Making Martial Arts History

Date: 5 Jan 2012 Comments:Comments Off

For the most part, I believe that we are all inclined to try to blaze a new trail for others to follow. We are driven to leave our mark in the world somehow, whether through action, the written word, legend, or at least in the memories of those whose lives we touch. Of those who seek to find the new, only a handful is able to create something so meaningful that it simply cannot be ignored, categorized or forgotten. These are the luminaries of the time.

The World of Martial Arts is no different in this respect. In this realm, luminaries come around once in a lifetime, true teachers that kick the slow evolution of the traditional Martial Arts into high gear, sparking mutations that forever change our movement, our philosophy, and, hopefully, our understanding. Teachers like Morihei Ueshiba, Ed Parker, and Bruce Lee revolutionized the arts and galvanized entire movements of faithful practitioners and disciples – all fiercely loyal to their founding fathers in the ways they best see fit.

Unfortunately, sometimes the arts suffer under the weight of the defense of so many, when the view points are so vast and varied; and, because the founders have passed on from our world, they are viewpoints that can never be truly resolved for no other reason than the Instructors with the answers are not here to settle them.

Still, our Instructors did not leave us empty handed. They left behind a wealth of knowledge, in their writings, notes, journals, videos, interviews, and blood, sweat and tears on the mat, free for us to assimilate, analyze, interpret and apply to the best of our abilities. We have but to seek out the answers to find them. The question is, how many of us still seek to answer the questions?

 

The Secret Back Fist

Many of the Martial Arts we practice today house numerous factions, associations, and federations, all of whom believe and insist that they alone have the secrets of the founders, that only they can truly convey the meanings and teachings of the art as they were meant to be learned. The unfortunate result is infighting within the art itself. That staunch loyalty to the style simply becomes the means by which the student is kept from discovering for him or herself the path the founders laid out. Often, those very students get caught in the cross-fire of a feudal society within the Art that can end in resentment and eventually abandonment of the path.

We can thank, in large part, the dark shadow of business marketing that looms over any dojo that hopes to make a decent living, for this Curse of the Secret Back Fist. Let’s face it, as a wise, not-so-old Instructor of mine once said, “Money might not buy happiness, but poverty doesn’t pay your bills, and if you want to train, you have to eat.” Economics are, in part, at the root of many of the disagreements between styles of the same art that we see today. How? A dojo that wants to keep its doors open needs to drive new students to its mat, so that, as some students leave, the spot is immediately filled by a new, paying member. But, with so many options available to a new or prospective student, each dojo has to find a way to shine and stand out from the crowd. And there you have it, The Secret Back Fist. It really is that simple.

 

Is This What the Founders Wanted?

As students, we must maintain a discerning eye. We must be willing to ask ourselves: “Is this really what the art is about? Is this really what the Founder wanted me to learn? Is this really what he foresaw or hoped his art would become?”

I cannot personally imagine Sijo Lee or O’Sensei, both of whom worked throughout their lives to birth philosophies that were uniting and open, would have wanted their teachings to become fragmented, sectionalized, and, in some cases, stagnant under the weight of “Tradition.” I believe that they’d hoped the arts would continue to evolve in their absence, in harmony. Evolution is sometimes a messy endeavor to which many feuds can be attributed as well; however, in some cases, it seems as though the disagreements are less about the course the art should take and more about the person guiding a particular path.

 

Every Day on the Mat Makes History

Both Sijo and O’Sensei started as students somewhere. Every time they set foot on a mat, a little piece of the history behind their arts was written. Sijo’s very first Pak Sao as a student of Wing Chun under Yip Man in 1954, O’Sensei’s first throw as a Daitō-ryū Aiki-jūjutsu student under Takeda Sensei, founder of that system, in 1915, these were moments that became history. They were the launching pad for arts that transformed the world of Martial Arts as a whole, but it all started with one student, one day, on a training mat at a dojo, just like so many others.

What do I mean to say with all of this? While innovators like Lee, Takeda, Parker, and Ueshiba are one in a million, every day that we, as students, train, every step we take on the mat, every time we speak about our styles, our philosophies, our movements, our instructors, and our heroes, we have the opportunity to write a little piece of the history of Martial Arts. When we dispute the merits or faults of one style over another, we may be influencing a future leader, or even ourselves. When we bicker over who has the right or the means or truth to carry on the tradition of the art, we risk its evolution, its mutation, its ability to become more than we can imagine and actually blossom into that which its Founding Father or Mother knew it would become.

