Push hands or "listening hands" - what it's all about

Very recently I have been doing a lot of "push hands". What is "push hands"?

Well to start with, I prefer Chen Yun-Ching Shifu's term for it - "listening hands". Other terms used include "sticky hands". This is a form of 2 person training (a form of limited sparring, if you will) that is found in almost every traditional Chinese and Okinawan system of martial arts.


A "listening hands" drill taught by Chen Yun-Ching

Basically it involves setting up a rhythmical, cyclic sequence of movements with a partner. This cycle can then be interrupted at certain unpredictable moments with a technique - be it a push, a strike or a joint lock (qin-na). Accordingly it serves as a platform for applying techniques in a semi-free scenario; one where this a dynamic context (ie. one that occurs in the context of continuous movement) but not one that is totally unpredictable and chaotic. There is, instead, only one moment of "chaos" - the point at which you or your partner chooses to "break" the sequence with an unscripted movement. How you break that sequence and how your partner responds to that sequence depends on what happens next.

Some schools have set movements - often quite elaborate - making up the sequence.

Sometimes these movements take the form of "essence moves" that form the foundation of deflections, parrys and even strikes. Examples can be found in the taiji sequence "peng, liu, ji and an" and in the various "chi sau" ("sticky hands") of wing chun (which feature deflections such as fook sau, tan sau, lap sau, bong sau etc.). The concept in such sequences is that while moving through it you are mapping neural pathways important for learning the principles (and not necessarily the actual techniques) that underlie traditional fighting methodologies.


A taiji listening hands drill featuring the "peng, liu, ji, an" sequence


Wing chun "chi sao" - sticky hands drills

Sometimes these drills are practised without any attempt to "break" the flow; their practice is in itself a means to an end. Most schools will however have some element of a "break".

In some schools there isn't even a set sequence; instead practitioners will simply let their arms remain in contact while flowing around each other until someone makes an aggressive movement (ie. the "break" referred to above) - to which the the other person will then have to respond. This is usually called "freestyle" push hands or listening hands.


Some push hands from Kodo Ryu

Some schools will do both scripted and freestyle listening hands.

But this still begs the question: why do this form of training? What function does listening hands have that cannot be achieved through other forms of training, be it sparring (free or restricted)?

The answer, as I've foreshadowed, lies in sensitivity; "listening" to your opponent, learning how to "hear" every change in his or her movement through contact and responding to that change in a seamless, intuitive way.

In this regard I often see various forms of listening hands (particularly Okinawan kakie) being performed with tension (ie. muscular resistance or exertion). This approach is, in my view, of limited value.


Some goju ryu karate "kakie" - "sticky" hands drills

Consider this for a moment: when you touch someone with the barest touch, your fingers lightly grazing the surface of their skin, you'll note how their body responds instantly. There is usually a "goosebump" effect and they react quite sharply. This is because the person's neurons are all "switched on"; they are all firing madly, volume turned up to the max to "hear" the signal.

Conversely, if you grab hold someone's wrist or arm with great pressure their body reacts to deaden the nerves; ie. their response is dampened down. Why? Pain is the first, most obvious reason: if your neurons were all firing at full volume you'd be in a lot of bother. Second, your initial contact is well established; there is simply no need for the neurons to be as sensitive as when you are barely touching something. For example, when you are feeling your way through a darkened room, you want to know if you are about to make contact with an object, so your body is primed to sense every light contact. When firm contact is established, this imperative no longer exists.

Accordingly, when listening hands is engaged with rough movement, muscular resistance and heavy pressure, your nerves are deadened to the point where the exercise becomes largely pointless (from a "listening" perspective anyway). When you touch very lightly on the other hand, your sensitivity is heightened and and you become aware of every little nuance in the movement.

I believe that it is precisely for this reason that the basic model underlying all listening hands drills (and distinguishing them from other forms of limited sparring) is as follows: using firm but light contact, set up a looping rhythm - then break it.


Some listening hands drills that apply principles inherent in the kata tensho

Why the "break" in rhythm? The purpose of this is a "test". Can you discern the change in time to react? And is your reaction productive? Conversely, can you make your opponent not "hear" your movement - ie. can you move so that your partner does not discern your intention - or misreads your intention?

Some have argued that Okinawan kakie is not a sensitivity exercise so much as it is a platform for applying either the principles or the actual techniques of the art. Indeed, application-based drills are very useful. However I maintain that any form of "sticky hands" training is more than just a platform for application of techniques. It is a platform for reading your partner (and neutralising his/her attacks) - then successfully applying your own techiques. In my view this is the only possible purpose to setting up a rhythm which is then broken.


