The Enemy of Mastery

17 08 2017

This article is a shot out to the lifelong martial arts enthusiasts; those who love these arts and everything that goes with them. Those whose favorite personal items not souvenirs from a memorable vacation, but perhaps a weapon, favorite uniform, a lucky set of a sparring gear. Those who have heard the words from a significant other(s), “It’s me or your martial arts!” The guys who still perform stances and hand techniques anytime you find yourself alone–in a stairwell, the restroom, an empty elevator. You know who I’m talking about… all you weirdos who choose what you will wear based on your ability to move and kick, just in case a fight breaks out–and you are older than 35 years old. A nod to you folks who live, sleep, and breathe the martial arts, and you will do this until you die.

And I mean all of you, whether you train or not, whether you are in shape or not, whether you are simply an enthusiast or an actual practitioner. Hopefully, you will find some value in today’s musings.

So I was thinking about the topic of martial arts mastery, and there are many ways to treat the idea. They range from those who claim extreme humility to the point that they actually consider it a character flaw (arrogance, insecurity, etc.) to pursue mastery, to those who pursue it, claim it, make it a life goal. There are those who consider “Master” a level or rank to achieve within a martial arts curriculum; and then you have those who don’t acknowledge Masters as people, but only “to master” as an action verb. We can argue all day about what a master is or isn’t, whether it exists or doesn’t, who gets to determine who masters are and if mastery can be declared on a piece of paper or not. For the sake of space, I will leave you to do that on social media (or in the comments section of this article). Today we will treat mastery as a thing, whether it is a noun, adjective, adverb, verb, or title.

There is a saying that there is no point in pursuing an endeavor if you cannot do it right. If you’re going to do something, they say, be the best, do it to the best of your ability. If you are going to teach, you’d better have done it well. That seems to be the point of Kung Fu. The martial arts is not just an endeavor, it is a specialty. It is what you have put forth an effort to do, and do well. If we look at the martial arts from a combative context, in order to be effective we must do the martial arts well enough that we can overcome the opponent. In a self-defense and combat situation, casual practice does not help the defender. The attacker without a doubt is determined and will use all of his effort in hurting you or taking what you have. As the defender you will do the same, but your chance of success depends on how much training you have done, whether it was spent on effective techniques, and if the result of doing so is more skill than your attacker. Give your attacker a weapon, and you will need to have more skill, more strength, more speed, more fearlessness, more accuracy, more aggression, and more pain tolerance. Not just more–but enough that you walk away unhurt. It is possible that you can successfully defend yourself, but walk away with an injury that disables or kills you later. Because of this very real need in the martial arts, I would argue strongly that casual practice in the martial arts is a waste of time for most of us, outside of the need to stay in shape.

That said, the focus in the pugilistic arts should be a never-ending effort to improve the practitioner. You should progressively become stronger, faster, more alert/aware, smarter, have better timing, develop more endurance, understand more strategies and techniques, learn more attack methods and how to counter them, become more durable, become more explosive, more evasive and agile, have better balance, learn to use more weapons, learn to fight against more weapons, be able to fight off more attackers… and the list goes on. In every style, there are more techniques than any martial artist can develop to a high level of proficiency. There are more weapons than one can learn, and learn well. You must do more than simply learn and practice; you must develop to a high level, if your concern is combat and self-defense. Attackers are not looking for a fair fight. They are looking for an unfair advantage over their intended victims, they will attack one person or a couple in groups. They will carry weapons. They will surprise you and attack from angles you do not see. They will catch you when you are not ready. They will attack your children. They will be brutal in their attack. If you or your wife are knocked unconscious, they will not hesistate to continue to beat on your lifeless, defenseless bodies. They will hit you with a brick, cut you with a bottle or knife, shoot you at point-blank range. Your casual martial arts practice which leaves you with soft arms and no endurance will do nothing against a seasoned criminal who may have spent the last 10 years in prison pumping iron. Your martial arts skills should reflect more than what you did on your last rank exam or what the presenter in your seminars taught. You need dominant skill, and more ability than anything you may encounter on the street, or worse–in your own home at 2 a.m., when calling 9-1-1 is not an option.

And this is where the argument of if mastery of the art is an “arrogant” goal, a realistic goal, or a valid goal. Please understand this, whatever you had in mind for advanced or expert skill–mastery is beyond that. Whatever you saw in front of you last night in martial arts class isn’t enough; mastery is way beyond that. No offense to your Sifus, but mastery of the art is a never-ending, always increasing degree of skill. Whatever is realized today can always be surpassed tomorrow. In many ways, mastery of the martial arts is perfection of the martial arts. Most of us have this confused. They believe martial arts mastery is time-in-grade; it is not. Some think mastery is something we achieve after training with other masters. Some believe it is based on how well you speak Cantonese or Mandarin, or at a minimum use Chinese terms. Some confuse the ability to perform a great form or a variety of ceremonies with “mastery” of the art. Martial arts mastery and perfection has nothing to do with how often you traveled to China and Japan, what certificates you hang from your walls, how many forms you know, how many trophies are in your collection, or who has celebrated you and your accomplishments. Martial arts mastery as an art of combat only depends on the same thing your enemies will worry about:  Can you take on and defeat any attacker, regardless of the odds? Can you keep your family safe in a home invasion robbery? Can you teach a 120 pound woman to defend herself against a 250 pound man? Can your skills keep you alive in a near-death situation with an attacker who only cares to take what you have, including your life, and will use everything at his disposable to do so–and you have nothing but your hands to stop him? Yes, we build healthy children, prolong our lives through fitness and living right, respecting the Chinese culture and becoming better people, blah blah blah, quack quack quack… that is a different conversation. Today, we are discussing how far you can take these arts as a form of self preservation and defending yourself and your family. There is a level of martial arts that most people don’t even realize exists, and that is it. It is the ability to give the human body a superhuman level of ability. And this journey is what I call the path to mastery; to push the self as far as it goes as a weapon. This path isn’t for everyone.

