Chi-Ku and Traditional Training

     In the practice of contemporary martial arts there is a tendency for instructors and students to shy away from any training routine that involves the possibility of much discomfort or injury.  This is only natural; as human beings we usually don't usually flock to engage in activities that are inherently painful or risky and we tend to take a hard look at those "weirdos" who do.
     I recall watching a group of students practice one-step fighting in a particular martial arts school some years ago.  The attacker would step back into the usual pre-attack position, executing a snappy low block as he did so.  When the receiver was ready to perform his defensive maneuver he would utter a strong chi-he (kiai, shout) and the attacker would execute a powerful lunging thrust.  The receiver would step back, block the attack, and deliver a crisp counter-attack.

     Sound familiar?  Sure, it does.  It's the usual one-step fighting drill.  Except for one thing...

     The participants were standing at least eight feet apart.  When the receiver executed his blocking technique he never touched the aggressor's arm!   And when he counter-punched his fist was at least four feet away from the attacker's body!

     Naturally, I asked the instructor why the students didn't touch each other at all during this common training exercise.  He told me that he didn't want them to bruise their arms or risk striking each other if their blows weren't adequately controlled.

     Good Lord.

     Well, these folks will be in great shape if they're ever attacked by a strong gust of wind.

      Now, don't get me wrong.  I certainly don't advocate uncontrolled violence as a training tool.  I remember visiting another martial arts school whose members engaged in full-contact sparring within two weeks of enrollment!  The neophytes, who had no real knowledge of martial arts technique, were thrown to the lions (the more experienced students) like so much raw meat.  To say they got the stuffing pounded out of them would be a serious understatement.  The instructor reasoned that if one wanted to become skilled at fighting one had to know what it is like to get hit.  Students were told that they had to learn to keep going even if they'd been struck very forcefully because this is what "real combat is like."
     Good thing they didn't teach swordsmanship.

     Certainly, I believe that students need to develop strong technique and a strong spirit through rigorous training.  The key word in that sentence is rigorous.  I believe that real martial arts technique and spirit cannot be understood or developed except through the application of controlled violence.
     Beginning students are unable to understand this concept and it has to be presented to them very gradually.  But as they grow and develop their skills, they must learn to accept this fact and train accordingly.  Violence is, after all, why the martial arts were originally developed.  They were not cultivated to help their followers discover their "inner child", as a panacea for various ailments, or for thrilling audiences.

     I recently told my students that they would learn much more from pain and discomfort than they ever would from sheltered contentment.  In traditional Japanese martial arts there is a term describing this type of practice.  It is nangyo (in Chinese, nanhang).  It refers to hardship (nan) and a road which is traveled by many people, perhaps a crossroads.  This is an accepted part of the traditional martial ways; a necessary ingredient for the development of true skill and understanding.  The Chinese usually refer to this particular aspect of training as chi-ku (literally, "eat bitter"). 

     In contrast to the aforementioned karate school wherein participants never touched each other, the former head of the Japan Karate Association, Master Masatoshi Nakayama (dec.), recalled that when he was training under Master Gichin Funakoshi during his college years his arms would be so sore and bruised from blocking his partner's attacks that he could hardly lift them.  Another kendo master spoke of being struck so hard on the front of his helmet (men) that it knocked him to his knees and splintered his partner's shinai.
     Students of the legendary Morihei Uyeshiba (founder of aikido) recalled how his vise-like grip would leave bruises on their wrists and Americans who trained in judo under the revered Kyuzo Mifune spoke of being thrown so hard that they were rendered unconscious.  My own teacher, Master W. C. Chen, remembered seeing exhausted classmates bow, run out of the drill line, and vomit.

     Some of these things would be considered a tad excessive by today's standards but it gives you an idea of what traditional training was like "back in the day."  It was not done because the instructor was a sadistic brute who wanted to puff out his machismo for all the world to see (although such instructors, if that term can be applied to them, have always existed).  The instructor's first and only concern was for the students, to help them develop real skill as opposed to something that only looks good but has no real internal substance.

     In time, students develop a strong sense of self-confidence.  They don't fear being attacked because that happens every night that they attend class.  Some years ago one of my students was forced to defend himself against what I call an "Americanus Vomitus" (otherwise known as a common "puke").  When he told me about it he smiled and said, "I wasn't really afraid of the guy at all.  Heck, I get punched at by professionals at least three times a week in the training hall!" 
    
