THE BOW

by Phillip Starr

*Partially excerpted from “The Making of a Butterfly” by the author

Contrary to what many people believe, China is not “the land of bowing.” That title is reserved primarily for Japan. This is not to say that the Chinese don't bow; they do, when they intend to show deep respect or thanks. It is a beautiful convention that has, unfortunately, been forgotten in the Occident where it was once fairly common.

In Japanese, Okinawan, and Korean martial arts schools it is customary to bow when walking onto or leaving the training floor, when addressing a teacher, and many schools do it when the instructor enters or leaves the training area.

I remember a day many moons ago when I learned the real significance of the bow. My classmates and I trained in the basement and backyard of our teacher's home and although Chinese martial arts schools generally don't require students to bow to the training area, I did (mostly because I also trained in Kyokushin and Shito-ryu karate and I was accustomed to doing it). It had become an unconscious habit that my teacher, W.C. Chen, eventually came to appreciate.

As I stepped from the basement stairs onto the floor, I quickly bowed and walked in. Being in a bit of a hurry to start warming up, I actually just nodded my head. Before I'd made it ten feet, my sifu motioned for me to approach him. As I did so, he said, “You did not bow when you entered the room.”

I thought that maybe he'd missed it because it was quite slight. “Yes I did, sifu.”

He became stern and replied, “That was not a bow. Try again.” He waved me back to the stairway. I bowed more deeply this time but it didn't satisfy him. “That's not a bow”, he said.

Okay. I was a bit confused. WHY wasn't the deeper bow correct?

He motioned for me to approach him again and then swept his arm across the room. “When you bow, you are honoring those who have gone before you and who have given us this art. This is where you will develop yourself and grow (up).”

Turning to face me, he continued, “You must be reverent because this is where you will learn to save your life! You must always train seriously, as if your life depends on it...because it does! So, you must always be serious when you bow.” I was taken aback a bit. I'd never looked at it that way.

Addressing the other students who were eavesdropping, he said, “And all of you must humble yourselves here. You are here to learn and if you cannot be humble, you cannot learn. If you have a big (swelled) head, then you have an empty head and an empty heart. So be serious; be humble.”



He turned back to me and continued, “You will teach this art someday and you must be even more serious than your students. You must be more humble, too. A real teacher is this way because he knows the why and not just the how.”

CHANGING WITH THE TIMES?

By Phillip Starr

I once read a statement made by a popular martial arts teacher that said he hoped that his art would continue to grow and change with the times. That made me sit back and wonder if he really understood the implications of his words. And what, exactly, is meant by “changing with the times?”

As citizens of the 21^st century, we like to think of ourselves as being fairly contemporary and “forward thinking.” Certainly, as our world becomes more modernized, many industries have found it essential to “change with the times.” We need only glance at modern medicine, the car industry, and state-of-the-art computer technology to understand the need and subsequent demand for what is “new and improved.”

Of course, we all know that just because something is labeled as being “new and improved” doesn't necessarily mean that it's good for you or for the environment. Oftentimes, what seemed like a good idea at the time sows the seeds of a disastrous future. This is certainly true of the martial disciplines that we practice.

On the sporting side of these arts, we've seen many changes over the years. I remember when the first hand and foot pads were introduced and I warned everyone that using these “new and improved” devices would ultimately result in a deterioration of our arts. No one listened. The results are now painfully obvious; real technique has, for the most part, been tossed by the wayside and a tap on the head is now scored as an effective “point.” Competitors have no real notion of what “control” means and the (combative) concept of distance has been all but completely obfuscated.

On the more practical side, we've seen some fairly dramatic changes. There are those who insist on training in military-style camouflage attire, complete with combat boots. They regard the traditional training uniform as old-fashioned and unrealistic. There are many who, being unable to “read the books” (understand the forms) that are used in the art(s) in which they have trained, throw them out the window and refer to them as being little more than “dances” or forms of exercise.

“Times change”, they tell us. “So, the martial arts must change with them.” I agree that times change. The first part of such a statement is silly. OF COURSE times change! So, I would ask just what they mean when they say that “times change.” Are they inferring that people fight differently now than they did several hundred years ago? I doubt the validity of such a statement; none of us can really answer that question because we weren't plodding around this planet back then. Yes, I agree that the advent of the firearm certainly changed the situation to some degree but a number of well-qualified martial arts instructors have developed effective defensive maneuvers that can be employed against these kinds of weapons. Knives and bludgeons haven't changed much, nor have fists and feet.

