Last night we spent some time on kihon, which is often translated as 'basics' or 'fundamentals', but in fact - translated literally - combines the words 'ki' (chi in Chinese) and 'hon' which means 'main', so it can be taken to mean  'the main or basic way of getting the ki/chi flowing'.

The practice of kihon serves to get the energy flowing through the body in the most effective and efficient manner, using the principles that are embedded in the kihon, namely the transfer of bodyweight through the stances, the correct alignment of feet, hips and shoulders, and the correct use of the stretch reflex to 'explode' the technique, among other things.

Kihon is deliberately formal so that the practitioner can seek to perfect a simple movement. Once one movement is perfected, it's easier to use that ability in any number of variations that might occur later. The strict nature of kihon helps the student to learn how to see/visualize the meridians of ki (power-lines) along which techniques travel. This ability to visualize the lines of entry and attack are vital in combat.

Kihon is worth spending time on, though at some point, it's also important to leave it behind and try to put the learnings into practice in a less structed, and more fluid and dynamic format.

With a tournament coming up, we've been working on understanding distance (Ma) and controlling it by being in harmony with our opponent's movements (Ai = harmony).

By concentrating on moving in and out of range and using the right stance at the right time, we ensure two things: First, we're scoring as soon as we enter striking range, and second, we're exiting striking range as soon as we finish. This means you're not hanging around to receive a counterstrike (hit and run tactics). Will be interesting to see how this works for people in practice, come February. 

In Tuesday’s Fight-Night sessions we usually warm up with footwork drills before going into punching and kicking. Footwork is a fundamental skill, as any boxing coach will tell you, but it’s easy to overlook. Why? Because when you’re sparring, it’s hard to concentrate on what your feet are doing with everything else that’s going on in front of you.

We strip away the threat of a punch by using a simple ‘dalek’ drill with an outstretched arm. After 5-10 minutes, the warm up is complete and some good footwork has been drilled into the muscle-memory. The real beauty of good footwork is that it puts you in a position to strike hard without being struck easily in return. In principle it’s similar to an army taking the high-ground before a battle – a fighter with good footwork is always seeking a positional advantage in between engaging the opponent. 

Looking at things from a Tao perspective can be useful in some respects, but on a practical level, it is rather vague! If you want hard facts — the right and wrong ways of doing things — we need to drill down into particulars. As soon as we do, we leave the Tao and enter the realm of Yin and Yang — essentially ‘things’ and ‘non-things’. (In Buddhist thought this is often called Duality or the realm of ‘phenomena’.) In Japanese, Yin and Yang become In and Yo. This concept of two complimentary parts making up the whole is manifested in countless ways, for example Go and Ju (Hard and Soft) from Goju Ryu karate. 

Of all the Eastern martial arts concepts, Tao is a good place to start, because it provides an overview. In fact, Tao is an overview so big that in reality, you can’t see all of it. That’s because Tao is literally ‘everything’ (the Universal Om!) and we can’t hold everything in our mind. If we did, it wouldn’t be everything, but just a thought in our head. (That’s why, in his classic text on the subject, Lao Tzu begins by saying, ‘The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao’.)

Instead of using the real Tao, we need to resort to using a working definition, which we can call the Big Picture. It often helps to look at the Big Picture before drilling down into details. It’s a place free of preconceptions, where the only rule is there are no rules and you don’t need to get bogged down in worries about whether something is right or wrong, true or false. Looking at things from a Tao perspective is all about observing rather than judging.

It’s important to understand that the Big Picture is not static, like a snapshot. The universe is in a constant state of flux, so the Big Picture is a moving picture. Despite the gazillions of things moving around inside this Big Picture – solar systems, stars, planets, clouds, seas, people, insects, atoms – it remains just one thing, a single, ever-changing entity.

The concept of Tao is originally Chinese and sometimes written as ‘Dao’. The Japanese equivalent is ‘Do’ which will be familiar to practitioners of Karate-do, Aiki-do, Ken-do and Ju-do — where Do is often translated as ‘Way’. (More on Do specifically, later.)

Buddhist and Taoist philosophies were introduced into Chinese and Japanese martial training to add a spiritual dimension to the practitioner’s life and, it can be argued, create an art rather than a skill, trade or profession. Thus the way of the warrior became a ‘way of life’ rather than one of violence and death.  

The ultimate aim for both Taoist and Buddhist monks was to make their philosophies a way of life, something that permeates every aspect of their existence, every moment, every action. This desire to always be at one with an ever-changing universe is more akin to ‘walking a path’ rather than standing still. A bit like riding a bike, it required constant adjustment to stay on balance.

However, Do is a mental and spiritual balancing act rather than a physical one. So one useful way of looking at Do is as an ‘approach’. Someone with the right approach to training will usually succeed, irrespective of the particular trials and tribulations they face. This approach to training, and to life, is something a good Sensei will try to cultivate in students. 

Seeing Neil 'Goliath' Grove defend his World heavyweight title at Ultimate Challenge made me very proud recently. Neil got his black belt at our club before ever training in other gyms and still wears the DKK gi and belt on his way down to the cage. He is a true martial artist, a fearsome fighter and a very decent guy. His performance was almost perfect: his opponent overextended on a big punch and Neil punished it with a sweeping strike righton the button, at just 53 seconds into the fight. Awesome.

I sat in on a Sandan (3rd dan) grading panel over the weekend. Two of our second dans had been tasked with researching how other Goju Ryu clubs train, particularly how they interpret their kata and bunkai, and present it along with their views and observations. Both came back and performed an excellent demonstration of Goju Ryu that was subtly different from our own. Both had gained new insights into karate and the many ways it can be taught. 

What i found most exciting about it was not just their own obvious progress. It was the fact that their Sensei had the confidence to push students outside his own dojo to learn from good instructors elsewhere. This is the only way to ensure the quality of an association improves over time instead of diminishing, because without outside influence a student will never reach or surpass his teacher - nevertheless it is rarely encouraged in most dojos. All too often an instructor clings to his or her students at all costs. There comes a time to let them go elsewhere - and that time is probably around 3rd dan.

Working with an editor is an interesting experience, rather like training with a Sensei. A good editor will pick up on the little things that you don't see until they're pointed out to you - then they become glaringly obvious! 

I've been working with Leslie Takao, an editor at YMAA who is also a martial artist in her own right. It makes a huge difference. Not only does she know about language, but she understands the concepts of martial arts, both philosophy and practice, that I'm trying to get across. It's hard work, because I can't play the 'specialist' card on her, but challenging and ultimately, rewarding.