BELIEVE IN YOURSELF

by Phillip Starr

Because if you don't, nobody else will, or can, do it for you.   - P. Starr 

Most of the grading examinations that I administer require that the examinee demonstrate a certain level of destructive power (and belief in oneself) by performing one or two breaking techniques. And so it was some years ago that one of my students asked how one should go about breaking boards.

     Of course, the examinee is provided with the usual information; setting up the boards, directing his blow beyond (and behind) the surface of the wood, and striking into the exact center of his target. However, I also gave him a piece of advice which applies not only to being successful in breaking boards, but in being successful in all other aspects of martial arts and life in general.

     I told him whenever I performed breaking techniques in public demonstrations I always pictured myself in my mind successfully executing the break. This simple mental device never failed to enable me to perform a variety of what would normally be very difficult breaking techniques. I have used this same psychological principle many times throughout my life and I believe that it has great value - and in re-reading Maxwell Maltz's famous book (which I picked up in 1966 for the price of one dollar) I see that I have been using many of the principles which he outlined in "Psycho-Cybernetics."

     I think it might be well to do a series of lectures on how some of these principles work and how you can use them to your best advantage.

     The Buddha once said, "As a man thinketh, so he is."

     This statement contains more truth than many people suspect. It tells us that you ARE what you think. Sound kind of metaphysical or new age? It's not. It's very old and time-tested.

     Each of us has certain beliefs about ourselves. These beliefs may or may not be based on the truth - in fact, they're often not based on the truth at all - but that's not the point. The point is that WE BELIEVE THEM. And if you believe in something, then it's true...for you.

     If you believe that you're homely for some reason - maybe your ears are too big, your nose is too pronounced, your lips are too thick or thin, or whatever - then you'll behave according to your belief, convinced that other people also regard you as a poor physical specimen.  You'll avoid them and feel very uncomfortable around groups of strangers. You KNOW they're looking at your huge Dumbo ears or your Pinnochio nose; you KNOW they're whispering to each other about how you look...so you do your best to avoid getting into these kinds of situations. You avoid being around people. Standing up in front of a group of people to give a speech is absolutely terrifying.

     Maybe you're not concerned with being homely. Maybe you think you have other defects. You might perceive yourself as physically weak, mentally slow, or uncoordinated. Maybe you believe that you're no good at mathematics or any one of ten thousand other things.

     And if you believe it's true, then it is...for you. You MAKE it true by believing it. You have, in fact, hypnotized yourself. Consider - hypnotism works because the subject BELIEVES that what the hypnotists tell him or her is true. If the subject doesn't believe in what the hypnotist suggests, the whole thing fails...but if the subject trusts the hypnotist and BELIEVES that what he says is true, the subject will then behave accordingly.

     BELIEF COMES FIRST. BEHAVIOR WHICH IS APPROPRIATE TO THAT BELIEF COMES AFTERWARDS.

     If the hypnotist tells the subject that his hand is resting on a hot stove the subject will exhibit signs of severe pain and the skin may actually blister! There are many similar examples but I think you get my point. 

     You will behave according to how and what you believe about yourself.

     Some time ago, I wrote about an old student of mine named John. John had (and still has) an absolutely devastating punch. Many years ago when he worked at a meat-packing plant he was attacked by a large hog. Now, a full-grown hog can weigh as much as 250 lbs. but John brought it down with a single punch to the forehead (the thickest part of the hog's skull).

     Anyway, I once convinced John that the inch-thick board he was holding was actually a piece of extremely hard oak. I spent a couple of minutes talking about how strong this wood was - how he could probably park his car on it - and when he tried to break it, HE FAILED! Not once, but twice!

     Then when I told him that I was just "funnin'" him, he split it without any effort at all.

     There's a lesson to be learned here (and John not only learned it; he mastered it)...that you will behave according to what you believe. John believed the board was too hard for him to break and, appropriately enough, he failed! Yet, when he realized the truth, he succeeded easily.

     So, how can you begin to change yourself? First, you have to realize that you already have an "image" of yourself, one that you have created and based upon past experiences and current beliefs. At the present time, you act in accordance with this image because it is how you perceive yourself...regardless of whether or not it is based on truth.

