When I was writing this series of columns, I knew I was putting forward a pretty comprehensive explanation of pressure point theory. But, since the column only appeared every other month, I figured no one would realize that I was giving away the store. Now, I am putting them all on my blog – one stop shopping. Mmmm, brilliant. Well, I have never been accused of being a good businessman (or any kind of business man, for that matter). Fortunately, it won't be long until they have all made their way into the "older posts" section, the dusty attic of blogging, and they will be forgotten again. In the meantime, they are yours for the reading.

Thanks for reading,

now, go train.

Chris Thomas

Sorry, everybody, Christmas is especially hectic in my business. Here is another edition of my old "To the Point Column." Remember to click on the image to read it and print it out for your files. And, when your done, go train.

Chris Thomas

Here is another of my columns. Remember, if you click on the image you can easily read the article, or download it to your computer (on my computer, it's a drag and drop). CT

Here is the third column from the set.

Thanks for reading,

Now, go train!

Chris Thomas

To the Point

I am sometimes asked, "How come you aren't a regular columnist for Black Belt or some other magazine?" The answer is that I have to be asked, and the magazine has to survive. From this you might correctly guess that for about two seconds I wrote a regular column. This was back in '02-'03. The column was an every other month piece which appeared in Martial Arts and Combat Sport under the title "George Dillman's To the Point, with Chris Thomas." I wrote 9 columns, but MACS went out of business before they were all published (6 were published). Anyway, I thought you might enjoy them, so I will post them on the blog. Here are the first two.

Enjoy, then

Go Train!

Chris Thomas

Demonic Martial Arts

There are pastors who study martial arts, but not many who have studied for decades. So, I am among a rare few. (I am happy to say that I belong to that same small group of long-time martial arts practitioners/clergy as Black Belt Hall of Fame member Leo Fong. Rev. Fong is a retired clergy member of the same denomination of which I am a not-yet-retired clergy member.) This is why I am often approached with questions about Christianity and martial arts – usually, the phrase "how do you reconcile..." is used.

Generally, the questioners fall into one of two groups. One group of questioners , having been challenged in their practice by folks with a liberal or Quaker bias, wonders about reconciling martial arts practice with teachings of non-violence. The answer is simple, You can't. If Jesus taught pacifism – the absolute requirement that one never act violently toward another human being – then it is impossible to be a martial artist and be a Christian. Even the mere practice of martial arts (without any intention to actually use the skills learned) would be the cultivation of a violent heart.

But, I am a martial artist of 40 years. Clearly, I am no pacifist. I do not think that Jesus taught pacifism (as an absolute approach to life). And I do believe that sometimes an act of violence is a loving act. For example, if I were to come upon a woman being raped, I would intervene with violence because I would be acting in a loving way toward her. And I would also be acting in a loving way toward the rapist (the person upon whom I would be inflicting the violence) in as much as I am stopping him from committing a heinous sin. Likewise, if someone attacks me, and I defend myself, I am acting lovingly toward myself, and, by thwarting my attacker, I am acting lovingly toward him.

Having said that, I make three cautions. First, to accept a slap and not retaliate is the only sure way to topple an empire. Second, violence is overrated. It usually is the lazy-politicians solution to a problem, and the bully's sure proof of inner weakness. Every true martial artist knows that restraint is far more effective than blows. Third, the only valid use of violence is to stop the violent actions of the violent.

The second group of questioners, having been challenged in their practice by folks with a conservative or fundamentalist bias, wonders about martial arts practice being incompatible with Christian teaching because the martial arts are somehow demonic. To this I would make the simple observation that the measure of true evil is the harm it causes. By this measure there truly is a demonic martial art. It is an art that allows one to kill many people with virtually no effort, no discipline, no training, no practice. It allows great harm to be inflicted on others without ever having to learn control, restraint, or the simple truth of what it feels like to be on the receiving end.

