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 some others–possibly 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.





Kung Fu’s “Missing Link”… (Path to Mastery)

27 08 2016

I think we may end up hurting some feelings with today’s article.

A conversation we have a lot in the martial arts is over the term “Master”. Fortunately, the Chinese martial arts aren’t as bad as Karate and Filipino martial arts because we don’t have a multitude of titles and arbitrary degrees and ranks. However, we are in the same boat as many of those styles, because we have the same confusion most martial arts styles have about ranking and a standard level of skill before one is called “proficient”–or more:  Expert. In the Filipino martial arts, where traditionally there is neither the use of belts nor titles to denote expertise, we have a combination of both being confused. In my 17 years living in California I have met men who have claimed everything from tribal titles as martial art ranks, to colored belts (such as Red, White and Blue Belt and even “Camoflauge” belt!), to an unlimited number of degrees (two years ago a man gave me a card stating he was a 15th degree Black belter). In Karate and Tae Kwon Do, I have seen silly things like 6 year old Black belts, to “World Champion Green belters” who have never left the state, to 20 something year old “Masters”, 30 year old Grandmasters, and “Soke” titled men who have learned by seminar and correspondence courses…

I think I heard a giggle.

But don’t laugh, Kung Fu guys. In the Chinese community, I’ve met many Sifus who will argue that sparring in tournaments is too safe and therefore unrealistic–yet would not accept a medium, full or non-contact sparring match with me. I’ve seen Kung fu “masters” whose hand I could crush as easily as a child when we shook hands, and actually signed up students of other Sifu in my school who also carried a Sifu rank yet have never sparred with contact in their lives. We will tell potential students that yes, this art I’m teaching will protect you from a street-hardened criminal–yet YOU, the teacher, could be mugged as easily as they will by the average street punk. I’ve seen Kung Fu Masters argue that open circuit tournaments prevented their students from using “the real art” in sparring–so they barred students from sparring–just to hold Chinese-style-only tournaments and banning the same techniques and targets the open tournaments outlawed. I have attended many tournaments where Kung Fu schools will flood the forms competition and then be dressed and in the van by the time sparring begins. They drive home to friends and family and still profess to feel like warriors.

I have been challenged by Kung Fu “masters” whose skill is worse than any beginner I have ever taught. I could go on.

And then almost anytime you see a Kung Fu school attempt to appeal to the self-defense or competition fighting crowd, they distance themselves as far away from Traditional Kung Fu as they can… adding boxing, Muay Thai disguised as San Da, BJJ and Aikido disguised as Chin Na, MMA cages and clothing, Filipino martial arts and more. An entire subculture of non-traditional Kung Fu has emerged from Kung Fu itself:  Bruce Lee’s Jeet Kune Do. It’s ironic that Bruce Lee sought to teach the world the beauty of Chinese martial arts and attempted to give respect to Kung Fu, yet his followers look to everything except Chinese martial arts (other than Wing Chun) to make their art effective. JKD folks even call their teachers “Sifu/Guro”–Guro being the Tagalog word for “teacher”.

So what went wrong? Is Kung fu effective, or is it not? If it is effective, why do we not see traditional Chinese martial arts in the ring? Why is it that the only Kung Fu people who fight, fight like MMA guys? Our Masters declare these arts valid and effective, yet no one likes to answer this question–except for the many variations of the excuse “Our art is too deadly…” or “Well, the rules don’t…” Can we, or can we not, link what we do in traditional Chinese arts with how it is supposed to be used in combat?

Short answer is “yes”. Long answer to follow…

Kung Fu teachers have a missing link. See, the Chinese martial arts has existed for too long, too many generations in the community without being challenged and isolated. If you learn a skill and immediately transfer from student to teacher without a period of forging–your skill and knowledge will not be internalized. We see this all the time when martial arts students leave from a teacher and dare to make changes or adjust his art. Sometimes teachers, sometimes classmates, and too often–both–will denounce that student for not teaching the “pure” art handed to him. As if all things must remain the same for generations in order to improve.

And that last statement:  As if all things must remain the same for generations in order to improve — is the problem. You see, Chinese martial artists are not really interested in improving anything. The spirit all of our system founders founded our systems on seems to die just as quickly as the founders canonize them. It is foolish for anyone to call a branch of Choy Lay Fut “unpure” CLF. It is foolish to call any branch of Jow Ga “unpure”. It is foolish to call a branch of Wing Chun “unpure”. Each of these systems became the systems they are today, because the founders learned some fighting style, and decided to combine it with other skills and styles in order to create the new art. Were they interested or not in “improving” what they had learned previously? I would argue that yes, they were. Yet students hundred of years later flood the internet and magazine articles with charges of blasphemy just because one Sifu did not teach his art the same way the teachers before him taught it. Using my Jow Ga system as an example, one could criticize another branch of my Sifu’s Jow Ga just because most Jow Ga schools in America do not teach the same curriculum he taught. And most do not teach his curriculum the same way he did. But to call any branch of Jow Ga “incomplete” is counter productive, because what is Jow Ga, but incomplete Hung Gar, incomplete Choy Gar, and incomplete Northern Shaolin? The art is a combination of elements of those systems, and now has its own flavor–but like recipes for a favorite dish, no two schools are exactly alike. Who is qualified to rank one above the other?