     Many, many years ago I used to simply sit back, close my eyes, and imagine myself executing a given form flawlessly. I was having trouble with some of the postures and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't perform them properly. I decided to "see" what they would look like if I DID do them correctly, so I sat back, relaxed, and "saw myself" doing them perfectly.

     To my great surprise, I found that I was able to perform these movements very efficiently (albeit not perfectly...not yet, anyway) in a very short time!  It was as if I had physically practiced them many, many times although I had only exercised them in my mind!  This, I realized, was a wonderful principle that wasn't well-understood by most martial arts practitioners.

     Later, I realized that this same principle could be applied to almost every facet of life - not just martial arts.

CORRECT BREATHING

by Phillip Starr

Boring as it may be to practice, breathing is key to improving martial arts performance and effectiveness. Correct breathing can make a strong technique even stronger, enhance one's “root” to the ground (which adds impetus the one's technique), calm your mind and spirit, help increase the velocity of technique and body movement...everything that you WANT in your practice of martial arts. But there's correct breathing and then there's correct breathing.

Most martial arts teachers teach their pupils to exhale (usually forcefully) when executing a powerful technique. What they generally teach is a strong form of what is known as “normal” or “post-birth” breathing; as the breath is exhaled, the abdomen is powerfully contracted and thus, hardened. This works well for those who are already quite physically powerful, but there is another method that will turn a weaker person's technique into an explosive and very powerful force; moreso than that of a physically stronger practitioner. It is known as “reverse breathing” (it is described in detail in my books, MARTIAL MECHANICS and DEVELOPING JIN).

Initially developed by Taoists in ancient China, this breathing technique was considered a great secret for generations but as secrets tend to do, it escaped from its cage and it became fairly well-known. Many, many martial arts devotees practiced it as a part of their regular curriculum but because it isn't especially exciting to practice, it was gradually forgotten.

It was even taught to the Okinawans who learned forms of gong-fu from their Chinese neighbors. I have long suspected that the original form(s) of Sanchin kata utilized this form of breathing rather than the “post-birth” method of breathing that has been in use for some time now.

If one needs to exert a lot of strength for any given task – lifting, pushing, or pulling – reverse breathing should be employed. It will double your strength the first time you do it. Bear in mind that in cases of lifting, pulling, or pushing heavy objects, the exhalation needs to be rather long. But in the case of delivering a strong blow, the exhalation should be very short and sharp, with 2/3 of your breath being exhaled (1/3 is kept in reserve). The faster you can get the air out, the better; the longer it takes you to exhale, the more of a “push” effect will be generated.

If you're sucking wind after a strenuous exercise, 3-4 reverse breaths will immediately stabilize your breathing. A similar number of strong reverse breaths can reduce the pain of being struck in the testicles,

Using the “normal” or “post-birth” form of breathing actually separates the upper and lower body so that your punch is made with mainly the strength of your arm and shoulder and your kick uses the strength of only the leg. There are muscle connections that run between the upper and lower body and “post-birth” breathing causes them to go somewhat slack. However, reverse breathing brings them together so that the strength of the whole body can be brought to bear on the task at hand.

Reverse breathing was once one of the great secrets of martial arts. Because it's been forgotten for so long,it is once again secret...until now.

Qi-Ku and Traditional Training

by Phillip Starr

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 certain 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 kiai 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 that every student of karate and taekwondo has practiced hundreds and thousand of times, except for one thing...the participants were standing at least eight feet apart.  When the receiver executed his blocking technique he never even 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.  I believe that real martial arts technique and spirit cannot be understood or developed except through the application of controlled violence. The operative word in that sentence is controlled.

     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 once 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 qi-ku (吃苦), which means, "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, 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 (bamboo practice sword).

     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 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 an angered thug who was wielding a baseball bat.  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 can we push the students and keep the violence under control?  Naturally, no competent teacher wants to see a student get hurt but some minor injuries are unavoidable and should 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. Minor injuries are very common and should be expected! They are simply a part of the developmental processes of the budo.  Having said that, I must also emphasize that 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 become more and more realistic, 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. 

Qi-ku.

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.