Karate, aikido, tai chi chuan, taekwondo, and the rest do not even come close to fitting this definition. How can we tell? Simple: have you EVER heard of an outcast high schooler killing a dozen classmates with his karate skills? Have you ever heard of a broken-hearted lover killing coeds from atop a clock-tower using his ninja shuriken? Have you ever heard of a disgruntled employee "going postal" with his nunchaku?

You never have, and you never will. But, that disgruntled employee can walk into a gun-shop today, and be killing co-workers tomorrow. Now, I am not anti-gun. But, considering what we know to be true in this country (something like 15,000 gun-deaths per year, and how many "karate killings"? – 0?) it is just nonsense for anyone to hassle a hard working martial artist with accusations that somehow studying a martial art is in anyway akin to worshipping the devil.

Thanks for reading.

Now, go train!

Chris Thomas

My Approach to Teaching Self Defense

I was reading a military hand-to-hand (H2H) training manual, and recognized that the program had been influenced by the Filipino martial arts. One chapter covered the 12 angles of attack, showing the angles with knife, then fairly standard Filipino patterns for dealing with knife attacks bare-handed. The next chapter showed the 12 angles of attack with fixed bayonet. Then it showed defenses against those angles. But, here was the problem, the manual showed completely different ways of dealing with the bayonet than the methods for dealing with knife. In other words, they showed twelve angles of attack, and 24 different responses to attacks along those lines. And it got even worse. As I went through the book, I counted some 75 unique techniques. And this was supposed to be the basic military training manual.

Most training programs are developed in a similar fashion. They consist of handfuls of tricks and techniques designed to solve a variety of situations or attacks. So, the usual "basic" self-defense or H2H course consists 20 or so common self-defense scenarios, each with a unique solution. If your attacker does this you, do that; if your attacker does such, you do so. One solution to each scenario. I call this approach Single Scenario Tactical Solutions (SSTS). Of course, the trained martial artist usually has dozens of solutions to any given tactical scenario. That's what competency is all about. However, when training non-martial artists in short term courses for self-defense or unarmed combat, this is a ridiculous approach.

Instead, the approach I advocate is to teach a simple curriculum that handles a variety of scenarios with the one basic skill set. This is called a Multiple Scenario Tactical Solution (MSTS). I teach this concept using a basic, four step action, which is then applied against a wide spectrum of attacks. I teach the basic sequence starting with a simple assault scenario, like a front choke. Then, I teach people to apply this same solution up against a wall, or in a chair, or on the ground. The next step is to apply this simple response against punches, varying grabs, even knife and gun assaults (depending on the group).

The specific curriculum I utilize I call Flux (for Flexible-Application Unarmed Combat Skill). It is easily adapted for a variety of different populations, from civilian to professional applications. And while the different populations require slightly different elements, the over-all concept and underlying principles are the same.

This is such a simple approach that many martial artists have a sense of discomfort when they see it. "Yeah, but what about XYZ techniques?" They wonder. Think of it this way – a maker of fine furniture has many tools which are only used in one single step in the process of making a piece. But, if I have a hammer, a saw, some nails and some lumber, I can make a table. It won't be pretty, but it will hold up my dinner plate. In the same way, as martial artists we have many very elegant ways of dealing with different attacks. But, a woman who takes a self defense class doesn't have the time to learn elegant solutions. She needs a couple of things that will work well-enough to use as her response to whatever comes her way.

And, of course, my simple four-step solutions can't solve every problem. But, I would rather teach something simple that can deal with 25 different problems, than teach 25 solutions which each can only deal with one problem.

Well, thanks for reading.

Now, go train.

Chris Thomas

Anyone Can Beat Anyone

Years ago, I was lifting my daughter from the floor. She helped by jumping as I lifted, and our combined energy drove her head into mine – head butt. She was fine. I, one the other hand, was staggered. That event (combined with a similar story when my son was an infant and my groin was much younger) led me to understand an important principle of combat: Anyone can beat anyone.