I believe that the martial ways are just as valid today as they were several millennia ago. Sure, we've made some improvements in training equipment (although some of the older versions are actually superior to their more modernized cousins). We've improved teaching and training routines; back in the old days, students often learned by rote. They simply imitated the movements of their instructors without the benefits of being provided many of the small details and being permitted to ask questions. But is there a need to change the techniques and the traditional forms? I don't think so. Not at all.

They work just as well now as they ever did. They've survived the test of time; just because something is old doesn't means that it needs to be changed.

AS A MAN THINKETH

by Phillip Starr

    As we enjoy our practice of our chosen martial disciplines we tend to get caught up in what I call the "punch-kick" mentality. That is, we’re looking at the outside of what we do and not thinking much about anything else. It’s kind of like driving your car and being overly-concerned with how it looks as opposed to what’s going on inside; how it should work compared to how it’s working at the present time (that’s usually too scary to contemplate), and what makes it work in the first place – or even what can be done to make it work better.

     The Buddha once said, "As a man thinketh, so he is…" Truer words were never spoken although most of us, after hearing these words, simply acknowledge their profundity and then go on with our lives and training as usual.

     Some time ago a former student of mine who has taken up iaido and kendo said she happened to open up a book written by Mr. Dave Lowry entitled, "Autumn Lightning." She looked at the page before her and read about how Mr. Lowry’s iaido teacher (a Japanese gentleman who was teaching at a nearby university) insisted that his iaido pupil learn to speak Japanese. This, he said, was essential if one was to understand the true spirit of the art. And he was right.

     You see, we’re brought up to speak American (we don’t speak English; the British speak English and believe me, it’s a bit different than the American version) and the result is that we unconsciously learn to think in American. This can be a real problem when we’re presented with (foreign) concepts for which our language has no word or phrase. Not only is it difficult for us to find an appropriate American word or phrase to match to the foreign tongue, it’s often impossible to IMAGINE the concept in the first place because it doesn’t fit into our language/thought processes!

     The most ready example is the word qi (“ki” in Japanese). There simply is no American/English equivalent for this concept and the end result is that many of us completely misunderstand the whole idea! And we get charlatans trying to prove that they can knock people over without touching them and generally playing "Star Trek" with their bare hands…

     Or shen (“shin” in Japanese), which we roughly translate as "spirit" but that’s not quite right. And yi, which is often translated as "intention" or "mind" but the real meaning goes much deeper than that… I believe that language impacts the way in which we think (and subsequently act). It can also limit the way in which we (are able to) think…and this can lead to misunderstandings about the arts that we practice; how they should be practiced and what makes them tick.

     Let’s take the word "yi." It is written with two radicals, one above the other. One radical means "sound" and the other means "heart." In traditional Chinese medicine, it is believed that the heart houses the emotions and what we call "mind" (not the brain). So if you take a little time to consider what this means, it can change the way you feel about the word "yi." Those of you who practice a martial art such as Xingyiquan may acquire a finer understanding of what the name implies.

     Xingyi is usually translated as "Form/Shape of the Mind" but once you understand the FEELING behind the word for mind (yi), it can change your understanding of the name of the art and how it’s intended to be practiced.

     The word Xing is usually translated as "form, shape, pattern." It can also mean "image." That has a slightly different implication than "form." Moreover, the Japanese/Okinawan pronunciation for (the character) Xing is…KATA (for you taekwondo stylists, it is "Hyung")!

     So it really helps if you learn, at least to some degree, how to speak the language of the culture in which your particular art was developed, and to read some of it as well. Most westerners are loathe to do this and consider it too much of a bother. But the fact is, if you truly want to understand your art more fully, you need to spend some time immersing yourself in its culture – and that includes language.

     But there’s more.

     Consider mathematics. I always hated math. But my teacher, Master W.C. Chen, once told me that the reason mathematics is so heavily emphasized in school has little to do with whether or not we’ll ever use algebraic equations as we go through life…it’s because mathematics is a language! And just as the languages we learn to speak impact the way we think, mathematics teaches us new and different ways of analyzing and thinking.

     Many years later my own father would echo these same words. "Math teaches you to think in a certain way," he said. It would be some years before I fully understood what he meant.

