As the saying goes, silence is golden. Sometimes speaking greatly aids in instructing, training, and learning, but sometimes it can be a hinderance. On Monday, I was fighting a sore throat, so I decided to use a technique teaching that I hadn't done in years: a silent class. I did speak a little, but only at particularly opportune times. Otherwise, all of the instruction came from demonstration and gestures.
For an instructor, such methods can be useful so that your instruction ends up being focused and clear. If you are instructing with no words, simple and explicit teaching is most beneficial. For instructors that talk a lot normally (like me), such a practice is a good reminder that holding back on comments throughout a class can be equally beneficial.
One of the benefits of this type of instruction for students is that it really forces them to focus. Concentration and awareness must be heightened when you cannot rely on conceptual information. It must all be visual — and you are forced to notice the minute details.
There is actually a tradition of teaching from Asia that does this sort of thing often. Explanations are almost never given, and a student is expected to learn technique through careful observation or diligent practice. This can either lead to prolonged ignorance... OR it can lead to a very affirming and deep understanding when one makes a breakthrough experientially.
If nothing else, instructors are encouraged to try such methods for the challenge it poses to yourself and your students.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
2010 Soo Bahk Do National Festival
This last weekend I competed at the 2010 Soo Bahk Do National Festival. In the advanced ranks division my partner, Master PJ Steyer, and I won first place with this coreographed routine, so I thought I should share.
I'm the one who starts on the right with the shaved head. Supreme kudos to Noelia Lago for the great filming!
I'm the one who starts on the right with the shaved head. Supreme kudos to Noelia Lago for the great filming!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Tempering
Training in martial arts — or any skill — is like sword-making. When you create a sword, the metal is melted down and hammered, then folded over and over again. The more times the metal is folded, the stronger the blade will be. Folding is used to draw out impurities from the metal.
Similarly, martial art training is a discipline striving for perfection. Striving for perfection in technique leads to perfection in other arena's of one's life. This striving is the same as the process of sword-making. One must practice a technique over and over again, like the folding of metal, hammering out the impurities of a technique.
This repetition is the important part of training. It is not enough to "know" or to "practice" a technique. The quantity of techniques known is unimportant, but the quality of the ones you have is a reflection of your fortitude as a martial artist. Learning techniques enables you to use them in this process of "folding", to employ them towards the quest for perfection. Techniques are the means for achieving a goal, not the goal themselves.
Effective techniques are the symptom of the more important dynamic process of striving for perfection — disciplined training.
Similarly, martial art training is a discipline striving for perfection. Striving for perfection in technique leads to perfection in other arena's of one's life. This striving is the same as the process of sword-making. One must practice a technique over and over again, like the folding of metal, hammering out the impurities of a technique.
This repetition is the important part of training. It is not enough to "know" or to "practice" a technique. The quantity of techniques known is unimportant, but the quality of the ones you have is a reflection of your fortitude as a martial artist. Learning techniques enables you to use them in this process of "folding", to employ them towards the quest for perfection. Techniques are the means for achieving a goal, not the goal themselves.
Effective techniques are the symptom of the more important dynamic process of striving for perfection — disciplined training.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Your training is complete
I may or may not decide to keep this as a public martial arts blog... we'll see. In the meantime, here is a post from my private martial arts blog:
I've noticed in popular culture martial arts movies, particularly those from the US, often a disciple studies under a master until a certain point when the master declares,"Your training is now Complete."
This is a great fallacy to martial art training — that such a state is attainable, or that there is a desire to be complete at all. Having a stated goal to attain only softens the potential that one can achieve. If we only train to be "good enough" to pass a test or win a competition, we are not maximizing our potential. We should strive to better than those that others expect of us.
Often, for many students a "black belt" is a primary goal — which is why many stop after getting it. They have reached the ceiling of their expectations, as opposed to realizing that their ceiling is limitless, and the belt is simply a marker.
Furthermore, if we train to fulfill our requirements for a rank, that is all we are capable of doing. Rank requires us to know specific rote combinations and practices — "Life" does not. If we train "for perfection" rather than "for a rank," passing a test seems like a trivial obstacle on our path of discovery. The amount needed to know for the test is miniscule compared to all that we have learned in our training.
There is no "completed" training. There is just training.
I've noticed in popular culture martial arts movies, particularly those from the US, often a disciple studies under a master until a certain point when the master declares,"Your training is now Complete."