Ditto that with some systems like Wing Chun, which have an easier to follow curriculum. Generally, just three hand forms, a dummy form, a knife form and a staff form. Yet Wing Chun varies from one system to another, based on the taste and specialties of the teachers. Are they not all Wing Chun?

But most of all, does it even matter?

Which brings me to my point. In the TCMA community, we waste time arguing over frivolous things like whose art is more pure or more like the previous generation–while groups like Gracie Jujitsu cares less if their art looks like its Japanese predecessor as long as they have a better, more effective version. While we debate which form was passed down to whom, Mas Oyama is declaring that his students can lick any man in the room. While we comb historical records to argue if indeed Wing Chun was founded by a woman, Buk Sing is busy in Fremont, California accepting–and beating–all challengers. Most Chinese martial artists really don’t think their students can beat “anyone around the beltway”, as I was once told another teacher’s goal was. We are claiming that our arts are highly effective forms of combat, while most people are searching and testing themselves to find out if they are. We are satisfied just saying it, while our competition is out researching, training, and then challenging, each other to actually strive to BE highly effective.

And this is why students who are serious about self defense and combat are looking everywhere except Chinese martial arts, while we lion dance and do tornado kicks in forms while telling our students “fighting is not important”.

Here is the bottom line:  You must seek out those who think they are better than you in order to test your skill. Anyone can stand in front of a class of student, month after month, year after year–and never have an equal question your skill, and one day claim to be an expert or even a “Master”. If your knowledge and theories and concepts are ever to manifest themselves into actual skill… and even more–into expertise–you must be willing to put yourself out there for criticism, by peers, by rivals, by opponents. You must be willing to touch hands with someone you’ve never met in order to answer the question Was my training and learning in vain?  You must be brave and humble enough to admit that Perhaps my teacher’s methods need updating…  You must shed your ego and allow a man who doesn’t think you’re very good to put his skills up against yours and be willing to deal with the consequences in the event you discover that your skills need improvement. Avoid these situations and you commit your students a grave disservice, you dishonor the teachers before you, and you are creating in the Chinese martial arts a terrible injustice. For too many years, Kung Fu teachers have avoided debate and dissention, avoided the sting and humiliation of defeat by never putting their skills to the test–and then in old age dared to strap on the title “Master” or call himself an expert. You cannot harden glass or metal until you heat it to the point they will be destroyed. A man cannot improve himself until he is willing to be broken down, dissected, challenged, and doubted. No man can achieve greatness if he avoids defeat and discomfort. Even PhD candidates must be challenged and defend their thesis in order to prove themselves worthy of being among their peers.

Teachers must be willing to share, compare, criticize, accept criticism, be challenged, adjust, and reinvent. Remaining stagnant has been going on for too long. Put your art and your skills to the test. Find out what needs to be adjusted and fortified. Because we ALL need it. Don’t dare tell a student your art has been time-tested if you have never allowed another man to test YOUR Kung Fu.

Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.





Understanding Your Kung Fu Like the Cobbler

24 08 2016

When I was a kid, I had walked from my neighborhood in Northeast DC to my aunt’s house in Southeast and met a shoe cobbler. His shop was run out of the basement of his house and he had a sign saying simply “Shoe Repair”. I don’t remember how, but I ended up stopping at his store and talking to him about what he did. This conversation led to his offer of teaching me to fix shoes. For a few weeks, he taught me a little about repairing shoes and for years I saw shoes in a different way than most people. I came to appreciate shoes that were stitched versus those merely glued or cemented together. Stitched shoes, by the way, is an older method of making shoes. It is stronger, more expensive, somewhat outdated, and although most of you are probably wearing glued rubber (even if the uppers may be leather or leather-like)–the highest quality of shoes will still be stitched. I liken a good pair of shoes crafted by hand to older, well-researched systems of martial arts. Arts can be thrown together without much thought or they can can be fused and forged into the strongest steel. Although many arts are indeed outdated and impractical, nothing beats a well-researched, well-trained, experienced fighter. And I am saying this to include MMA fighters. While you may have a “complete” set of skills because you know technique on the ground as well as on your feet–a master stand up fighter or master ground fighter will murder most “complete” guys who do some stand up, some grappling any day.

But that is a conversation for another day. Back to the topic.

