The Way of Least Resistance

I have indicated before that it is dangerous to be obsessed with “power generation” in your martial art; there is so much more, particularly if your approach is oriented towards civilian defence . You don’t want to get hit, for starters. To do that you need not only evasion but “blocking” (deflection) . You need a good foundation in terms of grounding and movement – in particular movement that serves as a platform for your evasion and deflection. Of course, you also need skills relating to grappling – whether stand-up or on the ground. Even when you want to focus on hitting, it is important to remember that what people call “power generation” (ie. the ability to impart force) relies principally on the efficient transfer of momentum (as I’ve discussed in my article “ Hitting harder: physics made easy ”). The equation for momentum is simple: p = m x v If you want to hit harder, you have to move your mass faster. There are glosses on that (as I’ve detailed in my articles “ Kime: ...

It has occurred to me that I have not ever addressed one of the major elements of traditional fighting arts before: stances. Stances are an integral part of traditional eastern fighting arts. Moreover they are surprisingly consistent in form. For example, virtually every eastern fighting art has the “forward” stance (sometimes called the "bow and arrow stance"). In Japanese it is called “zenkutsu dachi”. In Chinese it is called “gong bu” (work step). This stance is the “workhorse” of most martial systems. Typically it is shoulder width between the feet but 2 shoulder widths in length with the front knee bent so that the shin is vertical while the back leg is straight. The hips are usually oriented forwards (hence the term “forward stance”). It even exists in yoga where it takes the form of the “warrior pose” indicating its martial links. Another ubiquitous stance is “horse stance”, which is typically bow-legged with the feet 1 ½ to 2 shoulder widths apart, toes either ...

Readers of my blog will be aware that I am at odds with many karate practitioners in relation to how the kata naihanchi/naifanchi should be performed. I have previously detailed my dislike of "hip shaking" - ie. pre-loading or telegraphing the hips to gain extra power - in practically every technique in naihanchi/naifanchi. However I have recently become aware of another point of disagreement I have with many schools over their practice of this kata: the stance. Many schools today practise naifanchi in what amounts to a relaxed, shoulder-width stance, with feet parallel. This is known as "heiko dachi" in Japanese. Even if it isn't exactly a heiko dachi, it is very near it (it certainly isn't a horse stance which is one and a half to 2 shoulder widths between the feet). Consider, for example, the video below: Naihanchi shodan by Onaga Michiko - performed in what is, to all intents and purposes, a normal shoulder width stance I presume that the basis for ...

Introduction People are often at me to illustrate what I mean when I talk about "dilution" in karate/martial arts so I thought I'd do so by reference to the common chudan uke or chest deflection. I have chosen chudan uke because I think it provides one of the starkest examples of how a technique can be passed down from generation to generation with the same macro movement - but with all the essential details missing. In this article I will be referencing a particular karateka of a particular school (see below) not because I wish to denigrate either, but because I am respectfully diametrically opposed to how they do their chudan uke - and their video clearly highlights our differences in approach. I'm sure that the student is an excellent all-round karateka and fighter and that the school is reputable, however in respect of their chudan uke we have a technical disagreement. I will outline why I feel I am "right" and why their performance of chud...

I was walking with my teacher, Chen Yun Ching, through the cluttered, stony streets of Qishan in southern Taiwan, blood-red paper and tinsel jostling with with the pushy crowds and endless market stalls. "How do you you say 'Happy New Year'?" I asked him, and he paused, mid-stream, while people flowed around him, a rock in the rapids. I carefully repeated his words again and again, watching his eyebrows raise higher and his eyes go wider in increasing exasperation at my mangled tones, until he finally waved his hand saying "hao" (good) - whether in satisfaction or in resignation, I wasn't sure. With some optimism I shouted out my newly-acquired greeting to the first people I saw: a group of young men and women walking past, chatting amiably in the spirt of New Year's Eve revelry. Almost at once they fell about laughing (literally, for one young man actually sank to the ground, hugging his belly), stamping their feet, vainly trying to stifle guffaws a...

So what was the Decadal Gashuku all about? In 10 days we had run more than 150 km, performed close to 10 000 kicks and an equal number of punches, strikes and blocks. We had trained for 10 hours per day, sweated buckets of water, used up litres of sunscreen and eaten gallons of maltabela porridge. We had lifted chi shis, pressed the kongo ken, done thousands of knuckle push-ups, sit-ups, squat kicks and fireman lifts up steep hills. Certainly the gashuku was, to a large extent, an exercise in spirit training. But there was much more to it than that, and it would be unfair to ignore these other aspects in the face of "more exciting" events like fractured vertebra, dislocated shoulders and dehydration-induced delirium . The Decadal Gashuku is where I learned (and inculcated) some very useful (and in fact fundamental) martial material that in the pre-internet era was particularly hard to come by. In weapons alone I learned Hamahiga no tonfa, Tsukenshitahaku sai kata (a tri...

It was mid-afternoon half way through the second week of the Decadal gashuku . Tim Hull and I were shuffling along a dusty track somewhere in the African savannah. The group with which we’d started running had long since dispersed; the front pack having disappeared into the far distance while behind us about 20 or so stragglers were spread out over several kilometres. We were about 16 km into what was a half marathon. As trudged along, each step sent sharp spasms up my spine (due to what I later discovered was a fractured vertebra). I reflected on how we had come to be in this position... The morning had started out promisingly enough; we had a very short run – only 5 or so kilometres – followed by some chi sau (sticky hands drills from wing chun) and then some taiji. So far so good. We had breakfast and rested as the sun came out and the sky cleared away from the previous night’s storm. We were in for a hot, dry day. Our mid-morning lesson was about to begin and I reluctantly ...