Shinjido literally means Danny’s Way, a label given by one of my students to the variety of techniques that I have developed for martial art. I attempt to find the easiest solution to a problem either in attack or defence. My work is based on sound principles and the techniques serve to demonstrate the principles. I have applied this approach to judo starting from the premise that our sport is fighting within specific rules and limitations…

It is not truly a paradox, only a misconception. And not all white belts are dangerous, obviously. But those that are, if only on the mat, are so for the following reasons.

Their goal is always to win. They don’t yet understand the difference between trying to win, and trying to cultivate the skills that one uses to win. Real fights are chaotic affairs, and chaos is not a proper breeding ground for skill development; thus, training in respectable martial arts consists of a series of games, first introducing support structures (e.g. rules and conventions), then dismantling them one step at a time.

The need for, or value in this approach is not obvious–and it is not always explained at the outset. So some white belts never appreciate the context of their practice. Others consider themselves above the “organized despair” of the “traditional mess,” and when a rule stands between them and a sparring victory, they break it without hesitation. The conventions and rules of training, they reason, are “unrealistic in a real fight.”

Sadly, annoyingly, some of these individuals mistake their impatience for martial prowess–and having checked off another box on their MMA resume, they quickly depart in pursuit of the next imaginary accomplishment. In the words of the seasoned sensei, “They’re someone else’s problem now.”

They have no self-awareness. The white belt fighter will take insane risks that any experienced player would avoid. The white belt fighter will compromise their own balance in an attempt to take yours. They will open up their guard in the hope of passing yours. They consistently expose themselves in the present, thereby expecting to prevail in the near future.

To the rest of us, watching a white belt fight is like observing a murder-suicide attempt.

Why are white belts so crazy? They don’t realize when they have made themselves vulnerable, so they are free to do so with carefree abandon. Over time, competing against higher ranked classmates provides a civilizing education.

They are honest attackers. While the previous two points address the folly of youth and inexperience, these qualities also have their benefits. The strength of the white belt is…strength. And speed. And courageous aggression, no matter how ill-founded. And unpredictability.

People who are more interested in attack than in self-preservation can make great practice partners (so long as minimum safety standards are met). One of the ironies of self-defense is that, unless a trainer can step outside their own mindset–and inhabit the mind and body of the amoral predator–their training does not have any real value.

The white belt can take you by surprise. They will do something so improbable, so highly inane, that you feel compelled to stop for criticism or laughter instead of taking advantage of the error.

And yet, surprising the opponent is never really an error, is it?

Because the white belt fighter is a tremendous resource, there is a tension between helping them mature in skill and temperament, and preserving them in an untamed state (in order to help others grow).

Black belts would do well to study the best practices of the white belt novice, and incorporate them into their own practice. Let the shodan follow all the rules, while the sandan playfully proclaim, “I can do bad all by myself!”

Master Sensei Pacer likes to say that “nobody in the world moves like Sensei Pacer.”

Suzi Wong, Fytedancer

Sorry, Sensei Pacer, but I know someone who moves like Sensei Pacer! His name is Charles “Chaz” Wilson, and he is the inventor of Fytedance. In his own words,

Why can’t martial arts be sexy?…Fytedance is the ultimate holistic dance training system, and perhaps the ultimate martial art.

Charles predicts that Budo will replace monotheism within twenty years. Sorry, Charlie, but I know of a certain crew who isn’t going down without a fight!

* Thanks to Guro K of the Tulsa Arnis Club for introducing me to Sensei Pacer.

Well, some of them did, anyway. One reader posted this amusing retort:

“I hereby motion for more examples of self-defense where at least one punch was thrown at the author.”

For those who don’t already know, Aikido practitioners are the starry-eyed idealists of the martial arts world. They tend to talk of harmony rather than victory, and ethics before power. In theory at least, they are among the noblest of warriors and pugilists.

In practice, Aikido training is almost exclusively dedicated to ending a fight in progress–as marked by attempts to grab, punch or tackle–rather than terminating it before it can manifest as violent physical action. Since no punches were thrown in my story, this reader deemed it “unrelated to the martial art of Aikido.”

To which I ask, as defined by whom?

Morihei Ueshiba reportedly said that 99% of Aikido is striking. But you’ll never see evidence for this in the average Aikido dojo today; most strikes are only assumed or implied. If they aren’t performed, but are merely kept in mind, are they still a relevant part of the art?

Ueshiba also said that:

True Budo is practiced not only to destroy an enemy, it must also make him gladly lose his spirit to oppose you.