The cobbler (I’ve forgotten his name, my apologies) first taught me a few simple repairs. Like the Sifu who teaches his students a few self-defense moves and a punch or two and a kick or two–then later get to the traditional method of learning–soon after I learned to add heel taps and glue soles, he taught me to repair shoes from the ground up. This involved actually pulling a pair of shoes apart, into several pieces, and then showing me how the shoe was constructed (there are many, many variations to building a shoe–stitch patterns and all). Once I saw how the shoe was put together, we rebuilt those shoes until we ended up with a very clean pair of shoes which probably looked how those shoes looked when the owner first purchased them. Adding the years and years of wear and various stains and polishes, the shoe was aged, yet dignified. The shoe showed some signs of being older, but I still remember the imperfections in the shoes’ upper leather, while the sole and heels and shoestrings were brand new. And let me tell you, although we live in a disposable, throwaway society–repair a pair of shoes over two decades and take good care of them, you will have a much nicer set of kicks than anything you can buy at the store. You learn to appreciate shoes because you know what kind of work goes into them. Shoes mold to fit your feet over time, and two men wearing the same size will not experience the same level of comfort if they switch each other’s shoes. Finally, I learned at a young age how a well-crafted pair of shoes can make you feel. Forget your Air Jordan’s; I’m talking about grown man shoes that will make you feel like a million bucks.

Martial arts can be cookie-cutter, like those purchased in a store that look like what everyone on the street is wearing. Or they can be built like a craftsman’s best work, molded and shaped by years and years of wear, repair and rebuilt over time. In 20 years, the guy who bought his shoes from Walmart has forgotten about his machine-made, generic shoes. Every other year or so, he is trying to break in a new pair of shoes he neither has an attachment to nor an appreciation for. But the guy who has stuck to the same pair for the same period of time has a pair of shoes that no one in the world can understand and feel comfortable in. His shoes are strong, they were built with patience and attention, they have character, and are just as much a part of the guy wearing them as they have a unique identity to what everyone else has.

The martial artist who learns his art in the way the cobbler teaches it also has a different understanding of the arts. To one student, the art is simply a set of techniques, forms, and concepts his teacher picked up along the way. He has no strong understanding the art; he only knows how to quote maxims, give the names of terms and concepts in Mandarin or Cantonese. But he has not internalized the art, he surely can’t apply 90% of what he can only demonstrate on an unwilling opponent. On the other hand, the student whose teacher is like the cobbler didn’t jump right into forms and useless terminology from day one. He spent months working on footwork. He learned only two or three hand techniques that didn’t quite make sense for months at a time. He may have had to wait several months before learning traditional forms. He spent his time training and using his techniques on opponent, rather than learning concepts and how to pimp a form to win tournaments. He may only have a very streamlined lineage, rather than one that includes multiple teachers, seminars, and certificates. In the end, the cobbler’s student only knows half the number of skills and forms that the Walmart Sifu’s student knows. But what he knows, he knows well–and can apply it on a resisting, combative opponent. On top of that, the cobbler’s method of teaching the art ensured a more complete study; leading to a better understanding and more appreciation.

Arts can be taught by simply having students mimic the teacher, which is perhaps the most common method of teaching. I show you, you do it, you practice it, you demo it for me–you know it. Or the art can be deconstructed; even using the same technique. Teacher shows it to the student, but isolating one piece of the technique at a time. Practice what the only right hand is doing. Practice what only the left hand is doing. Practice only the block, the grab, the footwork. Isolating the footwork into parts (first do this, then do that/practice this/practice that). Practice the variations. Practicing the technique under fail/success stress. Practice the technique 1,000 times before teaching the next technique. Very few students can stomach this style of study. And even fewer teachers are willing to put their students through this type of study.

Your system can be deconstructed like a pair of shoes for a cobbler’s apprentice. Rather than just having students pay to practice “Monkey see, Monkey do”, try dissecting your techniques, piece by piece. Practice and understand each part. Why does this technique work this way? Can it be improved? Can it be beaten? When should the technique be used? When should it NOT be used? When you are using the technique, what is the opponent expected to be doing? What if the opponent does NOT do it? Then what? What if the technique was used on you? What can you teach the student to do, to counter this technique? Is there a way to apply or execute this technique so that it can not be countered or stopped? What if you do not have the time or room or conditions to use the technique? Have you even thought of this:  What are the ideal situations that your techniques should be or should not be used? How about opponents? What if your opponent were not from your system? What if the opponent used boxing punches? Tae Kwon Do kicks? Grappling techniques? What if you punched, and instead of blocking (as most of our techniques expect the opponent to do), he ducks instead?

Now, here is some homework… Answer these questions for everything you teach your students. This is how you understand your Kung Fu like a cobbler. Because I assure you, the cobbler knows every situation and variation to repairing shoes. Do you understand your martial art in this fashion?

Something to think about.

Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.





Is Your Jow Ga Complete?

31 07 2016

Often, I hear Kung Fu people talking about their martial arts being “complete”. When they say this, often they are referring to offering the “range of martial arts skills”. You know what I mean:  Forms, sparring, weapons, two man sets, lion dance, etc… Am I right?