"Rougher" goju kakie - note the fact that a rhythm still exists and is being "broken"

And almost every kakie/chi sau/push hands follows this concept. Even the gojuka doing kakie in the above video employ a rhythm which they then break. While I think this kind of "strenuous kakie" has its place (I've done it many times over the years), I don't think it quite matches the use (and breaking) of a rhythm; the pressure is, I think, a little too great for sensitivity training. And if drills like kakie are just a platform for techniques, you might as well just cross hands - or if you need movement, perform it in the context of a step in (ie. ippon kumite).

Nor do I believe that other activities, notably grappling, displace push hands as a senstivity exercise.

Some have argued that grappling provides a kind of "whole body" sensitivity, while push hands focuses on hand sensitivity only. My answer to this is that sensitivity to movement/change in your opponent occurs in the mind, not so much in the points of contact. Doing push hands with James Sumarac recently I was struck by how his whole body reacted to my movement, not just his hands.

More importantly, while grappling teaches great sensitivity, it does not provide a systematic "sensitivity training drill". Rather you learn just by "just sparring". Push hands is, in my view, an opportunity to isolate and develop that sensitivity in the absence of other considerations. It should augment other technical training - it can't replace it.

Copyright © 2010 Dejan Djurdjevic

The importance of flow

Lessons from China

After my recent intensive training with Master Chen, a fellow karateka asked me the following:

”I hope this isn’t a stupid question, but did you learn anything of relevance to karate?”

My answer was, “yes”. There were many applications of forms and other techniques which I couldn’t help notice existed in precisely the same form in Okinawan karate.

But more relevantly, this trip has reaffirmed one of my core beliefs about the relationship between karate and Chinese martial arts – in particular the internal or “soft” arts: they are really part of the same continuum. What differentiates them on a surface level evaporates once one starts to use biomechanically sound and efficient principles of movement (see my article “Goju as an internal art”).

One of the most important of these principles is the need for “flow” or connectivity between techniques.

Many Chinese martial artists lament that karate seems to have lost any semblance of "flow". While this might be true of a lot of karate one sees today, I don't think this is necessarily a function of karate technique, but rather a function of the emphasis of individual karate practitioners.

What I mean by "flow"

It is important to note that "flow" need not take the form of a dance-like wu shu performance or perhaps the soft flow of taijiquan. Flow exists, for example, in the rather short, sharp and brutal internal art of xingyiquan. The flow in this art occurs between deflection and its related counter - not necessarily between longer strings of techniques (as is the case in taijiquan, for example). It has long been my contention that a "xingyi-type" of flow is meant to underlie karate kata - just as all martial solo forms exist to provide a means of learning connectivity between techniques (as opposed to the practice of isolated basics).


A video where I demonstrate karate techniques (taken from Aragaki seisan kata) performed using “xingyi-like” principles of “flow”.

What critics say

Some would disagree and argue that “flow” is a product of aesthetics more than function and can (and should) be dispensed with in practising an art for civilian defence purposes (as opposed to learning an art “for art’s sake”).

In this vein, a practitioner of Koryu Uchinadi (“KU” - the system of respected karate historian, researcher and innovator Patrick McCarthy Hanshi) said the following in response to my series of articles beginning with “Whole lotta shakin’: preloading the hips”:

“Whether the [flow] approach is great or not it could be questioned how relevant 'perfect alignment' is for self defence (and thus karate) and I think it could be rightly stated that modern arts, including karate, have consciously chucked out these characteristics in favour of a curriculum drawn from a mindset based on... brutality and simplicity.

In KU these exact lessons, as we know, are delivered through template based learning (kata).

Template based learning means the emphasis lies on training defensive applications of its individual templates, without these being connected to the next template or move in kata, and certainly not with an emphasis on the flow between each template
The templates are connected in a geometrical configuration to serve as mnemonics so the whole lot of techniques can be remembered more easily.

For practising the flow of techniques or the 'dynamic environment of combat' as Mr Djurdjevic impressively calls it, we use a list of other exercises (not surprisingly called ‘flow drills’ in KU)

The concept Mr Djurdjevic projects is clearly a different one (perhaps derived from the internal systems he also practices?) and I’m afraid that if he is wrong (which I believe he is) about his initial premise that kata is 'a method for practising flow of techniques', he’s not making a very good point.”

There is a lot to agree with in what the above correspondent says. Kata do indeed provide a template-based learning method – a mnemonic, or otherwise a means by which techniques are inculcated into your subconscious so that they emerge reflexively.

And I would agree that much of modern karate has “chucked out” aspects like flow in favour of “brutality and simplicity”. This is, I believe, highly representative of the “external” martial tradition, and the correspondent is right that I adhere to a more “internal” viewpoint.


KU yudansha Erik Angerhofer demonstrates Aragaki seisan kata as researched by Patrick McCarthy Hanshi. Note the powerful hip use – a trademark of the KU system.