Every day, thousands of Aikido students step onto the mat, and launch symbolic attacks against a training partner. The result is preordained: the attacker will fail and fall down, in a show of harmonious ukemi. No spirit of opposition is really present.

But on the street, I am told, it is better to keep up appearances. Apparently, there is no room for a bloodless victory in modern self-defense.

I was only twenty minutes into an outdoor routine (that is, an indoor routine stripped of any provocative elements) when I heard a group of teenage boys approaching behind me. I continued to mind my own business, but they were not content with theirs.

Did they taunt me with the standard Bruce Lee kung fu yelps? Well, of course they did; and I ignored it, just as I have ignored it three dozen times before. But unlike three dozen times before, this group did not have a few laughs and keep walking.

They dared each other to throw a rock at me, and that I could not ignore. If the first rock went unanswered, it would not be the last.

It appeared to be a no-win situation. We all knew that, if things got ugly, I would be forced to shoulder the blame. In the eyes of the public, I would be “the menacing Kung Fu expert who terrorized a group of harmless, innocent children.” Aside from the teens, there were no witnesses present to testify in my defense.

As I stood there with my back turned, the rowdy gang quieted down. Prompted by a mixture of fear and unwarranted confidence, one boy picked up his rock and took aim.

The Moment of Truth

Without breaking form, I spun around and looked that boy straight in the eye. We reached an immediate and wordless compromise: from only ten yards away, his rock would miss me by a country mile, and I would not retaliate against him. Nobody would call him a coward, and everyone would go home intact.

“I missed,” was the boy’s flat and unconvincing apology to his buddies. Now holding my obvious and menacing attention, the group decided to move on.

Yes, this is a boring story, but it is a true story, and I am quite proud of the ending. Just another boring example of the options we give ourselves, by viewing martial arts through the widest possible lens.

Calculate your child beating score, just for fun

According to one classical perspective, no student should be given sword instruction until they have first qualified themselves to learn, by demonstrating mastery of barehanded technique. In some styles of martial arts, this might require thousands of hours of study.

Narrowing the focus during these initial months, or years of training might seem to benefit everyone involved. It can, and frequently it does. However, in some cases, it will actually hinder the student’s overall progress. The sword itself is an excellent instructor, to those who will heed its lessons.

What is Biofeedback?

Biofeedback is a method of expanding conscious awareness into realms that are typically governed by the unconscious mind. The subject of biofeedback training is instrumented with equipment that amplifies, records and displays biometric data, such as body temperature, heart rate, and skin conductivity. Experiments have shown that, if a subject is made aware of small fluctuations in these ostensibly involuntary processes (i.e. with the help of biofeedback equipment), that subject can more easily bring these processes under their conscious control.

Biofeedback machines, such as an electroencephalograph (EEG) or digital thermometer, can be expensive and complex. They can also be simple and cheap. Bicycle training wheels, which allow a rider to tip over slightly without immediately falling down, provide a useful form of biometric feedback. In fact, an intelligent person can press nearly any tool into service as a biofeedback device—including their sword.

The Sword as Biofeedback Device

A sword is a natural amplifier, which consistently and impartially reflects the mistakes of its user. If the swordsman’s grip and cut are incorrect, his sword may wobble, or even ring. When the position of his wrist is wrong by one inch, the tip of the blade may be wrong by one foot. If his body movement is slightly convoluted or imprecise, a good sword helps to make that obvious; with a tassel, even more so.

According to an old Chinese proverb, “A one-inch error at the start becomes a thousand-mile error by the end.” A sword can help prevent small errors from escaping its user’s attention, and thereby train the hand that holds it, and the mind which directs it.

After the seminar was over, I bought a T-shirt to commemorate the occasion. According to the text on the back of my new shirt, I was now an unofficial member of “The International Association of Defensive Martial Arts”.

Nevermind that we had spent the last 6 hours eviscerating each other with spears, sabers and bayonets, metaphorically speaking. Nevermind that, according to the principles of Xingyi and all other respectable combat arts, the use of purely defensive techniques is forbidden. Despite all this, in public, we were expected to present ourselves as practitioners of self-defense. Not offense. Why?

There are two explanations for this incongruity; as usual, one is popular and the other is true. We may as well start with the popular rationale: that martial arts were designed and intended for defensive purposes.

This is primarily a modern ethical assertion, disguised as a historical thesis, and consequently there is hardly any evidence to be refuted. Karate-do and Aikido, to cite two specific examples, are often represented as defensive martial arts today. Their founders’ own words reject this characterization. It is true that the arts were not to be used for starting fights; however, this is not because they were envisioned to be “defensive martial arts”, but because they were not “martial arts” at all!

