WHAT'S NEXT?

 By Phillip Starr

How often have you heard a student or classmate utter these two words or something similar; “What's next?” This expression is usually made shortly after the speaker has learned a particular kata or training routine and it is clear indication that he hasn't truly learned much at all. My kneejerk response would be a quick backhanded slap across the face but I fear that this zen-like answer would elicit nothing more than anger.

Consider; there must come a time when, in any given style, there are no more techniques to learn. There are no more forms. If a student stays with it long enough, he'll eventually reach this point in his training. And some will ask, “What's next?” Some will assume that they've finally “learned it all” and look for another teacher. Theirs will be a shallow art. Perhaps they will find a new teacher and begin again. Little do they suspect that this is exactly what they would do if they remained in my class; they would go back to the beginning and start over. However, if they'd been paying attention and developing as they should have, they'd see things from a completely new perspective.

For instance, once a student has reached the level of first-grade black belt I tell him that he must learn how to punch. This usually evokes considerable surprise. “I have to learn how to...punch?”, the student asks.

“Yes”, I answer. “Up to this point, you have been developing proper coordination and learning how to make the larger movements. Now you must learn to make the movements smaller and learn how to properly apply the technique.”

Little does the student suspect that once he learns to do these things, he will begin all over again. He must learn to condense all of the movements; he must make everything very small, as it were. And so it goes, on and on. We go full circle only to repeat the process over and over.

There is much more to these cycles of learning than students imagine. It is a process of polishing which, when you consider the meaning of the word, involves removing what is unnecessary. Some students try to enter into this stage much too early. The first cycle involves the construction of a “rough sketch”, so to speak. Once the initial image has been formed (which usually requires some considerable time) the polishing process may begin. However, the first stage of polishing involves the gross, outer movements. Once they have been refined, the subtle internal movements must be further distilled. The process can't be hurried lest the entire cycle be for nothing.

Moreover, the process of burnishing the technique is only a part of the whole operation. It is but one cycle and as I stated earlier, once one cycle has been completed another begins. When the technique has been adequately refined, the method(s) of application must then be further distilled. I see the young lady in the back waving her hand wildly. You ask if the processes of refining the technique and its application can be done at the same time? No, they can't. That'd be akin to trying to drive a race car before work has been completed on the engine. Don't be in a hurry.

And while you're working hard at polishing and distilling your technique, consider the effects this will have on your forms! No, the outer movements won't change but the way your kata feels will certainly be different. To the novice, your forms will look much the same as it always has but the subtle differences will be readily visible to those with eyes to see.

Ultimately, you must “forget” everything. This isn't to say that you should toss your technique and forms out the nearest window. Rather, you must train them until they become a part of you. You continue to practice them but you needn't struggle to remember what movement comes next. Some say that you have become the art. I disagree. You don't become the art, nor does the art become you. Such statements are indicative of separation; there's a “you” and the “art.” When you have truly internalized the art there is no longer a separation. It's like the fertilization of an egg; initially, there's an unfertilized egg and a sperm cell. They exist separately. Once they join, there is no longer an “egg” or a “sperm.” There exists a new creature. A new life. Thus, one plus one no longer equals two.

And then as you begin your new life, you start out as a beginner. Again.

WHAT ARE THE ODDS?

 By Phillip Starr

The legendary founder of Kyokushin karate, Masutatsu Oyama, said that for every 1,000 beginners, only 2 or 3 would make it to the grade of shodan (first grade black belt). Then he added that for every 100 shodans, only 1 or 2 would go on to the next grade. The numbers decrease further from there. Certainly, this has been my experience and I imagine that most martial arts teachers would agree wholeheartedly with him.

I remember when I first began my journey along the martial path more than five decades ago. I, as well as many others, understood that getting a black belt meant that one was truly an m”expert.” I even heard, and my father firmly believed, that to be awarded a black belt, you had to literally kill a man with your bare hands! Of course, there were the many old wives tales such as having to register your hands with the police, and so on.

Although such beliefs have now been proven false, many of us still hold on to some of their remnants. In the Occident, the color of black is foreboding, ominous, the color of death. Oddly enough, mourners in the Orient wear white. Nonetheless, there is that nasty notion, that tiny remnant of times gone by, that pushes us to believe that a “black belt” signifies that one is a martial arts “expert.” In this regard, it's well to remember that the famous American poet, Walt Whitman, defined this term as “anyone who can spit over a boxcar.”

As most of you know, the truth is far different. When a student reaches the level of shodan, it indicates that he has acquired some measure of skill with the fundamentals. He has built a solid foundation upon which he can now build real skill. That's a nice way of saying that he is now ready to learn. Prior to this level, he was not physically, mentally, or spiritually prepared for learning the real art. Now he is. He has graduated from “high school” and is ready to enter college.