Efficiency: why flow is necessary

So what is my reason for adhering to this “internal” paradigm (as opposed to a more “brutal”, powerful, straightforward approach)? It comes down to what I believe is a more efficient use of body mechanics. Consider the following animated gif as an example of movement using “internal arts type” flow:

In this gif I perform a series of steps taken from Aragaki seisan kata (as researched by Patrick McCarthy Hanshi). I have used this gif as an example because it provides a good contrast to how the same movement is performed in KU. You will note that in my version I use xingyi principles to connect the footwork and hand techniques into what is essentially one movement. I strongly feel that these xingyi principles are equally a part of karate training.

Note in particular the connectivity of between the deflection and the counter. As a matter of interest, the feature that most distinguishes it as an internal "xingyi-like" movement is this:

The counter strike is completed as the front foot lands - not as the back foot slides up (or even later!).

[I encourage readers to watch the video embedded at the start of this article for a better view of what I am doing. I chose the series of frames for the above gif because the footwork was more apparent, however the video demonstrates more clearly, I believe, the way in which the "connectivity" harnesses the forward momentum of the step to add force to the counter.]

The adjacent gif demonstrates this flow applied against a partner using the closed hand version of the same deflection (the principle is the same). Again, note the connectivity between the deflection and the counter - how one feeds into the other, creating one seamless move using contextually appropriate¹ “staged activation”.

Kata: a template for grooving connectivity without pressure

In my experience it is important to learn this connectivity in isolation (eg. in kata) because it is hard enough to learn it in the first place - never mind when someone is trying to knock your block off! A beginner under pressure will default to a more basic "1-2" - ie. a deflection, followed by a separate, disconnected counter. It is my strong view that "1-2" movements are really quite inapplicable in fighting - the pause between "1" and "2" gives your opponent time to move away from your line of counter - or just hit you! People don't "just stand there" as they often do in ippon kumite (one step sparring). This is what I mean when I refer to the "dynamic environment of combat".

Disconnections within a template: what happens when you dispense with flow

Just as many Chinese martial artists seem to have lost the concept of "kime" (focus) (see my article "Kime: the soul of the karate punch") in pursuing a kind of "flow for the sake of performance", so many karateka seem to have lost the concept of "flow" in their pursuit of kime behind each technique. In fact, both are vital.

I feel that the loss of "flow" is a principal factor in explaining why deflections (and karate techniques generally) are not applied by many karateka in sparring/fighting; the "1-2" approach of basic karate simply doesn't fit in a flowing paradigm of dynamic combat.

Compare the preceding gifs to this one of Erik Angerhofer, a (very able) KU yudansha demonstrating steps from Aragaki seisan (the same steps I demonstrate in the first gif). While I admire Erik's karate skill and greatly respect the research and depth of knowledge of the KU founder, Patrick McCarthy Hanshi, as mentioned previously I disagree with this approach to kata performance principally because of my view that the "internal arts" concepts of flow can (and should) be applied to karate. I believe the above gifs serve as good examples for highlighting the differences between our points of view.

Note in particular the pause between the deflection and the counter. The movement is clearly different from the internal arts in as much as the counter strike is not completed as the front foot lands. It is not even completed as the back foot slides up (which would be standard for karate).

Rather, the pre-loading of the hip² delays the strike until well after the back foot slides up.

From an internal arts perspective this pause disconnects these techniques into the "1-2" pattern. This is, I believe is inconsistent with the goal of providing a mnemonic for, or otherwise inculcating movements that comprise, "templates" for the dynamic environment that is combat (if one assumes, for example, that a template must consist of at least a deflection and its related counter - not just one or the other).

An internal artist would be inclined to view the kind of kata practise demonstrated by Erik in the above gif as less a "form" and more a sequence of isolated techniques - ie. a series of deflections and strikes that are not connected to each other.³

Accordingly, in answer to the above correspondent, I must stress that I am not talking about disconnections between templates (which might be an issue in, say, taijiquan or wu shu but is irrelevant to karate), but disconnections within the templates themselves.

Loss of speed and introduction of telegraphing

It is worth noting that when I created this gif of Erik from screen captures, up until the mid-point (ie. when the legs are crossing and the deflection is at the "interception point") I used the exact same number of frames (7) as I did for the gif where I perform the movement.

After the mid-point, the gif showing me performing the movement uses another 7 frames. The gif of Erik uses 14 frames after the mid-point - ie. it takes Erik exactly twice as long to deliver his strike after his deflection as it took me.⁴

Furthermore, in addition to grooving a slower response to an attack, this non-contextual hip-load also telegraphs your intention well ahead of time...

But what about "power"?

Ostensibly the KU approach is to give greater "power" (ie. force) to the counter. Leaving aside the extra time taken to load the hips and the fact that the load telegraphs your intention, I think that what force you gain with hip use, you lose (at least in part) through not using (sufficiently) the forward momentum of your body. In other words, while Erik is generating a lot of force, I'm not entirely certain that the full potential of that force (available in the context of the kata movement) is being harnessed or applied.

