SIDE NOTE: RECIPE FOR A BETTER KUKI

As much as a new Shodan in karate, ni-dan in iai, and ikkyu in aiki has no business being a tip guru, I do think I’ve learned some things over the years that somebody could benefit from. I wish when I started, there was as much wealth of information as there is now, but honestly a good portion of it is counter-intuitive. Nerdverd, an infamous character from my past, was a prime example of this. He looked up EVERTHING on the internet and believed it. One of his problems was his inability to take what we said at face value. One example of this was looking up a school kata that was way out of his range, teaching it to himself, and then wanting to try it with (or, more accurately, on) me. Learning the 4^th kata when you can’t remember the first or second isn’t exactly the safest of strategies, let alone, using a poorly done video you found on Youtube as a teacher. But I digress.

There are some things I wish I knew when I started martial arts, and I would like to share them with you. Some of them, newbies, you might not understand right away, some are obvious, and some you just with agree with. I stayed away from the generalization of “take BJJ or Muay Thai” because frankly, they aren’t options in rural areas, and a lot of people have no business training in such arts for a ticket to UFC, or whatever dumb idea they have in their heads. A lot of schools are gladly taking your money for that reason. Not to say you shouldn’t experiment with other arts- you should, if you can afford it. However, if you really want to take multiple arts, you should do so because you love it and it’s a good fit for your personal talents, not because you feel to have to in order to become “a good fighter.” If this is your attitude, BJJ and Muay Thai really don’t need you.

Anyways, here goes:

1) 1) Go to as many low-cost seminars as you can, even (or especially) if they are not in your art.

If you live in a rural, suburban, or secluded area, you understand what I mean when I say training can get a little claustrophobic. You live many miles from the nearest MMA school, and the closest thing you can get to a good sparring match is with the same people you throw down with all the time. It’s especially important that you get as much exposure to outside school as you can. If you don’t, you get stale. Then you get to competitions and wonder why you get hammered.

Research potential seminars that are in your price range online and plan several months ahead of time so you can go to them. This goes for camps and competitions as well. Any chance you can get to learn a new technique, view a new style, etc. can only be good for you. Sure, there are bad seminars. I’ve went to a couple. But they never have been total losses to me. I’ve always met someone interesting I can spar or share information with. The prices for some of these seminars can be downright expensive, and unless you have a real desire to train under somebody (like your teacher’s teacher in Japan, for example), it’s probably not worth the money if you can’t afford it. There are a lot of good seminars out there; you just have to find them. Some of them you may have to drive to, or stay over a night. Again, if you end up learning something new, it’s not a total loss.

Remember to share whatever you learn with your mates back at your school. If you’re lucky, they’ll go to different seminars, and you can benefit from them. I had a lot of opportunities to go to these things when I was younger. Now that I have a crappy job, it’s hard to make plans. If it’s in your area, reasonably priced, but you’re not sure it’s for you, GO. You just might learn something. If you started your training as karateka, train with a boxer. If you started with boxing, train with someone who can kick well.

2) 2) Regardless of what style you know, earn to use at least one weapon you can use with both hands- so you can laugh at yourself when the weapon in your non-dominate hand smacks you in the side of the face.

This is more an exercise in humility than anything else. Say what you will about the need for kata or weapons, but nothing brings you back to reality faster than a wooden nunchaku hurdling into the side of your cheek (on either set of your body). And there’s nothing wrong with doing weapons training for the fun of it- it’s good exercise, a good break from regular training, and it helps you develop coordination (even if your body can’t keep up with your brain, and you knock yourself silly).

You can’t be a good weapon-wielder without an appreciation for distance. Good fighters know when to get in and when to get out. For some people, like myself, a couple jabs to the face is still not enough to get my feet moving. I’ve learned a lot from weapons sparring. I am less afraid because I have this (false) notion something longer than my arms with protect me. Although I am still not the best at it, I have watched a lot of fights, and I’m developing a better understanding of reach, and how to manipulate it.