This thinking, however, is only elementary. “Completeness” involves so much more. Kung Fu men who regurgitate curriculum material cannot fathom the range of missing aspects of the martial arts. Today we will deal with just one aspect:  Fighting.

In the practice of the martial arts, the subject of fighting can range from basic escaping and survival on the low end to crippling and maiming an opponent on the high end. Merely teaching “sparring” is not enough; the needs of the martial arts student may not be served through the type of sparring you teach. Let us identify some types of students and their situations that Kung Fu training may have to (and may fail to) address:

  • Armed Security Guards and Police Officers looking for skills to become more effective at their jobs
  • Correctional Officers (who are not) allowed to carry weapons who face convicts who pump iron every day
  • Teenaged boys who must deal with schoolyard bullies (without seriously injuring them)
  • Tournament point fighters
  • Kickboxers
  • MMA fighters
  • Fighters interested in street fighting vs fighters interested in actual self defense
  • Fighters who want to use their striking skill vs fighters who want to subdue their opponents
  • Women concerned with rape/sexual assault prevention
  • Mugging victims
  • Defense against clubs and knives
  • Fighting two opponents
  • Stopping a fight between two individuals
  • Street self defense against a boxer
  • Street self defense against a wrestler
  • Street self defense against your family who might have had too much to drink
  • Self defense in an elevator
  • Self defense while being accompanied by your elderly mother or a child
  • Children’s self defense from older, bigger children vs self defense from same-sized, same-aged opponents
  • Children’s anti-abudction self defense
  • A child’s self defense against a pitt bull attack

Add to this individual situations, like defense against a lapel grab and haymaker punch, a rear naked choke, a bearhug, a tackle, an abdomen stab with a knife, an overhead strike with a baseball bat–and answer the question, how would your system’s forms deal with this?

Honestly, try it!

Each of us, regardless of system, have things in our art that may address all of these needs. Kung fu is not automatically complete. If you refer to the list, simply teaching sparring fails to address 90% of this list. Most skills, if you dig deeper into the possible uses, must be both identified and researched. It is more than simple “self-expression”; it is true research. Your system may have chin na buried in the forms, but unless you extract them and train them, train the techniques with vigor, train under pressure, and put those skills to the test–you have not actually researched the Chin Na in your system. I’ve seen hours and hours of “Wing Chun Chin Na” and “Eagle Claw Chin Na” and “Tai Chi Chin Na”, and honestly, most of those demonstrating the skills couldn’t use those Chin Na skills to wring the water out of a towel. We have to connect what is in our system with the actual uses our students and potential students will require. And just as we can never master them all–we may be familiar with every facet of martial arts fighting, but that isn’t mastery–can we actually claim our Kung Fu to be “complete”?

I believe we can. However, we must be honest with our students and honest with ourselves about what we actually specialize in. If a student walked through my doors and asked for a course on stopping a child abduction for his children, I can give him one using my Jow Ga, because I have researched and developed this curriculum 20 years ago. If a lady asked for not just the generic “women’s self defense”–but actual Rape Prevention–I am prepared to give this using Jow Ga, as I developed this material as well. If a student wanted to learn how Jow Ga could be used against a boxer, against Wing Chun, or working as a bouncer in a night club… Yup, we’ve got that too. But if I had never researched this information, it would be highly dishonest of me to advertise that I offer them.

For an art to be “complete”, we must have researched our own systems beyond what our Sifu gave us. If he learned his art in 1960s Hong Kong, I must update it for 2016 Washington, DC., so that my art is complete enough for the urban martial arts student. So, the guy who wants classical Jow Ga can get his fill–just like the 10 year old victim of school bullying who needs self defense that doesn’t involve breaking another kid’s clavicle or smashing his windpipe. There is so much to discover within our systems, we do our students, ourselves and our masters a huge disservice if we merely pass on the same old stuff we learned coming up. The martial arts is ever-evolving, and the number possibilities for what we can do with these arts is endless.

Save this article, print it, read it, and reread it. Ponder it, and then on your next personal work out session, I want you to map out at least three or four new directions for you to take your Kung Fu system. Answer the question, “Who needs aren’t being served by my present teaching?” and develop a course with the Kung Fu you already know for them. I am willing to bet, as I did, that the more you dig–the more you will discover that you have more learning to do. Hopefully, you will reignite the passion you held as a young To Dai for learning your respective system.

Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.





What Form Are You On? (How to Reach Perfection)

24 07 2016

I always smile whenever I meet another Jow Ga student and I am immediately asked this. “What form are you on?” seems to be part of the Jow Ga language–as it is, I’m sure, a common question when two people from your style meet. This is just as important to respect as saying “Hello, how are you?” because once the question is answered–the hierarchy has been established between them and the junior among the group will know not to try and sound too knowledgeable. If you are from a strong martial arts school, it can be assumed that one can gauge the skill level of the other student by knowing what form he/she is learning. I learned early on that anyone who had moved beyond our system’s beginner level was pretty darned good, and anyone who had finished the intermediate level was as good as any other school’s Black belt students.

