The Path of Traditional Martial Arts

MAKING SACRIFICES

2026-10-19T23:26:57.366-07:00

by Yang Xuangxing

New students are sometimes surprised and more than a few are disheartened when I tell them that following the martial path is going to require making some sacrifices. Oftentimes, it means making changes in their lifestyles; changes that usually involve having to make some sacrifices. And that's rarely a comfortable thing to do.

One of the most common problems lies in the ability to attend class. Class times may run afoul of one's hobbies, job, or family activities. I never ask that a student sacrifice family functions (the importance of family is paramount, in my opinion) but hobbies, spending time with one's buddies, and even job conflicts? Oftentimes, yes. I sometimes changed jobs because my current one interfered with my ability to train. It may not have been a wise choice in so far as income goes, but my training was placed higher on my list of priorities. And training always took priority over hobbies as well.

I remember wanting a particular sword very badly. I simply couldn't afford it outright, so I saved up money by eating simpler meals and not spending money on anything that I didn't absolutely have to have. It didn't take long for the extra money to accumulate and I eventually bought that sword. I still have it. And I still practice with it regularly.

It's a question of how badly you want to learn and what level of skill you want to reach. If you want something badly enough, you'll make the necessary sacrifices. If not, you'll make excuses.

THE LONELY JOURNEY

2026-10-19T01:39:54.446-07:00

by Phillip Starr

For all of the colorful verbage we hear about walking the martial path, there is a consideration that is rarely mentioned. When you step onto this path, you must do it for yourself. You will begin alone and although you may enjoy the camaraderie of some fellow travelers from time to time, you must take each step alone. And of course, there will be times when you are completely alone and sometimes the burden of this aloneness weighs heavy on you. Many there are who can tolerate the loneliness for only so long before they turn around and go back.

For those who continue along the Way, there are the naysayers. Many of them mean well; they simply don't understand why on earth you want to be so involved in what they perceive as a rather exotic and foreign hobby. “Why do you have to be so different?”, they ask. “Why don't you do XX or XXX?” If you let it, this kind of babbling can really get to you. Rather than try to understand what you're doing and why you're doing it, they reject it out of hand because it's foreign to them and doesn't fit into their “box.” It doesn't necessarily mean that they're trying to be cruel or uncaring; they just don't understand.

Those who truly seek the Way are on a quest of sorts; striving towards a goal that cannot be reached in this single lifetime; perfection. And such an enterprise brings with it all forms of suffering – mental, spiritual, and even emotional – which must be borne in solitude; the only relief is to be found through more intense practice. We try to find the answers to questions that are themselves difficult to understand. Oftentimes, just discovering the question itself is a profound discovery. But this is the Way we have chosen to follow. For a lifetime.

FOUR PILLARS OF KARATE

2026-10-17T23:00:00.058-07:00

by Phillip Starr

There is an old Okinawan adage that reminds us that proper karate training consists of three essential parts, although they also include a fourth. These are sometimes referred to as the “Three (actually, Four) Pillars of Karate.” It is believed that one must practice all of them and refrain from neglecting any one of them. And they apply to all other martial disciplines as well...

The first pillar is Kihon (basics). Without regular (as in “daily”) practice of these, everything else falls apart. They must be practiced and continuously polished until they become a part of you. There is no end to striving to perfect the kihon. Beginning students often just lob them out into space, but this will lead nowhere. Each punch, each kick must be executed with yi (intention) and a strong spirit.

If we compare martial arts to language, the kihon are the words. They mustn't be garbled or mispronounced.

The second pillar is Kata (forms). As with the individual kihon, kata must be practiced and polished daily. It isn't necessary for you to practice ALL of the kata that you have learned every day; in fact, trying to do so would end in disaster! You'd quickly become bored, discouraged, or frustrated (or all of these) and discontinue your practice. You must FOCUS on the kata 100%. Select just one or two to practice on a given day.

If the kihon are words and phrases, so the kata are sentences and paragraphs that comprise a book. They are the ways of expressing the kihon in a coherent manner.

Kumite is the third pillar. It does not, however, refer only to freestyle sparring; it refers instead to practice routines that involve a partner. There are numerous two-person training routines besides sparring and training with them properly will develop genuine fighting skill. These include three and one-step fight, and freestyle one-step fight. Because they require a partner, such routines cannot necessarily be practiced daily, but they can and should be practiced in every class.

The Makiwara (literally, “rolled straw”) or striking post forms the fourth pillar. It will ensure that your Kihon are correct and it will polish, strengthen, and sharpen them. If the kihon are compared to using a sword, the makiwara is the sharpening stone. And it is where the blade is tempered. You wouldn't want to rely on a dull blade or one that's fashioned out of cheap iron, would you? It's better to have a razor-sharp sword made of the finest steel. And the striking post will make sure that you do.

An old friend of mine, “Sherm” Harrill once said, “Any karate school that doesn't have a makiwara is just teaching people how to dance.” And I agree. It's akin to a boxing school that is void of heavy bags...

Remember these Four Pillars. They're what your art and skill are based on.

FOOD AS MEDICINE

2026-10-17T01:35:35.010-07:00

by Phillip Starr

Basic Chinese medical theory is, in my opinion, seamlessly merged with the culture of that nation (probably more so than the average Chinese citizen suspects). One example is that of their diet. Unlike Westerners who tend to eat on the run and often garf down whatever is quick and easy, the Chinese thoroughly enjoy their native food and take time to adequately prepare good meals.

Although some Western fast-food restaurants can be found (such as McDonalds, KFC, and Pizza Hut) and they're usually rather crowded, most Chinese readily admit that they're very much aware that this kind of food is “bad for the body” and the truth is that they go to them just every now and then rather than on a regular basis; they're regarded as something special that's been imported from the West...a novelty (kind of disappointing to think that these are often held up as “American Food”...).

Traditional Chinese medical theory holds fast to ancient teachings regarding Yin and Yang, the so-called Five Elements, the Five Flavors, and so on. And although the average Chinese housewife cannot necessarily expound on the intricacies of these subjects, they understand something of their essense and utilize them in the preparing of daily meals. For instance, the so-called Five Elements – Earth, Metal, Wood, Fire, and Water - feature certain flavors. These are: Sweet, Sour, Salty, Bitter, and Pungent. And each (complete) Chinese meal contains a bit of all five flavors which, they believe, contributes to good overall health. Their food is also their daily “medicine.”

And since good health is necessary in order to keep up daily training, martial arts followers are careful to maintain a good diet. They take their medicine daily.