Think about it another way – we have the best trained, best equipped military in the world. The Taliban, on the other hand, are basically medieval tribesman with very modest weaponry (AK-47's, RPG's, IED's). This being the case, we nonetheless hear about regular troop losses. As great as our troops are, they can still be ambushed.

It turns out, there is no such thing as invulnerability. I know that invulnerability is often what we seek when we are beginning our training. We have watched Zatoichi slice his way through dozens of assailants. We have watched Bruce Lee dispatch numerous enemies. And we have watched many a martial arts demo in which the defender dramatically emerges victorious from all kinds of attacks. But all of that is fantasy. The reality is anyone can beat anyone.

I learned a long time ago how difficult this fact is to accept. I taught a 2 week self-defense course in a High School co-ed gym class. When I taught some blunt trauma things, I found that the young men loved it, but the women had trouble relating. When I taught finger locks, everything changed. The young women suddenly felt empowered, and the young men couldn't handle the humiliation of being easily put on the ground by the young women.

Here's how I knew they couldn't handle the humiliation – the teacher told the students that for the first week I was around, they had to participate; but the second week, they could choose between the self-defense training or going to the weight room to pump iron. Inevitably, week two, all the guys fled. Yeah, they couldn't deal.

Those high schoolers were not unusual – accepting the truth of vulnerability is harder for men, because our culture tells us we are supposed to be strong and mighty. If a man is humiliated by an overwhelming force, the question often asked is, why did you allow this to happen? Women are almost always facing an overwhelming force when they are assailed, and so, women are more familiar with the experience of vulnerability. But, even so, when women are victimized they are still often asked, why did you let this happen?

I was with my sensei (George Dillman) recently. As is often the case, he invited participants to demonstrate knock-outs. Among the demonstrators were several children – children, who then knocked out adults. And there it was again – anyone can beat anyone. I train an art that works as well on me as it does on others. I train an art in which I am as vulnerable to a beginner as that beginner is to me. I train an art in which I have experienced over and over the ease with which I can be defeated, and the ease with which I can defeat others. And this has changed how I approach things.

I used to adopt a strong kamae, an en garde position with fists held protectively and body positioned against attack. Now, I adopt an open, welcoming posture, as if I want to give a hug. I do not push the attack away, I invite it in. I accept that the attack comes; I accept that I will be injured; I accept that I can be defeated. And accepting these things empowers me to act without fear, without worrying about the bad stuff that might happen, but rather, to focus on the simple task of fighting back.

I will write on this stuff more in the future, on the concepts of "rescripting" and "welcoming" but I wanted to start here – I wanted you to understand that I begin, not from a posture of strength or one of defensiveness, but from a place of acceptance.

Thanks for reading.

Now, go train!

Chris Thomas

Dancing with the Dark Side

Let me continue a bit on the discussion of my last post:

I had an interesting conversation with a member of my group (Kyusho-jitsu Kenkyukai, KJK for short). He was telling me about how troubling an experience it is when you realize that you have both the skills to take a life, and the will necessary to employ those skills. It is the moment when you become the kind of person who is actually capable of killing.

Most of us start martial arts training because of a fantasy about martial arts. We imagine we are going to learn what the movie ratings people call "stylized violence." Stylized violence is noble, fair, cool, exciting, even fun. Real violence is messy and brutal. At some point, the true martial artist must come to grips with this messy, brutal reality. I call this "dancing with the dark side."

In order to be true martial artists, we must accept violence, accept that we are studying methods whose purpose is ultimately the harm of other human beings, accept that we have the capacity to cause such harm.

This applies even to our training. To do a pressure point knock out, one has to accept that – safe as they are to perform – our training partners might be injured. And, when we practice the more dangerous techniques (toate-no-waza being among the more dangerous) we have to accept that someone might be hurt, and be willing for our training partners to suffer harm at our hands.