     If we learn only one "language", as it were, our "way" of thinking is very limited. By learning more languages, we develop our mental faculties more fully.

      My teacher, Master W. C. Chen told me that individual techniques are like words. Combinations of techniques are like sentences and paragraphs. A bad combination – one in which the techniques do not flow smoothly – is like a badly written sentence. Good combinations are like fine poetry and our forms are books, being comprised of many sentences and paragraphs.

      Moreover, each form teaches us to think in a certain way! Each one is different; it has its own sentences and spirit (like a "style" of writing, no?). Your forms may use many of the same words but the sentences and the style of writing are very different. A comma here, and semi-colon there, parentheses over here (and what’s inside those parentheses?), indentations for paragraphs, and so on.

     It’s a book! At first you learn to read it like you did when you first learned to read. For me, back in the days of covered wagons, we used the old "Dick and Jane" readers; incredibly boring and stupid stories which everyone read aloud in a REALLY boring monotone with no emphasis on any particular words or phrases… Then as you become more literate and you can read with greater skill, your form (your recitation of the book) takes on more meaning and life! And as you continue to practice it, that form will teach you to think in a certain way!

     This is very important. Very. Important. Go back and re-read that last paragraph.


    It’s the same thing when you first learn to play a musical instrument. You can’t possibly start off with the classical, complex, highbrow stuff. On a piano, you have to learn the keyboard and start with really simple, boring stuff…but there’s more to it than just memorizing keys and melodies. You’re learning to think in a new way! And when you learn to play a particular piece of music you learn another way of thinking and hearing and tasting and experiencing and BEING the music.

    Then you move on to another piece to expand your understanding and learn to think in yet another way. Music is, after all, a LANGUAGE! Like math. They’re much the same thing.
And as you learn more "languages", you are better able to express yourself and you are better able to understand others!

     Remember, as you think…

A DICHOTOMY

by Phillip Starr

     Here's something to consider.  Ask any practitioner of kung-fu, karate, jujutsu, or aikido why they practice their chosen martial art.  Although some will tell you that they do it to stay fit, the vast majority will say that they train for reasons of self-defense.  If you observe the classes in which they participate, you'll see that the training is largely focused on practical applications of the various techniques to self-defense situations.  Some training will feature very old and seemingly pointless practice such as forms...but the instructor can quickly demonstrate how the movements of the various forms can be easily applied on the street.

     Now, most of you know that aside from my daily practice of Yiliquan, I also try to get in some time to practice iaido.  And I can see the look of confusion on some faces out there...why would the old man practice stuff like that?

     Well, why would anybody?

     I will probably not get up tomorrow morning, throw on a hakama, slip my katana into my obi (belt; sash), and saunter down the road looking to right society's wrongs and being a champion of the downtrodden.  Nope.  I will likely never (again) get into a sword fight or have to draw my blade and cut down some nasty enemy who intends to do me harm.

     And it is for these very reasons that my practice of iaido is important to me!

     Okay.  Now I see even more confusion.  Why would I practice a highly ritualized, moderately-paced art which has no obvious "street application?"  The fact is that, because iaido has no modern self-defense applications, it provides an ideal environment in which to refine one's mind and spirit; to strengthen and discipline them.

     Well, isn't this also done in kung-fu training?  And karate, jujutsu, and aikido? 

     Although most martial arts that still retain practical self-defense applications are supposed to emphasize these qualities, the fact is that the majority of one's time is spent developing actual combative skills.  This is jutsu. 

     In the practice of something like iaido, there is no concern about developing practical combat skill...because it's never going to happen.  I'm never going to have to use my sword in battle.  I can't even practice with a partner because in iaido training, one uses a live blade.  And this is the art's greatest attribute!  ALL of my attention can be focused on refining my mind and spirit because I don't have to concern myself with the possibility that I'm ever going to have to use this art in combat.  That is do.

     Everything, from the standing position prior to bowing, to sitting (when my arthritis acts up, I practice standing), to inserting the sword into the belt to the draw and cut and blood cleaning and replacing the sword into the scabbard - everything must be done just so.  It took some time to just learn how to tie the sageo (cord attached to the scabbard) to my belt!