2026-10-15T22:31:33.776-07:00

DON'T HAVE TIME...?

by Phillip Starr

In 2016 I met sensei Hino Akira while I was visiting Japan. A world-renowned martial arts master, Hino sensei began his martial arts career in karate. Being extremely devoted and determined to learn the secrets of high skill, he practiced arduously every day, doing sanchin kata daily for up to eight hours! That in itself is a testament to his dedication! However, he realized that what he had learned and practiced wasn't going to let him improve his skill as much as he wanted, so he began going through the ancient martial arts writings with a fine-toothed comb...and he gradually re-discovered various principles that had been long forgotten. He set out to present his findings to the martial arts community and is now in demand worldwide (especially in Europe).

Although he travels quite extensively, he also conducts training in the spacious dojo that he installed in his home. In the photo below, you can see Hino sensei's beautiful home. Pretty nice inside and out, huh? It's even more impressive when you discover that HE BUILT THE WHOLE THING HIMSELF! He didn't design it and then hire people to do the actual construction. He pounded every single nail himself. And held down a full-time job to boot.

And he kept up with his training. Every. Day. Although he's certainly not a very physically imposing specimen, he has an iron will and perhaps even more importantly, an unquenchable desire to learn and improve himself. Now at the age of 75+, he continues with his daily regimen. So next time you're about to say, “I don't have time to practice at home”, consider Hino sensei...

CUTTING CORNERS

2026-10-14T23:40:44.932-07:00

by Yang Xuangxing

We've all done it at one time or another; tried to “cut corners”: when it came to learning or practicing a particular form or technique...right? Sure we have, and that's normal. It's just human nature.

However, we discovered – some more quickly than others – that cutting corners isn't an efficient way to truly learn or acquire real skill. It often results in injuries. Then we had to drag ourselves back to the old tried and true method of practice – endless repetitions with mental focus.

There's an old Latin phrase that tells us, “Repetitio mater studiorum est .” It means, “repetition is the mother of all learning” and it's absolutely true. But there's much more to it than just going through the motions, lobbing out one empty technique after another. I call them “empty” because they're devoid of any real spirit and intention, and hence...real strength. Thus, the mind and intention must be focused on each and every repetition.

This is why it's generally pointless to practice a large number of the same techniques over and over. Your mind gets bored, you lose mental focus and/or your legs (or other body parts) begin to ache and your attention (yi) is drawn to that part of your body. In short, although your body is doing the same outer movement(s) repeatedly, your mind isn't fixed on what you're doing.

Physical repetition must be enjoined with mental concentration if you expect to derive any real benefit from your practice. And the corners you thought about cutting? Forget it.

COMFY? NOT!

2026-10-13T22:53:47.460-07:00

By Phillip Starr

For what it's worth, it's my opinion that much of the reason for the overall decline in the martial arts nowadays is due to...discomfort. New students dislike it (and often drop out), instructors are afraid that students will find certain routines too uncomfortable and they don't use them, or both. Actually, this has gone on for so long that we now have instructors who have never had to endure the rigors and frequent accompanying “discomforts” that were once part and parcel of traditional training.

In the East, it's generally understood and accepted that engaging in a martial art is going to hurt a bit but not so in the West where we've been made to be politically correct (except for a few such as yours truly) and strive to prevent offending anyone or making them physically uncomfortable. The West has managed to raise a generation of wimps; many public schools have reduced or eliminated physical education and children (as well as adults) are not made to engage in any activity that makes them uncomfortable.

If little Billy's legs are sore from running around the track yesterday, he'll be excused from doing any physical exercises today. And this attitude has been carried into many martial arts schools...a great many of them no longer make students practice static postures (such as the dreaded horse-riding stance) or any training routines that are usually painful. But it is this very aspect of training that develops character, spirit, and an indomitable will; things that are not only essential for the development of martial skill but necessary for daily life as well!

Authentic martial skill simply cannot be developed without enduring a considerable amount of discomfort. But nowadays, many instructors are overly concerned that everyone is “having fun.” They fear that discomfort may result in lower enrollment and subsequent loss of income. And so it might. Martial arts aren't for everyone.

CLUELESS

2026-10-12T23:49:36.526-07:00

by Phillip Starr

A good friend of mine, Mr. Chris Smaby (hachidan, JKA and student of Hidetaka Nishiyama and Keinosuke Enoeda) once told me with a chuckle that “There are those who don't have a clue (as to what authentic martial arts are), and then there are those who don't even suspect.” And I must say, I've certainly seen my share of both.

The clueless ones like to think that they know what they're doing; those who don't even suspect generally believe that they're doing is right and they refuse to pay attention to what else is out there. They KNOW they're right. They've learned and/or mastered all they need. They won't look any further.

These “maladies” often result from someone reading about a particular art or technique, watching a video about it, or attending a seminar(s) about it; none of these necessarily involve any firsthand, “hands-on” training. These methods of learning can be useful in learning various aspects of, or polishing an art in which one has already been taught. But learning an art from scratch? Nah...

Before the internet, such incomplete instruction was largely limited to those who attempted to learn from books and videos. But with the advent of the worldwide web, videos became much easier to come by and the problem snowballed. Now we have a whole generation of people who, starting off as rank novices, are convinced that they have acquired considerable skill in an art that they learned online or from books or seminars.

I have met people who became certified instructors in an art that they learned entirely through participation in seminars! They missed out on the rigorous daily training that actual students of the art must endure. And of course, they lightened their wallets rather considerably to obtain their certification, which only made them more determined to believe that their skill was authentic. Tragic and foolish. Books, seminars, and videos are useful as introductory or reference material but a complete martial art simply cannot be learned from them. To learn the real art requires frequent, regular attendance in a class taught by a genuine instructor.

The real tragedy is that many of these folks become instructors who will produce another generation of clueless, unsuspecting followers.

ALWAYS WATCHING, EVALUATING, TESTING

2026-10-11T23:05:58.460-07:00

by Phillip Starr

I was a young newcomer to this group. I lined up and stood still, waiting for class to begin. Sifu Chen shouted the command and we all jerked our fists to our hips. The best marching band in the country had nothing on us; we all managed to move in perfect unison. But it was sheer coincidence...

And we stood still, staring forward and not moving a muscle. I wondered what was going on but something told me not to look around. I became a fleshly statue. I remember thinking that we were fortunate that we weren't in my karate class, which began with everyone sitting in seiza!

I tried to maintain a look of fierce determination. Probably looked fairly silly, but I wanted to be accepted by this teacher. I wanted him to know that I could take it (actually, I had virtually no idea of what that would entail). Sifu Chen, attired in his sleeveless t-shirt and sweatpants, walked casually around us, and seemed to be oblivious to our existence.

Then he turned and looked at us. His gaze was gentle enough but he radiated an energy that was palpable. Was he getting inside my head, somehow? He nodded slowly to himself and told us to relax. For some inexplicible reason, I knew better than to completely let go. I relaxed my arms and spread my feet a bit just to get more comfortable but I kept staring straight ahead. I stayed focused and didn't let my young mind relax very far. I knew my teacher was still watching. And in the months and years to come, I'd learn that he was ALWAYS watching.