To get through “high school”, however, requires an extraordinary amount of courage and grit. The training is often very painful, tedious, and requires a great deal of dedication. Few are those who will succeed in making it to the “first step”, which is roughly what “shodan” means. Unfortunately, many new shodans, thinking that they've “made it” (whatever that means), stop training. This is regrettable because they'll never learn the true art. They've built a good foundation but they'll never erect a strong building upon it.

Those few worthies who possess a strong spirit will continue their training; their thirst for knowledge will push them to move further down the path. One by one, many of them will give up until there are only a very few left. Hopefully, these courageous souls will become teachers themselves and eventually realize the value of what their teacher gave them. He not only taught them the various techniques and forms and movements; he gave each of them a piece of himself, a bit of his heart and his very soul. If they determine to teach others, they will do the same. And as the years pass, they will watch sadly as so many of the pupils bid them farewell before graduating from high school. One of my students who began teaching spoke to me of this and I told him, “It's nothing new. It's always been this way. It always will. It's simply the nature of the beast (of teaching).”

But with each new shodan comes the prospect of a bright future. He or she is excited and hopeful and even moreso his/her teacher. But the old veteran instructor will sit back and smile as he says, “We'll see. We'll see...”

WUJI; THE STATE OF POTENTIAL

by Phillip Starr

At the very beginning of any form, there is a brief period where you just stand still in a "natural" stance and relax. You're not "damp-rag" relaxed but you're not like a wooden soldier, either. In the internal schools of China (Taijichuan, Xingyichuan, and Baguazhang) this is known as the state of "wuji" (also, "wu-shi") and although most contemporary practitioners tend to ignore it, it's really a very important part of the fo...rm. In fact, it's so important that if you don't do it right, your entire form is wong Other martial arts - from aikido to karate to iaido - also use this concept and "positioning" but they call it by different names.

To understand how to stand correctly in wuji, you have to dig into the fundamental concepts of Chinese cosmology. You're all familiar with the double-fish diagram of the Taiji ("Tai-Chi"). Yin and Yang. Yin represents the negative polarity and Yang is positive, although each one contains an element of the other - the potential to turn into the other. Extreme Yin eventually becomes Yang and extreme Yang turns into Yin.

It is said that when the universe was created, that's when Yin and Yang were created (the stage of Taiji was created) and gave birth to the "ten thousand thing" - which, in ancient Chinese terminology - means "everything."

But what existed before the creation of Yin and Yang? What was there before the Big Bang?

Wuji.

The kung-fu teachers who first tried to teach their arts to Americans in a second language (Engrish) had a tough time trying to find the right
word(s) to define the state of wuji. Many of them settled on "nothingness" or even "vacuum." But using those words only created more confusion.

Their students would stand in the position/condition of wuji and just be "blank." Like a wet rag. No-thing. And that's not wuji at all.

Before the creation of Yin and Yang there was the condition of wuji but it wasn't "nothing." It wasn't a vacuum. You can't get "something" out of "nothing." And yet, what wuji is, is neither Yin nor Yang.

It is Potential. That is, it has the potential to expand outward and become something. It has the potential to explode into Yin and Yang.

I know this sounds like so much Oriental mumbo-jumb but listen up, Buckwheat.

When you stand at the beginning of your form you must be neither Yin nor Yang. You must be in (an imitation of) the state known as wuji. You aren't "empty." You have the potential to move and become something...

When an iaido practitioner kneels (in seiza) and prepares to execute a particular kata (form), he/she begins by relaxing and breathing down to the tanden (dantien). He/She makes three calm breaths before performing the first movement. During this time, he/she is not yet "performing the kata." There is the potential for movement but movement has not yet occurred. It is the stage of wuji.

If you think about the first movement (or any movement at all), if you think about what you're doing...it's not wuji because you're moving. Internally. And that's going to affect the way you begin - and finish - your entire form. Your body will be too tense or tensed in the wrong places, your mind is distracted and running ahead of where the body is, and your spirit is scattered. So is your qi. Remember that where your yi goes, your qi goes.

So reflect on this concept for a while and try to get a feel for what it is. Then apply it to your forms and the rest of your practice.

Potential.

HOW TOURNAMENTS SAVED KARATE

 by Phillip Starr

As all of you know, WWII ended badly for the people of Japan. The country was devastated. Almost an entire generation of young men had been wiped out and the economy had collapsed completely. Many thousands of people were left unemployed, homeless, and starving. A foreign power (America) now occupied the island nation and it seemed as though the spirit of the people had been broken. Naturally, people looked for a scapegoat of sorts. Why had this happened to them and their beautiful homeland? It didn't take long for them to find the fall guy, as it were. They pointed their fingers at the budo and the bushido (the martial arts and the “way of the warrior”). Hadn't their leaders expounded the wonderful virtues of these things and told them that they must understand and embrace the spirit of the budo as they marched into war? Not fully grasping the real meaning of the budo, they held them up as the primary reason for their being duped into fighting a war that could only end in their defeat and the destruction of their cherished nation.

