MORSELS

 by Phillip Starr

At different times when I was studying under my gong-fu instructor, he'd drop what I call “morsels” for me to chew on. Some seemed rather small and seemed insignificant; I'd discover their real value later on. What was important was whether or not I noticed them, picked them up, and consumed them. He was always watching to see what I'd do. Some of my classmates would ignore these crumbs of information and those who did found fewer and fewer tidbits were dropped for them. They expected full-blown “meals” of a sort but they never got them...

Of course, I asked why such small crumbs were presented at different times; wouldn't it be more efficient to give me the whole meal? My sifu shook his head and frowned a bit as he replied, “No. I give you small pieces only when you are ready for them.” He went on the explain as best he could in English that to give me a whole meal would be like setting a full Thanksgiving dinner before a toddler whose teeth had not all come in yet. The youngster simply isn't physically capable of partaking of the sumptuous feast and even if he could, he's too young to truly appreciate it. He'd stuff his mouth full of everything that would fit – kind of like a hungry squirrel – and he'd fail to savor the various flavors of the different dishes.

The size of the morsels had to be just right (so I could physically “chew” and digest them without too much trouble) and they had to be dropped at the right time (age, in martial arts terms). And in the right sequence.

And so it is with my own students. Occasionally, one will ask, “Why didn't you mention this earlier?” I tell them that they weren't yet ready to hear it or physically able to do it. Then there are a few who allege, “You CHANGED it!” I calmly tell them that nothing has been changed; they're just seeing another aspect of what they've already learned. Further outbursts will put a quick end to any new morsels...

MASTERS FROM THE EAST?

 By Phillip Starr

I'm fairly sure that many of you, particularly those who've spend some considerable time in the martial arts, have met Eastern instructors whose behavior is certainly less than sterling (in fact, it's sometimes downright vile) and/or whose instruction is very poor. How, you may ask, can this happen? Well, we must first establish a couple of important points: First, there are plenty of jerks in positions of teaching authority in the martial arts who come from every race and ethnicity on earth. Martial arts seem to attract many people who have various emotional or psychological problems and far too many of them hang around long enough to acquire positions as teachers. The various psychoses and neuroses of these instructors from both East and West are wide and varied, but this isn't our subject.

Uncivil, even vile, behavior is not the exclusive domain of teachers from the East, so why accentuate their failings? Am I holding them to a different standard than those who hail from the West? No, I'm not. Not at all. Many people, however, consciously or unconsciously, do. And that's why I'm writing this article. I deplore all bad behavior, both in and out of the training hall, of all martial arts teachers and I have written considerably on the subject. I am focusing this article on Eastern teachers primarily because Westerners often have higher expectations of Eastern teachers because, after all, the martial disciplines that we aspire to learn came from their cultures and it is only natural to believe that they would have a deeper understanding of the arts and their goals, and exhibit a high standard of behavior. This isn't so say that such a belief is valid. Or even reasonable. But it is natural and common. And, in many cases, the Eastern teachers have buttressed that notion.

Teachers who sit as the leaders of virtually every major martial arts organization are presented as “masters” and unquestionable authority figures. Members of the groups who are from the West have often been told that they cannot really, truly, understand the profundity of their arts. Even so, the majority of Eastern teachers who head up these groups were shown the way to the pedestal by credulous, unquestioning students. In most instances, the teachers weren't at all hesitant to hop up onto those platforms.

How did it happen? Bear in mind that gong-fu, taekwondo, karate, modern judo and aikido, and kendo were not some ancient part of traditional Eastern life. They evolved rapidly in different cultures – in Japan after they adopted a constitutional monarchy and emerged into a modern nation, in China after the Cultural Revolution and it was found that there was a market in the West for martial arts, and in Korea during and after the Vietnam conflict. Sure, they existed prior to these times, but they weren't major parts of those cultures. In all cases, the average citizen enjoyed a higher standard of living and many were able, for the first time in their lives, able to pursue hobbies or avocations.

For the Japanese, the harsh realities of feudal life became a bit fuzzy and attained something of a glow of the nostalgic in so far as martial heroes are concerned. The Japanese were the first to bask in this glow...in the 1930's. By then, the nation had become very militaristic and the young men who engaged in martial arts training did so with a “gung-ho” spirit and very military attitude and style. Training was absolutely brutal and it all deeply affected those students (who would become martial arts leaders in the future) very deeply.

In China, adherence to Party policy was absolute. Fighting of any kind was strictly forbidden. It was a serious crime and any and all participants would quickly find themselves behind bars for engaging in anything of that sort. Sparring and other forms of practice fighting weren't illegal, per se...but they were watched closely by the police and nobody wanted to attract THEIR attention. So, the main focus was on practicing forms.

