I was talking with a student last night, a man the same age as me. He grew up near Zenpukuji Park in Western Tokyo, somewhat near my home. It is a wonderful park in the middle of the metropolitan monstrosity which is Tokyo.
When he was in junior high school, my student (“M”) discovered a snake fist teacher who taught there regularly. He was Taiwanese, tiny but quick, and about 60 at that time. I don’t know how well a junior high school student can evaluate the skills of a purported martial arts master, but he was quite impressed at the time. I respect his judgment because he went on to become a long-term practitioner of Nippon Kenpo.
He remembers them fastening a kicking bag high up on a tree and making tremendous leaps to get within striking range (this was snake fist?).
M didn’t study directly with the teacher but he (and other school kids in the area) often pestered him and/or watched as he taught others. Maybe his name was Liu Ming ??. I can’t find anything about him on the internet. It seems he had a single deshi or main student – can’t track him down yet, either.
It really got me to wondering about how many masters have passed away unnoticed. Given his age, (maybe 60 in about 1980?), he would have been in the prime of his youth when Mao and the Communists secured victory in the Chinese civil war. He might have joined so many others in fleeing to Taiwan in 1949, taking to that island the art he had learned on the mainland.
Or he might have been born and raised on Taiwan, and he might have learned the art there without ever having been to the mainland.
It makes me wish I had been born earlier, had gotten started in martial arts earlier.
Like my teacher T, who was among the first non-Chinese allowed to study at The University in Beijing in the early 80s as China just began to open up after the 10 years of the Cultural Revolution.
Like teacher S from Nebraska, who chanced upon W.C. Chen while still in school. Chen was a classmate of the widely known Wang Shujin but their paths diverged widely. Wang found fame (if not fortune) in Japan. Chen might have fallen into obscurity in the US if not for S, who carries on his tradition in the Yi Li Chuan art. Chen taught a small group in his basement and only S has kept the teachings alive.
If I had a time machine, I would go back even further in time and history – who was RyuRuKo, the mysterious fabled link between the White Crane style in the Fujian Province of China and the roots of the karate styles which developed in Okinawa?
And who wrote the Bubishi, and how did it get from China to Okinawa, where it would have such impact on the empty-handed arts of Japan as practiced today?
The Bubishi. I have finally been loaned a copy (of a copy of a copy…) of the original, with permission to copy it. Not by hand, thankfully. Another chance encounter resulting from a prior chance encounter. It makes one wonder whether it is all up to chance. Guarded so furtively over decades, now within reach.
When I lived in China, countless people delighted in teaching me new words in Chinese. From foul-mouthed gutter talk to ethereal four-character compounds, they have all been useful at one time or another. One that popped up again and again, upon people learning of my interest in martial arts, was yuan 缘 , fate, or 武缘, some kind of fate or destiny that brings certain people together through the martial arts.
Was it fate that took me to K kendo dojo upon my arrival in Japan? No, just the convenience of living nearby (and having an instructor who spoke English).
Surely it was fate that tempted me to stay much longer than my allotted year in China, most likely to train deeply with the dockworker Mr. Xie and his intense but probably unknown art. It may have been just what I have needed all along, one art which was the perfect bridge between the internal and external arts.
But I embraced my fate (?) and returned to Japan and continued life here. And, in a twist of fate, found my current teacher, living not far away at all, as he led a brief introductory class not far from my home. It was a small park where I had been practicing on my own all along.
NOTE: this is a post that didn’t go quite where I wanted it to go…look for a substantial rewrite in the future.
ALSO NOTE: This photo is from Tsunashima, not from Zenpukuji
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