     For the teachers of the traditional budo ("martial ways"; in Chinese, wu-dao) it's a delicate balance; how far to push the students and keep the violence inherent within the martial arts under control.  Naturally, no competent teacher wants to see a student get hurt but some minor injuries are unavoidable and to be expected.  Anyone who's spent much time in the martial arts has had his or her fair share of split lips, strawberries, bruises, and the like.  Some have even broken a small bone or two.  It happens; it's simply the nature of the beast and a necessary part of the developmental processes of the budo.  But it is the responsibility of the instructor and senior students to do their best to ensure that the violence never escalates beyond a certain level.
     As a student's skill increases the attacks he faces in the training hall must be more realistic until, at an advanced level, they are real.  That is, if he fails to perform his defensive maneuver correctly he may well be knocked on his tail.
     At the same time, students must (gradually) learn that a bloody lip isn't the end of the world and it's still possible to continue training even after getting smacked in the ribs.  Chi-ku.

What Will You Do With One Corner?

     I was recently reading about a young man’s first visit to Japan.  He had trained in iaijutsu and kenjutsu for several years with a Japanese instructor who had come to the U.S. as a college professor.  The young American had traveled to Japan to spend time with his sensei and to immerse himself in the country from which his chosen martial disciplines had originated.

     When he arrived in Japan, the young American took some time to take in the sights and he was given the opportunity to visit an iaido dojo in a rather small Japanese town.  The dojo was run by a hachidan (8^th dan, of which there are only a few) who asked him to perform the first basic kata known as “mae.” 

     The American felt that he had done an adequate job but the headmaster thought differently.  He told his guest to work on one particular movement of the kata – it was a bit rough and needed polish.  They exchanged bows and the American prepared to repeat the kata. 

     He gave it his very best but when he finished it he noticed that the headmaster was on the other side of the dojo, giving instruction to another student.  What happened next actually showed what this American was made of; it showed his heart.

     He continued to practice the kata (which he had practiced for many years as it’s the very first kata taught to beginning iaido students) until he was soaked with sweat.  After more than an hour’s worth of repeating the same fundamental kata, one of the senior students walked up and told him to perform the second kata!  The American noticed that the headmaster was standing with his arms folded on the other end of the dojo, watching him.

     And so it went for the ten “seitei” katas.  The American could barely get undressed and walk back to the house where he was staying.  His legs were exhausted and he could barely lift his shoulders.  But he was back in training the next day.

     Now, I often walk away from my students while they are working on a particular form or technique – just to see what they’ll do.  Most of them will continue to practice what they were told.  A few will walk over to me to ask what they should do and some (yes, it happens with black belts, too) discontinue practicing as they begin to talk and socialize with their classmates.

     Confucius said that if a teacher shows the student one corner, the student should be able to find the other three.  If he cannot (or will not), then the teacher should leave him alone because he’s simply a waste of time. 

     My teacher would sometimes show us a particular technique or an aspect of a technique or form and then see what we did with it.  Most of my classmates promptly forgot whatever it was that he’d shown them.  They didn’t practice it on their own time and their performance didn’t improve.  They were not shown any of the deeper aspects of the art because such things require a great deal of practice at home and he knew they’d never meet that requirement.

     A few of the others would “fool around” with what they had been shown; they didn’t put in much time on their own and they’d often ask Sifu Chen if they were doing it right, and so on.  Again, they received none of the deeper instruction because there was simply no point in it.

     Very, very few actually trained regularly (and vigorously) at home with the material they had been shown.  But our teacher was watching…always watching.  He’d smile and laugh with us but he was always watching and evaluating.  And in the end, very few students qualified (in his mind) to learn the real kung-fu.

     Which group do you fall into?

Everything You Need To Know...

     Some years ago there was book written which was entitled, "Everything I Ever Needed To Know About Life I Learned In Kindergarten." It was a beautiful little book and it held true to its title. The author spoke of learning about things like courtesy and consideration, sharing with others, and my favorite part - milk and cookies followed by a nap.

     A few years ago at the First National Yiliquan Seminar, I made a statement which, I think, came as something of a surprise to many participants - but only because they'd never thought about it.  I said that the whole core of the system (and probably most martial disciplines) is taught in the period we know as "basic training." As we all took time to think about that statement, we all realized how true it is.