     I sit and relax and focus on correct breathing.  I keep One-Point.  I prepare to rise up and execute the draw...but, no.  Spirit isn't right.  Can't do it yet.  Focus!  Don't think about it.  In trying NOT to think about it, I'm thinking about it...so it's not right.  I can feel that it isn't right yet...

     Focus.  Relax.  One-Point.  Focus.  Focus.

     Zip!  And it happens.  The draw is complete.  Rats.  Cutting edge is off just a hair.  OK.  I still go through the formal, ritualized movements of completing the kata and replacing the sword in the scabbard...

     Now let's try this again.  Relax.  Focus...

     And so it goes, over and over.  I think I can do the first kata known as Mae (shohatto) fairly well now.  It's been a long time since I started working on it.  It looks like it consists of only a very few simple movements; come up to one knee and draw the blade out in a horizontal cut, then grasp it with both hands and advance one foot (still kneeling) and make an overhead cut.  Stand up partway and perform the chiburi (blood cleaning) to sling the funk off the blade, then do a "change back" step and re-sheathe the sword.  Keep zanshin and kneel back down.  Sounds simple enough.  And if you watch a master do it, it looks pretty basic.  But like everything else in martial arts, it isn't.  I practice the other kata but this first one has my full attention.  It's the most basic one and has to be mastered before the others can really be done properly.

     So I am a beginner again.  But I know where I'm going and how to get there.

     The refinement of mind and spirit gained from iaido practice is naturally carried over into my Yiliquan practice.  This would no doubt horrify most, if not all, of my kung-fu counterparts...a kung-fu teacher practicing a Japanese martial art (especially involving the sword) to refine his kung-fu?  Ridiculous!  And heretical, too.

     Yeah, well...I also practice a roundhouse kick (which is distinctly Japanese), eat sushi, and teach Japanese-style breakfalls.  I've also borrowed techniques from Muay Thai, learned from fine Okinawan karate masters (as well as Japanese), and use a number of two-man qigong training exercises found in aikido.

     So what?  It all works.  The object is to learn and develop skill. 

     There is a Japanese story that tells of two young samurai who were good friends.  They were about to embark on their musha shugyo; the travels through which many young warriors took to develop and refine their skills.  They agreed to meet on the bank of the river exactly twelve years later if they survived their quests.

     Sure enough, on that same day twelve years later, the two men approached each other.  However, they had approached the river on it's opposite side and it had flooded.  One man made a spectacular leap which far exceeded the skill of even today's Olympic hopefuls.  His great jump easily carried him over the swollen river.  The other samurai walked downstream a distance and paid a boatman to ferry him across the water.  What it took one man many years to develop was effectively accomplished by the other man for the price of five cents.

     Similarly, if one is interested only in being able to defend oneself, why not purchase a firearm and obtain a permit to carry it?  So you have to first ensure that your training goals are worthwhile.

     In the ancient art of iaijutsu, there is a saying that tells us, "Kachi wa saya no naka ni ari."  So there.

     For those whose Japanese is rusty, it means, "Victory comes while the sword is (still) in ths scabbard."  Physical skills alone, no matter how refined and strong, are simply not enough.  There is always someone who is stronger, someone who is faster, someone who has a better technique or dirty trick.

     Goliath had the advantage of strength but David had the advantage of spirit.  Goliath figured he had this little Jewish kid in the bag, but David was determined to win at all costs.

     The higher purpose of iaijutsu (and its grandchild, iaido), is to foster the development of the mind and spirit of a warrior; an attitude and strength of character that wins the battle before it even begins.  This is not easy to achieve and requires a great deal of training.  Attitudes of jealousy, greed, anger, selfishness, and hate must be eliminated because they are counter-productive and self-destructive; they inhibit the development of real skill.

     Another story relates how an iaijutsu teacher told his student to sit facing him.  The young man did so and the instructor told him that he was to draw his sword as quickly as possible and attack with all of his strength and speed.  The young man sat in front of the master and prepared to execute his fastest technique, but he could not.  Every time he prepared to move, something held him back.   He knew he would fail.  Finally, he told his teacher that he could not do it; he could find no opening into which he could move.  This is how one wins without emptying the scabbard.

     Now, I'm not necessarily advocating that you begin the regular practice of iaido.  But I hope you can glean something of value from this lecture and apply it to your training.

ABSORB WHAT IS USEFUL...

by Phillip Starr

One of the very worst pieces of advice ever given to the martial arts community at large came from the lips of Bruce Lee.