The thing I think that’s most valuable about weapons is that it forces you to have good technique, even if you achieve this by accident. There are a lot of bad empty-handed kata practitioners out there, but few exceptional weapons masters. That’s because the addition of something that could potentially blunder you is not forgiving in the least of poor talent. You have to be good, or you get screwed up. I have tonfa bruises to prove it.

3) 3) Learn to make mistakes, and do them often. It beats not practicing.

There’s nothing that a teacher hates more than a kid who sits there and argues with them about

why they can’t do something, as supposed to just trying it again. They complain about their injuries, their past experience in their last art (“we didn’t do it like that”) etc., for the primary purpose of avoiding admittance that they screwed up.

If you can’t admit you did something wrong, you are unteachable. End of story. It is not even necessary (and in the early stage of training, it may be impossible) to know what exactly you did wrong, or even how to fix it. Welcome to the long road we call “training”. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and you won’t be a good martial artist for some time. Accept it.

Once you get over yourself and your need to perfect everything, you are teachable. This is when you grow the most. The moment you become afraid to make a mistake is the moment you stop learning.

4) 4)There is more to life than class.

Yes- because going to class 6 days a week for 3 hours a day is so much fun! I’m saying this with half-sarcasm and half truth. It can be, if you’re into that. But most of us aren’t. Most of us do not have a desire to be professional, or have a sponsorship or movie deals. Most of us work 8 hours a day to afford the approximately 3-10 hours of training we can actually fit into our lives. To train so much as to not do anything else is not only exhausting for your personal live, it’s not good for your martial arts, either.

Two cases in point, my time writing my senior thesis and a child I called Paparazzi Kid(because of his dad). I did a senior thesis on kinship relations in martial arts schools at the same time I was going to karate 4 days a week. It…shall we say…sucked. Nothing sucks the joy out of something quicker than busting your ass on it and then sitting down to write about it for fifty pages. I remember as I wrote about the ins and outs of kata transmission that I was losing it. I was thinking about martial arts all the time. I prodded everyone I knew about stupid stuff like “How do you fold your gi?” and “How much do you really like your sensei?” I must have been quite annoying at the lunch table. Looking back, it was an interesting concept- looking at martial arts as an anthropologist- but I read that senior thesis recently and I think it’s crap now (even though it did win me an award). But, now to Paparazzi Kid, whose dad…well, had a very misguided future planned for him. The boy was in iai class before I started- God knows how long- and within a year I was the same rank as him. He was good too- phenomenal technique, actually- but a boy nonetheless. The kid did band, hockey, basketball, etc., and he did it to be the best. Problem is, when you take on a laundry list like that, you are bound to forget something. In his case, it was iai. From the story I have gathered, this kid would come home exhausted from school and sleep through class. Not surprisingly, he wanted to quit. What the kid does now, I don’t know, but every once in a while, his dad stops in- kinda disconcerting that his kid doesn’t come in with him. I feel like if the kid had cut just one of his activities, and cut down the number of times he came in a week, he would have been just fine. The whole thing makes you feel like it was never the kid’s choice to do it in the first place. But, this is a good story of a kid with potential that had just too much on his plate for martial arts to work for him.

Another is a kid named Lurch. A new black belt and my next pick to leave soon. The kid comes in four times a week, only to leave every class early to make it to one of his dozen activities. Talk about burnout. Anyways, the point I am trying to make here is don’t make martial arts your life. When you do, something is bound to go- like your sanity. Dave Lowry wrote an excellent article in his book, In the Dojo about this subject. If you get a chance, read it.

The truth is when you go to the dojo, everything from the outside is left at the door. But if you’re always there, don’t you lose that sense of adrenaline-high escapism that brought you to martial arts in the first place? The bottom line is that the more time you spend working that kata, after a certain point, you will get worse. Allow yourself an off day, or less training a day, so you can reset your body and brain.

5) 5)Kids…they’re practically chicken. Unfortunately, most of them grow up to be your colleagues.