Many of us, when we first undertook the martial arts lifestyle, wanted this. We may have seen a martial arts movie that intrigued us. Perhaps we read a comic book and aspired to become a Batman or real-world Iron Fist. So, what happened? We came into the arts enthusiastic to become martial arts supermen. But here we are, 15 year later, satisfied to read about the martial arts on the internet with only a fraction of the skills we once dreamed of. Many of us have dared to call ourselves Sifu–or worse, Master. Most of us have even gone so far that while we once daydreamed about being able to defend ourselves against weapon-wielding attackers, we now tell our students that fighting is not the purpose of Kung Fu and that they can be “good” at the martial arts without having “good” fighting skills.Where did we go wrong?

I’ll give you a shortlist of possibilities:

  • You found out how difficult it is to pursue real skill in the martial arts. Many of us thought this art was going to be easy. Maybe some thought the art might be difficult, but didn’t realize HOW difficult it would be. Like the wolf who couldn’t jump high enough to eat the grapes, decided it was easier to chase land animals and assume that grapes were probably sour–it’s so difficult to pursue perfection in the martial arts, it would be easier to simply dismiss perfection as something that does not exist
  • Your teacher was not one who wanted martial arts perfection, so perhaps he changed your focus in the art. I’ve known Sifus like this. One in particular had a student who was enthusiastically in pursuit of combat skill. My friend was more of a casual practitioner with a school and lacked fighting skill himself, and I’ve seen him chastize his student for being too aggressive and concerned with sparring. So because of his own insecurities in the art, he extinguished the student’s fire for more
  • Speaking of insecurities–I have personally known many Sifus who were not fighters, so they discouraged student participation in sparring. They feared fighting so much, they only fighting they did was with each other–and some didn’t even do that
  • On the other end of the spectrum, there are those who came into the martial arts with “natural ability”. I don’t believe in the term natural ability, btw… Many come to the martial arts with athletic ability from other activities, while others are either more agile, more flexibility, or stronger. These individuals learn and develop quickly, and are told they are “good” at the art without having to put forth much effort. The result? If they stick with it, they will either become mediocre instructors or they bring that “good” skill into instructorship. However, because they never had to work hard, they don’t. They’ve never learned to train hard, so they maintain the same level ability they had as students and never improve from that. Satisfied with being good at the martial arts and being complimented by everyone around them–this betrays their pursuit for more
  • The other outcome of the good martial arts student is that he becomes lazy. Some of these Sifus get to enjoy the reputation they had as students and young men. So as they get older, they find that they must work more diligently to maintain those skills. Unfortunately, very few of these naturally gifted martial arts students remain so as adults and they end up out of shape and with poor skill, yet have the rhetoric and disposition of a Sifu who has earned his rank.
  • You discover shortcuts to mastery:  political affiliations, hall of fame organizations, use of martial arts media, seminar ranks, creation of one’s own system, or simply strapping on the title and keeping friends who validate it

In my old school I had two sayings stencils on my wall (among others):

Good is the enemy of Great

Laziness is the opposite of Perfection

Many of us have stopped short of these goals, which perhaps 1% of us will ever see. It exists. But don’t do it for the title, do it for the enemy. Because there are many of them out there, and you never know when you may meet him. Don’t do it for ego. Don’t do it for business. Don’t do it for certificates. Do it for those you love. Your family is depending on you, and your life as well as their life depends on it.

Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.

 

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The Killer Factor

10 08 2017

This weekend I had a very long conversation with my younger Kung Fu brother, whom I will not name unless he gives me permission to do so. Despite talking for more than 3 hours, there were many topics we must finish discussing–and trust me, we covered a lot.

In the course of our lengthy discussion, he declared an admiration for my generation and our commitment to excellence and preservation of our skills. I have noticed a difference between our generation and not just his generation of Jow Ga men–but his generation of Kung Fu men in general.

And before feelings get hurt, please do not take offense to anything I may state in this article. My intentions are pure and nonjudgmental. They are only observations and opinions, although I do often state my opinions as fact. I think after four decades of practicing, applying, and teaching the art, anyone with opinion deserves the right to make such declarations. To keep it simple, we will make a bulleted list of points.

  • My generation was the tail end of the generation of fanatics, from the. 70s into the 80s. We are the guys who slept, drink and ate Kung Fu. We had few distractions, and were naiive enough to think that we could live a life of not much more than practicing martial arts and dying. Today’s martial artist is preoccupied with social media, image, current fads, chasing celebrity teachers, pursuing add-on arts through self study and seminar, political connections, etc. My generation only trained and fought.
  • Blame that first point on the economy or whatever, but there were many of us who were able to do that for years. I recall students coming to the Kung Fu school during the summer and working out from early in the morning until classes began in the evening. Weekends all year long were spent that way, taking a break for lunch and Black Belt Theater. Today’s martial arts student trains in a business. Some of our Sifus lived in our schools, or close by. Today’s Sifu commutes to the school like he’s going to the office. So sleepovers in the Kwoon? Eating and napping in the Kwoon? Inviting guys from other schools over for an impromtu fight night? In your dreams, buddy. Now get out, I have an intro coming in ten minutes…
  • Today’s students know too much for their britches. They read websites and books and will create their own arts in their backyards and garages. They go online to these discussion forums on Facebook and get advice from other pencil-necks like “Go check him him out and see if his Tong Long is legit”. Right, so you, a beginner, are qualified to look at a master’s Kung Fu and determine if he is skilled or knowledgeable–but you want to sign up for lessons? Laughable. And I see these discussions every day
  • My generation’s students usually only learned from one teacher all the way through to instructorship. This may not sound like much to a guy who is used to seeing “experts” with a 10-artlong resume, but compare a guy who trained with his Sifu for several hours a day, every day, for 7, 8 years vs a guy who flew to Hong Kong once a year or did 3 seminars with a well known master like Chiu Chi Ling and now he’s claiming the Tailor as his Hung Gar Sifu. There is no comparison, and we won’t even bother having a debate about it
  • The Kung Fu student of yesteryear often was encouraged to seek out non-TCMA styles to prove our effectiveness and build our school’s reputation. Today’s student goes to Chinese only tournaments, fights in a division with often 5 or 10 (I’ve been to tournaments with fewer) competitors and walks out claiming to be a “National Champion”. I know guys touted as National Champions with fewer than 20 fights total. At the same time, I and some of my brothers have several hundred fights in our careers
  • While many genres of martial arts have evolved to fit the times, there is a trend today to keep the Chinese arts ancient. This desire to remain authentic has resulted in the Chinese martial arts (again) become stagnant, irrelevent relics. Several classic TCMA texts written a hundred years ago chastized Kung Fu practitioners against this. The most famous TCMA school in recent times, Jing Wu, was founded on staying relevant. They skipped rope, practiced western boxing, wore military outfits and trained in track suits, and distinguished between modern self defense and classical martial arts theory. Today’s Sifu runs around in robes and puts more effort into learning Cantonese terms than he does testing his art against non-TCMA. Students who follow such leadership will lose what I call the “Killer Factor”. The type of student who is concerned with anything other than the Killer Factor will be one who trains casually. And herein lies the difference…