     This statement doesn't indicate that we necessarily master the many things we learn as beginners; rather, it means simply that we are told about them, shown how to perform them, and encouraged to practice them every day.

    Which most students don't.

     Thus, the "mysteries" of the art remain as mysteries because so few martial arts enthusiasts neglect their daily practice and fail to look deeply into the art.  But consider what is shown to beginning students of Yiliquan (and those of you who practice another martial form can list the "core" items that are taught to beginners in your respective arts):

* Courtesy
* Basic Techniques (The most basic techniques upon which all other techniques are  
   built.)
* Basic Body Actions and Body Mechanics (which provide power to the basic 
   techniques)
* Proper Breathing (provides power to the techniques and enhances overall balance)
* Basic Stances (how to stand in a balanced manner)
* Basic Stepping Methods (footwork - how to move from one stance to another)
* Moving From One-Point
* How To Fall (breakfalls - there's more to this than meets the eye)
* Fundamentals of qigong (4 Principles and basic exercises)

     You'll notice that the items listed above are all interrelated; they "dovetail" into each other although a beginner cannot see how this is possible. Senior practitioners will immediately notice the relationships between these items.

     It's obviously way too much for anyone to thoroughly learn in a short time. In fact, this material will require years of regular and rigorous practice. And almost everything that is taught to the student after this stage is just frosting; training that promotes a deep understanding of the items on this basic list and fosters the development of real skill.

     As students progress through the system and learn more complex material they often lose sight of the basic material they were shown as novices. What they fail to understand is that what they learned as a beginner must be applied to everything they learn from that point on.


     They must learn how to apply these things to their forms which become increasingly complex. They have to learn to apply them when they practice formal Three and One Step Fight, Freestyle One-Step, Freestyle Sparring (!!!), Self-Defense, Weapons Forms, and so on.

     For instance, take a minute and run through one of your forms. When you've finished go back and see if you used the correct form of breathing. Were you moving from your One-Point? Were your body actions correct? And bear in mind that you must practice each form until it can be executed perfectly without having to check each of these items!


     That kind of skill can't be developed overnight. It can't be developed through haphazard practice, either.

     Senior martial arts practitioners don't possess any secret knowledge. They don't practice highly advanced, secret techniques. Instead, they simply practice the basics. Every. Day. Everything they really needed to know about their respective martial disciplines they probably learned from their teachers in the earliest stages of training. They've simply learned how to fit everything together.


     Our Association's Chief Instructor, Mr. Jeremy Thompson, and I attended an iaido (the art of drawing and cutting with the Japanese sword) tournament and testing in Council Bluffs, Iowa. I was told that it was probably the largest such event in the entire United States that year! Anyway, during the examinations (which were held for all grades up to and including 6th dan) I noticed that ALL EXAMINEES were made to perform the most basic iaido kata known simply as "Mae" (meaning "Forward").  Without going into a lot of detail about the minutae of this particular kata, it begins in a kneeling position. The practitioner comes up to one knee and draws the sword in a horizontal cut with one hand. The sword is then brought back, gripped with both hands, and an overhead cut is executed. The swordsman then rises to his/her feet, performs a blood shake (to shake imaginary blood from the blade) before re-sheathing it.


     It sounds simple enough to do and by the time an iaido student reaches the stage of sankyu or so, he or she can perform it with considerable skill. But consider...someone testing for 5th or 6th dan is also required to do it. Such a person has put 25 years or more in training! You'd think they'd have it right by that time, wouldn't you?

     Sure. They can do it correctly. But they have to do it MORE correctly than someone of a lower grade. All of the items they learned as beginners have to become an integral part of their movement and technique without conscious effort. IT must become them and THEY must become it.

     Moreover, the essence of all other techniques and kata are contained within this first, basic kata. Once this one is truly mastered, so mastery of the others follows easily.

     Everything you really need to know about your martial art, you learned in kindergarten...

Why Are You Here?

 

     A question we seldom ask ourselves but which is all-important to our progress in martial arts (or anything else) is, "why are you here?"  Why are you doing this?  It is a question which we could readily answer back when we first began training, but after we've been involved for some time we forget about it...and that can lead to problems.  It's important to ask ourselves "why" periodically.