As recently as the 1990's, martial arts teachers in Korea weren't held in the highest esteem and I was told (by several Koreans) that most fathers would prefer that their daughter married a factory worker than a martial arts teacher. But it was a very different scene in the West, where Eastern martial arts instructors could make a good living and enjoy much high social status.

So, in the 60's when the first waves of martial arts teachers came West, they were regarded as “masters.” Some of them weren't even martial arts teachers but they still enjoyed the notoriety; I know of one Chinese gentleman (who was a high school teacher) who laid claim to being a “master” of “calligraphic gong-fu.” He'd have students waving their hands in the air, as if writing the characters for phrases such as “I love you.” And he had literally dozens of students!

The truly skilled teachers often had a rough go of it; homesick, in a foreign country and unable (or barely able) to speak the language, eating foreign food, often sleeping on the floor of the training hall, they were trying to teach part of their cultures to foreigners who had no understanding of them. It was terribly frustrating. So when it was suggested that they act as leaders of an organization, they naturally jumped at it.

Bear in mind that there are Western as well as Eastern leaders who have done and are still doing a remarkable job within their organizations. Just be careful about putting them on pedestals. We all know how that ends...

THE FLOATING BLOSSOM

 by Phillip Starr

I've previously addressed the subject of Westerners trying to “get” the essence of Chinese and Japanese martial arts many times and I've often spoken of the difficulties involved in trying to transmit a part of one culture into another many times...so many times that readers may believe that I think Westerners are all dumb as a stump when it comes to appreciating the deep, profound aspects of the martial Way. Not so at all. In fact, I tend to believe that the West offers people a greater potential for exploring other cultures than any other. For instance, I know Americans who can spot a genuine 16^th century katana from a block away, who are knowledgable about every step of its creation, and who are skilled in its use. But I don't know a single Chinese person who has similar qualifications for, say, Appalachian folk pottery. Are there many (or any) corresponding experts in Japan on the weapons and tactics of the American Revolution? I really doubt it.

So, I have no quarrel with the West but I do have a contention...that it is very difficult to truly understand some aspects of a foreign culture and that misunderstandings, which are quite frequent, are liable to have unexpected and undesirable consequences. This is true when Westerners try to delve deeply into an Eastern subject, and it also happens when Easterners try to master a Western art...

“Many students practice faithfully and train very hard but I wonder if they really have a feel for it” and “It's impressive on the surface but it's actually rather shallow” are quotes you might think that I've made about Westerners struggling to learn the martial ways of the East. But actually, they're made by musicians speaking about Western music...as it's played in Japan!

Western music is hugely popular in Japan as well as China. There are at least a dozen professional symphonies in Tokyo alone. Products from soap to beer often use Western music in advertising and every high school in Japan has a classical orchestra. Pieces from Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart are as well known to the Japanese as any native composer. And it's not just the adults; Japanese symphony halls seem to attract large numbers of young people as well. It would seem that classical Western music (as well as more contemporary types) have been assimilated and adopted into Japanese and Chinese culture but if you look deeper, you get a different perspective...

Numerous critics note that much of the time (especially in the case of younger folks), concerts are more about socializing than enjoying and appreciating the music. They also complain that Japanese and Chinese performers are too mechanical. Their music, although technically correct, never shows any individuality. One critic noted that his countrymen didn't seem to have any strong opinions about the music they play. A music professor at a well-known university (one that specializes in teaching Western music) compared classical music in the East (or at least his country) to a blossom floating on a pond. He said of this subject, “It's big and beautiful...but it has no roots.”

Interesting...many of the same criticism that I've made about Westerners trying to master the martial ways are made by Eastern critics regarding Western music that's been imported to their cultures.

Many Western martial art devotees stress that martial arts transcend culture and they dismiss the native cultures of the arts they practice as, at best, a superfluidity. In a sense, they're correct; the movements, lessons, and spiritual path provided by the martial ways are open to all who are sincere and dedicated. However, they are wrong to insist that the attendant culture of their chosen arts carry no weight. For instance, a Westerner who's been raised in a culture deeply colored by Christianity (even though he may not be a Christian himself) has a different “feel” for music that was inspired and composed in the paradigm of that culture. The religion that inspired the music influences it. The culture in which a piece of music was written and played for centuries had a great influence on more than just the notes and composition; a familiarity with that religion and a lifelong conversance with the culture that spawned it provide insight and perspective on the music that is extremely difficult for someone not similarly equipped.

So, does this mean that an ensemble in Grand Island, Nebraska will automatically perform Bach's minuet better than one in Kyoto or Shanghai? Not likely. It means simply that the people in Nebraska would have a perception and shared aspects of the music that would be difficult for a foreigner to grasp. That doesn't mean it's impossible...just more difficult. It's very ignorant to assume that one's race or place of birth somehow conveys a special, privileged power for mastering or even understanding various aspects of a given culture. At the same time, it is very arrogant to believe that each of us is automatically equal in grasping various other cultures of the planet.