From the moment he saw us enter his home or the training area (which was a recreation room in his basement), he watched...how we carried ourselves, how we greeted and treated each other, the condition of our training clothes, how we warmed up before class (not just what we did, but out attitudes as well). And he watched during and after class as well. He was always evaluating us, not just in terms of physical condition or martial prowess, but our spirits and what was in our hearts as well.

And he was constantly testing us, often in very subtle ways, to see how we'd respond...not only to doing our best to accomplish what was essentially an impossible task, but also how we responded to failure, criticism, and even success. He was probing, finding out who and what we really were, inside and out. Those who he judged to be worthy (in character and spirit more than mere technique), he'd spend more time and once they reached a certain level of skill, he'd show little “tweaks” - aspects of the art (spiritual and/or mental as well as physical).

When I began teaching many years later, I sought to do the same thing. It's not something that can be assimilated quickly. I'm still working on it...

UKEMI'S IMPORTANCE

2026-10-10T22:38:27.213-07:00

by Phillip Starr

In speaking with an old student, I learned that he was attending regular “meet-ups” of various martial arts practitioners who all practice together in an effort to improve their skills outside of class. This is a wonderful idea but my student made one important observation; NONE of the other participants knew how to breakfall. Only when they ventured to a local kenjutsu school (that also included traditional jujutsu in their training) was he able to practice the various forms of throwing and takedowns that he had learned from me.

I think the absence of proper ukemi (breakfalling) training in many martial arts schools is most unfortunate. I remember my early days as a young boy when I was so excited to begin learning the exotic Eastern martial at of judo. We spent the first lessons practicing various forms of breakfalls and for me at that age, it was great fun! But as I got older, I realized the importance of learning ukemi (at any age) and it had a lot more importance that just being fun...

In learning how to fall correctly, we are doing much more than we think. We're overcoming, little by little, one of the most fundamental human fears (it may, in fact, be THE most fundamental human fear); that of FALLING. From childhood, we learn to fear this thing (usually because we've taken a few nasty spills) and as we get older, the fear grows...unless we do something about it.

A good and caring instructor is necessary. I have always (and still do) teach breakfalls to new students “from the ground up.” They begin in a supine position and gradually work their way up to beginning from a sitting position (on the floor), a squat, and so on. Children generally LOVE the rolling techniques and we make a game of it. I was very fortunate in developing this skill when I was still quite young. It is useful not only for the practice of martial arts, but for daily life as well.

Ukemi is a tremendous confidence booster. When a child or an adult learns how to do them properly, they feel very much empowered! Their confidence, their belief in themselves and their ability to overcome obstacles soars! This impacts not only their martial skills, but their daily lives as well. If you've never learned proper ukemi, I implore you to do so as soon as possible. It WILL make a difference!

SLOW DOWN!!!

2026-10-09T22:44:02.768-07:00

by Yang Shuangxing

Some martial arts enthusiasts scoff at the practice of taijiquan, which is often practiced mostly in slow motion. Fine. There are reasons for it (by the way, taiji is never APPLIED slowly). Have you ever tried to do a form from your particular discipline in slow motion? I mean REALLY slow. Go ahead; try it. Start off with your most basic form. I'll wait...

You say it's not so tough to do? Well...did you slow down EVERYTHING, including your kicks and steps? Yes, the kicks have to be done very slowly. You mustn't “fling” out your kicks uncontrollably. You'll quickly notice that they don't go as high as usual. It takes great strength in the hips and legs to perform a slow-motion kick any higher than your waist. Try to slowly kick out as high as you can and hold it there for a nice ten-count.

And when you stepped, did you do it quickly? It has to be slow, too. You mustn't “fall” on your foot. Each step must be perfectly controlled. It's a whole lot tougher than it looks! You don't want to “hurl” yourself at the enemy...your movement must be perfectly controlled.

Now, try again and this time, do EVERYTHING in slow motion. And when that becomes comfortable (and that's not going to happen for awhile), pay close attention to exactly how each movement and posture FEELS. Can you feel the punch all the way to your foot? Can you feel what your hips and shoulders are doing? Can you feel how they're connected? How about when you kick...what parts of your body (other than your kicking leg and foot) are involved and exactly what are they doing?

Did you coordinate your breathing with your movements or were you sucking wind at the halfway point? Breath and body have to be coordinated. Were any body parts overly tense when you moved? They shouldn't have been.

There's an old martial arts saying that says, “If you can't do it slow (correctly), you can't do it fast.” True enough.

RUMINATION

2026-10-08T22:17:31.856-07:00

by Phillip Starr

In his last days, the revered father of Japanese karate, Funakoshi Gichin, was largely bedridden. One of his youngest students, Tsutomu Ohshima, helped care for him. Ohshima would carry his teacher on his back down the stairs and into the dojo when he was scheduled to do a demonstration. When Funakoshi's feet touched the dojo, it was as if he was suddenly 20 years younger and he would perform magnificently...but afterwards he was exhausted and Ohshima would carry him back upstairs to his bed.

One morning, Ohshima arrived to find his sensei sitting up on the edge of his bed and practicing the basic seiken-tsuki (forefist thrust). Funakoshi looked over at his student and said, “I think I've finally got it!” This humble man had never spoken of his great skill before. Ohshima wept. Funakoshi passed away a few days later.

Kofujita Kangejuzaemon Toshinao was a master swordsman of feudal Japan who devoted his entire life to mastery of his art. Although he began in the style of the Chujo ryu, he was later accepted into the dojo of Itto Ittosai Kagehisa, who founded the famed Itto (“One Sword”) style of swordsmanship. The primary tactic of this school required a fine sense of timing and total confidence in one's ability to execute a single blow at precisely the right moment. Kofujita took to this concept with great enthusiasm.

He became a recognized master and authority of the art and was titled a “shihan” (“a model for all others”). One day as he was in his garden practicing, an old classmate visited him. His friend stood inside the house and quietly watched so as not to disturb the master. He saw that Kofujita was practicing a basic exercise of using his hips to precede the action of cutting. This was the very first thing that Itto-ryu novices were taught. The aging classmate could see that his old friend was wholly focused on the technique.

After a short time, Kofujita saw his friend and realized the classmate had tears in his eyes. “it is the first thing our master taught us”, Kofujita said. “I don't think it's quite good enough yet, do you?”

Kofujita's introspection and incessant struggle to examine his own progress, reflect on it, and strive for improvement (no matter how long he'd practiced it) is characteristic of a master. In Japanese, this attitude is called “ryomi”...intense, ongoing, self-evaluation.