My reason for saying this is that the failure to connect the movements into a cohesive whole interferes with the naturally occuring¹ process of staged activation. Staged activation is essential to transferring momentum (ie. "impulse" - see my article “Hitting harder: physics made easy”) and accordingly increasing the force applied to your target.

Put another way, Erik's strike, while forceful, does not benefit much (if at all) from having a step preceding it; it is about as forceful as a stationary, isolated reverse thrust would be² (which in Erik's case is clearly very forceful!). By contrast, in this kata move I prefer to use the contextual forward momentum of the step as a major component of the force.¹

In this regard it is important to note the following:

There is a difference between force generated by your body and the force applied to your target.

And on a related note, "forceful looking" is not always the same as "forceful in effect" (see my article: "Visible force vs. applied force").

Differences between "external" and "internal" methodologies

It is my view that the KU approach is representative of an “external” methodology. I have previously attempted to describe the differences between what are known as the “internal” and “external” martial traditions in China/Okinawa (see for example “Understanding the internal arts” and “Internal vs. external martial arts”). However the above gifs provide what is possibly one of the clearest examples of this difference.

The external tradition places emphasis on generating as much force as possible. This concept is instantly accessible/understandable to students and is also very quickly absorbed, lending its use to practical training for civilian defence.

The internal artist will attempt to apply force through efficient body mechanics, not through the “brutal simplicity” of generating more force. Now there are drawbacks to this approach, the most obvious being the time it takes to develop the subtle and sophisticated kinaesthetics that underpin efficient body mechanics (hence the saying in taiji: “15 years before you leave the training hall”). On the other hand, with any physical activity there is a point at which mastery takes the form of both an art and a science.

For example a good golf swing requires subtle kinaesthetics utilising staged activiation. It would be pointless hacking away at the ball with greater and greater force without coaching in the art/science that underpins golf. Ultimately a good golf swing relies very little on simple force. Rather, an efficient swing can appear relatively effortless, yet propel the ball straight down the length of the fairway. For obvious reasons, simple or brute force plays a far bigger role in fighting, but ultimately it faces the same kinaesthetic issues: when all things (experience, aggression, strength, mental toughness etc.) are equal, more efficient technique wins the day.

What it all means

So what does all this mean? Am I suggesting that KU practitioners are not as effective as karate practitioners using an “internal arts” approach of the kind to which I refer? Far from it. I have trained with KU instructor Chris Mazzali and been most impressed by his obvious effectiveness as a martial artist. It does however highlight the very different approaches we take to martial arts training.

KU practitioners like Erik Angerhofer and Chris Mazzali clearly generate more force than I do. They might even apply more force than I do; however I’d like to think that I’m no slouch at applying force – and I think I do so by expending a great deal less effort (ie. I don’t have to generate as much force overall - see the video at the start of the article which I think illustrates my point). This is important to me as I age and as my body succumbs to a progressive immune-related arthritis. I simply can no longer do the sorts of “power” movements that people like Chris can. I have no option but to adopt a “softer” methodology.

Sequential relativism: a bridge between hard and soft

Is there a “happy medium” between the “internal” and “external” approaches? As I have discussed in my article “My quest for the martial ‘holy grail’”, I believe the answer lies in a pedagogy I call “sequential relativism” – ie. a syllabus that starts off with an external pedagogy and gradually shifts to an internal one as the student advances.

Again, the above gifs provide some idea of how one might apply this pedagogy of “sequential relativism”. For example, when I teach beginners a deflection/counter combination of the kind used in the Aragaki seisan sequence, I initially tell them to do a “1-2” movement. I focus on an effective deflection and a powerful counter. I don’t spend any time linking the 2 movements in some sort of “flow” – not until they have a good grasp of the fundamentals of both movements separately.

Once my students have a grasp of these fundamentals, I gradually introduce concepts of “flow” – the connectivity between movements. This is a long process and there are varying levels of “flow”. The flow in xingyiquan is quite applicable to an external art like karate. But, as I’ve discussed in my article “Can karate become taiji?”, the flow in taijiquan is something altogether different.


A drill I teach to senior karate students to get them linking deflections and counters into one cohesive, "flowing" technique. Note however that it is important with such drills not to lose "kime" or focus at the expense of "flow". Both need to be present in equal measure. In my experience the subtle kinaesthetics required to achieve this take many years to develop.

Conclusion

In the end I cannot say that my approach is “better” than others. I can only offer what I believe to be cogent reasons for why I prefer to do things the way that I do (ie. why it suits my particular needs at this point in my life and martial arts "career"). These reasons are based on my own understanding and research into martial techniques – in particular my cross-referencing of karate and the Chinese internal arts. As I commented to Patrick McCarthy Hanshi, I might be wrong – time will probably tell.

