Friday, June 29, 2012

The Man in the Mirror

How do you see yourself?  I don't mean this in a "Do you see yourself as a good person?" kind of way.  I mean:  When you are practicing your martial art, what are you doing with your eyes?  Are you looking at yourself, or are you looking elsewhere?

Most martial arts have some kind of forms or patterns as part of the system.  I learned many kata in Isshinryu and Kenpo, and many hyung in Taekwondo.  I'm currently learning the basic form in Tai Chi class.  During the learning process, it's natural (and necessary) to watch what someone else (usually the instructor) is doing.  This is how visual learners learn.  (I published a post on learning styles in 2008.  You can find it here.)  What do you do after you know the pattern?


Many martial arts training floors (in my experience) are walled, at least in part, by mirrors.  I think this is very helpful to the learning process.  I have often found myself unable to see what's going on except in reflection...and sometimes multiple reflections!  The problem is that I find myself continuing to use the mirror even after I know the pattern.  I'm not looking at the instructor, I'm looking at myself.  Why?

The obvious answer is:  To make sure I'm doing the techniques properly.  Yes, but why use the mirror to do this?  I shouldn't need a mirror to see myself, right?  If I want to know whether my fist is shoulder height, I shouldn't look at the man in the mirror, I should look at my fist.  The benefits to doing this are twofold:  First, and most obviously, I don't become dependent on the mirror.  I've seen many students totally confused trying to do their forms in a different location, or by simply turning them to face in a different direction. 

Second, and more importantly, it means I'm more likely to be looking in the "right" direction as required by the form.  Forms are supposed to simulate self-defense situations.  This means that your eyes should be focused on where your imaginary attacker is, not off in the distance at your own reflection.  Think about it:  If you're practicing 15 feet from a mirror, and you're looking at yourself in that mirror, then you are focusing on an object that appears to be 30 feet away!  This is not conducive to focusing on an attacker who is right in front of you.

If you're looking at the man in the mirror, then I'm asking you to change your ways.  I don't think I can make this message any clearer.  If you want to make your forms better, then take a look at yourself and make a change!  (Apologies to Michael Jackson.)  Thanks!

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

Balance

I had an epiphany in Tai Chi class today. In fact, my class just ended about 15 minutes ago and I went straight to my computer to write. My epiphany was regarding balance. It's no surprise that martial arts training requires one to think about balance. This is true regardless of whether one's style is Tai Chi or Karate, Aikido or Taekwondo. The subject of my epiphany, is not whether balance is important, but rather how that balance is achieved and maintained...

Imagine you want to carry a 10' log. It's not so heavy that you can't lift it, but not so light that you can easily carry it with one hand. What do you do? Having been in this situation many times over the past year, I can confidently answer that the most effective way to carry such a log is to hoist it on your shoulder at its midpoint. Or rather, at its balance point. Once balance is achieved, it's relatively easy to maintain with minor adjustments, as you walk.

Now think of your body and limbs as logs that you want to move. In martial arts, we are often focused on the ends: hands, feet, knees, elbows, and head. This makes sense from the perspective of technique, but it makes balance more difficult to maintain. After my epiphany, I started from a ready position and began to think about moving my "logs" from their balance points. I don't mean simply keeping my center of gravity over some imaginary point between my feet. I mean, as I move my forearm, focusing on moving it from it's balance point.

The difference was immediate and profound. I was no longer thinking about one end of my forearm needing to be somewhere, then considering where the other end needed to be to maintain balance. I simply moved my balanced forearm to where I wanted it to be. The feeling was the same with my legs. I was no longer burdened by having to think about balance as a second-order consideration to movement. I wasn't moving, while trying to maintain balance. Balance was a given. I was balanced AND I was moving.

Give it a try. I hope you have an epiphany, too...


Daniel-san first had to learn balance