Classical classic!

 If my previous post sounded like a call to action, maybe this one will help point to the right direction.

You already should know that I support any motive to learn martial arts, as long as it is congruent with one’s needs and with a clear vision of what the person is training for. In that regard, it is obvious that learning traditional martial systems as a form of cultural study is beyond doubt valuable, but...can it also be effective as a practical fighting method?

Well, again, those of you who have read through this blog are aware that I firmly believe the effectiveness of a combative system is predicated more on training methodology than its history or the „real deal skills“ of the old masters. So, there is a way to approach the traditional arts in order to make them usable in actual fighting? The question „why does it have to be traditional?“ aside, the answer is – yes! And if you are wondering how to achieve it, I have a brilliant book to recommend, where the whole path is superbly explained.

If you happen to belong to the category of practitioners who seek to go beyond mere repetition of your chosen art’s techniques, drills and forms, in an attempt to actually understand the WHYs behind the WHAT and HOW, you cannot afford to skip The Principle-Driven Skill Development in Traditional Martial Arts, written by Russ Smith. The title may seem a bit long, but it tells you exactly what the book is about. Still, let me try to give you a somewhat closer insight into the material covered. Let me say right here that subject matter is not limited to a single system – Mr. Smith has background in Chinese (southern kung fu styles) and Okinawan (goju-ryu) arts, so the book cleverly shows how the conceptual framework of the former can be used in the latter. But properly understood, the principles described can be integrated into the training of any style or system.

The book is very nicely divided into half a dozen chapters which outline the conceptual tools one needs to adopt on their way to functionalization in traditional arts. In the introduction the author aptly addresses the typical problem of disconnect in the traditional arts, i.e. the lack of adequate synergy among the main training modes in that environment. He then proceeds to make a significant point that many instructors, sadly, ignore – teaching is communication, which is why the instructors need to grasp the basic steps in improving the skill of their students. Those are presented as the identification of actionable principles, development and/or modification of the curriculum etc. Sifu Smith concludes by explaining how to use the book for the best results, and I urge the readers not to skip this section!

On the premise of teaching being communication, the next chapter deals with terminology and fundamental assumptions that serve as the guidelines in the further treatment of the material. By being aware of the need to accurately describe these pillars of communicative exchange, the author shows some of the traits of great instructors. As such, it is important to pay attention to what he has to say about what martial art is and is not; what is the foundational aim of self-defense; the distinction between techniques and applications; and key success factors in one’s training, described as principles, applications¸ and attributes. This section alone will make a lightbulb blink many times and lead to numerous a-ha! moments in finally understanding what has been hindering your or your students’ progress.

With the foundation set, the author takes us on the tour of general methods (FA), whose understanding ought to serve as the launch pad for the improvement of the overall functional skills. He starts with the discussion of three types of timing in dealing with and opponent (different terminology than mine, but close in meaning); next is the need for technique stretching to meet the demands of purpose, physical context and starting point; then the strategic (dis)advantages of various positions between the participants etc. Excellent stuff, applicable across the board in any kind of combative endeavor, be it in in the real world or in the sport arena.

Now we move to the treatment of tools (XING) that we need to command when striving to bring the previous principles out. Some of the highlighted ones are the three gates, three sections, eights bridging principles and so on. They are not all numerical, LOL, but everything is explained in a concise and understandable manner, in line with the previously noted need for better communication. This is probably the chapter where you will gain deeper understanding of the technical arsenal of your art.

Sifu Smith’s analysis of power (GONG) as it realities to the improvement and effective use of a person’s technical skill is second to none! Namely, he manages to explain the principles of power, leverage and body structure without sinking into the depths of overly technical engineering or scientific jargon, but also successfully avoiding to dumb it down to the point of being meaningless. Hitting the right balance is the trap that too many other writers have fallen into. He demonstrated similar ability when discussing the four movements concepts of Chinese systems (sink, float, spit, swallow) – presents practical understanding without reaching for pseudo-metaphysical terminology that might make it all sound more advanced, but also potentially confusing.