 

     In the past, I've mentioned various reasons why people first become involved in martial arts.  For instance, some want to get into better physical condition.  Frankly, a good aerobics class will do them more good in the short term.  Some aerobics and some weight training will work wonders for improving one's level of fitness.  Most people who start martial arts just to get fit give up shortly after they start.  Did YOU start training mainly to get fit?  WHY haven't you given up yet?

 

     Then there's the people who want to learn self-defense.  I used to tell these people that good basic defensive skills could be acquired in about six months.  Were you one of these?  If so, have you been training for more than six months?  If so, why?

 

     Some people just want to "learn martial arts."  It's a perfectly valid reason, but I can't say exactly what it is.  What do they mean?  WHY do they want to learn martial arts?  Is this your reason for starting training?

 

     Here's something new to add to your regimen.  Sit and write down just WHY you are currently practicing martial arts.  It may surprise you; you may not be able to express it in words.  But don't get up until you've written it down.  It's important that you know WHY you're doing it.

 

     Add a list of your strong points to your paper.  That is, strong points insofar as training and practice are concerned.  This should include not only things that you do well, but aspects of your character that benefit your training.  This helps you see how you really view yourself.

 

     Also make a list of obstacles which you have overcome (that you remember).   Do you recall just HOW you overcame them?  If so, write it down. 

 

     Now add a list of your weak points; weak areas of your training (things you need to improve), and aspects of your character that have a negative impact on your training.  Next to each one, write down what you intend to do to overcome each weak point or negative aspect.  You need to know where the chinks in your armor are, and you need to have an actual plan to overcome them.

 

     In a few months, review the paper and write up a new one with the same items.  See if they've changed.

 

     It's important to know how you view yourself; your strengths and weaknesses.  You need to know WHY you're doing this; what you intend to get out of it, where you are, and where you're going.  I think the majority of students have no idea where they're going.  They're like small boats out in the middle of an ocean being tossed about aimlessly by the the winds and waves of circumstance.  They have no oars or motor...they are helpless because they don't have a destination. 

     Too often we allow "life" to distract us from our goals.  We use it as an excuse; a  crutch upon which we lean our weaknesses.  "I failed because...."  Nobody ever wants to admit that it's their fault.  But it usually is. 

     A word of wisdom...no matter what goal(s) you ever set for yourself, things will get in the way.  What counts is whether or not you have the fortitude to grab the bull by the horns, face the obstacles, and overcome them.  If you don't, you never had a chance of success in the first place.  But if you try, you'll find lots of people out there who are anxious to help you.  Your instructor is one of them.  But you have to be willing to try and do whatever is necessary to overcome the obstacles.  Ultimately, the decision is yours.  Only YOU can make yourself better.  No one else can do it for you.

 

     I used to look at various martial arts figures for inspiration.  Masutatsu Oyama, founder of the Kyokushin style of karate, began his journey from Korea (his real name was Choi Yung Li).  He aspired to be a pilot in the Japanese military during WWII (!!!), so he went to Japan.  Sadly, he found that because he wasn't Japanese he had virtually NO CHANCE of becoming a pilot.  He was an unwanted Korean.  He managed to get a job driving a delivery truck.  It didn't pay squat.  But he saved his money until he could get into the university and it was there that he first saw a karate class being led by the legendary Funakoshi Gichin.  He fell in love with the art.

     Even then, his troubles weren't over.  He killed a man in a barfight (the squabble involved the affections of a young lass) and he also became involved with a group that supposedly wanted to unify Korea but which turned out to be a den of thieves.  It was strongly suggested that he disappear for a while, so he went into the mountains and lived there, penniless, for three years.  When he came back down, his skill was extraordinary and the rest is history.

     But think about it.  He came to a foreign land that was prejudiced against him.  He could only get a crummy job which barely paid enough to live on, he got into trouble with the law...and he became one of the world's best-known karate teachers and was actually adopted by the nation which had formerly rejected him.  He even took a Japanese name.

 

     Sun Lutang was orphaned at a very young age.  A pre-teen, he lived on his own in Beijing and tried to make a few pennies by selling hog bristles which were used to make brushes.  That means that he had to climb into the hog pens and collect them by hand.  He was starving and decided to end it all by hanging himself.  But he even screwed that up, and a passerby cut him down.