This is an interesting fact, because Jow Ga was my first real school and the skill level was very high. I assumed that the skill level of all martial arts school matched ours. As a child I began attending tournaments in fighting and forms, and was used to seeing 100% of my classmates returning with trophies–just as I was accustomed to being the only of two Chinese martial arts schools competing in the sparring division (the other being Dennis Brown’s Shaolin Wu Shu) in every tournament. Imagine my surprise the first time I heard someone mention a guy who was advanced in the martial arts and couldn’t defend himself on the street–or a junior ranking student beating a senior. In Sifu Chin’s school, such a notion was preposterous. The skill level between one level and the next was nearly always like night and day. A common suggestion to traditional martial arts schools was that if you stripped everyone in a classroom of their belts and watched them practice, in many martial arts schools one would not be able to distinguish between the advanced and the beginner. Not true in our school, however. The skill level increased greatly from one level to the next, and we did not have a belt system.

So what is the difference between how we did things versus how other schools trained? Let’s discuss this…

First, let us state an old maxim:

One cannot become a Master Teacher/Master Fighter until he has first become a Master Student…

This article may have to be split up into several parts. The above saying is vital to the difference between our school’s culture and that of most other martial arts schools. I recall visiting martial arts schools as a child and looking at their curriculum to Black Belt. We sat in a sales presentation at Jhoon Rhee karate where an instructor explained to us that the Black Belt would be achieved in approximately 2 1/2 to 3 years. There were a very small number of forms to get from White Belt to Black Belt, possibly 8 to 10. I watched a beginner class full of squealing 10 year olds, and by the end of the class, I had memorized their first form, and recreated it at home. Not so with Jow Ga. First, the concept of “Black Belt” achievement was never discussed. The class had no children. I don’t recall looking at a curriculum, but I do remember the weapons rack containing more than 10 weapons. The discussion was slow and patient, and we were not bombarded with graphics and numbers–only a short talk about the school and the system, ending with my mother being told my brother and I were too young. By contrast, at Jhoon Rhee there were children as young as 3, Black Belts as young as 7, and plenty of pressure to sign up. At Jow Ga, we were turned away. In fact, we visited a few times before being accepted and our training was as patient and deliberate as the registration process. The school I joined was nothing like the “Family Friendly McDojo” we see today; Jow Ga was a musty, hard floored, focused and disciplined training hall for serious adult students. The commercial schools were an alternative to school sports and dance training children; Jow Ga was training warriors.

Symbolically, slow and patient marked the way we learned our martial arts. We were not rushed through a curriculum, our instructors emphasized high repetitions, attention to detail, and having a strong enough spirit not to give up when the body was ready to quit. These items are the key to the above maxim–how to become a Master Student.

What made our school stand out from the others was that there was no rush to get students promoted to the next level. Each weapon we learned came with a set of fundamentals that were practiced for weeks before the actual instruction in using that weapon actually began. Simply learning a new punch or kick or combination was not enough; students honed and fine-tuned those skills over and over and over. Even when you thought you had perfected a skill, you could always come to class and learn something new about that technique. When a Jow Ga student advanced from one form to the next, he or she knew that form like the back of their hand, could perform it blindfolded (as we often did in class), and knew all about the form… every nook and cranny, every nuance, perhaps its history, stories about another older classmate’s experience with the form, etc. When a Jow Ga student asked a classmate what form he or she was on, they were asking them more than simply what form you were learning to perform. The student asked the form because for the period you were learning that form, you studied little else besides that form. Rather than just study Jow Ga–you were really studying the form the Sifus were teaching you, as if there was nothing else to learn.

So unlike many schools, where the “form you were on” was somthing like a chapter or section of a chapter in a book–what form you were on in Jow Ga was akin to asking what course you were taking this semester. I recall a bio of Jow Ga assistant and full instructors in a brochure that was handed to students, familiarizing us with our seniors. Our curriculum contained a multitude of weapons and forms, yet in the bios most Sifu level instructors claimed expertise in only one or two areas. This fact is another factor that separated Jow Ga from our peers. We contained more forms than perhaps most schools in the area. However, specializing was encouraged and practiced. If one wanted to fight, you could attend a weekend class with Talley or Brighthapt or a Monday with Paul Adkins. If you wanted to specialize in Lion Dance, you saw Raymond Wong. If you were interested in polishing up your forms for competition, you saw Deric Mims. If you wanted Tai Chi, you looked up Stanley Dea. When students have this high number of skilled men specializing in various aspects of the same system, students have no choice but to excel, and have all needs and preferences fulfilled.