This is a great fallacy to martial art training — that such a state is attainable, or that there is a desire to be complete at all. Having a stated goal to attain only softens the potential that one can achieve. If we only train to be "good enough" to pass a test or win a competition, we are not maximizing our potential. We should strive to better than those that others expect of us.
Often, for many students a "black belt" is a primary goal — which is why many stop after getting it. They have reached the ceiling of their expectations, as opposed to realizing that their ceiling is limitless, and the belt is simply a marker.
Furthermore, if we train to fulfill our requirements for a rank, that is all we are capable of doing. Rank requires us to know specific rote combinations and practices — "Life" does not. If we train "for perfection" rather than "for a rank," passing a test seems like a trivial obstacle on our path of discovery. The amount needed to know for the test is miniscule compared to all that we have learned in our training.
There is no "completed" training. There is just training.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Perfection
Training must be a path striving for perfection. If it is not, training becomes about "keeping up" or "staying afloat." This is not the mastery that one aims for, of both execution and mental focus.
In some sense, this is an indictment against training broadly instead of deeply. Broad knowledge cannot lead to perfection or mastery, only deep training can.
Of course, perfection may not be something attainable in a real sense, but the journey towards that goal is what makes the difference. The mission for such perfection empowers more than the attainment of it.
In some sense, this is an indictment against training broadly instead of deeply. Broad knowledge cannot lead to perfection or mastery, only deep training can.
Of course, perfection may not be something attainable in a real sense, but the journey towards that goal is what makes the difference. The mission for such perfection empowers more than the attainment of it.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Action and Non-Action
In recent years, I have experienced a debate between two methods of thinking regarding actions in martial arts/life.
On the one side, my personal experience has supported that overly "passive" behavior does not pay off, but aggressive behavior does in many regards. This should be clarified. I do not mean "aggressive" in a violent sort of way. Rather, a better definition would be "proactive behavior with volition." It means to move decisively and confidently towards a desired outcome.
On the other hand, Tai Chi type thinking would say to not be proactive, and only to be reactive — responding to the world in a way that guides one through life via "non-action." It is adaptive to what is offered — something that I have also experienced in life, though usually only on a gross scale.
What I'm really finding though, at least in terms of life, is that neither of these alone is sufficient — like the two halves of the yin/yang, both of these have to work in concert with each other. In some places, you have to be aggressive, decisive, and active. In others, you must be passive, reactionary, and adaptive.
And, like the yin/yang, there is part of each in the other. Within aggressive behavior, there can be passivity; within non-action, there can be proactivity. The key I think, is distributing the methods appropriately (and not that they are separate in execution).
An example from sparring: previously I encouraged for people to not care about one's opponent and move with one's own plan of action. This would be the aggressive behavior. However, such action can also be reactive — as in the case of counter-attacking. My proactive plan might be to never throw an offensive technique and be adaptive to an opponent's movements to counter-attack. It doesn't have to be a blitzkrieg of attacks. Here, the reactive is found within the aggressive.
As in all things, finding the proper balance between these forces is key.
On the one side, my personal experience has supported that overly "passive" behavior does not pay off, but aggressive behavior does in many regards. This should be clarified. I do not mean "aggressive" in a violent sort of way. Rather, a better definition would be "proactive behavior with volition." It means to move decisively and confidently towards a desired outcome.
On the other hand, Tai Chi type thinking would say to not be proactive, and only to be reactive — responding to the world in a way that guides one through life via "non-action." It is adaptive to what is offered — something that I have also experienced in life, though usually only on a gross scale.
What I'm really finding though, at least in terms of life, is that neither of these alone is sufficient — like the two halves of the yin/yang, both of these have to work in concert with each other. In some places, you have to be aggressive, decisive, and active. In others, you must be passive, reactionary, and adaptive.
And, like the yin/yang, there is part of each in the other. Within aggressive behavior, there can be passivity; within non-action, there can be proactivity. The key I think, is distributing the methods appropriately (and not that they are separate in execution).
An example from sparring: previously I encouraged for people to not care about one's opponent and move with one's own plan of action. This would be the aggressive behavior. However, such action can also be reactive — as in the case of counter-attacking. My proactive plan might be to never throw an offensive technique and be adaptive to an opponent's movements to counter-attack. It doesn't have to be a blitzkrieg of attacks. Here, the reactive is found within the aggressive.
As in all things, finding the proper balance between these forces is key.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Push hands
My Tai Chi teacher Jarl has alerted me to a new post on her own blog about Push Hands. It's worth reading as a complement from the Tai Chi view to the types of things in my "three mantras" post. I plan my next post to discuss the relationship of these two views.
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