In wishing to give his readers an actual working plan of action, the author concludes with a chapter that delineates a teaching model for skill development. Here, he points that the functional skill is the result of going through the stages of knowledge development, understanding and transference/application. It means the progression from the isolated skills and rills, through the next step of selecting proper actions via the drills of the constraint and affordance type, to the experimental testing of application of in the progressively non-cooperative drills with wider boundaries, such as classical push hands, chi sao and other more or less free-form exchange approaches.

All in all, we have before us a comprehensive treatise of what is frequently neglected, yet remarkably important aspects of training in the traditional martial arts. Too often is the notion of tradition limited to the superficial imitation of costumes and rituals, while failing to identify and respect the intent that was the driving force behind those arts.

In the end, as well as the material in the book is explained, Mr. Smith also offers a video instructional where it is shown in motion, for an even better learning experience. There is nothing else left but to conclude that this is a phenomenal work, which sets the new standard to the coverage of traditional martial arts beyond historical and ethnological approach.

Jumping ship?

 

No one has all the answers, right? After all, this is why we cross train. And, nowadays cross-training has become accepted so much that is almost kind of a norm. Although some thirty years ago it was seen by many as the expression of humanity’s lowest impulses, MMA has become possibly the most popular combat sport of our time, especially in terms of the mainstream media exposure. It may even be fair to say that the success of MMA has brought more attention back to the traditional Olympic fighting events such as judo, boxing and wrestling.

So, the revolution that Bruce Lee was preaching almost six decades ago is now a common state of affairs…or is it?

There is a segment of training in martial arts and related disciplines that exhibits much more conservative attitude, and no, I do not have ultra-traditional arts and systems in mind. As much as training in several different methods is widely accepted, there is still a lot of frowning upon the attempt to train simultaneously in two (or more) different schools of the same system or style. For some reason, if a person wanted to train in two different BJJ or karate schools, and just the same for two schools of the same kung fu system, or even two boxing clubs, they are deemed disloyal, back-stabbing, untrustworthy kind of character.

While I might understand the sentiment if at issue is a competitor jumping ship, it doesn’t make sense when talking about a serious enthusiast who may not be focused on competition. What is wrong if someone wants to see how different instructors and coaches treat the same situations? On top of it, for the most part it is completely OK to attend seminars of instructors from other lineages, but training regularly in different schools is a no-no.

Granted, at lower, beginning levels of training such practice may be counterproductive, as the trainee could focus on collecting techniques and tricks instead of focusing on developing strong fundamental principles, but after a few years? As a thought experiment, let’s say you have 8+ years in BJJ, with a lot of money and time at disposal. And you happen to be equally close to the schools run by Marcelo Garcia, John Danaher and Mario Sperry, who all have classes on different days and times. What is wrong by visiting each (or two of them) two or three times a week, as opposed to staying with just one four times a week?

Or, being a boxer of 10 years, and having both Teddy Atlas and Freddy Roach within reach, with a similar set of circumstances as above. Would you tap the knowledge source of both, or chose one to follow?

It bears saying that sometimes two instructors will have approaches that really do not fit, or even contradict each other, and in such case it is definitely better to opt for one. However, if one is looking to get as well rounder view of a discipline as possible, it only makes sense to learn from more than one source. Especially so if you are, or strive to be, an instructor yourself at some point.

Or maybe the whole “problem” is endemic to the place(s) that I have been frequenting, while entirely non-existent elsewhere?

Challenges in training... Courage!

 Yes, courage. And it can mean a lot of things, but today I have a specific one in mind. While it applies to everyone involved in training the martial arts or other combative methods, it is particularly pertinent to those actually teaching and coaching. In the former case, this primarily entails having the fortitude to always keep taking a sincere look at your driving force in training, and being strict in deciding if what you do in training is in line with it, or you are just enjoying the workout (better case), or maybe even enjoying the illusion (worse case).

For the instructors, school owners, system founders/heads etc, there is an even more important and deeper component to it. Namely, besides the sincerity in saying what your system or school are all about, so that the potential students are not misguided, one must be absolutely honest and ready to change the material in the face of new findings. Here is what I mean...