Finally, I recall that Jow Ga had perhaps 50-60 active members attending classes and well over 100 students at-large, yet there were only 12 instructors certified by Sifu himself. The focus for Dean Chin’s Jow Ga school was clearly on development of the student. Everything we learned in class, whether we learned it from an instructor in the classroom, or a class mate during breaks or in the locker room–was on how to become a better student. There was almost no one vying to “skip” levels or be promoted before one was ready. All students who were in competition were in competition with each other in a competition of skill–not rank. Ours was a culture of discipline, a culture of learning, and a culture of perfection. Under the highly detailed eye of Sifus Mims, Eugene Mackie and Craig Lee, being mediocre was not acceptable. No one was promoted just because of reaching the prescribed time-in-grade. There were no mediocre members among the teaching staff; therefore, students saw their skill as the goal–which in itself was a high level to reach. I never once heard a parent or student fuss at Sifu demanding to know when promotion to the Instructor level would come. Years later, as an instructor for Kim’s Karate in my 20s, I heard this complaint weekly. In the chinatown school, students knew that practice alone did not make perfect–perfect practice made perfect. It was an unspoken motto that all members from Sifu himself to the now nameless beginner all lived by. This is is how one perfected the art, and how you master the art. Not by learning all the forms or impressing someone with your answer about what form you were “on”–but by perfecting what you know, through perfecting the art of being a martial arts student.

At a future date, I would like to revisit this topic:  How to become the ideal martial arts student.

Some parting advice for traditional Chinese martial arts instructors:  Develop your children’s program. I have realized that many of us prefer teaching adults and teens. They are more mature, less fickle, and able to understand more concepts than children. The Chinese martial arts are more complex than our counterparts, and it would seem that turning away students who are too young to truly learn your system makes sense. In the western world, however, students have more distractions than they did 30 years ago. The world is smaller now, more young adults leave the nest and travel far from home. They develop more interests, they now have the option to enroll in correspondence courses and learn arts not even taught in their hometowns. And in addition to that, our systems contain so much material, many adult students do not have enough time to learn and master everything in your systems. If you are enrolling young men and women at age 15 or 16, they really only have two to three years of dedicated, fanatical practice before shipping off to boot camp, college or moving out of their parents homes to join the work force. At 15, you are lucky to keep a student more than five or six years before they are getting married and having children and dropping out. I have had some outstanding students quit at age 17, just when they were reaching my advance level, just to show up a decade later with small children they want me to train–and have forgotten almost all they had learned as children themselves. If you recruit young warriors at, say 10–you will have eight years to teach them your entire curriculum as well as develop their skill to a high degree before the risk of them coming in with a college acceptance letter and quitting. There is so much in our arts, we almost need to train an army of child prodigies in order to see our schools put out the best examples of our systems. Something to think about. Trust me; I am no fan of teaching a room full of squealing 10 year olds. But consider that some of the greatest masters and fighters we have known–Jet Li, Mas Oyama, Wong Fei Hung, Iron Mike Tyson–were all once “squealing 10 year olds”. LOL

Food for thought. Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation.





What Is Your Style’s Common Denominator?

26 06 2016

It is ironic that although my worst subject in school was mathematics–I use math terms in discussing Jow Ga pretty frequently. Jow Ga under Sifu Chin also used mathematical and physics terms and expressions. We learned of Jow Ga’s “common denominator”, the rule of velocity (distance divided by time), Jow Ga’s rule of Power (speed x force x accuracy x fluency), Sifu’s rule of the lever with the staff, and his chain of motion for punching and close quarters. I cannot explain any of these things in terms of numbers, mathematics or in engineering terms. Matter of fact, my children will not allow me to help them with homework; my son complains that every time I help him–his homework gets a low grade.

But I can certainly demonstrate them through Jow Ga. Guess the kids’ old man is good for something

Jow Ga has a common denominator–which is a set of techniques that is characteristic to the Jow Ga system. While I originally thought these techniques to be characteristic to all Jow Ga branches–the more I learn about how vast this system is, the more I learn that I don’t know about Jow Ga. I am of the opinion that given the age of Jow Ga (over 100 years), the four branches, the many lineages of the four branches, and the expressions of each Master of the lineages of each branch of Jow Ga… It is possibly true that one could never learn, let alone master, everything this system has to offer. While each branch of Jow Ga may have some core forms, such as Siu Fook Fu, Ba Gua Gwun, Man Ji Chune, what we emphasize and specialize in will vary from school to school, from lineage to lineage, and from Sifu to Sifu. In the DC lineage alone, we have 8 Full Instructors certified by Dean Chin during his lifetime. Yet each of the 8 had very different specialties within the system, and each performed Sifu’s Jow Ga differently. If one had learned from Deric Mims, his Jow Ga would look distinctly different from someone who had studied under Raymond Wong or Craig Lee. Even those who were students of Sifu Chin himself would look different from someone who learned under Sifu but spent more time with one of the 8 Full Instructors or another. None of the 8 did Jow Ga exactly as Sifu Chin. However, although we had differing tastes, accents and specialties, we all have a common denominator that identifies us a student of Sifu Dean Chin’s school. This common denominator is what we have identified as the DC Lineage of Jow Ga, a set of skills, techniques, specialties, characteristics and forms–unique to this lineage.