Of course, the truth is far different from what the masses believed. The spirit of the budo had been perverted; it had been tainted and twisted to serve the wishes of the military machine that was led by Gen. Hideki Tojo and inspire the troops and the people of Japan. Thus, the budo fell into hard times and there was a very real danger that they would be abandoned altogether.

At that time, Funakoshi Gichin's “Shotokan” karate was, by far, the most popular form of karate in Japan. Other styles of karate had been introduced to Japan from Okinawa since Funakoshi first introduced it to the Japanese people in 1923, but none of them were nearly as popular as Funakoshi's art. The Japan Karate Association was formed in 1949 with Masatoshi Nakayama as its Director and Hidetaka Nishiyama as the Chief Instructor.

It was noted that judo and kendo, both of which conducted regular tournaments, were beginning to flourish once again. But there was little interest in karate and enrollments were at an all-time low. After all, it wasn't really a Japanese martial art; it had been brought to Japan from Okinawa! Nakayama, Nishiyama, and other senior members of the early JKA decided to formulate strict rules, thoroughly train officials, and present karate as an exciting new sport. If they didn't, karate would likely shrivel up.

In 1957, the first All-Japan Open Karate Tournament was conducted in Tokyo and to say that it was a huge success would be a serious understatement. The public was enthralled with the fine performances of both kata and jyu-kumite. This event, and the competitions that followed, ensured karate's survival and subsequent worldwide growth. It didn't take long for karate tournaments to catch on and before another decade had passed, America would conduct its first karate competition in Chicago in 1963. This was directed by the United States Karate Association (USKA). The following year, Ed Parker would host the International Karate Tournament in Long Beach, California. As a competitive sport, karate was off and running at full-steam.

Now, karate tournaments in Japan and those conducted in the U.S. are two entirely different animals. The JKA maintains precise, strict rules for competition and conducts very rigorous training programs for judges and referees. They are certified them at different levels (Regional, National, and International). In the U.S., most competitions are judged by officials who have never attended any kind of training camp for officials. What's more, rules generally vary from one tournament to another. These and other factors have contributed to a general deterioration in the quality of competition in the West.

In his later years, Master Nakayama lamented the decision of the early JKA to “sportify” karate. Although the level of competitive karate in Japan is extremely high as compared to what we witness in America (this is a nice way of saying that Japanese competition standards are one or two galaxies ahead of the U.S.), he believed that the emphasis on competition had become to great and that contemporary students and instructors alike were focusing too much on winning contests. Their karate had no soul, he said. No spirit. And that, Nakayama asserted, is the true purpose of karate (as well as the other martial disciplines).

Even so, I must say that we should all be grateful to this man for bringing karate into the limelight as he did. Considering the time and place (post-WWII, Japan), I have no doubt that he did exactly what had to be done to keep this wonderful art alive. We have failed to maintain the high standards that karate demands of its practitioners; we have placed too much emphasis on winning pretty trophies or cash and in doing so, we have missed the message of karate. But it's never too late to change things...

MARTIAL ARTS; THE FIVE STAGES OF DEVELOPMENT STAGES FOUR AND FIVE

 by Phillip Starr

*Excerpted from “Martial Maneuvers” by the author. If you don't already have a copy, use some of your beer money to get one now!

STAGE FOUR

THE STAGE OF EMPTINESS

The fourth stage is the “Stage of Emptiness.” Your mind is free of thoughts about an opponent and simply acts like a mirror, which accurately reflects his movements and thoughts. You no longer concern yourself with the fact that there even IS an opponent. When he approaches, you join with him and become one.

When you practice by yourself, your mind is more involved in the training than your body. This isn't to say that your body doesn't move or sweat. It does but but you are unconcerned with it because you know within your heart that what it does is correct and you don't have to concern yourself with it any longer. Your mind and body have become one. At the instant that the mind orders it, the body is already there. This is the stage of “empty mind” and most martial arts practitioners don't even know that it exists. Body, mind, and energy have become one entity. Everything is effortless, and when the enemy tries to strike you, it is as if he is trying to hit his own shadow...

STAGE FIVE

BEGINNER'S MIND

The fifth stage is that of the “Beginner's Mind”, which is also called “Ordinary Mind” or “Original Mind.” Technique has been forgotten and the mind returns to its original condition, as it was before you started learning (martial arts). It sees and acts clearly and you are in perfect harmony with the universe, it's laws, and the laws of God; you adhere to them without effort and without concern for them. By doing nothing everything is achieved naturally and without conscious effort.

