.

The arts are like icebergs; what we can easily see – the techniques, the practice routines, and so on -form the uppermost part of the structure. Beneath what we can see lies the bottom of the structure, which is many times larger. This is the “do”, which lends support to the uppermost, readily observable part of the iceberg.

Enough now of my rambling. Time for you to get back to practice...