This is a difficult step in the development of a martial artist. It involves finding a way to accept violence, finding the capacity to commit violence, finding the willingness to act violently, and finding the ability to control that violence. It means learning how to resolve the warrior's contradiction – to be able to kill when necessary without becoming a mere killer, to be able to cause injury to others while maintaining the strength of character to never cause such injury unless it is absolutely necessary and right. It is brutal power coupled with moral control, and it is a difficult task to master.

Now, most people who practice a martial art never face this challenge. They practice their fantasy of stylized violence, imagining confrontations which result in winning without any harm, and without feelings of sorrow, or regret on their part. They imagine victory without cost, victory which results in everyone becoming friends and drinking tea together. And maybe that is fine for them, but I practice a classical art – tode-jitsu – an art which is about the reality of conflict and the desire to somehow survive such a reality with one's life and character intact. I practice an art which is, at its heart, about dancing with the dark side.

Thanks for reading.

Now, go train!

Christ Thomas

It Helps to Not Give a Sh*t

Back in 1997, DKI member and physician Chaz Terry helped set up a small investigatory study of pressure point techniques which was conducted at University of Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia. My account was published in Black Belt Magazine (click here to read the article) and as a chapter of Humane Pressure Point Self-Defense. I was present for the sole purpose of recording and writing about the event. So, I did not participate directly in the process. But, I had the best seat in the house.

The room was cold, lit with fluorescents and generally "institutional". Each subject to be knocked out was wired up with electrodes to monitor such things as brain waves, heart rhythms, blood pressure, and so on. This took 20 minutes. Then the subject would stand on a wrestling mat (a safety precaution) while "pre-strike" data was gathered. Cameras were synced to medical monitoring devices and time was spent waiting for everything to be ready. Then, the person who was performing the strike was told to proceed, but, oh, not too forcefully because we don't want to dislodge any wires, and be careful not to cause too much movement because that creates artifact, now go ahead and knock him out.

This was an incredibly stressful setting in which to do anything. Those doing the striking were out of their element, anxious, being asked to think about more than just the technique itself. Not surprisingly, many had some difficulty with their techniques. When this would happen, when the simple craziness of the setting got in the way, and someone would fail in performing an effective knock out, George Dillman would say, "Ed, you do it."

"Ed" is my colleague Ed Lake. And Ed would do it. He would walk up and "bam" the subject would hit the ground.

At one point, Dillman-sensei was speaking to one of those struggling to get the knock out to work. "Do it like Ed!" He said. "But, Ed doesn't give a sh*t!" came the reply.

This is an important observation. When striking a pressure point, it can be our own anxieties and concerns which keep the technique from working. We hinder our energy from flowing. We worry that we won't be able to succeed, so we don't. We worry that our uke (the person who receives our knock out technique) will be injured, so we fail. We strike too hard, or not hard enough, while holding back our intent, our energy, because of all our concerns, all our fears, all our issues of ego and morality, all of our thoughts about "what if it doesn't work" and "what if it does."

It helps to "not give a sh*t." It helps to have clarity of intent – action without concern for all of the possible, undesired outcomes. Such an attitude increases the possibility of success because there is nothing to hold one back from success.

Of course, my problem is that I do "give a sh*t." All sorts of concerns, fears, worries, etc., plague my thoughts, and clamor for my attention. And I become, worried, fearful, anxious, ego-invested and the like. I become weighed down with the detritus of my own emotional baggage, and divide from singularity of purpose by a cacophony of mental chattering.

Of course, it is easy to say, "Do it like Ed!" It is easy to tell myself that I shouldn't be distracted by inner conflict, shouldn't be bogged down with useless concerns, shouldn't give a sh*t. Yeah, easy to tell myself, but it doesn't make a bit of difference. All the useless stuff is still there. Instead, I have to make it irrelevant. So, I have taken tactical approach.

Anyone who trains with me will often hear me talk about redundancy. The idea of redundancy is this, "If you screw up your technique, it should still work pretty good." This is why I seem to put pressure points at the end of the line. I believe the pressure points are incredibly important – I want to guarantee that things will always work.