And we arrive at the point of this article. The Killer Factor. What is it?

The Killer Factor is a part of the Chinese martial arts that very few school have. It is a combination of identifying what techniques are most destructive, how to stop the most destructive techniques, how to develop the most destructive skills, putting those skills to the test against unfriendly opponents, and developing hands and feet that can actually do the damage you want done. Guys with the Killer Factor can break boards, cinder blocks, and bricks. Today’s Kung Fu guys say stuff like “hand conditioning gives you joint problems” and “boards don’t hit back”…

A martial arts school stuck on aesthetics will never reach the point that their students learn to kill a man–or how to stop a man from killing him. Most martial artists I’ve met aren’t even comfortable discussing this subject. I had a feud a few years back with a martial artist in Tennessee, who threatened to kick my ass. My cousin answered the message and offered to fight him in my place, since he lived in Tennessee. After no response, my cousin went to the school and the police were called on him. His dojo brothers on the West Coast offered to do the same–fight me by proxy–and I was asked to leave the community center they were teaching in when I went to accept the offer. This is the state of today’s martial artist. No Killer Factor. Hell, these guys don’t even have the Bloody Nose Factor. You see although we were around the same age, this was a clash of old school versus new school; those guys talked about it, but my cousin and I lived it. As outdated as that may sound, there are very few martial artists in the new generation who can walk as warriors. They prefer to use the rhetoric.

And the easiest part of the Killer Factor is something that most martial artists lack the stomach to do:  To spend entire days training; to practice hand conditioning for 20-30 minutes a day religiously, to perform thousands of repetitions of strikes and blocks and kicks every week, possibly every *weekend*, to develop a hard body, a stone level of courage, and enough humility to put one’s reputation on the line on a regular basis. My Kung Fu brother was advised not to fight in tournaments in case he lost because he had students. My brothers in my generations would go and win some, but even better–lose some every month, and still go back to fight the following month.

And 30 years later, many of us have kept our skills while others have deteriorated by the age of 31. Picture a trained killer and how he might treat his martial arts skills. Compare it to how you train. Now modify how you approach the martial arts until you are doing what you’d imagine a trained killer does. It’s nothing more than philosophy, and it’s that simple.

Say no to costumes and affiliations and long resumes, and say yes only to the effort to become dominant and unbeatable. Good luck. Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.





The Signature Worth More Than Gold

21 01 2017

Calligraphy

Today, we will talk about a lover of art of writing, named George Foreman. George was a big, strong man. Known for his brute strength (he enjoyed boxing in his spare time), George loved calligraphy and studied all styles. Unlike many artists, George was able to move his money around and finance his love of calligraphy by getting a part time job prize fighting. This part time job he had forced him to wake up at 5 am to work out and occasionally travel to beat people up–but mostly he was able to spend his days practicing his calligraphy. Of the many things George enjoyed doing, the one thing he loved to write most was his name: “George Foreman, esquire”… “Love, Peace, and SOUL! –George Foreman”… “To Whom It May Concern, George Foreman”….

In fact, George loved writing his name so much, he named all of of sons “George Foreman”. There was George Foreman, Jr., George Foreman II, George Foreman III, and so on. And as any self-respecting calligrapher would do, George taught each boy how to write his name in the most beautiful way. Now, each son was born at a different time in George’s life. So when that child was old enough to learn to write, he was taught to sign in his name a little differently than the last son. Each son was taught to write in whatever style George was practicing at the time of his education. As the years passed, George’s signature was a little different as he developed more skill, acquired more knowledge, and changed his fancies. Each son, although they were all named George and had learned from the same loving father, slightly wrote his name differently than his brother. And on top of that, each son had his own ideas about how to write his name. Each boy loved his father, shared his father’s passion about writing, including relying on beating people up for income so he could spend his days writing his name.

Now the story takes a twist. George’s sons are all grown, but then each son names his sons “George Foreman”. Some of the sons teach their sons how to write; others send their sons to their father. In the end, we have in total, 21 men named “George Foreman”, and although they represent different generations, share the same name, drank from the same fountain, learned from the same source–each one writes his name slightly different from the next. And no one can duplicate exactly the (now) Grandfather’s signature.

End of story.

But translate this story to martial artists learning a style of fighting from their fathers instead of writing–we would have feuds, family fragments, brothers disowning each other, brothers denying each other–while everyone around them thinks to themselves, “But you all are named George, you all LOOK like your Dad, and you all write your name pretty much the same way!”  Boy, are we a nutty bunch.

From the outside in, most styles look pretty much the same. Of course there are nuances and differences, but if you took ten lineages of Wing Chun and put them in a room with ten lineages of Praying Mantis, ten lineages of Tae Kwon Do, and ten lineages of Choy Lay Fut–one could easily pick out who belonged to the generic groups of WC, PM, TKD, and CLF. I don’t know if anyone has mentioned it, my Kung Fu brothers, but those “differences” are so minute you might as well classify each other by whose eyebrows is longer. One would push their perspective styles further if they actually celebrated the differences rather than bicker over them. Because like old George’s 20 sons and grandsons–they are all named George, and they have more in common than they do different to each other.