In the meantime I have not arrived at my position through (as some have speculated) ignorance of the importance of things like “koshi” (hip use). And it is to deflect such assertions that I have explained my position here in relation to "flow" (not to denigrate obviously effective martial artists who choose to follow a different path).

Footnotes

1. It is important to note that I am not opposed to the use of hips in kata. Hip use is a very important part of staged activation. However I feel that when hips are used, this use should be appropriate in the context. In the case of the move from Aragaki seisan illustrated in this article, I do use my hips. The hip loads naturally at the beginning of the move - ie. as you first step (see the adjacent images)!

These images are of me doing the move on the other side from that represented in the animated gif eariler in the article; I have chosen them as they illustrate the point more clearly.

The hip load occurs naturally as you step (you can see from the first image that my hips are "torqued"); this hip load doesn't need to be "forced" into the technique. I strongly feel that when executing this kata move you can and should use your hip to harness the full force of your forward momentum. And if you do so there will be no need to have a separate/additional hip load later on.

To quote a colleague of mine at http://www.gojuryu.net:

"When stepping, there is an inherent motion to the hips. If this is utilized to load a technique, then there is no telegraphing or slowdown."

2. That Erik is using a kind of staged activation is quite clear; his hips load up and deliver a powerful blow. However this staged activation is not contextually appropriate. His hip use has been artificially "forced into" a move that already has a naturally occurring hip load - ie. the hip load illustrated in note 1 above.

So what Erik is doing is:

(a) not using the initial, contextually appropriate hip load; and
(b) not so much "pre-loading" as "re-loading" his hip - long after the contextually appropriate hip load moment has passed.

The net result is that his strike is divorced from the context of the deflection and step.

3. Accordingly it follows that as a "template" for a deflection/counter, the "koshi" way of doing kata offers no advantage over practising isolated basics. At best this way of doing the kata is a sequential rendering of 2 different, "stand-alone" templates, namely:

(a) one for a deflection; and
(b) another for a reverse thrust using the hip.

The step in between those techniques has no function other than to create a sequence "for the sake of a sequence".

With respect to the correspondent referred to in my article, I see no valid "template" purpose in doing kata this way. One might as well practise reverse thrusts on their own or against a makiwara; the reason for putting the techniques into a kata (ie. a dynamic context that utilises the step and the naturally occuring hip-load) has been lost.

4. The images below detail the extra time taken to do the "koshi" version of the Aragaki seisan movement discussed in this article (click on each image to enlarge it). I've ascertained that the frame rate in the 2 performances is the same, so the number of frames provides a very clear indicator of how long things are taking.

Here are the first 7 frames that take both Erik and me up to what I have called the "mid-point" - ie. the point at which the deflection would intercept the attack and when our feet are starting to cross in the course of stepping.



At this point Erik and I are "neck and neck". You will note however that my hips are torqued, ready to deliver the counter.

Here is the second set of 7 frames.



You will note that by the 3rd frame both Erik and I have almost completed the step forward. My strike has landed, but Erik's has not even started. In the last 3 frames my back leg shuffles up (which can be used with a foot stamp to add extra percussive moment to the counter - another "xingy-like" element) and my technique is complete. Erik however delays his slide up while he loads his hip for his strike.

Here are the last 7 frames.



You will note that only Erik is represented in these frames since I finished my technique in the preceding set.

Erik only commences his counter strike in the 4th frame of this set - that's a total of 11 frames after my own counter strike commenced. Similarly he lands his strike 11 frames after I have landed mine. These 11 frames comprise approximatley half a second. That might not seem like much, but in the course of a fight, half a second might as well be half a minute or even half an hour. Ask yourself: would you stand still for that half a second, waiting for your opponent to hit you?

Copyright © 2010 Dejan Djurdjevic

Chen Yun-Ching's workshop at Wu-Lin

I've just come back from 4 days of intensive training with my teacher, Chen Yun-Ching, at the Wu-Lin Retreat in Victoria.

The official course was held from 7 to 10 January 2010.

I flew out on the midnight flight of the 6th and managed to grab 3 hours sleep on the 3 1/2 hour flight (I told them not to serve me dinner and breakfast!).

My flight landed at just after 6 am and just over an hour later we pulled into the driveway at the Wu-Lin Retreat. No sooner had I put my bags down than I saw Master Chen, who beckoned me onto the floor for Chung Yang Sword practice (James and Master Chen's niece, Xiao Yi, were practising a tiger hook sword form).