     He was about 10 kliks below down and out until he saw a Xingyiquan teacher leading his students through some basic exercises.  He determined to learn that art and began training.  Later, he heard of a strange art known as Baguazhang and walked to the other side of Beijing every day to attend class!  And he became on of China's best-known teachers of the neijia (internal martial arts).

 

     Morihei Uyeshiba (founder of Aikido) was sickly as a child and very weak.  However, he managed to survive his youth and his father set him up in a business to help him begin life.  He failed and the business closed down.  He was broke.  However, he determined that that type of business wasn't suited to him and he moved into the north to help build a small community.

     Even after he developed aikido, he was very poor.  He refused to collect tuition for classes, so his wife would do so in his stead.  In time, he became one of the greatest martial artists who ever lived.

 

     There are literally hundreds of examples.  Ed Parker was an unwanted Mormon kid who got beat up regularly.  Funakoshi Gichin was a schoolteacher who was sent to Japan (where Okinawans weren't held in the highest regard) to demonstrate karate. 

 

     Kind of makes your problems look small, doesn't it?  It always did to me.  Still does.  When things get tough, I think of these people.  I think of the people I met in China and the unbelievable level of poverty I witnessed there.

 

     But each of these people made a conscious decision about what they wanted to do.  They knew where they intended to go and worked towards certain goals.  And although we remember them, there are literally millions of others who didn't make it... As I used to tell my students, "The world is full of failures.  Do not seek to add to their numbers."

 

     Success isn't based on luck.  Failure isn't due to a lack of it.  There's no such thing as luck one way or another.  Cause and effect.  Success comes to those who set a goal and then move towards it; to those who refuse to give up and who will struggle to overcome any and all obstacles that get in the way.  Failure and mediocrity comes to those who don't.

 

     Which way do you want to go?

How Much?

      How frequently one should train is a question with which I have often been faced.  Rarely does anyone like the answer they get but after several decades of martial arts training and teaching I feel that I have a firm grasp of what works and what doesn't.

 

     The first consideration must be this:  What do you expect to get out of training?  That is, why are you training?  It's surprising how many people who are involved (at various levels) in a given martial art cannot answer this question with any real measure of confidence.

 

    The second consideration is: What sacrifices are you willing to make to achieve the answer to the first consideration?  What kinds of hardships are you willing to endure?

 

     In our modern society, people enjoy having various hobbies.  Bowling, softball, golf, computer games...there are LOTS of hobbies out there.  So naturally, people often tend to regard and practice martial arts as a hobby.  This is fine as long as they realize that they will never acquire any measure of real skill.  After all, if you like to play the piano as a hobby, you may be able to entertain your friends but face it...you'll never become a concert pianist.

 

     Other people look to martial arts as a way of keeping physically, and even mentally, fit.  Some want to "get in touch with their inner child" or some such business while others aspire to learn spiritual truths. 

 

    And other students desire to learn effective self-defense, but they want it now...kind of like microwaving a TV dinner.  Instant self-defense.  Overnight Bruce Lee.

 

     The point is that if you want to learn real martial arts as opposed to some "quickie" form of self-defense or an exotic method of losing weight or reducing stress, you have to understand that it can't be done quickly or easily.  It takes a great deal of effort and time, and these things will necessarily involve sacrifice and hardship.

 

     I compare martial arts training to developing flexibility or body-building...or even playing the piano.  If you attend class only once a week, your progress will be very, very slow...if you make any at all.  The ONLY way this can work is if you include at least 2-3 additional practice sessions on your own during the week.  If you do this, and you practice vigorously and seriously, you can make progress.  But if you ONLY practice one day a week, you may as well give realize that you're going nowhere fast.

 

     After all, if you were training to be a body-builder, you couldn't possibly do it if you lifted only once a week.  You'd very likely injure yourself.  You can't bench press, say, 100 lbs. one week, and then go to a heavier weight the next week unless you build up to it gradually.  That's the way the human body works!

 

     In stretching, you should stretch heavily only every other day and do light stretches in between - six days a week!  The body needs the "light" days to recover and rebuild from the "heavy" days.  But if you engage in only one "heavy" day a week, how can you possibly get anywhere?

 

     To learn to play the piano, you learn a basic exercise first.  If you practice it only one day a week, what are the odds of ever being able to play the piano with any measure of skill?  Zip.