Each teacher of each lineage of each system will have his own purpose in the art. He will have his own specialties in the system. He will have his own goals. He will have his own strengths and weaknesses. He will fancy one part of the system, while another will prefer another. One may enjoy the lion dance, while another enjoys combat, and another likes short forms, and another prefers weapons. My uncle once chastized me for passing judgment on a cousin’s lifestyle by telling me that as long as they wish to remain a member of this family, we have PLENTY of room on this family tree. We must accept that anyone who does not wish harm or shame on the family should always be welcome at the table come dinner time. Plus, those differences actually makes our Kung Fu experience much richer. Imagine if students joined a school and system, but found that the Kung Fu was only done one way. If one of George’s sons was left handed, but George only allow his sons to write with the right hand… many of us run our schools this way. My way is the only way.

A full family tree with uncles and aunts who specialize in nearly everything a student could want to learn can only breed the best martial arts students. In my own lineage of Jow Ga, we have instructors who are police officers, former kickboxers, community activists, entrepreneurs, doctors, scientists, boxers, restaurateurs, actors, musicians, dancers, photographers, artists… you name it. Whether a student would like to talk to Kung Fu elders about careers or just their own unique take on the system–students have an entire community of Sifu with his or her own experiences with the art whether we are talking about Jow Ga expressed through the eyes of a fighter, a businessman, or community pillar. On top of that, each teacher learned Jow Ga in a different context than other family members. Some Sifu have only studied Jow Ga under our late Master Chin and have possibly a purer view of his art. Some came through other styles and express their Jow Ga with the influence of that previous art. Some Sifu have used their Jow Ga in the ring, others in streetfights, others while working security or as a police officer subduing criminals. Without a doubt, each of these Sifu have his own expression. Some of us learned From Master Chin as a young teacher in the 1960s and 70s, while others learned from him before his death in the 80s after experiencing martial arts over three decades. Some were big, strong men, while others were small and quick. Some were athletic, others used the art to live healthier. And each of these experiences gave the practitioner a different view and application of the Jow Ga.

Now fast-forward to the present time. A new student joins the art under one Sifu. He learns his Sifu’s special way of executing Jow Ga for several years, and is now himself a new Sifu. What’s next? Stop learning and go open a school? Join a different style and explore what else the TCMA community has to offer?

How about seek out Kung Fu uncles and aunts and learn their expressions of the same art. What a great way to dig deeper into the art you already paid your dues to, than to find out what others have discovered through the same style. There is so much in each system of Kung Fu, it is impossible to explore and develop everything. On one hand, you could go study the staff with your Si Bok who specialized in the staff, learn sparring with your Si Sook who was a great fighter, train with another Si Sook who was an excellent kicker. On another hand, you could communicate with one Si Bok who uses his Kung Fu to impact local politics and rescue at-risk children, another Si Bok who has learned to make a good living with creative ways to teach Kung Fu, and another Si Bok who uses his Kung Fu to teach weight control and another who uses it to teach healing.

I have long told my students here in California that my only regret as a Jow Ga Sifu is that I am too far from Washington, DC, to send my students to see their elder Kung Fu uncles–who have a very different experience as well as expression of the same art I teach. I truly believe that I have given my students the best Jow Ga I can, but it is still inferior to the Jow Ga I could give them if I augment my instruction with lessons from each of my seniors…

“The success of a CEO should be determined by the number of people he trained that can surpass him. If someone warns me about an employee who is trying to overstep me, I reply that I’m a teacher, and that’s the way it should be.”

— Jack Ma, April 2014

Bottom line, Kung fu family:  Don’t raise your students in a vacuum. Your system, whatever it is, has a family tree that is rich with valuable information. It is impossible for you to know all and be proficient at all. Tap into that bank vault of knowledge and bring those lessons to your students, so that they could reap the benefit of a large, close-knit family who can teach your students many ways to look at your respective systems, skills, you do not fancy, experiences you do not have. Jack Ma once said the goal of a teacher is to make sure that his students surpass him. So much wisdom in that. Bury the hatchet, swallow your pride, join hands with Kung Fu brothers you may have barely met or hadn’t seen in years, work with those distant Kung Fu relatives, exchange techniques, ideas and skills and give your students the most concentrated, potent martial arts experience you can. I have seen a family of Kung Fu schools from the same lineage, in the same city all die in separate martial arts schools because they did not work together. I’ve witnessed a once excellent Kung Fu school put out only the highest level of martial arts competitors now promote weak Sifus because the students had a falling out with their teacher. Five fingers spread apart can at most only make a temporary sting. But ball those fingers tightly into a watertight, airtight fist–and you can possibly break rocks with that same hand.

Every teacher of every generation of a system will have his own signature in that system. Be the teacher whose students can “write his name” 10,000 different ways.

Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.

 

 





Master Ip Taught Everyone Differently…

25 09 2016

Something about the evolution of martial arts styles should be discussed among Kung Fu folks… the argument that leads to fractured lineages and disputes among classmates and training brothers. It is this:

We must understand that styles evolve and change, and anyone who is committed to promoting the system is free and qualified to do so.

What an arrogant and misguided notion for one classmate to lay claim to a system and deny his own classmates the privilege of enjoying it themselves. Most disputes among the same members of a lineage originate with this. There are many paths up a mountain, and how foolish to think that the path you walked or discovered is the only legitimate path up that mountain. However, we have seen through many controversies in the Chinese martial arts, men who once called each other “brother” challenging each other’s legitimacy in public–even claiming that they hold the only “true” teaching of their beloved system and/or teacher. A good example of this is to watch the Wing Chun controversies, where men from the same Master–yet differing periods–claim their own training brothers to be “incomplete” or illegitimate experts of that style. Men will say these things, even when they’ve witnessed with their own two eyes–that classmate training and devoting himself to the system. Perhaps one of the most offensive accusations to make on a classmate is to challenge a classmate publicly about their qualifications and knowledge. The only thing worse, is to do so in private–among outsiders to your system.

So what causes this betrayal? Why do people who once loved and liked each other do this? Is it ego?