We must be watchful, always, of our words and actions on and off the training floor, because every day we practice our art, each time we apply a principle or uncover a new aspect of its philosophy, anytime we pass on the knowledge we have gathered from our Instructors and experience, we make Martial Arts History.

 

Martial Composure

Date: 19 Oct 2011 Comments:Comments Off

by Andrea Shank

On the night of July 14th, after Japan beat Sweden in the semi-finals of Women’s World Cup 2011, I was roofied. I remember sitting at the bar down the street, playing a game of Uno with some friendly folks on the right, when a hipster guy sat to my left. We exchanged nice enough words, and I danced in my chair, as I do, then black. I vaguely remember his face, but not so much that as his person, being too close to me. I “came to” in full sprint down the stairs, through the base level of my apt, out the back door, across the porch, and into the private alley. I was completely consumed with an inexplicable fear. I tried the neighbor’s gate, but finding it locked, moved on the next. When the latch opened, I crawled into the overgrown yard, crouched near the fence, and waited. And waited. And waited. Until I couldn’t hear a sound, and then I waited longer still. In that time I was shaking, unable to understand how I came to be so overwhelmingly wracked with terror, yet frozen in my hiding place. Eventually I came out of hiding to find my roommate, who I clung to for another long while, and eventually started looking for my phone. I had left it at the bar with a tab I walked out on, neither of which is normal behavior. I settled up and retrieved my phone. Still very flustered, I sat up in bed texting a friend, trying to calm down, when I dipped out of consciousness again. Three hours I sat, on the edge of my lofted bed, phone in hand. I resuscitated, typed something incoherent, vomited into the toilet, and went to sleep. The next day I was ill when awake, and fitful when asleep, until late in the afternoon. The rest of that day I fought a splitting headache and a terrible body-ache. I pieced together events with both roommates to deduce what had happened.

24 hours after being out of control:

As I sit here, meditating on how I feel, I can sense my confidence returning. As a martial artist, I feel almost ashamed that I did not physically defend myself. I have trained my entire adult life for the most terrifying moment, but I did nothing but run and hide. I’m conflicted: what I did was instinct, and it saved me. I have to wonder if this isn’t what I train for: the ability to trust in myself, to gain a sense of the world and my place in it. I may not have hurt my attacker, but maybe that would’ve only provoked him. Maybe I truly assessed my situation and, given my altered and vulnerable state, acted decisively and accurately. Is this merely a dangerous pride I’ve seen some in my home dojo fall prey to? Should I not be thankful I escaped, and not worry about defending my honor? To be sure, I had better never see that man’s face. For all the peace I am trying to find I would restrain no part of my wrath… I feel there’s a larger lesson here. One of how I cope with the hard things. One of how I see myself. One of how I feel about where I am in life. So I was truly in danger: I faced my fear and reacted to it accordingly. If this isn’t something I have practiced to show strength in, then my senseis would be amiss. Perhaps, in that moment, I was a master martial artist.

The more time that passes, the more I know that my martial arts training saved me from that man’s intentions, and perhaps even my life. Despite being drugged, I was able to read the situation and spring to action quickly, using the fight-or-flight response as fuel to gain enough consciousness to “get out of the way,” as it were. This is where belt testing is more than just a new color and rank: being able to experience that rush of adrenaline and still maintain your head, especially when the test is a surprise. I no longer doubt my actions, or wish I had used the skills in fighting I have developed. Instead I take stock in my ability to get out of harm’s reach. I am more wary, but I do not hesitate to walk down my street anymore. I plan on returning to the bar to continue watching “footy on the telly” as they are known for. So though I experienced a more crippling fear than ever before in my life, I am able to move on. I know I will continue to deal with this experience for some time, and will takes steps to return to a calm centered state. I strive to take the energy that comes at me, and to redirect it, leaving only the slightest residue on my core.

 Andrea Shank is a budding… well, that is yet to be seen. She has a Bachelor’s degree from University of Miami in Visual Communication, specializing in Photojournalism, as well as International Studies, with a minor in Marine Science. She has been practicing martial arts for seven years, studying Karate, Aikido, and Jeet Kune Do so far. She has circumnavigated the globe and shows no signs of stopping travel anytime soon. She began writing in her early years as a coping skill through journaling, but now explores her talent for words through various blogs, including the prestigious BB Publications.

The Light

Date: 14 Oct 2011 Comments:Comments Off

‎”Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind’s eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter light, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light.”
-Plato, the Republic

The Belt

Date: 4 Jul 2011 Comments:Comments Off

Sifu Harinder Singh on Black Belt Magazine

Date: 11 Jun 2011 Comments:Comments Off