snail's pace

In recent practices, the theme seems to be slow advancement.

Tonight’s class in Sha Family sword (沙式太极剑), I was hoping for a surge forward in the (first) two-person paired form. Instead, we got a (good and needed) review of the (second) 36-motion tai ji jian form, including four repetitions in all directions, which really messed with the mind if you let it, or didn’t mess with the mind if you didn’t let it. Do you know what I mean?

After basics, 36-form practice, and breaks, there was precious little time left for the two-person form we are learning. We reviewed the first several motions several times and learned a grand total of one new motion in the last three minutes of class. No complaints, mind you – every minute of class is valuable, and I appreciate the review.

Last Sunday, we had a special 5-hour class focusing on mantis fist or tang lang quan. It’s a small and experienced group and my only real chance to review the forms of Six Harmonies Mantis Fist (六合螳螂拳) as taught by Liu Jing Ru Laoshi.

My daughter was not satisfied with four hours of Daddy Time all morning, so I took her to the afternoon Mantis class. She was pretty good (as much as can be expected of a 7-year-old) and ran through the Long Fist Staff form (长拳棍术) with me a few times, but wouldn’t run through any of the empty-hand routines in front of others with me.

Between intervals of playing and practicing with my daughter, I reviewed Duan Chui 短捶 pretty well and reviewed the first 1/3 or so of shuang feng 双封 from last month. We drilled that many times and then learned a grand total of one new motion.

I suppose this theme applies to last week (or has it been two weeks ago already??) when Akamine Sensei came to Tokyo from Okinawa for a weekend seminar in Ryukyu Kobudo. Actually there was no advancement into new techniques for me, only pushing deeper into the already-practiced forms. It was enough, and yet I still felt a hunger, watching as others reviewed forms which I have been through but don’t know well.

So these are days of slow advancement and much consolidation for me, both satisfying and slightly frustrating at the same time. Anyway, I will strengthen my foundations and get ready for there will certainly be great blasts of advancement in the future.

(photo of a snail found by my daughter at the tang lang quan practice space)

learning how to learn

Demo/exhibition no. two of the season went well. It was held on the national holiday which celebrates the Emperor’s birthday. My daughter and I made a day of it and enjoyed it all.

She performed two short gong fu routines, カンフー体操 1 and 2, and did well in her first such appearance before a large crowd.

It was a “light” day for me, as I was only triple entered. Started off with the 32 form of tai ji jian or tai ji sword – not much stress for me, as I have been working on that for years. The only danger is cross-over into sequences from the Sha family tai ji jian routines, but I had anticipated that and was well-prepared.

The surprise came afterward. As soon as 32 jian was finished, I found a semi-isolated corner and started working the Sha family 36 tai ji jian form, which is much newer to me and cause for more concern. During one of the many turns or spins, I caught sight of someone watching me.

I paused midway and he approached after a moment. Quite a few questions and some praise for my form. Turns out he was a professional ballet dancer for many years in Japan, but has not danced for 20 years. He has, however, recently come to tai ji quan and is quite enthusiastic.

It seems he has made rapid progress through several forms in a fairly short time. In short, he learned long ago “how to learn”, in terms of physical motions. The arts may be completely different, but his years of ballet trained him to watch a teacher’s motions carefully and immediately be able to reproduce those motions with his own body.

Look at almost any (adult) beginners’ class. People are eager and enthusiastic but are, in general, very slow learners. They don’t get it and they are not even aware that they don’t get it. Even the simplest commands – move your left arm, open your right hand - cause much difficulty and must be repeated again and again. “No, the other left hand” and all that.

Now look at an experienced martial artist (or dancer or whatever). The sense of body is already developed. He or she can watch the instructor and reproduce motions in the mirror image. When learning a new motion or a new form, they are instantly aware of whether a palm is facing up or down, or the exact position of the bent thumb, and are constantly checking and adjusting the height of the fist on the hip or the angle of the bent knee. They can also look at other students and adjust their own postures and motions – whether drawing from proper or improper examples.

This kind of body awareness and attention to detail (and the instructor) are the product of years of training and are what lead some people to make better progress than others.

Near the end of the conversation, he used the word 中心感, which I take to mean a sense or awareness of one’s own center. This is something essential to any discipline involving body motion. He is walking into the training hall with this sense already developed, whereas others around him – sometimes even those with years of experience, still don’t have it.

Yes, some people may be critical, saying he has learned too much too fast (24, 42, 48, 32 sword, maybe even 42 sword). Maybe so. He may need a long period of consolidation and separation of these forms. Yet I suspect his long-term progress will be solid. And the next time we meet, I will ask him for recommendations on my motions.

(Sorry to recycle the photo from an old blog post, but it fit perfectly. It's from a Beijing subway station in 2008)

spears

Met a friend for an afternoon workout and it was just what I needed – too much solo review lately. We focused on two weapons – spear and tai ji sword. The sword was basically drill and review and that was fine and good. The spear was drill and review and partner work.

No protection so we were going slow to half-speed but it was good – thrusting cutting poking occasionally blocking or grabbing the other guy’s spear and moving into close range. I am looking for much more of this kind of practice in the future. Of course the basics are always the foundation and the center of each practice. But at some point, I need to test it out - against an unwilling partner. And much as I love everything I am doing in the Chinese martial arts, the particular arts and practices I have chosen don’t have much of that.

I finished with only the tiniest scrape on one finger. As a long-term project, I want to find protective armor, pad the spear tips a bit, and turn it up another notch. It always comes down to the same problem – trying to find the best balance between combative realism and personal safety. I guess my pendulum has swung pretty far over into the safety range and I am feeling it is time to add a little risk and discomfort.

Another point of interest – I realized immediately what should already have been obvious. What with side-facing stances and long weapons, there is a very similar feeling to this Chinese spear work and the Japanese art of naginata (glaive), and I drew quickly upon those naginata techniques long familiar to me. On the other hand, one key difference between J and C arts is that the former tend to favor single, decisive blows, while the latter tend toward series of attacks. Hence the repeated short thrusts so typical of Chinese spear work, in contrast to the typical Japanese style.

Back home, I worked through a spear form, then switched to the sword and was slightly distracted or disoriented by the shortness and lightness of the weapon – suddenly it didn’t feel that I was using it properly at all and my form – though technically OK – felt quite disconnected.

So despite the excitement and pleasure of productive practice, I also had a streak of disappointment at my inability to shift quickly between two types of weapon. Time to quit blogging about it and get outside and get on it!