"Absorb what is useful,

Reject what is useless,

Add what is specifically your own."

Determining just what is useful and what isn't is quite a daunting task and one that should be examined closely. After all, a goodly number of today's so-called "mixed martial arts" crowd as well as followers of numerous eclectic martial ways state very clearly that traditional martial arts aren't entirely applicable to modern combat or combat at all. They believe that numerous techniques that are taught within the traditional martial arts either don't work very well or, in some cases, not at all. This, they say, is why they have chosen to follow their "own paths."

Executing a correct reverse punch, front snap kick, kotegaeshi, or o-soto-gari is a pretty daunting task for most raw beginners who have had little or no previous martial arts training. The new student can spend hours working on any one of these techniques for a whole month and it still is practically worthless in a real fight. The reason why is obvious; to develop any technique so that it is truly usable requires a great deal of practice over a period of time! There are no short cuts. My teacher said that developing effective technique is like making tea. It can't be hurried and any attempt to do so will only ruin the drink.

It would be easy but very premature and terribly foolish for the novice to simply dismiss these fundamental techniques as being "useless." The same holds true for other, more advanced techniques that he or she will eventually learn. I'm sure that you've encountered techniques that just didn't work at first. I know I have. Still do. But with patience, some introspection, and lots of practice you've been able to see how they should be done, where your mistakes were, and suddenly they become functional!

When you learn a technique that doesn't seem to work well for you, ask yourself, "why?" What are you doing wrong? Sometimes the error lies in the physical execution of the technique but sometimes it is hidden in a less obvious place. Maybe it's your timing that's off - and that can be indicative of a mental/psychological error or block of some kind, can't it? Perhaps it's your approach to the application of the technique or your approach (physical, mental, or even spiritual) towards your training "opponent." Regardless, the error is thine. Find it and correct it. Sometimes it's the finding of the error that corrects it.

I was recently reading a book wherein the author stated that a particular movement in a basic karate form was placed there by its creator to show future students why they should NOT execute a particular technique. Seriously. It involved Pinan San (aka. "Heian Sandan)...the questioned technique involves a lunging spear-hand. This is followed by a backward pivot which is made while the performer folds his arm behind his back in the manner of a "hammerlock." The book's author believes that Master Itosu (who created the five Pinan katas) was showing students that if they tried to execute this kind of spear-hand thrust, the opponent could wrap them up in a hammerlock. The succeeding movement then shows how to escape from that particular elbow twist.

How absolutely absurd! Why would any martial arts master bother to teach students incorrect technique through a kata? This idea is beyond ridiculous. Obviously, the author never bothered to study the bunkai (interpretation) of this particular kata in any depth...Rather than do that, he came up with a wild conclusion that Itosu was warning students not to perform a particular technique in a certain way. Were that true, it would be possible to formulate an almost endless kata based on "what not to do..."

To say that techniques of the traditional martial arts are not effective (in self-defense) is a blatant display of one's own ignorance, and perhaps, one's unwillingness to put in the required practice (which is a nice way of saying "lazy"). In days long since past, professional warriors (e.g., policemen, soldiers, bodyguards, and their teachers) relied on these arts for their very survival. Back then, it was pretty easy to determine if a given technique worked. If it didn't, you died. Those who developed techniques that didn't work took their failures with them to their graves. For the most part, we'll never know what they were.

The techniques that did work are still with us to this day. If they didn't work, they would have been buried long ago. So, to say that the surviving traditional techniques don't really work is, in my opinion, a statement made by someone who has never learned genuine traditional technique...or who is unwilling, for one reason or another, to put in the time and training required to develop effective technique.

Beginning piano students dare not say that the classics are worthless and no longer functional! The masters who contributed to the creation of the traditional martial disciplines are our Bachs, Beethovens, and Mozarts. 

To truly understand a technique and how it should be performed correctly requires at least 10,000 repetitions. In karate or kung-fu this isn't terribly difficult, considering that you can easily practice 100 punches each day. In 100 days you should be able to perform the technique correctly, more or less. That doesn't mean it can't be improved, though.

But that's not the same as making it workable. To be able to perform a technique effectively in combat requires much more practice. You see, the effectiveness of a given technique, whether it's a punch, a kick, a joint twist or throw from aikido or judo...involves much more than just being able to perform the physical aspects of the technique correctly. Much. More.