Let's say you are dedicated to training your clients for the functional combative skill, in the real time and against resisting opponents (either in a sports arena or street self-protection), and you have developed a well-rounded curriculum and fairly good training methodology to achieve this goal. Owing to that,  you attract a fair number of trainees, maybe even open a couple of branches in other places. And then...one way or another you discover a new set of methods or training protocols that you know for sure will improve the whole process. That, however, requires investing time and effort to rewriting your curriculum and training programs, educating assistant instructors (some of which may be unwilling), and finally saying to your clients "sorry, forget what you have been paying for so far, there is a better way". Hmmm... Do you actually go for it in spite of all those challenges, or do you hide behind the good old "if it ain't broken, don't fix it"?

By the way, it applies just as much to the schools/instructors whose mission is the preservation of intact tradition and the original teachings of whatever master/system. What happens if you stumble upon an older proponent of the same lineage, who proves to be legit and then says that a portion of what you have been doing for the last 20 years is wrong and ought to be done differently? Damn, you already have a dozen or more black belts under you, who have been teaching the same "mistakes" to their own students, not to mention your peers who had graduated under the same tutelage fraught by the same mistakes! Where do you go from there? Keep on doing the same thing, finding an excuse of the "it's a different lineage" sort, or do you go back and start correcting everything, thus possibly losing students and associates? 

There are some people I admire greatly in this regard, who had the courage and integrity to change their teaching and training despite any and all inconveniences it may have caused. Alex Kostic has already been a subject of a couple different articles in this blog. He had both the sincerity to acknowledge the shifting focus in this work and change the training methods to suit it, while openly announcing the changes to his students (and losing quite a few in the process), but also alienating himself from a wider community of his "home style" and withstanding their mud slinging. The late Mario Topolsek did the same in a traditional art of Uechi Ryu (like in the above example), and with similar consequences. And an excellent example of the functional paradigm is Tom Sotis, whose entire career in the realm of fighting arts has been a constant strife to outdo himself and update his achievements. 

Interestingly enough, during a chat we had, Sotis pointed to a very interesting "matrix" of options that people have in their training if driven by honesty, depending on their underlying motivation. Let's show it like this:

T            NC

R              MC

F            NC

In the above table T stands for traditionalist, R stands for recreationalist, while F is for functionalist. Note that under the two opposing poles there is the same indicator NC, while for the middle way it is MC. It denotes that both the traditional and functional proponents have no choice in how they will train - they always have to be congruent to the latest discoveries of what constitutes the truth in their chosen endeavor. The recreational practitioner (some may call them enthusiasts; I agree with such term in the early stages of one's training, when they are still trying to figure out what is their guiding principle), on the other had, has many choices because his or her participation in the given activity is predicated on the goal of enjoying the activity on its own, regardless of its authenticity. 

In this regard, I'd say courage is a coin which on one side is made of asking difficult questions, and on the other side of embracing honest answers. Simple...but not always easy. 

Being a lone rider

Training by yourself is all the rage these days, obviously, so everybody and their brother is casting their vote on what to do in isolated conditions. Now, I have already written about it (exactly five years ago!), and some of the more obvious aspects or approaches to solo training have seen their fair share of treatment here. Now, there is another way to train solo, and quite controversial one, too.

Say what!?

I’m talking about formal practice, i.e. kata, hyung, jurus, taolu…depending on the geographical origin of your chosen martial practice. The controversy arises, of course, in view of the value of such practice. Some traditionalists will swear by it and claim it the ultimate supreme training method; the modern day, sparring oriented systems, such as MMA or various (so called) reality-based defense methods will think of it as a bad joke.

Now, a lot has been written and said about the actual meaning, or original purpose of these forms, so I will not delve into it here. Suffices to say that, as some may expect from me, the point is not so much in what you do, but rather how you do it. And there are some glaringly different approaches!

First, let me stir some commotion – (kick)boxers do katas, too. In essence, whenever there is a standardized set of techniques strung together to be performed as a sequence, you get a formal exercise. In boxing, one of those might be jab-cross-front hook; in kickboxing jab-cross-roundhouse kick; in Thai boxing they can get quite elaborate; in savate there are standard combos performed when testing for grades, just like in many traditional Asian arts.

savate is French after all

However, it is immediately evident how these formal exercises are practiced in said systems. Let’s just go back to that basic boxing combo – all three punches might be done to the head…or, head-body-head…or head-body-body…or body-head-head…or you-get-the-picture. Next, add the footwork variables, as in stepping: all advancing; all retreating; advance-advance-retreat etc. All of a sudden a single formal exercise yields a mind-numbing number of possibilities in application.