In contemporary martial arts, the title of “traditionalist” is given to those who practice the ways of the past. You won't find them wearing glitzy uniforms or strutting around at tournaments with their chests puffed out. They're on a journey of self-discovery – which would be frustrated by following current fads. They believe in what they do and can be quite obstinate. Many regard them as people who see themselves as faultless paragons, paladins of the Way of the warrior. Traditionalists rarely challenge this view while they engage in self-citicism only in secrecy and amongst their own kind. It's a fault for which they must be forgiven.

Self-criticism is not pleasant nor easy to do. The main reason is that the arts that they follow far exceed the more modern “eclectic” forms. A second reason is that the criticisms of their art are often offered by those who are quite ignorant; one self-appointed critic may ask “what has all this practice of forms got to do with real fighting?” Such ones might just as well ask an auto mechanic what possible value a drive shaft could have in making a car go...

The overall problem faced by traditionalists is that although their world is filled with excellence, it is usually too small and often extends only to the walls of his dojo. This can foster rather narrow views. But there's nothing at all wrong with spending time in the schools of other accomplished martial artists, asking questions, and getting to know other traditionalists. This is actually following a very old and valuable custom of the martial arts.

Some traditionalists come to see themselves as purists, fine examples of their arts, and faultless. They are wrong. And if a master like Kofujita and Gishin could submit themselves to the self-criticism of ryomi, then today's practitioners could survive and even benefit from a little of the same.

PRACTICE, COMPETITION, AND COMBAT

2026-10-07T22:48:41.813-07:00

by Phillip Starr

Nowadays, it seems that many martial arts devotees equate practice (with a partner) and/or success in the competition ring with combat skill. I've often heard remarks like, “He's a really strong fighter! He's won two grand championships. Nobody messes with him!”, and variations thereof. But the brutal truth is a very different story.

In class, we must strive to practice “controlled violence” that is neither excessive nor insufficient. This is done for obvious reasons. The same is true for competition, although to a lesser extent. Blows may be thrown with great power, but careful control must be exercised to avoid striking and injuring one's partner. It happens from time to time, but such is the nature of the beast.

Hollywood's celluloid martial arts heroes have given many people (including a great many martial arts practitioners) a totally false impression of just how martial arts are used in actual self-defense. For starters, there's usually very little distance between you and your opponent and there's very rarely time or space to adopt some kind of “fighting stance.” The attack, more often than not, is unexpected.

There are no rounds, no referees, and no rules. It's quick and brutal with no quarter given. The odds are that you'll get fairly scuffed up even if you “win.” You can smell the enemy's breath and sweat, and feel his rage. It's usually over very quickly. But you mustn't dwell on having emerged victorious; he may have friends waiting in the wings. You must remain alert and sensitive to your surroundings (“zanshin”). Fear grips your gut as you realize that this isn't practice (where your partner makes an effort not to injure you) but your determination must wash over your fear and blot it out until the fight has ended.

The whole affair is usually over very quickly...within a few seconds. Long, drawn-out fights such as we enjoy on the silver screen don't exist (for all intents and purposes) in real life.

ONE, TEN, RICE, AND BEYOND

2026-10-06T22:53:26.757-07:00

by Phillip Starr

一, 十, 米; yi (one), shi (ten), mi (rice)...in Chinese. These are the lines that most forms follow. In Japanese, it is referred to as the embusen (演武線, which means “martial play line” in Chinese). Almost all forms should begin and end on the same spot (known as kiten or the embusen point in Japanese). And they follow the embusen.

Many Chinese sets use a simple “yi” line, which is straight. Others may use the “shi” or, for more complexity, the “mi” line(s). And most of them stress the importance of ending on the spot where you began the form; it's a fine way to ensure that your footwork is as it should be.

But the use of the embu line has been misunderstood for some time. If you stay exactly on the line(s), you'll soon discover that many of the form's techniques can't be effectively applied (this is especially true in the case of taijiquan). To find more application(s), you have to “come off the line” for at least one step or so.

For instance, step offline at an angle and see how it affects the application(s). Bear in mind that oftentimes, only the entry is shown in the form; the rest of the application is IMPLIED and not necessarily shown openly.

The original use of the embu line was probably for reasons of practicality; practicing in a fairly small area. Back in the “old days”, there were no roomy, warm training halls. Most practice was conducted outdoors in area that were a bit...tight. The old Chinese “courtyards” (that only fairly wealthy families could afford) were quite small and getting more than a half dozen students into one for training would be tricky. I know; I've seen such places firsthand.

Strict adherence to the embu line has led to some problems in so far as correct application is concerned. This is especially true of arts such as taijiquan, much of which is intended to be applied angularly. But because it (and many other Chinese forms) follow strict lines, today's adherents struggle to force the applications to work...and they just don't. In their zeal to maintain what they think is “tradition”, devotees refuse to alter their approach and hence, their way(s) of thinking. Their minds become as inflexible as the stones into which they believe their “traditions” are carved. But such “traditions” aren't really traditions at all... they have become pitfalls.

NOT EMPTY NOR HOLLOW

2026-10-05T23:16:20.264-07:00

by Phillip Starr

Practitioners of karate, taekwondo, and most styles of gong-fu are told that they must strongly visualize their opponents as they practice their forms. However, devotees of taijiquan, baguazhang, and even xingyiquan are rarely, if ever, given such instructions. They focus on doing the postures and footwork methods correctly but scant attention, if any at all, is paid to applying the postures.

To perform these sets properly, there are several things that must be considered. The first is visualization of the opponent(s) and extension of the yi (intention). Remember that extending yi automatically extends qi. Without yi, the form is about as worthless for actual self-defense as jumping jacks.

For many practitioners, they must get over the idea and practice of moving with all the power and spirit of a damp rag. The body should be energized (a technique I call “engaged”, which is discussed in my book, DEVELOPING JIN) and blows must land with force! To do this does not require muscular tension but it does require proper structure.

Moving with speed is critical (no one ever won a fight by moving in slow motion) and the proper rhythm is also vital to mastering the form. Where and when is power applied (fajin)? And you must learn to emit the power very quickly. Without an understanding of how this is done makes your form no different than the forms of shaolinquan or even karate. This is not to say that shaolinquan and karate aren't effective; they definitely are, but their methods of issuing power are considerably different than those used in the neijia (internal martial arts).

The set should follow a particular rhythm. When you engage a flesh-and-blood assailant, combat does NOT adhere to a nice, even, 4-beat rhythm. Your instructor should be able to show you the proper rhythms of the form.

You must never be completely “empty” or “hollow” as you move through the form. You must be “engaged” at all times (that is, the connective tissues are “inflated” with energy; qi). You never hold your breath and inhalations must occur at just the right moments. To do all of these things and remain relaxed (which is a relative term which means, roughly, “not stiff like a wooden soldier”) requires a huge amount of practice over and over. Trust me, you won't get it right – or even close to it – for some time. You need lots and lots of repetition and focus.