In your own Kung Fu systems, whether or not you recognize or acknowledge this concept, you have a common denominator as well. Do you know what that is? What do all of your Hing Dai (training brothers and sisters) have in common? What does your system have as characteristizing techniques, attacks, and concepts that makes your system unique? It must be more than just basics, weapons and forms! And let’s skip the talk about your style’s motto or characteristics, animals or whatever.

Why is this important? The answer is simple. Many of us have become very lazy in how we approach our martial arts. We learn the forms and practice them, and then when we spar–if we actually do spar–nothing we do in training is expressed in our fighting. It is sad to say, but if you took a roomful of Kung Fu practitioners of various styles, without looking at their shirts we might be able to identify what styles are represented. Attend any Kung Fu tournament, I would say that perhaps the only system that would easily be picked out the crowd when sparring began is Wing Chun. And even then, most would be only from the stance they hold. After the beginning of the fight, many of them will look like anyone else. Sifu Christophe Clark gave this compelling speech to Kung Fu people almost a decade ago, imploring Kung Fu practitioners to actually USE their Kung Fu and stop going to other systems for fighting. His speech resulted in many practitioners taking offense to his implying that they were not using their systems, but it also rung true with many others who agreed. The failure to fully explore one’s own style is a likely reason for his speech; many a Kung Fu man determined that his system was insufficient for sparring and fighting. Blame it on the rules, blame it on sparring not being “real” fighting. But if a Kung Fu man is studying Kung Fu, and then enters the ring with Muay Thai or Judo–he really does not believe his style is sufficient. And this is not saying that those who express their systems through another style really understand their styles. There are many who train in other styles, who may apply their systems through those other styles. I have seen a young man box, and using his Wing Chun through his boxing, and that was quite effective. My sister studies MMA under a Choy Lay Fut Sifu, and upon observation might confuse her Sow Choy for haymakers. It is the concepts, strategies and theories that make the systems–not the forms and “acting like a Tiger”. (Which is the contention of many of Sifu Clarke’s detractors) He has a very good point:  Kung Fu people should take what’s in their system and find a way to apply those techniques in the arena of fighting and sparring, even in tournaments with rules. This isn’t a matter of determining “what techniques work”; it is a matter of determining “how these techniques work”.

By the way, the idea that a novice in the art can spar to “determine” what works is arrogant and foolish. How dare a beginner decide if the Sijo knew what he was doing through a match with another beginner?

You could begin by identifying a list of the core set of techniques in your system’s curriculum. Once you have this, you will be ready for step two.

But next time. Thank you for visiting the DC Jow Ga Federation. In the meantime, please watch the following video. Let us know what your thoughts are in the comments below!





Tempering Your Kung Fu, pt V (Escaping the Nest)

11 06 2016

One of the hottest forms of “heat” used to temper one’s martial arts knowledge is the act of immersing oneself in the world of combat. While it is understandable that many Kung Fu practitioners do not engage in the study of the arts for fighting–one should not profess to teach combat and self-defense if he does not participate in any form of fighting. In fact, it is actually unethical for teachers to claim to teaching fighting and self-defense if he trains students in a sterile, sparring-free environment. One can learn forms for the next 40 years, develop the ability to perform all manners of acrobatics, and learn to do forms with all types of weapons, but without actually engaging in sparring–and to do so with strangers–the ability to defend oneself or someone else will be very weak. This is perhaps one of the biggest shortcomings of today’s traditional Chinese martial arts:  More than half of TCMA schools do not participate in sparring and many that do so, do it at a low level of skill. This is not a judgment of teachers who dislike sparring; it is just a statement of fact.

A popular discussion among TCMA teachers is a debate about whether or not the Chinese martial arts have remained relevant. The truth is, we have. We are very relevant in the modern martial arts world. We give our students an outlet to lead healthier lives, introducing many students to a form of self-discipline, we are a connection to the Chinese culture, we take children off the street and give them a safe activity that builds self-esteem, fitness, good manners, and more. Where we have not been very relevant is in the minds of the potential student who needs martial arts study for their self-defense needs. Whether they are police officers, prize fighters, security guards, or regular every day citizens concerned with self-protection against muggers and criminals–the term “Kung Fu” seldom enters the conversation. Few Sifus would dare to intervene in their own lives to stop a streetfight; I doubt if many would ever offer students to a local business as security or bodyguards.

Pause. I think I heard someone say, that security and bodyguarding has nothing to do with Kung Fu. I beg to differ. There was a time, in the very recent past, that Kung Fu Sifu provided most of the security, soldiers, and bodyguards to his community. My own system of Jow Ga began not as a school teaching martial arts students–but a family teaching combat to soldiers. Almost all of us trace our systems back to someone who pioneered some form of combat–so why are we now shunning this use for our systems?