In most Asian arts, as practiced today, forms tend to be some kind of pictures to be added to your album. Basically static in presentation, even with predefined rhythm in performance. Yes, even so there could be some merit in doing them, to work on your breathing, focus, stamina and so on. I mean, in the circumstances of home quarantine that may be enough… But why not take it a step further and break them apart, maybe even assembling techniques in a different order altogether? Kind of like Legos! You can follow the instructions, but you can also make your own ideas.

Lgo action!

The only traditional art (as far as I know) that nurtures this approach as an integral part of its teaching is silat with its pecahan method. Admittedly, there are schools out there who also work on bunkai, along with their kata, but those are also frequently fossilized and done by numbers. Indeed, there are always those thinking out of the box, such as Iain Abernethy or Gavin Mulholland, but everybody could, and should, try this approach, at least once in a while.

Finally, there is another very important aspect of traditional forms that I find interesting, but, alas, it is not often paid attention to. It has to do with finer mechanical points of technical development, but instead of trying to explain it in writing, take a look at this brief but good demonstration:

In conclusion, although nothing beats working with good instructors and training partners, there is still so much work to on your own that you should never be caught idle of bored!

Pieces of the puzzle

All the founders of martial art styles and systems were those rare geniuses that come once in a… No, wait! Really?  If that were true, then how come we have so many of them? Is it possible that just a relatively small place such as Okinawa gave birth to so many geniuses in less than half century, some 150 years ago? Not to mention much larger cultures, such as those in China, India etc. Thousands of martial expressions in the East Asia alone. And there is one more thing… How come we often see quite notable differences among the practitioners of the same system?

If you take a look at the above comment, you will see two equally important attributes being mentioned: personal and traditional. At the first glance those might seem to be contradictory. After all, the whole point of traditional training is to do the things the same way they have been done for centuries, just like the founders, right? Well, sort of. If you think about it a little, and do some research, you will find out that those very founders have actually codified their own personal expression of the previous traditions, and named them (or their students did). Which means, in turn, that tinkering and experimenting with your training is the traditional approach anyway.

But, how is different to modern, non-traditional approach then?

First, nowadays more people have the tendency to give new names to their personal expressions (hey, we live in the world of brands and marketing!), although there still many of those who keep training, doing their own thing, without stopping to think about how to call it. Second, we live in the information age, when instructors are not so secretive and more open towards cross training. It is, therefore, no wonder we can choose among dozens of schools and styles. Matter of fact, we don’t need to pick just one! Heck, why not attend a few and combine the stuff into our own system!?

Wasted time and effort

This is the problem of the media age. It’s just too easy to get lost in the huge amount of information all at once, but without certain filters in place it can be exceedingly difficult to make the right selections and see if they fit together. I remember a guy coming to an instructor friend of mine who teaches sort of JKD-inspired MMA and asking for Wing Chun lessons, in order to better deal with the clinch range. Asked how he would deal with grappling, the guy answered “I do aikido for that purpose”. He did not think for a second about the gap between the underlying principles of the two systems, but started from the perceived strength of each. Also, and even more importantly, he flat out refused to join that MMA+ class (as my friend called it) which already had worked out the work in different ranges of combat; instead he preferred developing his own system after the hefty experience of six month of martial training.

Another issue is the failure to recognize the most probable challenges and problems you would face, depending on your reason for training, but instead focusing the rare extremes that get the attention of the media. This is where people dedicated inordinate amounts of time to various lapel grabs and two-handed holds, while completely neglecting tackles, headlocks and standing guillotine chokes. In other words, inexperienced practitioners engage in cross training looking for solutions, while not seeing the problems in the first place.

The way I see it, there are two paths to finding the proper fit in cross training, and they are not mutually exclusive.

Yeah!

One, join a club/group that does something different than you, and accept being their “toy”, thus experiencing the problems their style might put before you. Then go back and see what answers you can find by digging deeper into your own system, its technical principles and tactical tenets. This may require some adaptation of the stuff you have been already doing, but that is where the  personal aspect comes in.