Imagine it like this: Someone grabs me and I begin my defense. In that slow motion of crisis, the thought goes through my mind, "Gee, I hope this works." Suddenly, I am invested in a particular outcome and I give a sh*t. "What if a miss the pressure point? What if I don't hit with enough energy? What if I hit too hard? What i he is resistant on that point and I should have aimed for another?" Suddenly, in that moment, the fear and anxiety hit. My chi and my anal sphincter pucker and withdraw – and I have defeated myself. But, if my technique is sound, if it is redundant, certain to work well even if I screw it up, then I think, "Doesn't matter, even if I miss the point, or it doesn't work right, I still get to hit him, and I still have the advantageous position, and I still have superior control, so it will be fine." And suddenly, I don't give a sh*t anymore, because I have created the circumstances under which I am guaranteed a satisfying outcome. The result? I relax and my chi flows, and my technique works great.

If you want to read more about redundancy, you can read another article of mine in Black Betl (click here).

Now, go train.

Chris Thomas

Nunti-Bo

In Isshin-ryu we have three bo (long staff) kata. About 20 years ago I was pondering a particular characteristic of one of them. Let me see if I can explain this for you – If you marked one of a bo “right”, the other end “left”, and held it so that you had the “right” half in your right hand and the “left” half in your left hand, you could do two of the kata (Tokumine-no-kun & Urashi-no-kun) and your hands would stay on the proper side. In other words, these kata treat both ends of the bo as equal – when left side is forward, the “left” side of the bo is forward, and vice versa. This is what is known as “double end staff.”

However, in our third kata, called Shishi-no-kun-dai, it is different. This time, mark one end as “front” and the other as “back.” If you were to start the kata so that your right hand is on the front half of the weapon, you would find that whenever the right side is forward, the “front” is in the right hand, and whenever left side is forward the “front” is in the left hand. This means that, in Shishi-no-kun-dai, one end of the bo is clearly the front and the other the back.

So, I was pondering this, and I asked myself, “What’s special about the front end? Maybe that end is different somehow? What weapons are different on one end?” I considered the usual suspects, spear (yari), halberd (naginata), etc. But, among the uniquely Okinawan weapons, the one that stands out is called nunti-bo.

Nunti-bo is basically a bo with a sai on the end. But, the sai is a particular type of sai called nunti-sai, or manji-sai, which has a hook on one side, and a tine on the other. Attach it to the end of a bo, and you have a nunti bo. There has never been much material on the use of nunti-bo, but the few examples I have seen treat the weapon like a bo, with the extra benefit that the tine is used to catch an incoming strike in order to redirect an attack.

Anyway, there I was, those twenty or so years ago, performing Shishi-no-kun-dai, and imagining my bo was a nunti-bo. What happened was thrilling and terrifying. Instantly, all the movements of the kata made devastating sense; and instantly, I saw that nunti-bo was used in a manner which looked nothing like what people showed. And I became actually sick to my stomach. I was so accustomed to the “coolness” of martial arts, that I was unprepared for the brutal cruelty of weapon-based combat which the kata Shishi-no-kun-dai disclosed. Weapons work is for maiming and killing, pure and simple.

It took a few days for me to recover from the sense of revulsion I experienced, so that I could try my little thought experiment again (with the same results, the kata made absolute sense). So, I purchased a nunti-bo, and started practicing Shishi-no-kun-dai. With my imagination replaced by the actual implement, the kata revealed subtleties of handling that I hadn’t realized by visualization alone.

From that day on, I have practiced Shishi-no-kun-dai with nunti-bo. I have also come to recognize the occasional nunti-bo-specific movements in other bo forms. What has become evident to me is the historical function of these kata.

In feudal societies, there was minimal civilian law enforcement. Individual villages needed the ability to call up militia to deal with marauders and other threats. So, villages had traditional “war dances.” These contained the fundamentals of long-weapons fighting. (By the way, these local dances still exist today – brought out at festival times and performed for crowds, and, of course, they exist as kata practiced in the martial arts.)

