On Further Reflection...

I recently wrote that it didn't particularly matter that my most recent promotion was not particularly rigorous. I'm still of the opinion that belts don't count for all that much, especially when making inter-school comparisons, but after some more thought on the subject I want to present an argument in favor of introducing physical/mental rigor early in the training process. If you'll indulge me for a moment I'd like to recount an event from my past by way of illustration.

The first school I ever studied at really made you work for your belts. Tests took a couple of hours minimum, even for beginning students, much of which was spent under the supervision of junior instructors whose job was to exhaust you as much as test your knowledge. One of these tests, either 2nd to 3rd rank or 3rd to 4th, I don't recall which, stands out in my mind as an event of fundamental importance in my life second only to marrying my spouse.

At one point during this test the instructor told us to pick a partner and tell them about ourselves, all while standing on one leg with the other knee in the air. After a brief period, long enough for our legs to be tiring out, he came around and started asking questions: What was your partners name? Where did ey live? What kind of a computer did ey use? And so on. At a certain point the questions got so ridiculous that I stopped and said to myself "Hey, wait a minute, he doesn't actually expect us to answer these, does he?". Following quickly on the heels of that question was the realization that, if he didn't expect us to actually have answers, the only reason he was asking questions in the first place was to harass/fluster us. Thus I would "win" simply by not allowing him to fluster me.

It wasn't quite satori, but it certainly was an epiphany. That realization, that there wasn't any point in getting angry, and that I had a choice about whether I would do so or not, was the kicked pebble that turned into an avalanche. I could choose not to be angry. And if I could choose not to be angry I could also choose not to be envious, or presumptuous, or any of the other negative mental states that frequently beset MA practitioners.

In time (years) it led to the cultivation of what I characterize as a "receptive ego": I recognize my own worth, but I also recognize where I can benefit from the experience of others. That mode of being-in-the-world has spilled out into my everyday life to great benefit. I'm a better person now, and I choose consciously how to react to events (most of the time).

Now, coming back to my main point... I recognize that my experience is unusual, but I think there's something to be said for stressing people as a part of the training process. Students can become better martial artists, and even better people, if they acknowledge their shortcomings and strive to make themselves better. It would be great if we could systematically induce them to do so, but it seems to me that this is one of those areas heavily influenced by personal idiosyncrasies. At best what we can say is that pushing students physically and mentally will help at least some portion of them enter into this dialogue for themselves.

Another Reason To Avoid Getting Knocked Upside Yo' Head

Like you needed any more, right? There's a good article over at Moving Meat about the mechanics/effects of a punch/kick to the side of the head.

Belts... Meh

I enrolled in a new school a couple of weeks ago and, much to my surprise, have already been promoted to the next belt level. On one level this makes sense; I've 5 years worth of study in a couple systems, so I'm not really a beginner. But at the same time it seems a little bit indecent; I mean, I'm still waiting for the gi I ordered to come in.

The testing and promotion process at this particular studio is no where near as rigorous (in a physical sense) as in other places I've studied. All I had to do was demonstrate sufficient mastery of the first-level material; the whole test took about 20 minutes. That contrasts strongly with another system I've studied where the test for promotion from first to second rank was a grueling, several hour ordeal.

This speaks, I think, to the whole notion that a particular rank has any meaning outside of a specific system. It took me 3.5-ish years to reach brown belt at a previous studio, and probably would have taken me another year or so to reach black. In my new school, however, people get to black in under 2 years. At the same time, however, there are clearly much different expectations for what it means to have a black belt in both systems: in my old school you were qualified (more or less) to run your own studio under the guidance of a more-senior instructor, whereas in the new school you've just gotten the preliminaries out of the way.

I do hope, however, that the testing becomes more rigorous/vigorous at some point. Any schmoe can memorize a bunch of forms, but there's more to it than just that. Good martial artists carry themselves a certain way and have a certain demeanour... they've internalized the mental and physical aspects of their art. I want the people above me to be better than I am if for no other reason than to serve as a goad for my own development.