Like it or not, kids rules this world. They control everything with their mom and dad’s pocketbooks. Few, like my parents, tell their kids these days that if you want something, you need to go get it yourself. It’s simply a different world, everybody, so you have to deal with them.

The truth of the matter is, 95% percent of all gyms, dojos, and schools in this country have children in them- either in separate classes, or mixed with adults. They float us financially. And a lot of them (ready for this bombshell?) have been lied to about how good they are. This isn’t an argument about rank (that’s a whole different issue which I won’t get into), so shut up about the whole thing about kids getting black belts for now. The important thing is this; you DO need to care about them. Two reasons; number one- they are from the same school as you, and number two- they will eventually (Darwin-willing) grow up to be your potential sparring partners. That said, it is in your best interest to help these defunct little brats any way you can.

For example, if you are a boxer, and some black belt kid in your karate class is punching a bag completely wrong, go help him. True, Darwin will probably weed out this child the moment he tries to actually punch somebody, but think of this- if the kid is small and awkward, that’s probably the reason he’s in karate in the first place. His parents probably thought it would protect him from bullies. And as much as thinking about the kid getting pummeled would probably amuse you (I have to admit, it amuses me), remember that you used to be a kid too. If you were unlucky enough to grow up on the streets and you live now in the ‘burbs with this kid who’s probably never seen blood before except in movies, then share your knowledge with him. You don’t want this kid getting hurt for the obvious reasons of not fucking his hand up for life on the bag, but also because he carries the same school name that you do. Do you want it to get out that your school sucks because one dumb kid couldn’t defend himself?

Also, this kid could grow up to teach other children how to punch wrong, thereby infecting the potential sparring partner gene pool. In five years, you will have a whole generation of new black belts that can’t punch, and it takes a very long time to correct something like that. In the interest of your future, don’t you owe it to yourself to have good martial artists to throw down with, instead of people with the same belt color as you who can’t fight at all? You’ve heard the saying “children are investments” and they are. Invest a minute of your time into a little kid, and he/she will suck less tomorrow.

I know, I know. All of you are saying, “But wait- what if the kid’s a douchebag?” Well, take this in comfort. If the kid is a real douchebag, he/she won’t be there for long. And you can always write nasty blogs about them when they are gone.

6) 6)Get off your damn computer and go practice…dammit.

Seriously- I’m not kidding about this one. Stop blogging about how such-and-such is a lousy fighter and how BJJ is inferior to your style of monkey-jitsu while you shove a whole bag of chips in your mouth. Nobody cares. If you really want to make the martial arts world a better place, go out and work your own stuff.

CHAPTER FOUR: ON LOSING GROUND

There will come a time in your life when nothing you go will ever go right. This is one of those times. You have fought, changed, reasoned, and scrambled to get the things you need to succeed in martial arts (which, coincidentally, are similar to the things you need in everyday life)- time, resources, and the ability to grin and bear it. There is little one can do to change the circumstances of a snowball flying down the hill directly in your path. You only pray that you know the right footwork to get you out of the way before it hits. And then, sometimes it hits, and you ask yourself, did I catch the number on that theoretical Mach truck?

Here’s a classic story about a little tori and a big uke. The little tori was practicing tai otoshi on the big uke one day and asks her teacher, “When would I ever use this on a guy like this? I mean, shouldn’t I do ago oshi or hiza guruma instead? Don’t I want to bring the guy down to my level?” The teacher smiles at her and says, “You don’t expect to be on the same level all your life, now do you?” Okay, I went on a philosophical rant. The reality is, when you’re stuck, you are stuck. And sometimes no matter how hard you try, you just can’t pull yourself out of a rut. That’s when you wonder if you are doing the right thing, investing in a hobby (or lifestyle, whatever you refer to it as) as involved as this one. And it’s funny, but every piece of advice or kind word from your instructors just makes the felling worse. So what’s to be done in a situation like this?