Two, if unable to solve the problem on your own devices, then go elsewhere for instruction. However, keep an eye open for the potential problems that may arise from their solutions, i.e. opening doors for new problems, especially if those new problems are more serious that the ones you came to solve.

Personally, if training different systems, I usually keep them separated for a while before even looking at amalgamation possibilities. Sometimes, in fortunate circumstances, such possibilities will present themselves, kind of jumping out at you as a pleasant surprise. Other times it will take conscious analysis and pondering to direct your research. Of course, there is always the possibility of not finding the right fit between the two, and that’s perfectly fine. In that case you can either drop one thing, or stay with it for its own sake.

Naturally, you may be entirely satisfied staying for the same system for years or decades, and I have utmost respect for people who do that. Again, people’s motives for starting a martial art may vary widely and wildly, so as long as your are able to find something according to your needs you should be fine…just be honest with yourself.

Challenges in training - intent.

Recently I have offered some criticism on a video clip that a friend had posted online, dealing with empty handed work against knife in Russian Systema. Of course, some people did not agree with my point of view, some did, but in the process I have noticed something that I am going to discuss here. Namely, while most comments about martial art demos, either live or on video, are geared towards the performance of the defender/trainee, I usually tend to pay attention to the attacker/feeder. The way I see it, it is the latter’s approach to work that will directly impact the overall quality of the work in training.

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=418282055827

If you have done any serious reflection on how you (or other) drill and practice their material in training, it should be clear that practitioners cannot really grow much further in their work than the level of challenge presented in training. In view of drills, critics frequently address the points such as the speed and force of the attack, implying that anything but full-speed, full contact work is meaningless. I strongly disagree with such attitude, especially in certain domains and certain levels of training. The slow and/or soft work definitely has its merits, as long as it is done in proper context.

OK, this is where we reach the guiding theme of this post – INTENT. That, in my humble opinion, is the decisive element in drilling, if it is meant to prepare one for actual, live combative performance, be it in the sportive arena or in the streets and back alleys. Basically, the intent boils down to actually trying to connect, i.e. place, the technique one is feeding. In case of striking it means connecting the tool and the target, while in grappling it would mean obtaining the dictated position.

We see therefore, that full speed attacks, if kept short, or missing the target “for the sake of security” are just as prone to ingrain bad habits and grow illusions in training (maybe even more so) than slow ones. Rory Miller in his Book “Drills” (highly recommended) observes that every drill has a built in flaw that acts as a safeguard of sorts, and adds that the flaw of timing (doing the drill slowly) may be the least detrimental, because nobody is really inclined to act slowly, due to such training, in a realistic combat situation. Of course, the main tendency to screw up the value of slow training is one side speeding up (usually the defender), which enables them to do stuff that would not be doable in the real time, on the account of not being able to be that much faster then the attacker. This for example happens rather frequently in the Systema circles.

Honesty, then, is the best policy when doing the slow work. If approached in that manner it offers a lot of good things. Probably among the most important ones is finding new possibilities to experiment with later at more intensity, in order to find out whether those could be included among the probable repertoire of responses (please, see thispost).

The same objections stand for one-step sparring in karate and taekwondo, or all those cyclic drills found in arnis/eskrima (hubud, sumbrada etc.), and which even happen to be the staple of some schools and styles. The very nature of those drills is such that they contain possible bad habits, and if done without proper intent from both participants, than there will be no good habits to compensate. How often have you seen people do hubad and sumbrada in a way that looks like patty-cake sort of exchange? Unfortunately, more often than not – both actors standing in place, attacking from a wrong distance (the neuralgic point of one-step sparring practices), not even seeking to place the technique, reckless in defense… Now add actual intent to that drill, even at slow or medium tempo and lo and behold – they start moving around, realigning to keep the proper posture, being attentive of their defensive techniques etc.

The intent reminds one of the actual purpose of the work and the context in which the drilled material is likely to be applied. It brings to mind an excellent observation by Charles Staley, in his book “The Science of Martial Art Training”, saying: “[…] without the bigger picture in mind, someone is not really training, but rather, simply exercising. This distinction reveals the significant differences between an athlete (in our case fighter – D.M.) and a fitness enthusiast”.

In conclusion, be sure to which category you wish to belong (refer back to this post for assistance), and train accordingly, with the right INTENT.