I was initially concerned about all of this but, on reflection, I don't think it matters how hard it is to get to the next belt. Students and instructors can serve as exemplars, but improvement is ultimately a dialogue with yourself. You get out of it what you put into it. If you know what you need to do to improve the belt is largely immaterial at that point.

Studio X: Stances, Rank 1

2011-05-06: Updated title to indicate these are stances for the first belt rank.

2011-04-20: Have corrected some items below on the basis of further discussion with instructors.

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The first (of perhaps several) entries on the stances taught at Studio X.

Horse

This is a typical horse stance such as is to be found in nearly every kung fu/karate school. Formal criteria:

• 50/50 weight division
• Feet point forward
Feet are two shin-lengths apart
• Head/chest are erect
• Hands chambered at the hips (or, alternately, held in guard position)
• (Ideally) thighs are parallel to the ground¹

This is a training stance intended for improving the strength and flexibility of the legs.

The challenge of horse stance is to bend deeply while maintaining good form. The natural response to bending you thighs is to stick out your rear to maintain your center of balance. But if you do that it looks silly and (more importantly) makes it essentially impossible to keep your chest/head erect. Correct form involves shifting your center of gravity by tucking in your rear and bending more at the ankle to compensate. The strength/flexibility of the ankle is generally the limiting factor in how deep you can go. Note also that I've added a couple of joints to the spine to emphasize that the back is slightly curved in this position rather than being straight.

Bow

Bow stance is, like horse, intended primarily for training rather than practical application. It is designed to strengthen the legs and stretch the muscles/ligaments below and posterior to the knee² and to encourage the "rooting" necessary for delivery of effective punches. As such it serves the same purpose as the long, forward stances found in other arts. Formal criteria:

• 70/30 weight distribution
• Both feet point forward
• Rear foot trails leading foot by 2*(shin length+ankle length)
• ~1 foot-length horizontal distance between feet Just enough horizontal distance between feet to maintain balance.
• Back leg straight
• Front thigh parallel to ground
• Hips forward

Very few people are actually flexible enough to meet the formal criteria; the figure I've rendered above reflects the "correct" posture as it is seen in practice. In particular it is usually the case that the muscles/ligaments of the legs are too tight for the trailing foot to face completely forward, causing the following:

• Trailing foot points off-center 25° - 45°.
• Rear leg mostly, but not entirely, straight.
• Hips point off center 15° - 45°

It's important to note that you don't straighten your rear leg completely outside of the formal context. Doing locks out your knee, risking injury, and also makes it difficult to move out of bow stance. Rather, in practice the knee is kept bent both for protection of the joint and to provide the power to move out of the stance gracefully.

I've rendered the figure with an outstretched arm to remind myself of an idiosyncrasy of Studio X. In the other arts I've studied you'd never leave an arm outstretched like that; you'd chamber it or put it on guard. The Studio X short forms that I've learned so far, on the other hand, all begin from (and some end in) this position. This seems to be a function of the following factors:

• There's an implicit, unperformed "outward block, punch" at the beginning of each long form. This, in turn, seems to be related to the technique for turning 180° while in bow stance, which involves issuing the same block/punch combo.
• The hands have to go somewhere. Studio X short forms, rather than having them chambered or on guard, simply keeps them in their initial (i.e. post-turn) position.

Sparring

This is the default stance for "practical" work and is analogous to the fighting/sparring stances found in other systems. It's designed to protect the body and make it easy to move. Points to note:

• 50/50 60/40 weight distribution favoring front leg
• Rear foot lags front foot by 2*(shin length - ankle length)
• Feet ~1 foot-length apart Just enough horizontal distance between feet to maintain balance.
• Front foot points forward
• Rear foot points off-center just enough to be comfortable
• Hands are in guard position:
• Hands make fists
• Lead hand (hand on same side as leading foot) is on center line, slightly below eye level
• Other hand "tucks in" below lead hand and slightly off-center.
• Elbows on the narrow end of their natural range.