This is a challenge we face in trying to master the traditional martial ways. But the obstacles we face aren't insurmountable; we're not doomed to never “get” the real thing and penetrate its depths. But we must admit that the parent culture of these arts is considerably different from our own and we must understand that the influences of the parental culture(s) have not been slight or incidental. We don't come to class with a set of “cultural decoders” that break down the barriers that stand in our way. It's a daunting task...more formidable than those faced by Japanese or Chinese musicians trying to get to the heart of Bach. Are you up to it?

FORMS AS TRAINING TOOLS

 by Phillip Starr

Serious martial artists are always looking for new ways to improve their training and performance. Typically, most of them look into the latest up-to-date technologies. It is sad that so many folks see their world only in a linear progression; the past is something to be tossed away or maybe improved upon. Only the future holds lessons of any worth to them.

I'm not saying that many newer innovations (that can be used in martial arts training) have little or no value, but those who follow the ancient path of the martial Way know that many of the most valuable lessons and tools come from the past. For instance, a practitioner of karate, taekwondo, or gong-fu may recognize the value of his forms in some respects but he may not necessarily be aware that these routines can be used as an excellent type of aerobic training tool.

The usual approach to a form is to do it with the correct speed, focus, rhythm, and power one or more times. Sometimes it is repeated several times, especially if the repertoire is rather limited. Other training sessions may ask for the performance of each form, one after another. These methods are fine and are probably the only ways to learn the form's “shell” (outer movements) and memorize them, and the form's place within the curriculum of the style. Once it's been well-learned, however, it can be used as a training device.

For instance, select a single, simple form that doesn't involve a great many movements and do it at the usual speed but without any real power or focus...25 times. That may sound easy enough, but by the time you get to 15 or so reps, it gets a bit challenging. Don't stop...as soon as it's been completed, do it again. If you manage to finish, you'll have a deeper understanding of it and you'll see how a form can be used as an excellent tool for building stamina!

There's another way of doing it. Once it's been thoroughly learned, do the first two or so movements. Forms tend to begin with a defensive movement, which is followed by an offensive action. Do these movements 10 times in a row, then go to the next defensive-offensive sequence and do the same thing. As you focus on doing these small portions of the set, you'll begin to notice things that, in ordinary practice, you have overlooked...what part of your body moves first... are you turning your head so that you can clearly see your enemy before you defend against the attack? Does your knee turn into the technique to drive the hip forward?

This kind of practice quickly becomes exhausting but the kind of physical challenge it offers is a bit different from that of performing the whole thing without force. Both of these methods of practice illustrate how your forms can be used as training tools. They shouldn't replace your regular form training and they're not meant to. But you can use them to expand your appreciation of what a valuable facet of your art they are.

THE FISHBOWL

 by Phillip Starr

There's a saying that tells us, “A fish grows according to the size of its container.” Fish that are kept in small fishbowls don't get very large. Those kept in larger aquariums can become much larger. And so it is with the martial ways. When I was much younger, one of my taijiquan teachers (a fine Chinese gentleman whose taiji was a joy to watch and I'll just call him Bing) determined that he would enter a local tournament – in Chicago (!!!) - and show them just what gong-fu was all about. He was accomplished not only in taiji, but seven-star praying mantis and long fist (changquan) as well. He had no idea what he was up against, but I did and I tried to warn him. He thought karate was a weak martial art and he'd show them some genuine skill. When the sparring competition began, I saw many of my friends – all karate practitioners – and I warmly greeted them. This upset my taiji teacher a bit and when it came time for him to compete, he happily jumped into the ring.

Now, this was long before the invention of hand and foot pads worn today AND it was Chicago...their tournaments were notoriously violent and bloody in those days of the early 1970's. The two contestants bowed and the contest was on full tilt rock 'n roll. Bing's opponent's backfist smacked him fully in the face. He hadn't even seen it coming and his hands hadn't moved at all. The point was given to the attacker. Bing got up from the floor and settled into his fighting stance again...and was immediately knocked down with another backfist! The match was over and Bing's confidence in his fighting skill was so badly shaken that I had a tough time convincing him not to give up taiji and his gong-fu. But I did quickly convince him that he needed to get a “bigger bowl.”

I remember one karate instructor who told me that fighting Shotokan (a form of Japanese karate) stylists was easy because they always attacked in a straight line, leaving their flanks exposed. I asked how many Shotokan stylists he'd fought. You guessed it; he'd never squared off with one. Ever. I told him that they were darned tough and very dangerous because, although they do tend to attack directly forward, they're incredibly fast and their attacks are truly overwhelming. But he'd grown up in a small fishbowl. He didn't know any better. He found out. Painfully.