 

     Two classes weekly is a MINIMUM for acquiring skill.  Even so, you must still practice on your own at least 2-3 days per week (outside of class).  If you do this, you can make good progress.  Otherwise, development of real skill will be considerably slowed.

 

     Three classes per week is ideal, but it may not be possible for your teacher to provide this many classes due to restrictions on the facility, and so forth.  Even so, you should practice on your own at least twice per week outside of class.

 

    Remember that class time is time for the teacher to present new material and to polish what you've already learned.  If you don't practice on your own, he's continually trying to polish the same techniques over and over because you're simply not ready to learn anything new.  If you tried, you might hurt yourself.

 

     Even someone who only wants to shed some extra weight knows that it is impossible if they exercise only once weekly or twice monthly.

 

     An experienced instructor can easily tell if you've been practicing on your own or not.  My teacher would have thrown me out of class if I had not practiced on my own because he felt that one should approach martial arts (training) with the utmost seriousness.  It wasn't a hobby, a game, a way of losing weight, or learning some nifty self-defense tricks.  He saw it as a lifestyle and he lived what he taught.

 

Listening To The Past

Most martial arts neophytes, and even a good number of advanced practitioners, tend to see martial arts primarily as a sophisticated means of kicking butt.  And certainly, we do put in a lot of time and energy training ourselves to become highly proficient in various types of combat.  But there's much more to martial arts than meets the eye (or butt) and it's important to stop every once in a while and listen to the voices of the past.  If we listen closely and reflect upon what they tell us, we can begin to understand what martial arts are really about...

"To achieve victory in a hundred battles is not the highest skill.  To subdue the enemy without fighting is the highest skill."
                                      -Sun Tzu "The Art of War"

     The most efficient and safest way of winning is to avoid fighting.  Pay attention to what is happening around you and if violence seems imminent, leave.  Avoid frequenting places where violence is common.  
     Captain Kangaroo taught us a great lesson in how to avoid violence and diffuse hostile situations; he taught us "Please" and "Thank You."  Really.  You'd be surprised at the number of potentially violent situations that can be mitigated with little more than a calm, confident demeanor and these two phrases.  Avoiding conflict is the highest skill.  Confronting an opponent and winning without resorting to violence is the next highest level.  Winning through physical violence is the lowest level of skill.
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"Mental bearing (calmness), not skill, is the sign of a matured samurai.  A samurai, therefore, should neither be pompous nor arrogant."
                                    -Tsukahara Bokuden

     One of the easiest places to find people who have puffed themselves up with self-importance and pomposity is a martial arts school (or tournament).  Those who possess genuine skill are usually very quiet.
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"The obstacle is the path."
               -Zen Proverb

     We often talk about following the path of the martial arts and realizing that the obstacle we encounter have actually been placed there by us.  But consider...the path itself is the obstacle.
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"Don't hit at all if it is honorably possible to avoid hitting, but never hit soft."
                                 -Theodore Roosevelt

     God bless Teddy Roosevelt!
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"Karate begins and ends with courtesy."
                               -Gichin Funakoshi ("Father of Japanese Karate")

     Of course, this doesn't apply only to karate.  It applies to all martial disciplines.  I once had a young man approach me and ask what he would learn first if he enrolled in my school.  I replied, "courtesy."  He was somewhat taken aback at this response but I explained that if he could not or would not learn courtesy, he could never learn martial arts.  One of the great secrets of martial arts lies within the simple concept of courtesy.
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"Maximum efficiency with minimum effort." (One of the fundamental principles of judo)
                              -Dr. Jigaro Kano (founder of Judo)

     Too many of us strive to achieve maximum efficiency through maximum effort, using strength against strength and huffing and puffing and pushing and pulling.  Let the opponent give you the victory.  You will not get it by yourself.
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"A good stance and posture reflect a proper state of mind."
                             -Morihei Uyeshiba (founder of Aikido)

     The outside is reflective of the inside.  Moreover, the outside affects the inside.  Sloppy posture or stance begets a sloppy, loose mind...A sharp posture is indicative of a sharp but relaxed mind.
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"From white to black belt, you shape the tool.  After black belt, you learn how to use it."
                            -Unknown

     Very profound.  
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"Martial arts are about discipline and the first discipline is showing up for class."
                           -Mr. Carter (A karate teacher)

     Indeed.  Truer words were never spoken.  But there's more to this statement than you might think.  Consider it.
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"Knife sharpens on stone.  Man sharpens on man."
                           -Unknown

__________

"Iron is full of impurities that weaken it.  Through forging it becomes steel and is transformed into a razor-sharp sword.  Human beings develop in the same way."
                        -Morihei Uyeshiba

__________

"Before and after practice or engaging in a match, participants bow to each other.  Bowing is an expression of gratitude and respect.  In effect, you are thanking your opponent for giving you the opportunity to improve your technique."
                       -Jigaro Kano

     Bow.  Always.  And mean it.  There's nothing worse than an empty bow.