NO MATTER WHAT SHAPE...

2026-10-04T23:20:55.327-07:00

by Phillip Starr

Back when I managed my own full-time martial arts school, I had many prospective enrollees come in and inquire about classes. It wasn't unusual for them to tell me something like, “I'll start classes once I'm in better shape...” Or something like that. That always struck me as making about as much sense as someone saying, “I'll start school when I'm smart enough.”

I tell prospective students who are concerned about their lack of fitness (as well as those who feel that they're in very good shape) that I always assume that every new student is in terrible shape. They won't be expected to be especially flexible or strong when they first begin... Anyway, I prefer flexibility over strength.

A new student (or even a current one) who works at becoming stronger by developing large muscles will find it's a hindrance in his training with me. But most new prospective students are at the other end of the spectrum; they feel that they're not fit enough to begin martial arts training. Maybe they expect to be asked to perform very high kicks or gymnastic-style aerobics but they needn't fear that at all!

I do want to ensure that their health will not be impaired by rigorous exercise and I always check to see if they have any health conditions that might be at risk. If they have a risky condition, I require that they obtain a doctor's note giving them permission to begin training. But most prospective enrollees are more than healthy enough to start training. They may lack flexibility and feel that they're not very strong physically, but the most important requirements are their spirit and desire to learn.

MODERN SELF-DEFENSE NEEDS?

2026-10-03T23:01:00.297-07:00

By Phillip Starr

Anyone who's practiced a traditional martial art for some time has no doubt heard the expression, “That traditional, old-fashioned stuff won't work nowadays”, or something similar. And then there are those who speak authoritatively on “reality-based” methods of combat (as opposed, I guess, to the “unreality” methods). Oddly enough, I've never heard one of these “authorities” explain just why the traditional methods don't work, and if they ever did, exactly when did they become obsolete?

Apparently, a good number of these critics believe there actually was a time when an aggressor chambered one fist on his hip and advanced with several straight punches that the intended victim blocked effectively when stepping back into a solid front stance...kind of like a fight scene in an old 1970's grade B kung-fu movie...or a basic karate/taekwondo class. When was this? When did the local thugs attack with crisp reverse punches and clean lapel grabs that enabled the victim to perform nifty joint techniques?

I've followed the logic of these “experts” for a very long time and it seems that the change in how people fought occurred sometime back in the 70's...about the same time that “full contact” karate came into vogue. It seems that someone woke up one morning and had an epiphane; real fights involve head butts, eye gouges, punches thrown in flurries, and wrestling maneuvers. Wow! How brilliant of these innovators to realize these previously unknown truths and to have set out to remedy things! We should all be thankful for their insight!

It's typical of some people, usually those of an adolescent mentality, to believe that nothing important happened prior to their own lifetimes. They seem to believe that before the advent of grappling, contact-type sports, fighting arts consisted of dorks attired in weird pajamas throwing “unrealistic” punches, fancy kicks, and, of course, “judo chops” at each other. And we must conclude that the old “traditionalists” were either involved in some massive cult-like deception, or that bad guys back then were really stupid and easily defeated by such methods.

Face it....in so far as hand-to-hand fighting is concerned, people have fought (whether on a battlefield or a local bar) in much the same way that they always have. Physiologically, we haven't changed much in a long time! True, culture plays a role in how we fight. I remember when I was very young, anyone who kicked in a schoolyard scuffle was regarded as a sissy. Of course, that's very common now. A century ago, an English schoolboy would expect his opponent to admit defeat if his nose was bloodied. City gangs back in the 50's often had semi-elaborate rituals and posturing as they approached each other in anticipation of a fight. Nowadays, they just drive by and spray gunfire. And practical aspects of daily life can influence the approach to combat...for instance, feudal Japanese martial arts rarely involve kicking because wearing a kimono or hakama made kicking very problematic.

But those are secondary considerations. When it comes to single hand-to-hand combat, we haven't discovered anything new. That's why it's silly to talk about “traditional” forms of fighting or “reality” combat disciplines. It's more important to think of differences in APPROACHES to learning how to fight effectively. Naturally, there are inferior and superior ways of teaching and learning how to engage in personal combat. A karate, taekwondo, or gong-fu school that practices forms robotically (as a rote exercise) is not engaging in traditional training. In fact, what they are doing is practicing an inferior method...probably because the instructor learned it that way from someone who didn't know any better and passed on his inferior method to his students, who will pass them on to others. A grappling school wherein students go to the mat immediately and never provides regular practice of the fundamentals...providing haphazard instruction in the hopes of finding “what works” in the heat of the moment, is not doing anything new at all. It's just bad training...akin to tossing someone off the end of a pier to teach them how to swim.

If karate or judo practitioners fail to adequately defend themselves, it is certainly no indication that their arts don't work. If I am practicing a sort of pantomime, watered-down version of judo or taekwondo and I don't fare well in a fight, it's no reflection on the effectiveness of the art. I'm simply not doing it correctly. They certainly worked very well in the past (taekwondo made its debut in Vietnam where it was shown to be highly effective at close-quarters).

To argue that these arts are no longer effective because we've “moved on” is to say that an M1 Garand is no longer a viable weapon...the military no longer uses it. But even the most modern rifles aren't effective if instructors fail to teach recruits how to use them effectively.

One chooses to practice a martial Way not because it is magical, perfect, or flawlessly reliable. One practices it because it is a serious way of confronting and dealing with violence...a Way that has been proven again and again over many generations. However, you can, if you so choose, believe that people just didn't know how to fight as effectively in the past as we do now; that the “traditional” Ways are outmoded and you are witness to (and may have participated in) a new and unique creation in the field of personal combat. Congratulations...

MISSING THE POINT

2026-10-02T22:35:40.059-07:00

by Phillip Starr

Why do you practice martial arts? For that matter, why do I? It would seem to be a pretty simple question with a fairly simple answer.

Is it because we want to get in better shape and stay fit? Well, that can be accomplished in a a few weeks. Is it for reasons of learning self-defense? Okay...but basic self-defense skills are achieved within a few months. So really, why are you still doing it – especially those of you who have been at it for years or even decades?

And just why we continue to do it is often confusing to friends, family, and associates who don't understand what we do and often tend to view of it something of an exotic Asian hobby. And every now and then, we ourselves take time to consider just why we're still doing this...

Uechi-ryu karate Master, Kanei Uechi, said, “Karate is not something so simple as to teach only fighting.” Very true, and his words apply to all traditional martial arts. Just as in our forms, there is more to them than what we see on the surface...so it is with the whole of martial ways. Initially, we seek technique with which we may combat an opponent “out there.” And we polish and polish...and then, if we are truly focused, we realize that it is not really all about what is “out there.”