I believe it is not as deep. Most of the time, I believe those who sit on all sides of such arguments truly believe they are right. In the Filipino Arts, I have seen generations of one Master separate and disassociate with each other simply because each believed he was in the best generation or the favorite student. It reminds me of when my own grandfather died, I immediately rushed to his house to “protect” his belongings from my cousins–who came to retrieve pictures, favorite items like his watches, trophies and awards… It was my father’s words that made me realize how foolish I had been. He told me that each of my cousins were entitled to the same sentimental items I treasured and that we all mourned and wanted a piece of him to remember him by. I foolishly believed that I was his favorite grandson. Days later, after the funeral–through conversations with my cousins I realized that my grandfather made ALL of us feel like we were the favorite grandsons. It’s what grandfathers do. They love us, and teach us, and tell us how we acted or looked just like our fathers at our age. They give us stories and anecdotes from their past in the hopes that we learn from their experiences and become more successful than they were. Is this not what a Kung Fu teacher does? Motivate, teach and protect us? Make each student feel like he or she was “Master” quality material? In my generation, we had one older brother, Sifu Craig Lee, who seemed to be the perfect Jow Ga specimen–his skill was flawless, and all of the younger guys wanted to do forms and fight as well as he could. When I trained, I would look in the mirror and try to emulate him as much as possible. Sifu would come around after class to see me training, sweating my ass off, and tell me, “Keep training because one day, you’re going to be just like Craig…” Forget Bruce Lee–us boys wanted to fight like Craig. Well I would discover, years after my Sifu died, that Sifu told us all that we would become just like Craig. I often heard a complaint that Sifu showed favoritism–but that’s what good teachers do. They make each student feel like he was the favorite. In the case of that FMA Master, it was just that. He told each Master under him that he was a Grandmaster quality fighter, and unfortunately when he died–each guy tried to step up and claim to be the ONE Grandmaster. Just like grandfathers, if he did his job right–each of us will grow up feeling special.

Yesterday while online, I saw yet another example of family disputes stemming from misunderstanding. The students of several Wing Chun Masters were bickering about whose version of Wing Chun was truer to late Grandmaster Yip Man’s. A neutral poster attempted to solve the dispute by saying that “Ip Man taught everyone differently…”  He had made a great point. If a master has done his job right, he will teach everyone differently. No one says that Kung Fu should only be done one way. Only fools believe that. It is like the argument among English speakers about who has an accent. Aussies tell Americans they talk funny. Texans tell Bostonians they talk funny. Californians believe they speak plain old English, but New Yorkers and Brits have accents. And so on. But the reality is that everyone speaks English, and depending on where you’re from and what your background is–each will speak that language in their own way. Kung fu is no different. One man joins a school at 40 years old having been athletic his entire life. His classmate, an 18 year old overweight boy, joins the school the same month. Both will learn the same system, but do their Kung Fu differently than a small girl who joined when she was 6 and is now 17. All will be different than a 35 year old security guard who joined the school to enhance his skills for his job–as they will from the 50 year old student who joined just to lose weight. Are any of these students doing a lesser version of their Sifu’s art? Will any of them be unqualified to teach their Sifu’s art in ten years just because he learned differently than his/her training brothers? Sifu may have taught each student according to their attributes, their reason for studying, and what that Sifu felt would benefit the student most. Yip Man taught over many decades, and he taught many, many students. Of course he taught different students and different generations differently. But are they, or are they not, all Yip Man students?

And there is yet another dynamic to this discussion. A Kung Fu master who has dedicated his life to the furthering and improvement of the system will himself evolve. A Sifu who sees Kung Fu in his 50s the same way he saw Kung Fu in his 20s has wasted 30 years of his life. When we are young, we have our biases, our insecurities, and perhaps many flaws. As a 23 year old school owner, I was somewhat hot headed and a very selfish teacher. I can admit now that I was not a good teacher then. My mind at the time was one three things–tournament fighting, women, and money. I drove sports cars, drank in bars, womanized, and would fight regular guys who didn’t stand a chance–just to brag that I had done so. As a result, I alienated some martial arts friends who had outgrown me, and lost students who felt I represented the art poorly. I did. I have known martial artists who sold drugs, scammed people out of money, sold pornography, owned strip clubs–you name it. Over time, most of us have changed and outgrew our ignorant selves and became teachers the community could admire. Some did not. Many are still teaching. A good teacher will offer an evolving art if you stick with him through the generations. I’ve known Sifus who have talked students out of going to college in order to stay home and “be a Kung Fu man”, as if this were all one needed to survive in the modern world. I’ve seen Sifus who have lured young men away from home to provide free labor in struggling martial arts schools while they lined their pockets up with what little money was made. We cannot blame a man for his past–but if he has not evolved 20 years later and is still doing the same thing, there is a major problem. As a result, the martial arts I taught when I was 23 is vastly different, and with a different philosophy, than the martial arts I taught at 43.

The same goes for technique. A Sifu who teaches in his 20s has not seen much nor experienced much. The art he passes in his classes will be superficial and under-researched. This is not to say that the quality of the Kung Fu is poor. The Kung Fu knowledge is just not going to be profound. But every decade or so, his art should have evolved into newer versions; Sifu has seen the art he teaches in action through his students. He will tweak things here and there. He may modify what techniques are in his curriculum–or how those techniques are applied. A Sifu who comes from a city without much competition may teach an uninspired, unchanged art–but when he relocates to a larger city where his students are now competing against many other styles, his system should include new test results and modifications. He should even have alternative applications that did not exist when his art was not being challenged by these strange systems. Perhaps in China, the art was aesthetically pleasing–but when it got to Taiwan, the Sifu needed to urbanize his Kung Fu to deal with muggers armed with knives and guns. When Sifu arrived in America, he needed to arm his students to deal with western boxers and bigger, taller opponents than in both China and Taiwan. So students in China look at Taiwan brothers and wonder why their Kung Fu looks strange. Both Chinese students and Taiwanese students are looking at Sifu’s American students thinking, “What the heck is that? Sifu didn’t teach that stuff!”  Arts evolve. As the master ages, he will add new knowledge and experience. He may modify his Kung Fu to match the needs of different students. His training methods may change with newly developed technology and trends. But aren’t they all legitimate?

And if Kung Fu was all supposed to stay intact, shouldn’t we all be doing the same art that was created hundreds of years ago–rather than the many styles we see today? Food for thought.

Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.





Kung Fu’s “Missing Link”, pt II (True Kung Fu Tournaments)

16 09 2016

The folks over at New York Sanda have an article appropriately entitled “Why Can’t Johnny Fight?”  When you get a chance, I recommend you mosey over there and take a look at their blog–which have lots more good information besides just that article. I enjoyed the article, which is addressing a theme we repeat often on this site–that Kung Fu people have to engage in combat and combat training more than we have been doing. Every TCMA community has its heavy hitters. But the problem is that each local Chinese martial arts community only has one or two. Now if you compare the percentage of Kung Fu schools to other styles that are known for being superior in fighting and self defense, you’ve got to admit that we are terribly lacking. And please spare us the speech about martial arts not being for fighting (or the one I like so much about you having nothing to prove). You know and we know it. We just don’t talk about it.

In a nutshell, Sifu Ross is referring to this tournament, called the “Tru to Form” format which in its defense is an attempt to get Kung Fu fighters to use the techniques in their respective systems in fighting. Sifu Kristoff Clarke gave a passionate speech at a tournament that went viral in the martial arts community a few years back, and most people agree with him. When you compare competitors at a tournament, very few show any signs of the systems they are supposed to be representing. Why do you suppose–if these arts are indeed practical–do Kung Fu stylists do boxing, Muay Thai and Jujitsu when they fight? Is it because those arts don’t work? I don’t think so. I think it’s something much simpler; in my opinion, many of the folks who are teaching have not explored their arts enough to see, not if they work, but how they work.

Let’s use an analogy. We have Mike, a landloving beach nut who’s never actually been to the beach. He’s read all kinds of books about what goes on the beach. He collects all sorts of fishing rods, swimwear, surfboards, and what not. He has watched all the movies about divers, swimmers, tunes into the Olympics, can describe all types of swimming strokes and marine life… you name it. Only thing is, Mike has never been to the beach. He did go to the river one time, got in and got water up his nose. Never again, he swears, this shit was not fun–plus, this isn’t like, a real beach. The river sucks. He is so enamored with the beach, he listens only to the Beach Boys, walks around town in his swim shorts and goggles, and will argue how that one Navy Seals movie is fake because the actors they used aren’t even real sailors. He is as true a Beach Bum as one has ever known.

But one day, Mike gets to fulfill his dream. He moves to the ocean and opens a swim school, which also has a well-equipped beginner-to-pro fishing program. One day, he takes his advanced swimming class to the ocean for a popular race.

Not only does Mike’s students LOSE the race, half of them nearly drown.

(Story over)

So what went wrong? Did Mike not study the right swimmers? Were his students the wrong build for swimming? Was the pesky rules of the damned tournament? Can a swim tournament really determine if a guy is a good swimmer or not? Mike not only knows the Back Stroke, the Doggy Paddle–he’s made up seven more strokes! He studied all the masters!

Back to reality, let me just say that every martial arts style has its merits. They all work. The techniques can be applied against an opponent in a real match or fight and protect the fighter who trains in them. But the missing link is that, like Mike–the teacher himself has not used these techniques in even simulated combat, so how is he going to give proper instruction in using them? Mike knew how to swim and fish–but since he had never gotten the water to do it himself, since he never felt the pull of a fish tugging at his bait–he can’t teach a fishing student the difference between a nibble and a bite, or a hard current that felt like a fish. Yes, you don’t have to fight to know a technique, but there are many details about that technique you could never teach a student if you have no experience using them yourself. Monkey See, Monkey Do is the wrong way to teach self-defense. If you’ve ever wondered why you could take three years of high school Spanish and not be able to order dinner–yet a three year old could spend the summer with Abuela and come home speaking fluent Spanish–you’d understand. That difference is this:  There is a difference between learning to perform an art and learning to use an art. I can teach all the vocabulary in a language, but until you get into the trenches and actually use that language you’ll only be good at impressing nonspeakers and friends who can’t tell the difference between Spanish and Portuguese (or Kung fu and Karate).

Here’s some food for thought… It is understandable that many of you have schools and have never fought using these arts. You may even be a fighter, but you drew from Karate and Boxing because perhaps you know your Sifu was not a fighting guy. Some of you use your athletic prowess, your size, or your reputation to succeed in fighting or avoid fighting altogether. If you truly want your students to evolve your art further than your teacher, or even further than you took it yourself–here is a simple, but difficult suggestion:  You must extract techniques and concepts from your system, train your students in them (not just teach, but actually train and drill them), then throw them in the ocean with non-Kung Fu fighters to see your system in action. Let’s be realistic; most of you won’t go enter tournaments or sparring Round Robins at 45-50 years old. Understandable. But don’t fool your students the way our hypothetical friend Mike fooled his students. Put them in front of foreign styles and systems, have them do what you taught them, study the action–and accept the outcome of the matches, whether your guys win or lose. Perhaps the #1 reason Kung Fu guys don’t go to Karate tournament isn’t because those tournaments have rules–Kung Fu tournaments have rules. It isn’t because tournaments aren’t “real” fights. It isn’t because they can’t use deadly tournaments. It’s because they are afraid–just as you are afraid. Not afraid you’ll get hurt, you are afraid of losing. You don’t want to have students become discouraged, and bring shame on your school and/or your style. You don’t want students to feel like their training is a waste of time; and they now have the same fear their Sifu had. It’s time for that to end. You don’t need boxing. Sure, there are many things you can learn from boxers. They have a well-developed training regimen that could be used to enhance traditional martial arts. Just don’t rely on it for your combat readiness. Take the time and explore your system deeper. Be more courageous and get out there with strangers and bang–or put your students out there. And important stage in your growth as a Sifu is to develop your own ideas in the art you study and actually study how it stands up against other ideas and styles. Once you’ve seen the results, don’t make excuses why they failed or fell short. Just adopt what you’ve observed and they’ve learned. Modify, test, execute. Wash, rinse, repeat.

So perhaps your art has that missing link. Don’t pass that handicap down to your students.