__________

"Karate ni sente nashi."
                      -Gichin Funakoshi

     This is often translated as, "In karate, one does not make the first attack."  However, I believe a more correct rendering is, "In karate, one does not make the first move."  There's a considerable difference between the two.
     In the former, the emphasis would seem to be on morality, emphasizing that one should use karate only as a means of defense rather than aggression.  However, I believe that this quote has more to do with tactics.  Whenever a person moves he creates a moment of "kyo" (deficiency, vulnerability), which a skillful opponent may exploit and use to his advantage.  Therefore, it is best to let the opponent move and thereby weaken his defensive posture.
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"Kamae is for beginners. Shizentai is for advanced pupils."
                   -Morihei Uyeshiba

     "Kamae" is a formal posture or fighting stance.  "Shizentai" refers to natural standing postures.  The master is saying that beginners feel that they begin from a fighting posture but a truly skilled practitioner can, after much training, present his techniques from any (natural) position.
___________
 

"Martial arts are intended to prolong life, not shorten it."
                  -Morihei Uyeshiba

     Always remember this.  Think on it.

Riding the Crane and Preparing For Class

     A couple of days ago I was reflecting on how classes were conducted in my old Omaha school and I stopped and considered how classes typically began.  Everyone was called to line up (by the beating of two sticks) and then to sit in the formal position known as ho-zo (in Japanese, seiza).  This position is actually on the knees with the feet resting under the buttocks.  The translation of "ho-zo" means literally, "crane-riding" since the ancients thought that this was how one would sit if one ever climbed onto the back of a giant crane and soared into the heavens.  Never having insomuch as even seen a giant crane, I always suspected that this uncomfortable position was actually created by someone who hated human beings and worked lots of overtime to find the most painful positions for them to stand or sit.

 

     It has fallen into disuse in China; the chair was put into widespread use there a long time ago but the Japanese held onto this formal sitting posture for many generations, largely due to their disdain of things like chairs and other forms of furniture which were raised high off the floor.  Nowadays, most Japanese no longer utilize this form of sitting - it takes a long time to get used to it - but it is still frequently seen in their martial arts schools.

 

     Many Japanese martial arts schools have students begin in this position, practice a basic breathing exercise, and perform a formal kneeling bow prior to training.  In the old Omaha school, students began in this position and calmed their spirits with a breathing technique before standing up and bowing from that position.  I remember back when I was a student and my teacher(s) said that we should meditate prior to training.  This always confused me.  One cannot really meditate after sitting for only a minute or so, which is about how long we sat.  Over the years, I changed the function from "meditation" to calming one's spirit via breathing techniques, getting "centered", and preparing the mind and spirit for class/training.

 

     I was recently poring over some old martial arts writing and came across some material from a very famous (now deceased) teacher.  He said that beginning the class with seiza was important because it naturally develops and enhances a spirit of etiquette which, in turn, has a strong impact on how the student approaches training.  It is, he said, a civilized and formal form of sitting/holding oneself and a source of natural etiquette which is imprinted on people's minds. 

     Because proper etiquette is central to correct training, he felt that this form of sitting before class is essential.  "An upright body is related to an upright mind," he said as he explained the importance of having the highest regard and respect for the individual student.   Each student must regard his/her peers (as well as the teacher AND him/her self) with the highest respect if he/she is going to really achieve anything in training.  Each student must maintain a high regard for what his/her teaches as well as his/her own individual training.  It was felt that beginning class in the formal seated position helped students (and teachers) approach the subject of what is about to be taught as well as preparing themselves for class.

 

     I have to agree.  Certainly, it's not always possible to begin class in this way (when training outdoors, for example), but it's probably best to begin class in this manner whenever possible. 