A couple of hours (and some considerable sweat soaked into my long trousers and shirt) later, I thought I'd have a shower and lie down. Master Chen was going into town and would be away for most of the afternoon. However as luck would have it, my good friend Bill Mioch turned up and asked if I wanted to revise the xingyi kun (the staff form of xingyi). So for the next 3 hours we practised this form until Master Chen returned and more training ensued under his supervision.

Over the next 3 days we revised:

xingyi 5 elements
xingyi suba form (a short form linking some of the xingyi elements with the animal movements)
xingyi lienquan form (the standard form linking the 5 elements of xingyi)
xingyi kun (the xingyi staff form)
chung yang sword form (the "mother of all sword forms")
bagua 8 palm changes (the basic 8 palm changes of bagua)
feng quan 1 and 2 (Chen Pan-Ling's "Mountain Top Boxing" forms containing elements of xingyi, bagua, taiji and shaolin)
taijiquan

We also did 9 san shou (2 person fighting drills) with qin-na (locks), push hands (single, listening hands and the peng liu ji an sequence with steps and turns), and some freestyle push hands too (my "uncle" James sure is one tough guy)!

As temperatures soared into the low 40s (Celsius) I sweated through about 6 t-shirts and drank several gallons of water (and several gallons of beer, wine and James' Serbian slivovitz/rakia at night!).

One of the things I love about Wu-Lin is Shou Mei's Taiwanese cuisine: it suits my stomach perfectly, and there is always more than you can eat.

Of course, I can't mention training at Wu-Lin without referring to all my friends there who I have come to love and respect: James Sumarac and Shou Mei provide a very enthusiastic, hospitable environment that "rubs off" on all who go there. I was very happy to see my Chen Pan-Ling brothers and sisters, John Forza, Bill Mioch, Vicky, the two Lyns, Graham, Darren Sampson and Roy Harding. In addition there were other Taiwan veterans namely Glen Cannon, Geoff and Pauline and the irrepressible Katie (who did a marvelous job assisting Shou Mei in the administration and management of the meals etc.). Then there were the other "regulars" at Wu-Lin - Dave Ramsay, James Murphy, Eric and many others.

I was impressed to see a new building on the grounds - an elegant tea room that was dedicated to Master Chen with a plaque erected on the final morning.

I started the course with a significantly swollen knee (among other aches and pains) caused by my immune-related illness, but curiously this resolved over the (intensive) training so that by the last day I was able to go into the deepest postures with only a modicum of discomfort. I have found this on each occasion I've trained with Master Chen and I can only put it down to the movements "flushing" the rogue immune cells from the synovial tissue around my joints. If ever there was a testament to the health benefits of the internal arts, then this is it - along with the fact that Master Chen (who is 71) is an outstanding advertisement for his art: Watching him effortlessly fall into the lowest postures and jump high into the air, I am continually made aware that his body is healthier and "younger" than mine!

We trained for the usual 8 hours each day, however on this occasion I resisted the urge to keep practising after dinner - mostly because of the heat and the desire to keep sweat-free after my shower, but also because the course comprised mostly revision; the imperative to memorise new material simply wasn't there.

And so, on the last day I was quite content to take a bit of a back seat and watch the demonstrations, including a very impressive display of the "Iron Fan" form by Master Chen's talented niece, Xiao Yi (who is a highly respected teacher of taijiquan and other Chinese arts, living in Kyushu, Japan). I was pleased to see my own student, Dave Ryan (who recently moved to Melbourne) making the trip up to visit for the afternoon.

Late that night I said my goodbye to Master Chen, promising to practise and preserve the material he had so patiently and thoroughly taught me, my body sore and tired and my brain fulled to the brim with details and memories.

I plan to fulfill my promise to Master Chen - starting with a series of seminars introducing his arts to the Western Australian public (the first being an introduction to his father's xingyiquan on 31 January 2010 - see here for details).

Copyright © 2010 Dejan Djurdjevic

The importance of visualisaton

I find visualisation essential in martial arts training: from learning new techniques, to applying them in a dynamic context.

There was a time (2003) when I was confined to a hospital bed on a drip for 3 whole months. All I could do was visualise things. I used to look at the drip and think of it as an arm, with the bend as the elbow. Then I'd imagine locks or holds. I progressed to thinking of entire sequences in 3D (takes a bit of mental discipline and practice). It was during this time that I conceived of most of our 2 person drills.

The net effect was that when I did return to training (some 20kg/44lb lighter) I was able to apply techniques I'd never applied before in sparring.

The biggest "down side" to "just visualising" (apart from physical weakness) was that I couldn't judge speeds and distances properly, so I copped a few twisted fingers and broken toes as well as walking into a few punches, missing deflections etc.

However once I got over that hurdle however, my fellow students remarked that I'd seemed to have improved from before.

The drill in the video below is something I visualised while I was in hospital. The video was taken shortly after my return to training. I had never done this drill like this before - certainly not at this sort of speed. Post-visualisation my body seemed to have found the "key" to more fluid movement.