We push ourselves, seeing just how far we can go. And more importantly, we continue to polish ourselves physically, mentally, and spiritually. It is an exercise in seeking perfection, which, we know, cannot be realized in this lifetime. And that's okay. It's the struggle; the polishing itself that we're after. The path is the goal..

KANTOKU (To Perceive Virtue)

2026-10-01T22:55:52.838-07:00

by Phillip Starr

I once read about a well-known instructor of kenjutsu who was introduced to the art of chado (the Way of tea ceremony) by his teacher and wife, who were both avid practitioners of the art. In the traditional Japanese tea ceremony, there is MUCH more involved than simply pouring someone a cup of tea and drinking it. Much. More. Everything, every tiny thing, must be done just so. There are even actual kata that must be mastered...

One day, his teacher was showing him variations on the “temae” (the movements, the kata, of chado). He was explaining the “ kinin kiyotsugu usucha”; the proper term to be used for serving tea to a person of nobility or an aristocrat. The young student asked why he was to learn this; the feudal days of Japan had ended long ago. It was a fair question and his teacher nodded. “Yes, but you can learn to use the sense of “kantoku” that serving tea like this can teach you. And you can use that many times in your life.”

“Kantoku” is a very old-fashioned word in Japan. The young student tried to find it in a half dozen Japanese dictionaries, but to no avail. It means, literally, “to perceive virtue” and if and when it is heard at all nowadays, it's likely in a martial arts school or in another of the “do” forms such as the tea ceremony or ikebana (flower arranging). It has no English equivalent; grace, composure, awareness, and controlled vigor are all components of kantoku.

Its martial origins are to be found in kyujutsu (the feudal art of the bow and arrow). The founder of kyujutsu, Morikawa Kozan, wrote that an archer has two goals. The first is, of course, to hit the target. The second was the development and perfection of kantoku. Nowadays, kyudo (as it is called) is largely a matter of shooting at a fixed target. Mastering the etiquette, poise, mental focus, and kata are of paramount importance. But in the feudals days, training was very severe and shooting from atop a galloping horse (called yabusame) was critical. Today, this can be seen in special demonstrations and it's really quite remarkable.

Of course, the sword overtook the bow as the primary weapon of the samurai. Near the end of the feudal era, archery competitions were often held and this contributed to a decline in the art. Hinatsy Shigetaka wrote in 1716 that archery had devolved from a true martial art into “mere gambling for the sake of amusement.” “If only those conversant in the old ways would show us the etiquette and decorum of former times”, he said. “Nothing more important could be done to restore the true Way of the bow.” What he was decrying was not entirely the loss of kyudo's purely martial applications, but the loss of kantoku.

Kantoku became a component of archery because so many of the art's ceremonies, were conducted before higher-ranking samurai and the aristocracy. It was grace and calmness and energy exercised under the intense stress of performing in front of one's superiors. It vanished when the ceremonies were replaced with sports and other shallow diversions, viewed by audiences unable or unwilling to discriminate the finer points of the art and who were more concerned with the production of a “champion.”

I realize, of course, that contestants in any form of competition (from a sports championship to an audition) are under pressure to perform well. But amongst the spectators watching the performance, how many can appreciate real technique and virtuous behavior as opposed to mere artifice or displays of ego? How many can genuinely appreciate the attributes of kantoku that might be present in a particular performer? It's hard for us to imagine the sort of pressure the lords and masters brought to bear on the samurai in the days of feudalism just as it is difficult to imagine the tension experienced by the practitioner of chado who was engaged in making and serving tea before the nobility. Certainly, there are lessons to be learned from contemplating such things, for within the dynamics of those ancient pressures lay the essence of kantoku. Can we revive it?

IS IT REALLY NECESSARY?

2026-09-30T23:14:49.295-07:00

By Phillip Starr

When I was living in China, I was once approached by a young man who was one of my English students. He knew that I practiced martial arts and asked why I bothered to practice such an arcane art. I told him that there were several reasons but he went on and said, “But you can't make a living that way (I could easily argue that point but I understood what he was saying) and since we have modern-day policemen, why continue to train in an ancient form of self-defense? He felt that it had very little, if any, practical use in today's “modern” society.

Ah, the blissful ignorance of youth!

Violent crime is very rare in China and even more rare in Japan. This is not, as many contemporary leftists believe, due to the lack of availability of firearms, but because of the culture of these nations. Still, it does occur and even more so in other nations! The need for effective self-defense is probably greater now than ever before.

I'm reminded of a story here about a scholar who took a small ferryboat to cross a rather large river. As the boatman handled the rudder, the scholar asked him if he'd ever read some of the great Confucian classics. The boatman said that he'd never learned to read and the scholar smugly replie, “Ah, what a waste! You have lost half a life!” Time passed and before long a a squall had come up and the boat began taking water from the crashing waves. The boatman turned to the scholar, “Can you swim? The boat's going to sink.” The scholar replied that he'd never learned to swim and the boatman said, “Ah, what a waste...you have lost all of a life!”

Stress in unquestionably responsible for many more deaths annually than violence. It is insidious and our “modern” society, with all of its creature comforts, only serves to increase it. Everywhere we turn, there are “new and effective” programs being hawked as ways to reduce one's stress level. Martial arts is an excellent way to reduce stress. Whether it's taijiquan, taekwondo, judo...they're all effective.

Fitness is another story altogether. Looking at the current generation of both children and adults, it's clear that some sort of regular fitness program is needed more than ever! Getting fit and staying fit contributes to both mental and physical health. Many “fitness programs” have a central problem that is one of the main reasons people don't stick with them for very long (if at all)...boredom. But martial arts are anything but boring.

And then there's discipline. As with fitness, the need for discipline is needed by both adults and youngsters nowadays. Desperately. My most senior student hails from Japan, where he trained in various forms of gong-fu for many years before we met. He told me that discipline is one of the greatest benefits he derived from his training when he was young.

Today's world is, in my opinion, more violent and dangerous, more confusing, stressful, and undisciplined than ever before. Laws can be passed all the livelong day but to no avail. Each of us must take responsibility for ourselves.

Taking responsibility for ourselves and striving to perfect ourselves (or at least, to improve ourselves to some measurable degree) gives us a goal...and without a goal, we are lost.

IN ONE BREATH

2026-09-30T01:32:28.054-07:00

by Phillip Starr

The study of proper breathing in so far as martial arts are concerned is a tricky subject but one that must be well-understood and utilized by anyone wishing to acquire real skill. You've all been told that you must exhale when emitting power and this is true. You should exhale 2/3 of your air as quickly as possible – I tell my students “in the space of a gunshot.” This means you have to open your mouth and avoid pursing your lips like a blowfish. If the opening through which the air is blown out is too small, it takes too long for it to be fully exhaled. Novices have to practice opening their mouths to do it properly. I tell my students, “Your mother always said you have a big mouth...so use it!”