Sifu Clarke is an old friend of mine. When I met him, he had challenged my Si Hing to a sparring match, and then ended up training with us for a while. He is a sincere, dedicated martial artist. I get his point. Unfortunately, many Sifus and Masters who get his point just don’t have the knowledge and experience base to represent his concept well. Traditional Chinese Martial Arts has been around too long to be a laughing stock, so I expect this next generation to come out with a vengeance and make these arts look good–without “sleeping with the enemy”…  😉

 

Thank you for visiting the Dean Chin Jow Ga Federation. Kristo





Why Fat Guys Make the Best Sifus

10 09 2016

I had started to write this article about a year ago, and stopped because I didn’t want to offend. Over the last few months, I tried again and again to finish it–looking for a way to get my point across without hurting some feelings. Recently, while reflecting on my Sifu’s own unpolitically correct self–he said things as they were, but one thing we knew… He’d never tell you a lie. Sifu would curse in class, tell someone to take a shower before training, tell another to wash her hair, throw you out of class if he smelled alcohol (RIP JE), give you your money back, even jump on instructors in front of their students for not training enough or telling advanced students that beginners are catching up on them. He once laughed after class and told one my Si Hings “Well, Barrington (a beginner) really kicked your ass today…”

So, I scrapped every word I had written, changed the title… and here goes.

My Sifu once told our class that “Fat guys make the best Sifus”. This was right after fussing at me and my brothers for giggling after a classmate had fallen while doing kicks. He stated something to this effect a few times, and I am constantly reminded of what he meant as an instructor myself. One of the most profound statements indeed. I believe after you hear me out, you may agree.

Quite often, we celebrate athleticism and “natural ability”. We love great physiques, and especially admire those who seem to be born with beauty and ability. As teachers, we speak of silly ideas like being “built for Northern/Southern styles”, as if a short, fat man cannot learn Tien Shan Pai–or a tall, skinny man couldn’t learn Hung Gar. I recall a former employer of mine–a Tae Kwon Do master–instructing our sales staff to target soccer games for recruiting because he liked the flexibility and agility of soccer players and how it transferred skills to TKD. As a tournament competitor, I was often approached by coaches who wanted me to join their schools to go pro so that they could take credit for the instruction I had already received under my Sifu and Si Hings. In the modern martial arts community, I’ve seen jujitsu teachers at my son’s wrestling meets to recruit boys for their MMA teams. Why all of this? I believe it is laziness, really. So much easier to train a student who is walking through the door with endurance, flexibility, strength, and other physical attributes. As a boxer, I’ve heard trainers say that it was easier to pack muscle on a skinny guy for power, than it was to slim down an overweight novice and train him to become quick. Teachers pride themselves often on students who come to them after years of football, soccer, gymnastics, even dance. I get it. They are easier to teach. They are a pleasure, because you don’t have to build strong students–just mold athletes.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have the fat guy. He has just as much enthusiasm for the arts as the basketball players. He watched the same movies, bought the same books to learn from, stood in the mirror as a youth throwing the same moves, ran outside after Black Belt Theater to copy the same actors. But the fat guy is harder to train. He is winded easier. He’s not as limber. He has two left feet often and can’t remember forms. He needs more breaks. But like fat guys when dating, he also has fewer distractions. Girls like the handsome boys, but the handsome boys know lots of girls. The athletic guy takes frequent breaks from Kung Fu training because it’s football season and the coach has increased practice to 5 days a week. He’s also playing flag football, he can’t attend Chinese New Year because it’s the playoffs, and he can’t attend sparring class because his basketball team has a series of games on Saturday. Very often, the fat guy isn’t into any other sport, so Kung Fu is his only outlet. He may be frustrated because he can’t seem to catch up with the skinnier guys. Everyone is already doing splits, and he’s still trying to master the Horse Stance. They are drilling Swallow Tail kicks, and he can barely do the Tornado kick. He is also self-conscious about performing forms in front of a group… so he practices when no one is watching… a lot. And do you know what happens? In time, the fat guy isn’t so fat anymore. Sure, he’ll probably never have washboard abs. He may still be a little chubby. Perhaps he did slim down, but he’s still young. Wait till he’s in his 30s, and he won’t have that build by then; he’ll be back. At some point in his training career–and every chubby guy I’ve ever known who stuck with the art has done this–he will pass the athletic guys in skill and ability, to the surprise of even himself. You ever see the guy at the tournament who everyone loves because he “doesn’t move like most chubby guys”? The one who was a big guy, but he is just as quick, just as strong, just as smooth as any pro. I’m talking about the Sammo Hung type. The Butterbean. One of my favorite students and best fighters to this day, is a young man named Marcos, whom we named “Butter Burrito” because I don’t think any of his classmates could beat him. He was limber, fast, wise, big, AND strong. But he weighed over 300 lbs and built like a Rhino. Among my Jow Ga seniors, we had a few big guys as our best fighters–Tehran Brighthapt and “Kung Fu” Joe Colvin to name a few. They got there because they had to work twice as hard to become equal in skill with their classmates, and in the process many of them had passed them.

And this led to a type of wisdom that many athletic martial artists won’t have. I’ve known some guys who have been fit their entire lives, tell overweight students to “suck it up” when their backs and hips and knees started hurting. They judge students by their waistlines rather than actual ability and knowledge. Many have even gone so far as judge character and discipline, based on someone’s fitness level! Many Sifus who were once overweight–including those who still struggle with their weight–are more empathetic, more compassionate, and more aware of the challenges of those who are not as fit when they first put on a uniform. This includes adult students who may have old injuries, children who just have coordination problems, older students, and male students with poor upper body strength. There are many Sifus who had it easy because of their natural ability and don’t know how hard it is to develop skill if one lacks athletic talent. Sadly, it does affect them as teachers because they only know how to mold students as they are. Lord help them if they get a student with two left feet! Martial arts teachers who have endured the same challenges as their students will know how to guide those students. They will understand how to inspire those who may be discouraged by physical limitations. They are patient, understanding teachers. And most of all, they can shape a beautiful, precious stone out of a plain, dusty rock. Those teachers who had to work harder, commit more time, and suffer many losses and humiliating defeats to gain skill in this art will be the best at teaching others how to do it.