The Xingyi Quan of the
Chinese Army

In regards to modern Xingyi, nobody carries a spear around for the purposes of individual self-defense. Nor were units of the Chinese army drilled in Xingyiquan for defensive purposes—the very idea of a defensive standing army is nonsense. And the history of other martial styles is similarly revealing.

Despite all this, the myth persists, among students and teachers alike. This is because the myth itself is a defensive tactic. First, it protects those under-qualified martial arts instructors who cannot successfully execute an attack against a savvy opponent: as the story goes, their art doesn’t work for that purpose because it was not intended to work.

Second, and more importantly, it protects the arts themselves from their most dangerous adversary. Martial artists, their organizations and their arts must identify themselves as defensive (i.e. harmless) to forestall any accusation of paramilitary or revolutionary activities. Offense is the exclusive domain of the state and its contractors, and the state does not enjoy competition.

This is not some wacko conspiracy theory. At various points during the last century, martial arts schools in China, Japan, Russia, and Cambodia were targeted as potential threats to their governments. Did these schools possess tanks and fighter planes, and other weapons of modern insurgency? No. They were assumed to be guilty of something far worse: cultivating a strong and independent spirit in their membership. In some cases, these arts were outlawed and their schools shut down; in others, the teachers and students were imprisoned or otherwise removed from society.

So all things considered, I must remain a proud and completely innocent member of the International Association of Defensive Martial Arts. Would you like to join us? We have a great T-shirt.

In the year 2266, captain and crew of the USS Enterprise embarked upon a thrilling mission, to make out with sexy female aliens. After encountering significant resistance from angry male aliens, Captain James T. Kirk developed a unique hand-to-hand fighting method.

With trademark moves such as the flying flop-kick, Judo chop and double-fisted hammer attack, Kirk triumphed over his scaly, bug-like adversaries. But will his method work for you? Read our analysis to find out.

Kirk vs. Gorn

Kirk’s Fighting Tips:

• For a powerful strike, lace your fingers together and swing them at your opponent’s back.
• If you are thrown to the ground during a fight, take the opportunity to rest up and plan your next attack—it’s just common sense.
• When caught in a bear hug, slap both the opponent’s ears. Run away while the enemy is reeling in pain.

Our Comments:

• Striking with laced fingers is the absolute worst way to hit anything, or anyone. No matter what angle you choose, you are most likely to injure your own hands. There is literally no reason to ever use this technique, ever.
• Rupturing an attacker’s eardrum is serious, but not always debilitating. There are more effective techniques to escape a front bear hug: try using a free hand to push on their throat, eyes or nose, or to pull their ear. Any of these responses can create space between you, and allow you to escape or counter-attack.

Kirk versus the George Hamilton Tribe

Kirk’s Fighting Tips:

• When attacked by a mob of stick-wielding space weirdos, use evasive maneuvers to avoid injury.
• If possible, secure the assistance of a red-shirted security officer. Let them draw attacks away from more important characters, such as yourself.

Our Comments:

• Actually, Captain Kirk took the right approach. In a mass attack scenario, it is important to keep moving, specifically away from the center of the pack. Pausing to attack one person will expose you to attacks from the others.
• Some of the techniques shown in this exciting battle are drawn from Aikido randori (freestyle with multiple attackers) training. At the 17 second mark, Kirk demonstrates a textbook shomen uchi irimi nage, in the abbreviated (or “Seagal”) style.

Spock escapes his captors

Kirk’s Fighting Tips:

• Sadly, James Kirk was never able to master the most formidable attack known to the Star Trek universe: Spock’s Vulcan nerve pinch. Silent but deadly, Officer Spock’s technique incapacitates the unwitting via a simple pinch to the neck.

Our Comments:

• Is the Vulcan pinch equally effective in our universe? Probably not. It is in fact possible to overload the nervous system with a light strike near the base of the neck; the sensation is similar to an electric shock, interfering with the recipient’s motor control. However, this is a difficult strike to administer, and furthermore does not typically result in a loss of consciousness.

What do you have? A long list of responsibilities and interests, including but certainly not limited to karate (or other martial arts). You have a desire to maximize the benefits of your practice, while minimizing the costs. And you want to know when, if ever, you should quit your kata.

Simply put, you can justifiably quit when the costs of practice exceed the benefits. Here are a few of the potential, proposed and actual benefits of kata training.

Benefits of Kata Practice

Kata as a Memory Aid
The most frequently cited justification of kata is as a mnemonic device. The kata serves as a living dictionary of fighting techniques and sequences. Repeating the kata daily ensures that the student will not forget any of these movements.