 

     I used to study things like how students pre-class attitudes affected their individual training as well as the atmosphere of the whole class, and how this could be altered for the better.  There were a handful of students who, due to injuries or handicaps, were unable to assume the formal sitting position at the beginning of class...but there were FAR MORE who were just plain uncomfortable in it (and often claimed, "I CAN'T sit like this!").  Being uncomfortable and being physically unable to sit in this way are two different things.  And although we giggle as we recall those days, there's a serious side to it -

     Remember the guys (and girls) who NEVER tried to master this position?  Remember how they ALWAYS complained about it and how they'd "fake" it by finding some way around it (they'd sit in a posture similar to, but not exactly like, the correct position).  None of them made it into the senior grades.  Why?  Well, there are many reasons but you can bet that ONE of them involved the unwillingness to endure anything which was uncomfortable.  Another things was usually that instead of doing a movement correctly (which can be uncomfortable at first), they'd "fake" it by doing something similar to it (which was more comfortable)...they didn't learn how to do things correctly because they were overly-concerned with their own personal comfort.  They didn't have the determination, the spirit to learn how to do martial arts correctly.

 

     The manner in which the students and teachers conduct themselves at the beginning of class directly impacts the spirit of the class, how the training is conducted and material is presented, and how efficiently the students absorb it.  It seems like a small, insignificant thing but it is really very important.  If the beginning of the class is very informal, students will not take training seriously (even if they think they do).  This brings up an interesting point - just when does class begin?

     Class begins when everyone lines up.  This should not be done too casually.  It's an important part of the training/learning process.  If the approach to training is formal and serious, so will the training be and the students will get a lot more out of it.  It's pretty much impossible to begin a class in a casual manner and then try to get serious at some point during the class.  It just doesn't work.  Additionally, students actually expect some measure of formality in a martial arts class; a class which maintains a fairly formal structure actually suffers fewer dropouts than those which apply a more "casual" approach.  At least that's been my observation after more than 40 years of teaching.

 

     I remember a small aikido class I attended back in college.  The instructor carried a small photo of the founder, Morihei Uyeshiba, into the class and set it up at the front of the room.  At the beginning of class, students and teacher exchanged formal kneeling bows and then bowed to the photo to pay respects to the founder.  Old-fashioned Chinese schools used to do something similar except that in lieu of a photo, they had the founder's name written on red paper at a small shrine.  Sometimes the names of the heads of the system (if the system was very old) were also included.  In China, a name on red paper or a person's name written in red ink indicates that that person is deceased - I once signed a traveler's check in China with a red-ink pen and they refused to take it because they thought that I would be putting a curse on myself....but that's another story.

 

     This kind of formal structure prior to class adds to the atmosphere, the spirit of the class and the overall approach to training.  It may seem rather foreign to us (as Americans) and even pointless, but there's a good reason for it.

 

     When I practice at home, I usually begin by sitting in this way and preparing my mind and spirit for training.  It may seem pointless since there's no one here to instruct me and I'm not leading a class, but it impacts my ATTITUDE. 

 

     Traditional Japanese iaido (art of drawing and cutting with a live blade) is practiced mostly from this position.  When I train at home, I do it as it should be done unless I'm outside on wet, soggy ground.  In fact, in an iaido class, the beginning of class is VERY formal and every little thing has to be done just so - from how you enter the training area to how you sit, how and where you place the sword, how you insert the sheathed sword into your belt (obi) and so on.  Believe it or not, I always begin my own private training in this way - because it has an effect on the SPIRIT of the whole session and the way in which I regard MYSELF as well as my sword.

 

     I remember when I attended elementary and high school, there were strict dress codes which were enforced by all of the teachers and staff.  Woe to anyone who violated the code and, being just a little rebellious, we loathed it.  But it had value.  Eventually, such codes were largely eschewed because parents complained about them and "student's rights."  So now we have kids attending school in clothes that look like they've been on the losing end of an Asian land war...and their attitudes match their clothing.  You rarely find kids who attend school in nice, conservative clothing getting low grades.

     As outside, so inside.

 

     We used to end class in the same way - by sitting and calming the spirit and preparing to go back out into the world, and evaluating what had been taught and learned.  Everyone had a chance to calm down and center him/her self before bowing and leaving.  It made a very real difference - not only in how students approached training and how well they absorbed the material and performed, but in numbers of students who regularly attended training.