Basically, your body works like a machine that is powered by a bellows. To make a strong movement, a large quantity of air must be forced through it. Small quantities of air just won't do it. And to make movement faster, the air must be forced through the machine quickly. When you are pushing your car, for example, you exhale slowly. But in martial arts, we want both a powerful movement and a fast movement. So 2/3 of the air must be exhaled very, very quickly (1/3 is kept in reserve).

With some practice, students can learn to do this fairly well. Now, let's look at the 4 stages of a breath and how that affects what we do:

First, you inhale (through the nose is preferable). It is at this time that you are most susceptible to blows; you can hardly resist them (unless you have learned a special form of breathing that I call “inverse breathing.”). Moreover, your reaction time is cut down by about 50%.
Then there's a slight, almost imperceptible pause. You are still unable to resist incoming blows.
Exhalation. This is when you are strongest – able to resist blows and move quickly.
A second pause occurs, leaving you as vulnerable as #2. This pause usually lasts just a bit longer than the previous one.

So, in delivering multiple blows (a combination), what should you do? If you watch your classmates, I'll bet money that they exhale seperately with each technique. This means that they are very vulnerable in between their techniques because their breath is paused, they are holding their breath, or they are inhaling. This is not a good thing.

Combinations should be fired off IN A SINGLE BREATH! And don't lengthen the exhalation to accommodate them; your exhalation should be as fast as possible...just as if you're executing a single technique. Your body will have to accommodate your breath by learning to move faster!

This isn't too difficult to do with a two-technique combination. Try three. It's much harder to do and will require considerable practice. Four technique combinations are darned near impossible! The next time you see someone perform a combination that involves more than three techniques, you can pretty well be assured that they're inhaling in there somewhere...not likely that they're doing it in a single breath!

Now, the very same idea applies to your forms...actually, any time that you fire off a combination. If your form calls for more than one blow to be delivered to the opponent, you must do so in one breath (unless the form distinctly calls for a pause, which rarely happens). This will help you learn the proper rhythm(s) of your forms. It's going to take time, patience, and lots of practice.

This begs the question, “just when do I exhale; at the beginning or end of a technique or combination?” The answer can be found by watching a car racing event! When the flag is still raised, the drivers rev their cars...hitting the gas so they'll go flying off the line when the flag drops. They don't try to give themselves much of an extra burst of speed and power just as they're closing on the finish line. The same is true for a rocket launch. The blast-off occurs at the beginning to give the missile plenty of power and speed to go into orbit. So...your breath is exhaled at the BEGINNING of your technique rather than at the end. Trying to exhale at the very end of your technique doesn't work well...and attempting to do so will usually result in your breath being mistimed so that the exhalation occurs too late.

Practice, practice, practice!

THE IMPORTANCE OF SUBTLETIES

2026-09-28T23:13:11.864-07:00

by Yang Xuangxing

As you acquire more experience in your practice of martial arts, you have likely taken notice of numerous “subtleties” that can dramatically affect your technique and/or your ability to effectively apply it. At least I hope you have.

For instance, in iaido the sword is to be gripped just so. In fact, you mustn't use an actual “grip” (like holding a stick or baseball bat) when drawing the sword; the hand isn't closed as the sword is drawn! This has to be learned from a qualified instructor and it took me more than three years to get it (and I'm still working on it). In “open” tournament Weapons Division, it's not unusual to see a competitor swagger into the ring attired in a hakama (that often looks like it was made from the curtains of a New Orleans bordello) with his sword thrust improperly through his obi (wide sash). In fact, the sword is often placed on the left side, which is incorrect.

When said wannabe swordsman draws the weapon, he grasps the handle and pulls it from the scabbard. This is wholly incorrect; the scabbard is actually “removed” from the sword with the left hand. Learning to do this requires a great deal of practice over an extended period of time.

And yes, there are good reasons for gripping the sword in this way initially. It's not a Louiseville Slugger (an old brand-name baseball bat) and gripping it in that fashion makes the wrist all but totally inflexible, which slows down both the draw and the initial cut. And that means that you'd likely lose your hand at the very least...

Two-handed cuts with the Japanese katana are made mainly with the left hand. Cutting with the right is a serious error that causes momentary loss of control of the weapon. And you can imagine what that means. Learning to execute the cuts with the left hand requires years of practice.

Akira Hino, a Japanese martial arts genius who I met in Japan in 2016, emphasizes the importance of numerous subtleties...like the proper use of the elbow when punching or striking. It's very subtle and once fully understood (which takes quite a while), much practice is required. He emphasizes that one of the great secrets to emitting tremendous power with what appear to be a “casual” punch or strike is proper use of the elbow. And at the age of 72, he happily demonstrates it.

Tatsuya Naka, one of the top instructors of the Japan Karate Association, who I met in 2016 in Japan, also speaks of small subtlties that enable him to suddenly drive out and strike an opponent with a lunging thrust. He never misses and top-ranked martial artists who have practiced with him say that they just can't see it coming. One of the vital keys is the proper use of the front knee and hip. Like Hino sensei's advice, it is difficult to understand and once understood, it requires extensive practice.

Hino sensei also speaks of the correct use of weight shifting for power as well as stability as well as the use of the shoulders (especially in the use of weapons). Trying to observe these subtleties by watching such men perform is useless. The small nuances of which they speak are so small that they're truly invisible. But they make all the difference in the world.

HEIHO

2026-09-27T23:48:20.221-07:00

by Phillip Starr

In so far as (Japanese) martial arts are concerned, the term “heiho” is translated as “strategy.” In Chinese, the characters for heiho (兵法) are pronounced, “bingfa.” Literally, it means (roughly) “art of war.”

There is, however, a distinction between strategy and tactics. Strategy is the overall, big picture; tactics are the means by which you achieve it. For instance, if you are suddenly confronted by some thug, you have several choices of response;

You can run away.
You can do something to cause him some pain and when he is sufficiently distracted, you can run.
If you must engage him, you can grapple with him and pin him to the ground until you both decide to go steady or whatever...
You can turn him into dogmeat.

These are strategies...the general, overall picture. If, for instance, you decide that you must turn him into dogfood, just HOW you're going to do that involves the use of tactics. And effective tactics always achieve maximum effects with minimum effort.

Really effective heiho is plotted out prior to engagement, rather like a game of chess – actually, the old Japanese game of “go” (which originated in China where it was/is known as “weiqi”) is a much better example. And it is applied not only to martial arts, but business dealings as well.

For instance, one young martial artist who was visiting another school was asked for a “lesson” by the instructor. This is an old but acceptably polite way of issuing a challenge. Recognizing the request for what it was, the young man accepted and when asked what type of weapon he wished to employ, he selected a staff.