When to quit: As soon as you can afford to buy an instructional DVD. Just watch the DVD whenever you forget your kata.

Kata to Provoke the Stress Response
According to one school of thought, students should use kata practice as an opportunity to visualize the heightened physical and emotional state of combat. By artificially triggering the biochemical “fight-or-flight” response on a regular basis, the student will become comfortable operating under its otherwise debilitating influence.

When to quit: Once you understand that this approach is completely backwards! Mental and emotional stress is a self-imposed limitation, and the study of martial arts should be eliminating such limitations, not reinforcing them. Hopefully, you will reach this understanding before the chronic artificial stress has injured your health.

Kata as Activity-Specific Fitness Regimen
Fitness is relative. Every activity, including martial arts, places its own unique demands on its participants. Excellence demands a unique blend of strength, speed, flexibility and concentration; and without regular maintenance, atrophy is natural and unavoidable.

When to quit: As long as you wish to improve your performance, or just to remain in peak condition, you cannot quit. Nor can you profitably replace your kata with a general physical fitness routine.

Kata as a Health Maintenance Exercise
A surprisingly large percentage of health problems can ultimately be traced to poor circulation. Carefully executed kata help restore full circulation: not only of blood and bodily fluids, but also of attention. When employed as preventative medicine, the manner of kata practice is more important than the individual techniques chosen.

When to quit: After you have learned a more effective method for maintaining mind-body health and wellness.

Kata as Doorway to Altered States of Consciousness
If meditation is a profound stillness, then what is a “moving meditation”? Although this phrase is tossed around rather carelessly these days, it accurately describes the state of pure formless awareness that a martial artist can access through dedicated form practice. Many students never experience these states, because they require a sacrifice of intention, and because they do not make any logical sense.

When to quit: Once you can enter this state directly, without a need for kata repetition.

What other benefits of kata/poomsae/taolu/form practice have you experienced? And when would you be willing to abandon them?

Martial arts are systems of codified practices and traditions of training for combat. While they maybe studied for various reasons, martial arts share a single objective: to defeat a person physically or to defend oneself from physical threat.
~ Wikipedia

Wikipedia’s simplistic definition begs the question: martial arts are martial arts. The statement itself is neither true nor untrue—it is a game rule—but it does reflect an ignorance of, or perhaps a malevolence towards historical facts. Taken at face value, it encourages a dismissive, one-dimensional analysis of the arts’ tremendous potential.

To avoid limiting our achievement in the martial arts, we should begin with an honest and dispassionate accounting of the past. What was the real original purpose of various “martial arts”?

The first clues may be found in our forefathers’ own speech and writings. The Japanese “martial arts” of Aikido and Karate were both systematized less than one hundred years ago, and there is relatively little controversy over their origins.

Morihei Ueshiba left no room for ambiguity when he described his vision of Aikido:

There is no enemy in Aikido. It is wrong to think that having an opponent or an enemy, or trying to be stronger than him and trying to overpower him is true budo. True Budo has no opponent, True Budo has no enemy. True Budo is to become one with the universe. The purpose of Aikido practice is not to become strong, nor is it to fell an opponent. Rather, it is necessary to have one’s heart at the center of the universe, then as little as it may be, help maintain peace among the peoples of the earth. Aikido is both like a compass that enables each person to realize his own individual destiny, as well as a way of unity and love.

Conclusion: Aikido, by Wikipedia’s definition, is no martial art.

Gichin Funakoshi

Not everyone in the Karate world appreciates Gichin Funakoshi’s assertion that “the ultimate aim of Karate lies not in victory nor defeat, but in the perfection of the character of its participants,” but they do acknowledge he said it. Apparently, Shotokan Karate is no martial art either.

While the historical origins and inventors of older “martial arts” styles are more widely disputed, the practices themselves discredit the martial arts classification—unless you believe Taiji (the metaphysical model) was created to justify Taiji Boxing, or that Ving Tsun’s most fundamental training method was conceived as a fighting stance, or that a bunch of genuine Buddhist Shaolin monks were obsessed with hand-to-hand combat.

Siu Nim Tau
Basic training of Ving Tsun Kuen

And we can look beyond China and Japan, to the so-called “martial arts” of other cultures. Capoeiristas are expected to sing and play musical instruments during practice. How exactly does this further the objective of “defeating a person physically, or defending oneself from physical threat”?

The historical data support one rational conclusion: martial arts are not martial arts, they are merely used as martial arts. The distinction is critical for its consequence: everything is potentially a martial art, and therefore every time and every place presents an opportunity for study.