Anyone can take a fit, strong, young healthy student and turn them into a champion. But the best skilled Sifus can take a scrawny, sickly, scaredy cat–and turn him into a Tiger. Those who know how hard it is to overcome obstacles often make the best teachers to show others the way. Some teachers are good for showing; others are good for growing. Good teachers can take your high school athlete and make him into a good forms competitor. GREAT teachers will do the same with the school nerd. Strive to be that guy. And when you look into the classroom at the chubby student who can barely do pushups, kick to his waist level, or hold a horse stance like everyone else–give him a chance to show you what he’s made of. And don’t blink; he may end up becoming your school’s next champion.

Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.





Traveling Lightly vs. The Hoarder

2 09 2016

In the journey towards perfection in the martial arts, whether one is a student or a teacher, there are two basic schools of thought:

  1. Those who travel lightly
  2. Those who try to bring the whole house in a suitcase

While they both have their merits, only one is a guarantee of success.

If you look at the development of Kung Fu styles, both modern and classical, you would notice that there are no original ideas in the Chinese martial arts. All styles, concepts, and systems originated from another style or teacher. In Jow Ga, we are a combination of Hung Ga, Choy Ga, and Northern Shaolin. However, our founders did not including the entire systems of Hung Ga, Choy Ga, and Northern Shaolin. On top of that, there were five founders, each having his own set of martial arts experiences. No doubt, some of them had exchanged with various teachers outside his own systems and picked up techniques, forms and ideas along the way. Yet, today, what modern Jow Ga practitioners have today represents only a fraction of what was collected and learned. Much of this knowledge was fused with other knowledge and new techniques, forms and ideas replaced older ones. Some of this new knowledge is condensed from the combination of several ideas. Ultimately, Jow Ga is not a “collection” of the three systems–but a concentrated, repackaged, fused combination of the three systems. Furthermore, downline from the founders–individual Sifus and sub-lineages of Jow Ga will be new concentrated versions of Jow Ga, based on the research, testing, and findings of each Sifu. Some will be repackaged classical Jow Ga–while others will contain knowledge from outside systems and influences.

Yet, rather than combine and concentrate all of their learning into a newer version of their knowledge, many teachers today do the opposiste; they leave entire forms intact, combine systems and techniques that are completely unrelated, and give their  students more than they could perfect. Instead of combining flour, eggs, oil, sugar and fruit to make a beautiful cake–those Sifus throw everything in the bowl and hand students all the ingredients, unmixed, unblended… Just a messy bowl full of strawberries, powder, whole eggs and oil drenched on the mix. For some, ego causes teachers to boast of knowing 50+ forms and systems. For others, I believe it is pure laziness of not investigating and developing enough. And for a most, teachers feel it disrespectful to change or combine what they learned into a homogenous, new creation. This last category, I believe has hurt the Chinese martial arts. It is both selfish and egotistical, to prevent self-expression. When a teacher bans proficient students from investigating their arts until skills leak into other learning, he is suppressing his student’s progress. In his own way, he is ordering students to remain a student forever, and never acknowledging that the student has progressed enough to know what to strip away and discard. He does not believe that the student is capable of determining for himself what piece of the art he will specialize in. Teach this art the way I taught you, and never develop a mind of your own.

I call these Kung Fu men “Kung Fu Hoarders”. They are collectors of new arts, new forms, new versions and techniques. They never allow the new information to blend with the old; to gain an identity of its own within their own repertoire. They never allow Hung Ga concepts to become applied towards their Choy Ga. They never use their Whipping power of Choy hands to enhance their Northern Shaolin punching. They never allow Northern feet to back up their Hung Ga. As a result, their Kung Fu knowledge is never internalized, but merely memorized. Looks good on paper, but in the frenzied confusion of a fight–very few of those skills will manifest themselves into actual, deliverable applied fighting skill.

We all know them. The guys who will pull you to the side to show you what Master So-n-So taught them, and they’ve got plenty. But they can never don the gloves and show you how this skill looks in real time. At demos, they impress others with their “vast knowledge of forms” from other systems. This is what they do, they’ve committed these things to memory and can recall anything for your viewing pleasure.

Unfortunately, this is not useful in the pursuit of Kung Fu perfection. We must remember that in order to perfect a skill, it must be practiced, used, thrown, executed an average of 10,000 times. Very few men reading this article has ever practiced anything ten thousand repetitions. This is why most people calling themselves “Master” are using the word as a title, rather than as a verb. One can be a master, or one can master a skill. Very few martial artists have the stomach to train anything in their art enough times to truly master it. The more you have in your arsenal, the longer you must train before approaching proficency–and even longer to approach mastery. There are those who travel lightly, combine skills, eliminate waste, perform enough research to fuse ideas and create new ones; they are the only ones who will most likely master what they know. The true masters of an art understand that in order to master a system, one does not have to master everything in the system–especially those who are studyings arts with multiple forms, weapons and skills. In the training and investigative process of ones own style–many cuts will be made. Forms and techniques will be eliminated; as well as strategies will be created and fine-tuned. Each generation of an art should not become more and more diluted.

This is the outcome of having too much in the curriculum; mediocrity. Sure, students will know up to 8 or 10 different weapons and 15 or so forms. But how much of this knowledge will be perfected? Can those students fight with superior, dominant skill, with all 8 weapons? Or will they only be able to demonstrate forms with them? Will the student’s skill be good enough to win a forms competition with any form in his arsenal? Or can he only demo the other forms, while only performing one or two to the best of his ability? Think about this, seriously and honestly… Are you really trying to perfect your systems or are you merely preserving what’s been picked up over the years? Can you honestly take everything in your skill base and bet the house on it against all comers? Or are you traveling with years and years of barely memorized forms, techniques you can only talk about, and fighting skill that has nothing to do with 99% of your curriculum?

Those who dare to let go of the unnecessary, will have a concentrated, potent skill set he honestly feels is the best around. Those martial artists have the time to devote to the best of their knowledge, and only the best of their knowledge. While others travel with everything their brains can hold–most likely, must do so with mediocrity. Quality over quantity. It is a very simple, but universal concept.

Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.