He then informed the school's instructor that at his school, it was customary to begin seated in seiza and bow. The instructor complied, seating himself on the floor facing his intended victim. He placed his wooden sword (bokken) on the floor at his left side, where he could quickly bring it into action. The visitor held his staff vertically, which is common for those seated in seiza, armed with this weapon.

Courtesies were exchanged. Then the instructor advanced his left foot (which is normal) as he prepared to stand and adopt his fighting kamae (posture). The visitor raised the butt of his staff from the floor slightly and quickly slammed it down on his opponent's instep, causing him to grimace and gasp in pain. He then snapped the staff forward, striking the instructor on the forehead. Another squeak of pain. But he was a tough sucker and grabbed for his sword. Too late. The visitor was on his feet and easily knocked the bokken away, sending it skittering across the floor....and the predator found himself on his back with his intended victim holding the tip of his staff against his throat. The lesson was over.

Heiho.

Sun-Tzu's book, The Art of War, written around 512 BC, presents us with several fine ideas that can be readily used in single combat. For instance, he cautions against completely surrounding an enemy as this will cause the foe to fight with great ferocity, like a cornered tiger. Instead, he recommends that one should leave (what appears to be) an opening through which the enemy can escape. He'll make for this “hole” in our defenses and can then be ambushed by archers laying in wait, who will pick off his men easily.

When I visited Japan, one of the sites I saw was the Imperial Castle in which the Emperor is housed. Although outsiders cannot get inside the main walls, there's plenty to explore on the outside. As we walked into what appeared to be a small courtyard, my student (who was also my guide), Hiro, explained the setup to me. “The heavy wooden door to enter this area wasn't too difficult to break through”, he explained. “The enemy thought they had broken through, but this is just a small courtyard. That (he pointed to another large door) is almost impossible to break through...and up there (he pointed to a smaller building with slitted windows overlooking the little courtyard) were archers. They would pour arrows down onto the enemy. The doors through which they had come had been shut. They'd stepped into a terrible trap and would be slaughtered to the last man.

Apply these ideas to your sparring practice. Don't make your defensive posture impenetrable; leave an opening and allow the opponent to attempt to enter through it. Then bushwhack him. You are, in a very real sense, controlling what he does.

Heiho.

THE FUNCTIONS OF STANCE

2026-09-27T00:37:37.198-07:00

by Phillip Starr

For all the noise your teacher makes about your stances having to be exactly so, just what is/are the function(s) of stance, anyway? Why must they be so precise? Isn't just standing in a balanced position enough?

Well, the answer to that last question is an unequivocal “NO.”

Don't confuse stance with footwork. They're two very different things. Footwork is what happens BETWEEN stances. And it's a whole different can of worms...

The primary function of stance is to provide a platform from which powerful techniques can be delivered. If the stance lacks stability, it cannot fulfill that function. So the platform mustn't be too high or low, too short OR too long (which it often is, in the case of modern wushu-type practitioners). The depth and length of a given stance varies, depending on the height of the practitioner.

The length and width (when it is used; many stances have no width to speak of) are actually very easy to determine. In Yiliquan (the style of gong-fu that I teach), all novices learn a basic routine that is practiced in the manner of a form. This routine is known as jiubuquan (nine step form) and it teaches proper length and width of all nine basic stances that we use. Basically, all stances can be divided into two categories; short and long. The length (and in the case of the horse-riding stance, the width) of all long stances is two shoulder-widths. The length of all short stances is one shoulder width.

Moreover, you mustn't simply “stand” in a given stance. Remember their primary function... Secondarily, some of them act as a platform from which you can move quickly and easily. There's considerable difference between the two; those that are long are always used to stabilize you when you emit power. These stances should use “outward tension”; that is, the legs feel like they are pushing in opposite directions to some degree.

Short stances use “inward tension”; the muscles of the inner thighs are contracted (squeezed). In case where you must emit power from a short stance, this tension should be considerable. However, if you are not emitting power and your stance is to be used for quick and agile movement, the tension must be very slight. Strong tension will “lock” you into place, making quick movement impossible. This is seen in the karate form, “sanchin.” Lighter tension will set your stance on a “hair trigger”, enabling you to move faster than if you use too much tension or no tension at all.

In all stances, the toes should “grip” the floor. When emitting power, they should grip very firmly, like claws. When planning to move quickly, their grip is rather slight. They must NEVER be raised...not even slightly, since doing so destabilizes the stance.

The study of stance in a science unto itself. It's very worthwhile to study this subject very thoroughly. It's still one of the great secrets of the martial arts.

FOOTWORK

2026-09-26T01:05:02.059-07:00

by Phillip Starr

In a previous article, I wrote about the functions of stance. So you might ask, “Then what is footwork?” Footwork (known as “bufa” in Chinese) is what happens IN BETWEEN STANCES. And in the traditional martial arts, it doesn't involve bouncing around like a flea on amphetamines...

Different arts and styles of those arts utilize different forms of footwork. Some favor stepping heel-first, some (like baguazhang) emphasize that the whole sole of the foot comes down at once. Numerous Japanese martial disciplines utilize “suri-ashi” wherein the foot slides easily along the floor, as if a piece of thin paper is beneath it.

Akira Hino sensei, a martial arts researcher and genius, believes that suri-ashi is a relative modern creation because back when Japanese martial arts were being developed, training usually took place outdoors. Performing suri-ashi would have been not only very foolish, but extremely difficult as the ground might be rocky, muddy, covered in high grass, and so on. I have to agree with him. When most martial forms began practicing regularly in dojos with polished wooden floors, suri-ashi would be much easier to do. In Okinawa, where the ground is very rocky, it would have been really foolhardy to try it.

Regardless, all of these martial disciplines stress that the step(s) and body movements are to be made from the “hips” - the dantien (“tanden” in Japanese). Exactly how this is done is discussed and illustrated in my books, MARTIAL MECHANICS and MARTIAL STRUCTURE. This way of moving maintains stability while moving the whole body at once – as a unified whole. There is no other way to do it.

Bufa is used only when necessary; it is used to move inside your opponent's defense perimeter so that you can land an effective blow, to move outside of his reach or evade his attack, or to move into effective striking distance (for you). That's it. It isn't done just to be moving or to help reduce nervousness or the “jitters.” There are some who allege that bouncy movements make one a moving target that is difficult to hit. They're wrong and have clearly never had to engage a real opponent on the street. Most real self-defense occurs at very close range without any “squaring off” in a fighting stance. However, in any scuffle that begins at some distance, anyone who starts bouncing around is going to get turned into breakfast food (toast) very quickly.

Move with a purpose and if you're not far outside your opponent's reach (or, God forbid, within his reach), DON'T start bouncing around! Otherwise it'll be a very short skirmish. Your dentist may thank you for putting his kids through college, too...

Move with a purpose.