That's probably the best example I can think of, but there are many others.

So visualisation doesn't displace working with a partner by any means. But is it useful/important? Hell yes!

Copyright © 2009 Dejan Djurdjevic

Fight dynamics: how civilian defence and combat sports play out differently

Two recent blog posts have caught my eye - both relating to broadly the same issue, and one that is close to my heart: the difference between combat sports and civilian defence.

I have previously described, in some detail, the difference between civilian defence and combat sports (or military combat, for that matter). However both these blog posts offer a different perspective which I find quite enlightening.

The first blog entry is Andre Bertel's article "Traditional Karate Fighter?". Andre states that traditional karate is not a fighting art. He says:

"What I mean by a fighting art is a martial art which is for 'dueling with an opponent and winning'. Traditional karate is technically not a martial art which produces fighters, but rather a ‘hit and escape self-defense system’."

Andre Bertel in ippon shobu competition action - a particularly nice tokui-renzokuwaza!

The second blog entry is Phil Elmore's "The myth of pressure testing". In this article Phil provides an excellent summation the essential difference between the concepts "resistance" (which sport combat provides) and "pressure testing" (which, in the broader sense of the full range of civilian defence scenarios, sport combat does not). There are simply too many good quotes one could take from Phil's article, so I'll restrict myself to this one:

"Sport methodology is inherently unrealistic because it transforms the asymmetrical goal of pragmatic self-defense into the symmetrical goal of winning the match between two people."

What I think both Andre and Phil are saying, is that the dynamics of a civilian defence confrontation (ie. how the fight plays out, what techniques one will use or have to use, what tactics one will have to employ etc.) are fundamentally different from a combat sports confrontation. These stem from both different environmental variables and different goals/objectives.

In terms of the latter, it is apposite to note that the primary objective of civilian defence is defence - not attack. Yes, you might counter attack or even pre-empt in defence. But it is still a species of defence. Your main aim is not to get hurt - not to hurt.

By contrast, when you fight in a sport, your aim is to hurt - ie. win the bout whether by knockout or points scored by striking your opponent. In civilian defence you win even if you don't hurt your attacker - so long as you (and/or anyone you're protecting) escape unharmed.

In practice this often involves hurting the other person. But nothing changes the fundamental point that hurting is not your objective. It is a means to an end. In civilian defence you might well strike, or apply some other technique to, your opponent. But then again, if the opportunity presents, you might just run away. The latter simply does not apply to sports. In combat sports, hurting is the objective.

I am strongly of the view that this difference translates to how traditional technique is meant to be applied. I see arts like karate as predominantly "counterpunching" - that is to say, you react to a stimulus by deflecting/evading and countering. Sometimes this can be done simultaneously. Sometimes you pre-empt. But in the end, you are not an aggressor.

This point might seem to be a subtle distinction, but I believe it is significant nonetheless in determining the dynamics of a particular fight (ie. how it is played out).

Both combat sports fighters have to accept some role as an aggressor. In true civilian defence only one side is the aggressor - the other side might use aggression as a regrettable necessity, but he or she is not an "aggressor" in the broader meaning. Having 2 aggressors effects entirely different dynamics from having an aggressor vs. defender.

So this begs the question: How are these dynamics affected? My friend Marcel posed the following question on the Traditional Fighting Arts Forum:

"I guess to understand your argument it would help to know how the techniques and training methods would need to be modified, other than prioritizing training to improve overall athleticism.

Here is an example of what I am talking about. Lets say I have a good punch. Well, if I am approached by someone wanting to harm me I put my hands up, tell him I don't want any trouble, and I wait for him to give me an opportunity to knock his block off so I can then do what I need to be it run away, call the police, get my wallet back, whatever. Now, I am in a cage fight. Well, I put my hands up and wait for him to give me an opportunity to knock his block off. If I fail in competition the consequence is a lot less severe than if I fail in SD. However, the same can be said about the dojo. But I have trained the same basic way for each scenario. The difference is my mindset and strategy more than training methods."

My answer is as follows:

Say for example you have raised your hands up in a non-confrontational posture in either the cage fight or the street.

In a ring fight I would advise against the open-handed kamae. If gloves are used, I would advocate a guard closer to your head. If no gloves are used, I advocate the closed-fisted kamae (like in karate).

However this is not what I would advocate for a situation in the street where potential still exists for diffusing the conflict. At this stage, an open handed guard is quite appropriate. So there is difference number one.

If the street situation were "beyond repair" - ie. an attack was inevitable, then I would advocate a guard like a karate guard. In this situation the approach would be the same as an ungloved sporting duel. But even here, differences emerge.