So, most “bo” forms are actually “generic long-weapons forms.” And, because the staff is the most common tool available, most of the movements in these long-weapons forms are for the staff. But, villagers had other potential weapons, such as oars, hoes, rakes, etc., so, the forms also had to contain movements which applied to these implements. Once you become familiar with these weapons, you can recognize the specific techniques which don’t work well with the bo, but which are very effective with something else.

If a village had only one kata, it would follow the pattern described. But, if there was more than one kata from that village, the second form was likely to be specific to some other weapon. Knowledge of this second form might be limited to the person who was responsible for transmitting the village bo form to each generation (the village martial arts expert). This individual might also be the only person in the village who possessed a weapon which was actually a weapon, as opposed to a tool utilized for fighting. And, finally, this person might be the local constable. (Like the Japanese jutte, the sai and the nunti-bo functioned as law enforcement weapons and as symbols of legal authority – sai was both side-arm and badge.)

Shishi-no-kun-dai is such a number two kata. The number one kata is Shishi-no-kun-sho, a generic long-weapon kata, with characteristic double-end bo techniques. Shishi-no-kun-dai, the number two kata, is 100% nunti-bo.

So, for 20 years I have practiced Shishi-no-kun-dai as “Shishi-no-nunti-bo”, always with nunti-bo, instead of staff. As different Isshin-ryu practitioners come to train with me, I have the occasion to show this material to them. The shock of recognition flashes across their faces, and many of them (ok, most of them) purchase nunti-bo for their own training.

With Shishi-no-kun-dai as my nunti-bo teacher, I have learned that, contrary to the usual demonstration of the nunti-bo (as a tool for catching an incoming attack in the tine), it is actually not about the use of the tine much at all (though, there is a nifty sword disarm that is only possible because of the tine, and some clothing entanglement that depends on the tine). Predominantly, nunti-bo is about using the hook.

In a nutshell, the to use nunti-bo is to strike with the wooden portion of the weapon, just behind the metal manji-sai attachment, then pull hard so that the hook pulls into and tears flesh (gross, huh?). One of the most basic nunti-bo movements is downward angle strike (called kesa-uchi or uchi otoshi), pull, then thrust. The strike is aimed at the neck area, the pull digs the hook into the trapezius muscle and brachial plexus, the thrust frees the weapon from the opponent’s body. However, if the opponent blocks the strike, the pull hooks his weapon and pulls him forward, into an oncoming thrust.

That is just one example. But, if you pick up a nunti-bo, and think about the hook, you will see just how devastating a weapon it is. Better yet, learn Shishi-no-kun-dai and let it become your teacher.

Thanks for reading,

Now, go train!

Chris Thomas

Chris Thomas

shotokan - download free pdf

Source: scribd.com

An article of mine which was published in Shotokan Karate Magazine, in July, 2004

It's Not a Block (and never was)

I recently was explaining our concepts to a man who had been training at a local martial arts school. It was almost as if the last 20 years never happened – as if the martial arts community had never heard of any of the things we teach. So, let me give you a way to explain and talk about one of the most basic aspects of our teaching – it's not a block!

In the usual training programs, there are a set of movements called "blocks." These are up block, inside block, outside block, down block, and knife hand block. Let's consider outside block (though, what I will say, applies to all of the blocks).

Outside block consists of two actions. In the first action, the front hand moves across the body at about hip level. This is sometimes referred to as the set position. Then the front hand moves outward to the side. This action is considered the block proper, and is taught as a way of knocking a punch passed the body.

Now, our premise is simple – this is not a block, and cannot be used as a block. Here's how you can tell. Listen to the sound of a punch (fump). Now, listen to the sound a an outside block (fa-fump). If you think of this in musical terms, in terms of rhythm, a punch has one beat, an outside block has two beats. Now, considering that the act of blocking is a response to an attack, reaction time is also a factor, an added beat. In essence, then, using an outside block to block a punch means that you are using a two beat action (three beats if you consider reaction time) to defend against a one-beat attack. This means that you have to be more than twice as fast as your opponent. And that means that only the youngest, fastest, strongest can ever hope to use their karate. And that means that karate is all but useless for anyone else.