Back when I trained in forms of Japanese karate, I could not, for the life of me, get a roundhouse kick to work. Actually, it took MONTHS before I figured out how to do it correctly. I guess I just had a mental block and I couldn't imagine how to do it...but once I was able to throw a roundhouse kick, I couldn't figure out how such a kick would ever be useful in fighting! I suppose Bruce Lee would have told me to reject it because, as far as I was concerned, it was pretty useless...

Then came Baguazhang. At first glance, this art seems to have about as much in common with combat as a fish does to a bicycle. It would have been all too easy to simply toss it away as being some sort of pointless, flowery, Chinese bilge water. But I didn't. I stuck with it and studied it...in depth. I examined it carefully, examined myself, examined its strange footwork and body movements...and I practiced and then when I was sick of it, I practiced some more. And when I had problems making it work (which was pretty much all the time, at first), I stayed with it and figured out WHY I was having problems.

In any given martial discipline, at least a decade (or more) is required if one wants to truly understand the art. The problem is that most Westerners don't want to spend that much time in training. They want "instant martial arts." We're accustomed to having "instant food" (which isn't really food), "instant entertainment", and now we want "instant martial arts." But there isn't such an animal...never was, and never will be.

So, rather than absorbing what you find immediately useful and rejecting what you think is useless, just ABSORB.

DO WHAT YOU CANNOT DO

by Phillip Starr

“Do what you cannot possibly do.

Make the impossible possible.”

-Masutatsu Oyama

          Founder of Kyokushin karate

I first heard those words many, many years ago and I took them to heart. Martial arts were my great passion and they remain so to this day. I wanted to push the envelope; to see just how far I could go. I read about numerous masters of times past and determined that I would do what they'd done. After all, they weren't gods; they were men just like me. If they could do it, I could do it.

Many of you are probably shaking your heads and thinking, “What a fool... That's a fine way to get hurt very badly. Or killed. You were certainly a very foolish young man.” And looking back on those days, I'd have to agree with you. But I wasn't stupid.

I read about the legendary “arrow catch”, which is an extremely dangerous technique that involves catching an arrow in mid-flight. The legendary “godhand”, Master Masutatsu Oyama, said that of 1,000 students, only one or two would attempt to learn such a technique. And of the 1,000 who set out to perform it, only a couple who be successful. It kind of makes you wonder what happened to the 998 who failed, doesn't it? But I didn't consider that. I was never much good at math, anyway.

I was still in college and young enough to think that I was invincible; that I could be one of the “one or two” who would succeed. “If they can do it, I can do it”, I thought. One of my students was a very skilled archer who owned a good recurved bow and he agreed to work with me, We spent months practicing together. Eventually, I would face him at the opposite end of a basketball court. An arrow-net was placed behind me to prevent arrows from striking the walls of the old college gym. Just as he released the arrow, I'd pivot and catch it.

This isn't something that can be accomplished after only a couple of weeks of practice. I may have been foolhardy but I wasn't stupid. We started out by having me simply stand off to one side and observe how quickly the arrows passed by me. Then I would reach out and try to grab them. It was a slow and gradual process that required some considerable time. I would go on to demonstrate this technique at several demonstrations.

I also wanted to test myself by breaking large stones. Starting with very small ones, I eventually succeeded in cutting a 25 lb. stone with my sword-hand. My hand shook uncontrollably for three days but I was pleased that I had accomplished what I'd set out to do. I continued to train until I could shatter a “paver” brick (which is a little more than an inch thick) with my fingertips and split a coconut with a single blow.

Now, I'm not bragging. I've never been one to indulge in self-aggrandizement. I've never had much time for people who do. The point of this short essay is simply this; although what I pushed myself to do was often very dangerous, it had a very profound impact on my mind and spirit. Martial arts isn't just about learning some exotic forms of kicking and punching; it's also about pushing yourself beyond what you perceive as your limits. It's about setting goals and then going beyond them. If you mindlessly practice a few punches and kicks once or twice a week, you're not really practicing martial arts; you're dancing. Without proper spirit, martial arts devolve into little more than some nifty-looking calisthenics.