Unlike bow/horse, which are training stances designed to be uncomfortable to some degree, sparring stance should feel comfortable and natural. Disregard the implied hip geometry in the figure above; it's largely an artifact of how I rigged the figure. The hips, like the rear foot, will face just off-center enough to be comfortable.

Cat

Cat stance has a role in both formal and practical applications:

• Proper form involves sinking deeply on the supporting leg, building strength and flexibility.
• Weight rests on a single foot, making it easy to deliver kicks.
• The stance is geometrically compact around the vertical axis, making it easy to turn; cat stance is often used to assist with direction changes in forms.

The stance itself doesn't require a lot of explanation:

• 90/10 weight distribution favoring rear foot
• Rear foot and hips face forward
• Sink as low as possible on supporting foot.
• Trunk erect
• Front foot essentially "floats" slightly in front of rear foot.

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1 I've heard that in more than one place, but I'm not 100% convinced that its physically possible to get the thighs parallel while maintaining good form. In order to keep the center of mass within the box described by the feet (and thus avoid falling over) you'd need to either a) lean the torso forward quite a bit or b) extend the knees very far in front of the toes. The former is easily doable, but conflicts with the goal of keeping the torso upright, while I'm not sure its physically possible to bend the ankle enough to achieve the latter.
2 The plantaris? Gastrocnemeus?

Introducing Studio X

I recently joined a new MA school which I'll refer to hereafter as "Studio X". It has no manual to speak of, just lists of forms, techniques, etc. which students are expected to learn. Students are encouraged to write down material as they learn it in order to aid in retention, serve as a reference, etc. Rather than scribbling illegibly in a notebook I'm going to write up this material here, since it'll give me an opportunity to apply the notation system I've been developing, experiment with other ways of representing techniques on paper, and generally kibitz about theory.

Commercialization of the Martial Arts in China

The March issue of National Geographic has a brief, but generally good, article on the effects of commercialization on martial arts instruction in China. The long and the short of it is that in China, like the US, there is a tension between teaching an art for its own sake and teaching with an eye toward popularity and profitability.

China has developed what essentially amount to "kung fu mills". Dengfeng, home of the Shaolin Monastery, has 60 large kung-fu schools with 50000 students; these guys make the biggest US chains look like a bunch of pikers. One of the first thoughts which crossed my mind upon reading the article was to wonder what would drive someone to enroll in one of these behemoths? Part of their appeal seems to be that some segment of the Chinese public looks upon them as a form of vocational training:

These schools fill their ranks with boys, and increasingly girls, from every province and social class, ranging in age from five to their late 20s. Some arrive hoping to become movie starts or to win glory as kickboxers. Others come to learn skills that will ensure good jobs in the military, police, or private security. A few are sent by their parents to learn discipline and hard work.

This is a major contrast from how things are in the US. Very few people here participate in the martial arts thinking that they're going to be movie stars, and I expect that only a slightly larger number expect to use their skills in a professional capacity. Rather, they're mostly interested in self-defense, fitness, building personal discipline, and, finally, art for its own sake. Who in China is catering to those people?

That's where it gets really interesting. There are a bunch of smaller schools, more akin to what we have in the US, which coexisting uneasily in the shadows of the major institutions. Part of the article consists of an interview with a gentleman named Hu Zhengsheng who runs one of these smaller schools. He tells a familiar story about the difficulties of keeping the lights on and convincing students that high kicks alone don't make good kung fu. He might adopt a more commercial, mercenary mentality, but would risk losing something essential in his school if he did so.

Seeing how this plays out the same in China as the US makes me wonder whether there must inevitably be a loss of quality as a school scales up (and thus becomes more commercially viable). That, I think, would make an excellent question to pursue in a follow-on post.