Knowing these five stages is actually the first stage towards mastery. You have to know where you're going if you're ever going to arrive there.

MARTIAL ARTS; THE FIVE STAGES OF DEVELOPMENT STAGES ONE, TWO, AND THREE

 by Phillip Starr

STAGE ONE

*Excerpted from “Martial Maneuvers” by the author. If you don't already have a copy, use some of your beer money to get one now!

If you tell an untrained person to defend herself and then commence to attack her, she will respond naturally and with no thought of technique or principles. Her only consideration is staying alive and either fighting back or running away. But when she begins to study a given martial art her mind becomes obstructed by many other things.

STAGE ONE

THE STAGE OF TECHNIQUE

The beginning martial arts student concerns herself with the various techniques and stances, how to hold her eyes, how to move and execute the various forms, and so on. This is the “Stage of Technique,” a training phase through which all of us must pass. Sadly, the vast majority of students never move beyond this stage. It is extremely demanding and there is a great deal of material that must be committed to memory. The training that occurs during this phase must necessarily be very rigorous because if it is otherwise, the student's techniques will never develop and they will be of little practical value when the chips are down.

The fact is that because many martial arts instructors have never progressed beyond this stage themselves, they are incapable of taking anyone else beyond it. Their minds are focused on what their bodies are doing. When they execute a punch or a kick they are mindful that is has to be done just so – and that's correct. When they engage in a match or a fighting drill they concentrate their minds on what the opponent is doing and what they will do to respond - whether they will attack or employ defensive maneuvers. When they strike (at) the opponent they allow their minds to become attached to what they are doing. They concentrate on on how to execute their techniques correctly or they focus that they are, in fact, striking the opponent. They think, “There! I've punched/kicked him!” This is focusing the mind on the opponent and on what the body is doing. It's a necessary part of (beginning) training but if you are to truly develop a high level of skill, you must move beyond it...

STAGE TWO

THE STAGE OF PRINCIPLE

Only by practicing the most fundamental techniques many, many times can this stage be reached. Just a handful of students will make it this far. They no longer have to consciously think about how to do the myriad techniques, stances, and maneuvers; these things have become a natural part of them and they understand the underlying principles. Technique has become “no-technique.” They understand the principles taught in their forms and no longer need to concern themselves with doing the techniques correctly. Their movements and techniques, after having been practiced repeatedly, are naturally correct. All the practitioner sees are the (internal) principles rather than the external forms of the principles.

After reaching this stage, some students misunderstand what is happening in their minds and perceptions and come to believe that there is really “no technique.” However, there's a difference between “no technique” and “no-technique.”

In the case of the former, there really is no technique at all. This doesn't mean it's correct; in fact, it's grossly incorrect. One has tossed away one's training. It probably results from failure to thoroughly realize the “Stage of Technique” and practice adequately.

In the case of the latter, one has transcended external technique and come to understand the principles underlying body movement. So, the external manifestations of this understanding is correct technique, which appears as needed without conscious thought or even awareness. It goes without saying that if you have practiced incorrectly from the beginning, this stage cannot be reached. There are underlying principles regarding correct movement, per se, and you cannot possibly come to the higher level of understanding if your foundation is flawed.

STAGE THREE

THE STAGE OF NO-MIND

Passing beyond the “Stage of Principle” occurs naturally and cannot be forced. It happens when the mind is ready and you've given up aspiring to achieve it. This is why very few people ever reach it. If you try to achieve it, it will slip away and, although you may think you've got it, you actually have nothing. It's like trying to grasp the moon on the water. You may think you've captured the moon but your hand comes away wet and empty, and what you saw was just an illusion, anyway.

This stage is not so much concerned with technique as it is with how you respond to your opponent. If your previous training has been both correct and thorough your actions will not run contrary to it, so you are free to focus on the opponent rather than on yourself, as is done in the last two stages.

You mustn't allow your mind to fix itself on thoughts of winning or losing, living or dying, or even effectively defending yourself. Otherwise, your mind will be unable to move freely and spontaneously because it is fixed on something. And if you think, “I will not think of these things”, you're thinking of something and you're no better off.

Some so-called “masters” like to act and speak as though they've reached this stage but very few people ever do. It is beyond technique and beyond principle. It's the stage of “no-mind”, wherein your movements have become principles but you're no longer concerned with them. It is the stage of engaging the enemy without thought of what you will do or what you won't do. You look into his mind and act accordingly.

The mind is without form itself; it manifests itself through the body. The body is directed by the mind. If you have advanced knowledge of a general's strategy (mind), you can easily defeat his troops (his body and techniques)... but only if you keep your intentions secret until the last moment.

-More Next Time!-