Certainly, I'm not suggesting that you run to the nearest sporting goods store and purchase a good bow and a handful of arrows or drive through the countryside until you can find a 20 lb. stone. After all, techniques such as the arrow-catch are fraught with danger and anyone who aspires to do them must train very carefully and gradually. You must push yourself slowly, step by step. Remember that when I trained to perform these things I was young, in excellent physical condition (I suppose my mental condition could be called questionable), and I had practiced martial arts for a very long time.

What I'm suggesting is that you strive to push yourself past your “limits.” After all, it's YOU who set those limits in the first place! It's going to take some considerable work and sweat to get to the very edge of your limits... and then it'll require more than just sweat to go beyond them; it's going to take time, guts, and belief in yourself.

BABY STEPS

by Phillip Starr

Although the term, "kung-fu" (also, "gongfu"), serves as a generic term for Chinese martial arts, use of the term in that regard is actually a misnomer. As most of you already know, "kung-fu" refers to a fine, high level of skill that is developed over a period of time through hard work. Thus, "kung-fu" can actually be applied to any martial discipline as well as many other activities that require rigorous and regular practice over a period of time.

Throughout the Orient it is understood by most persons who endeavor to train in any martial form that substantial skill cannot be acquired quickly and any teacher who promises otherwise is nothing more than a charlatan whose main interest (and skill) lies in separating a student's money from his wallet. At the same time, there are those who come from the other end of the spectrum and insist that students must practice this or that training routine (and pay for it every month, of course) for an extraordinarily long period of time if he or she hopes to acquire a high level of skill.

The truth, of course, lies somewhere in the middle and students must be careful about selecting a good teacher.

In the West we are accustomed to things being accomplished fairly quickly. We have microwaveable meals (which aren't really food....), instant entertainment (just turn on the television), quick diets (which don't work), and so on. When we want something, we want it NOW. When martial arts were first introduced to the West, a number of enterprising instructors realized that a great deal of money could be made by short-cutting training routines and providing forms of "instant martial arts." My own teacher envisioned this happening although his young pupil (moi) just couldn't see it coming down the pike. But it arrived like a thunderbolt and it's here to stay.

No doubt, some of the old, traditional training routines were extremely tedious but they were necessary for the development of genuine martial skill (as opposed to what is presented nowadays as being martial skill). Westerners, being the way they are, sought to find short-cuts through much of what they regarded as "unnecessary, old-fashioned, unrealistic" training. Many honestly believed that they had found ways to shorten the training process but the truth is much different.

My teacher likened the process to making tea. To make tea the old way takes time and any attempt at hurrying the process will only ruin the drink. To be sure, we now have "instant tea" but my teacher couldn't stand the taste of it. There's tea and then there's tea.

Even so, most of those who have undertaken the study of a traditional martial discipline with the understanding that it's going to take time to develop real skill will still often catch themselves "shaving corners" and trying to take "big steps." Such attempts at hurrying the training process and the evolution of genuine skill almost always result in frustration and/or injury.

I knew one young man who wanted to develop large callouses of his punching knuckles. He beat the living bejeezus out of his striking post (which was incorrectly made and was akin to hitting a tree) and mangled his hands...he didn't realize that hardening the hands is NOT the primary objective of training with this particular device, and he finally had to give it up. Of course, he then argued that training with the post was "old-fashioned", unnecessary, and unrealistic.

Another fellow dreamed of being able to execute his form with the same precision, grace, and power as his teacher. He trained his form for 2-3 hours every day, suffering pulled muscles as well as numerous other minor injuries. He ultimately gave up, insisting that forms were "old-fashioned", unnecessary, and unrealistic.

And yet another student envied the uncanny fighting skill of his seniors. He dreamed of becoming an invincible warrior and practiced shadow-boxing and sparring incessantly. When he engaged in sparring practice he often went at it with a bit too much power and the wrong mind-set (he was determined to "win"), so, of course, he often went home with bruises, cracked ribs, black eyes, and many other booboos. He finally gave up, saying that traditional training was "old-fashioned", unnecessary, and unrealistic.

Progress in real martial arts comes in what I call "baby steps"; little steps that are sometimes too small to even measure or notice right away. Regular practice is essential. After all, a toddler will never learn to walk if he or she only tries to do it once in a while. So, if you train (at home) just every now and then, you can be assured that you're getting nowhere. On the other hand, if you're training at home 3 days a week or more and you're taking your time (taking "baby steps"), you can be confident that you're developing genuine skill - and if you keep at it long enough you'll develop real "kung-fu."