While agreed–Kung Fu is so much bigger than fighting in today’s society, it is–the martial arts still must fill that need. We must keep our skills useful enough so that any of us who completes our curriculum is qualified to work as a bodyguard or provide unarmed security. If not, why not just remove all strikes, punches and kicks from our curriculum and call what we do “a form of exercise”?

Many Sifu have avoided combat so long, they are actually reluctant to let a student who is interested in fighting actually do it. Many have gone so far as to tell students that sparring would impede their combat skills!! I have seen a friend in recent years here in California, do his best to talk several students out of participating in sparring, when a few of these students originally signed up just to learn to fight. What we see today are cases of many teachers projecting insecurities and feelings of inadequacy about their own fighting skill onto their students. In the end, the students suffer. They must then spend the rest of their days in just as much fear of a mugger as any non-martial artist, wasting all that classroom training time. They must spend the rest of their lives suffering from cognitive dissonance, convincing themselves that somehow–forms practitioners are more prepared to defend themselves than actual fighters, because the fighters are competing in a sport–while the forms practitioner is doing “real” combat training. They must spend the rest of their lives pretending to be self-confident around tough-looking individuals, when they are relying on dialing 9-1-1 for protection, just like the next guy. They must spend the rest of their lives practicing their arts as hobbyists, instead of the warriors they fantasize that they are. All because Sifu did not let them leave the nest to explore the life of a fighter; not even for a short period of time.

Regardless of what kind of fighting experience a Sifu has, he or she must allow students to take the risk of being defeated, injured, humiliated, etc., and experience the up and down journey of a martial artist. You can’t live safely; sometimes you will win, sometimes you will lose–but all of it makes you better. There are many lessons that only an opponent can teach you, that will never be learned in a classroom. Sifus must humble themselves and admit that there is much knowledge they cannot teach the students, and students must learn those things for themselves. For a bird who never leaves the nest will never learn to fly, and an eagle who cannot leave the ground is as useless as wooden chicken:  It looks real, but tastes horrible. 🙂

I think you get it.

Washington, DC 1979

Washington, DC 1979

In 1979, my Sifu arrived back in Asia–in Taipei, Taiwan–accompanied by a team of men he trained to compete at a full-contact Kung Fu tournament. He left for the U.S. 11 years earlier as a young man, wanting an American education and armed with martial arts as a vocation. in ten short years, he had trained some of the best fighters in Washington, DC., and he set out for this tournament to put them up against the best fighters in the world. No man returned empty-handed. This very young Sifu, not yet 35 years of age, had accomplished more in a decade than most men reading this article. With this one tournament, he established the DC lineage of Jow Ga as a fighting school, whose students should never have to fear or be subservient to any other martial artist. And he did it, not for his own reputation–but for theirs. He allowed each student to have this experience for himself, proving to themselves, their opponents, the spectators, and the world–that their training had not been in vain. Most members of the team were young men who had never traveled anywhere, some still in their teens. They returned to America, as newly matured martial artists who had fought the best the world had to offer. Some had trained in Jow Ga fewer than five years at that point. For the rest of their days, they were able to say they had traveled internationally and competed against the best of the best. How much did their Kung Fu grow with that experience? I’ll tell you, an entire universe more than many who have never dared to leave their own cities, let alone their own teachers’ classrooms.

This “leaving the nest” need not be halfway around the world, however. Students simply need to be set free from the confines of the school and the protection of the Sifu. They need the freedom of using their martial arts without being corrected or coached. They need to be able to try out the ideas they formulated in their heads while practicing–that their Sifus may not have allowed them to try. They must know what the sting of an unseen strike feels like, they must feel the unbalancing of missing a step while launching or evading an attack. They must experience the fatigue of having run out of energy while still under pressure from the opponent–and then still having to protect himself. Students must understand what it feels like to see a man who scares you, and fight him anyway. They must learn to see, recognize, create, and exploit openings. They must feel the emotional rush of having defeated an opponent. They must know what it feels like to have dominated an opponent, and have the wisdom and compassion to back off and not go for the kill in order to salvage the opponent’s dignity. They must learn to recognize attacks and defensive strategies and choose the appropriate method to counter them. There are so many lessons that can only be learned when the training wheels are off, we do them a disservice if we deny them these lessons because of a personal bias or fear. So often, we imprison our students in the walls of our protection, they must sever the relationship with us just so they can free themselves from those shackles in order to learn. Don’t be that teacher who must be escaped from because a student wants to learn what the world has to offer. Students can only learn if they accumulate a combination of good experiences and what some erroneously label “bad” experiences. A real champion is not one who has never been beaten. A real champion is one who has faced the best–even facing those who are better than him–and then become champion anyway. The greatest lessons, many times, are taught by defeat and these “bad” experiences. And nearly ALL of this knowledge is only found outside your doors.

There is a saying that is appropriate here, which says:  “The only bad experience is the one you don’t learn from.”  It’s one to live by. Let your students lift off so their knowledge base and skills can fly.

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