Well…there’s a lot to consider, past the obvious questions like, “Do you still like martial arts?” and “Is it time learn somewhere else” blah, blah, blah. The real question is this- have you changed into the person you want to be, or the person you think you should be, in order to be satisfied with the martial arts? You ever see those people in your school that are the same rank for years? They don’t care what’s on the ranking sheets, or what kata they’re on, or even that their peers are passing them in rank left and right. You think of them as slackers, naturally. After all, with the resources and talent, they should be at a much higher rank. Yet, they are the ones who stay, who usually have the soundest advice or are the first to lend a hand. They could care less with the trivial business matters of running a school. They constantly reminisce. Minus the pressure of being under the watchful eye of the head sensei, they are free to practice as they see fit. Is it any wonder why they look the happiest in the school? I’m starting to feel this way. While it bothers me that lesser people rank higher than me, I cannot deny the certain joy that throwing away the ranking book has given me. If I don’t test for sho-dan in aiki in the next year, or even ten years, I feel okay with it. Same with karate and iai. So what.

I feel that my cheer for being lazy may be misinterpreted. I did not say give up- that is different. When you do, the pain of all the things that bother you go away for a while, that’s true. Then you are filled with emptiness. If I take class away from my life, what would I do with my free time? This is what I have learned in the time I have begun this journey- if you can quit and fill up that void with other things quickly, and not feel sad or guilty about it, then it’s the right choice. If you try to walk away, and with inexplicability you keep coming back for more, then… well you need another choice, don’t you?

It’s indentifying the choices I can make, the steps that get me out of that path of the snowball that I worry about. It’s not often the choices are laid out in front you as obvious as your instructor punching you in the face in order to get your head to move your body. You have to keep your eyes and ears open, and your suspicions and hopes balanced. Where there’s a closed door, there might be a window, but it could only be open half-way. You need the quintessential crow bar.

I find that writing has helped me dump negative thoughts out of my head, and recognize patterns in my thinking that I can correct in some way or another. I like to read other martial artists’ blogs- not only for advice or parallels to my situation, but because some are way worse off than I am (and some don’t even know it). Of course, some do well for themselves, and it’s nice to find one who is down to earth and did it without Mommy’s money. Those writings make me feel a little less anxious.

I’ve tried the yoga and meditation thing. I’d like to say I practice Buddhism, but I am by no means a Buddhist. To say so because I think it fits the character of the martial artist I’m supposed to be is offensive to real-life Buddhists. I could say I am Buddhist any more than I can say I am Japanese because I know the language. I laugh at those who try to be what they can never achieve. I, on the other hand, am content with the heavy task to be someone I like. That is a constant struggle. How can an autistic individual be good at any martial art that involves the usage of things like “partnership” and “community”? How can someone with tactile sense of a finicky porcupine hope to ever achieve anything in a sparring match? Sometimes, I do wonder what I am trying to prove to myself by participating in such acts that at times I cannot fit into. Then again, it’s not like I fit in anywhere else to begin with.

So what is the moral of this story? You are on the base of hill, a snowball comes rolling down, and it threatens to kill you. You are obligated to move, correct? You just need to know in what direction. I suppose in the end, it won’t matter, as long as the snowball misses. But then, that’s not enough either, is it? Because the moment you are complacent, another snowball starts rolling. The way I look at it, you have two real choices; one, you put up a defense shield against them, or two, you eliminate the thing causing them. I prefer number two. In martial arts terms, number two would mean complete obliteration of the obstruction that is detrimental to your martial arts, which could be easier said than done. That thing could be the school you’ve gone to the past five years, or the partner you’ve sparred with that has gone way off course. So the question then becomes, now that you know what you have to sacrifice, can you do it.

And that is the suffering, isn’t it? It is possible, even likely, that things will get better. Dumb people leave, school leaders change. But you are always the constant. So in the end, it is really up to you what course your martial arts “life” ends up taking. Life may suck right now, but sensei is right- I won’t always be the little tori. And it is possible I am training to be the person I will become someday, that person I will like. For me, the past three months has been constant change. I can’t say I know how to dodge that snowball, but I do know how to dig my heels in the snow and brace for impact. I do that well. And with any luck, I won’t have too many more to go.