In those days, there was quite a riff going on between gong-fu and karate stylists. Much of it was created and maintained by the martial arts magazines of the day to promote higher sales. It worked, too. I met numerous karate practitioners who were convinced that gong-fu stylists were all about fluff and looking fancy, but couldn't fight their way out of a group of Girl Scouts. Many of them found out how wrong they were when they had to square off against the likes of John Morrow (one of my students), James Cook, Al Dacascos, or – God forbid – Tayari Casel (who is the fastest human being I've ever met).

I was fortunate in being able to train in Judo prior to taking up gong-fu. Later, I would study Kyokushin, and Shito-ryu karate (two Japanese forms; Shito-ryu is a close cousin to Shotokan) while I was also studying Chinese martial arts. Many years later I trained in Jeet Kune Do, too. I was curious. I took up Iaido in my mid-sixties and still practice it. I recall my gong-fu teacher, W. C. Chen, telling me that most gong-fu teachers, although they taught one particular discipline, almost always had trained in other forms as well. He himself, had studied not only the three neijia, but also Baixingquan (a form of shaolinquan), and Hung-Ga.

Over the decades that I've been involved in the martial arts, I've met many practitioners – students and instructors alike – who ridiculed various martial forms without ever having had any direct contact with them. Such people live in very small fishbowls.

THE FAMILY TREE

 by Phillip Starr

One of my editors wrote to me, asking for a few paragraphs about me to be used on the back cover of one of my books, so I fired off some information that I thought was adequate. I listed the name(s) of my shifu, and his teacher, and his teacher. I listed the traditional martial disciplines that I have studied and listed a few of the exponents of those forms who had descended from the same lineage I had, along with some of their accomplishments. Any serious martial arts enthusiast can rattle off his lineage until the average listener is ready to slit his own wrists, so I skipped over quite a bit of information in the hopes of saving space. I figured my editor would find it more than sufficient.

Not. She wrote back, saying that although what I'd sent was very informative, she wanted to know more about ME and who I am. I replied and said that where I came from IS who I am... The importance of lineage is often a difficult concept for Westerners (as well as modern Chinese and Japanese) to really grasp. Reading through magazines and books concerning the martial arts, you'll find plenty of stories about well-known tournament champions or teachers that contain almost no information about who their teachers were. In fact, it's rare to find even one of these popular practitioners who can name his teacher's teacher (his martial arts “grandfather”).

This kind of attitude (in America, anyway) may have to do with our singular sense of identity; one of the great things about America is that it offers us the chance to become our own person, regardless of ancestry...the “self-made” man/woman. But in terms of the martial ways, identifying ourselves must be tempered with an awareness of our (martial) past. In a very real sense, one's merit is largely determined by one's pedigree. It has always been this way in the East. At the same time, having come from a renowned lineage doesn't guarantee that one necessarily has high skill or is a good person; there have been some fairly sleazy types who have descended from very highly regarded lineages...

However, if you tell me that you are, say, a 5^th dan in some system of karate or that you trained gong-fu regularly for a lengthy period, and you tell me the name of your teacher(s), and I recognize those names and know them to be teachers of high quality, I have at least some idea of how hard you can punch. This is certainly a faster way of determing level of skill than asking for a demonstration.

Most importantly, the reason our martial arts ancestries are so important has little to do with etsablishing ur reputations or proving our abilities...rather, the provides us with a real sense of who we are and gives us a certain self-awareness. Isn't this why so many people nowadays are digging through old records to determine where an ancestor died during the Civil War and so forth? Although our society has long looked to the future for its sense of well-being and fulfillment, many seem to be digging into the past to help them better understand their world and themselves. The martial ways are no different.

Since the arts were introduced to the West, we've been busy making changes to this and that in an effort to “improve” them. But many interested practitioners now seem to understand that all of this has only traded a priceless knowledge and understanding of the past for a rather uncertain future that has no real roots. They have begun to look into their lineages and the history that created the arts they practice.

I have met some practitioners who tell me that their forms were closely-guarded “secrets”, which is why they're not better known. In so far as Japanese martial ways are concerned, this is largely impossible; the many daimyo (lords) who maintained fiefs throughout that country ensured that they KNEW every form of martial art practiced therein. They dared not allow any “secret” styles to develop for fear of an uprising. This is why the lineages of the numerous ryu are readily available to anyone who cares enough to do the research.

As for China, there were arts that were taught only to members of certain families and not disseminated among the people. Such forms are exceedingly rare, however. And even so, a teacher of such a form should be easily able to provide a lineage.

Our lineage provides us with a structure and form and just as we are influenced by it, those of us who live in its shadow will strive to embody the soundness of the geneology that is behind us. It's who we are.