Supposing you've raised your hands in a defensive posture (in whatever way you happen to do it). What happens next is more interesting. If your attacker backs off in the street, you don't have to chase him or her and continue the confrontation. The issue is over. But what about the sport scenario? If you raise your hands and your opponent stays at a distance - or starts to back away, what do you do? Keep circling? Go back to your corner? At some point one of you will have to "bridge the gap" and enter what I call the melee range. It is not just a question of "walking away". If you walk, you don't win.

So the combat sports practitioner will spend a great deal of time learning to "bridge the gap". The civilian defence practitioner will do as Marcel suggested: "wait for him to give me an opportunity to knock his block off so I can then do what I need to be it run away". The science of gap-bridging and other ring dynamics are peculiar to one-on-one duels. They are not designed with the sole aim of defence. They are designed for winning a contest. This means learning how to take the fight to your opponent even when you don't have to for self-preservation. It means learning how to stay engaged even when you might otherwise have been able to walk away. It means learning techniques that are suited to both parties circling each other, looking for openings - because both parties have a competition mindset (and are taking the fight to each other). It also means not learning about other variables: hard asphalt/concrete ground, multiple opponents, weapons, etc. etc. In short, what you might do in competition (go down into a juji gatame) might not be what you'd do in the street (where a juji gatame might just give your opponent's mate(s) a chance to stomp your head).

Tactically, your "game plan" is very different. This influences not only the techniques you might choose, but even the techniques themselves. For example, I very much doubt I would ever bother with a kick to my opponent's thigh in civilian defence. Yet this is quite a useful technique in ring fighting. It is a technique suited to "gap-bridging" and "taking the fight to your opponent". It is, I believe, largely unsuited to civilian defence (it being a good tactic for wearing down an opponent over a longer period). Yes, there might be situations where you would use it. But these would be few and far between. There are many more effective ways of neutralising your opponent's incoming attack than a kick to his/her thigh.

It is important to note that I don't disregard the potential use of techniques like the thigh kick in civilian defence. It is a question of priorities. In ring sports you don't tend to use certain blows because they are less effective (due to gloves) or illegal - eye strikes or other finger thrusts being one example. In civilian defence the kick to the thigh is arguably going to be useful on occasion, but nothing like in the ring where it plays an important part.


A demonstration of the thigh kick. Note what he says about it's effect "after one or 2 kicks"; clearly something of tremendous use in the ring. But not really a prime use for civilian defence...

Some of my fellow correspondents on the Traditional Fighting Arts forum have taken me to task about the perceived "passivity" of my approach to civilian defence, arguing that "taking the attack to your opponent" is a very useful skill - in the ring and outside it.

Indeed. However the concept I'm not talking about passivity. It's about "wu-wei" - not taking any unnecessary action. There is a subtle, but significant, difference.

I live by this philosophy. There are instances where "wu-wei" means launching a pre-emptive strike; but this is only where it is a regrettable necessity. I find that most conflict can be dissipated without violence - not escalated.

I believe that most traditional eastern martial arts are built on the back of this Daoist philosophy - often misinterpreted as pacifist/quietist, when in fact it is all about lines of least resistance. Sometimes taking the fight to your opponent offers the line of least resistance / most productive outcome in resolving conflict quickly. It is dangerous to imagine however that this is a useful rule of thumb for most cases. I will elaborate on this important philosophical concept (the title of my blog!) in future articles.


A good example of civilian defence dynamics - ironically (in the context of this article) executed by a person who is obviously trained in a combat sport - boxing.

In the above video a man who is obviously trained in boxing successfully defends himself against multiple assailants, using sound civilian defence tactics and excellent technique. Note how the boxer doesn't "take the fight to his opponents" (cf. ring tactics). He is constantly backing away. This tactic alone enables him to narrow the scope of his multiple assailants so that he can deal with them more or less one at a time. Note how he uses environmental factors to assist this. Had he taken the fight to his aggressors he would probably have given them a chance to surround him and overpower him. As it is, he successfully defends himself with honour (and excellent technique).

By contrast, taking the fight to the opponent in the ring is often a good rule of thumb. In fact, you can't win by being "passive". Neither can you win by using "wu-wei" (which would question why you are in the ring in the first place). This is my point.

Accordingly I maintain that, on balance, the dynamics of ring fighting require a very different mindset from the "wu wei" approach of civilian defence. In one case you volunteer for conflict, in the other you try to diffuse it or otherwise resolve it with as little violence as possible (ie. what is necessary and no more). We can all exaggerate one perspective over another. In truth, there is room for every ring skill in civilian defence. It is however a matter of weighting. Some ring skills have a lower weighting in civilian defence; in some cases substantially so. It is wrong to say they are inapplicable - it's just that they aren't used as often or in the same circumstances.

The dynamics might even be subtle in their difference. But subtle differences can (and, I believe in this case, are) significant nonetheless.

Copyright © 2009 Dejan Djurdjevic