Now, let's imagine that somehow I manage to use outside block to block a punch – What have I accomplished? Nothing. At best I have reset the encounter to the beginning. What happens next depends on who is faster. If the attacker is faster with his follow-up, I lose; if I am faster with my counter-attack, I win. But this means that the stronger, faster one wins, and that means that I can only use my karate if I am the better athlete in the encounter.

However, it turns out that outside block isn't "outside block" at all. In Japanese it is called chudan yoko uke. Uke doesn't mean "to block", it means "to receive". It is a way of dealing with an attack, to be sure. But, it is not a block. In fact, it has actually been painful for me to call these things blocks in what I have written so far. I always use the term "counter" as the English meaning of uke. I say, up counter, or down counter, but never block. Block is a banned word in my martial art.

The typical application for chudan yoko uke, is to use the movement of the"set" (the first-beat of the technique which corresponds to the one-beat of the punch) to actually strike the incoming arm. The outward movement is then a strike, typically to a vulnerable target on the head.

I have been following this concept for many years now. The longer I practice these techniques in the manner they were intended, the more I realize how genuinely intelligent and effective they are as fighting techniques. But this understanding comes only from realizing THEY'RE NOT BLOCKS!

Thanks for reading,

Now, go train.

Chris Thomas

No Masters Here

A Buddhist friend showed me a video featuring some Tibetan yogis. These were people whom she greatly admired (some were her teachers). She saw masters, I saw ordinary men. In one of the old video-tapes sold by Taika Oyata, the voice over narration says, "Only master Oyata can properly interpret the kata." Clearly, these folks look at Oyata-sensei and see "the master." I just see a man. Now, those yogis were skillful and knowledgeable and well qualified to be teachers. And Oyata-sensei is skillful and knowledgeable and well qualified to be a teacher. And my friend is fortunate to have such teachers as those I saw. And Oyata's students are fortunate to have such a teacher as Oyata. But, the yogis and Oyata-sensei are not special, unique, elevated, superior beings. They are ordinary men who were fortunate to have good teachers, and who put in the time and the effort to become skillful, and then the additional time and effort required to become truly exemplary. But, they are still ordinary men.

I am an ordinary man. My teachers have been ordinary men and women. My dojo mates have been ordinary men and women. My students have been ordinary men and women. Each of us has mastered some aspect of living life. Each of us has become accomplished at something – accomplished and maybe even extraordinary. So, why should anyone think of me as "master", much less "grandmaster." I consider myself to be an average martial artist. And maybe it's just that I am average for someone who has trained for 40 years, but that doesn't make me special, just devoted.

My point is this, I am no Master – I don't even know what that word means. I know myself to be completely ordinary. Of course, some of you might think I am being all "gosh, shucks" humble here, but that is not true. Believe me, I have a plenty big ego. Other's might be reminded of the old saying, "No one is a master who thinks he is," and conclude that saying I am not a master somehow proves that I really am. I know the truth – ordinary.

So, why am I the guy people come to train with? It is because I was lucky enough to have good teachers, and having good teachers makes a huge difference. I have students (truly, they are really my teachers) who are much better martial artists than I am. They are more dedicated, train harder, have a more intense passion than I. Yet, I'm the guy helping them for the simple reason that they learned incorrect material. What would they be like if they were lucky enough to learn correctly from the start (look at my Yondan son or my Shodan daughter and you'll have a pretty good idea). And how quickly they are becoming better than me as they discard improper teaching for proper teaching.

So, it only seem to you that I am great if you learned poorly. But, once you know the martial arts properly, you see how ordinary I am. As my friend Dusty Seale and I like to joke, "It's not that we're great, it's that everyone else really sucks." And they suck because they have had poor teachers.

There is one more thing that makes a difference, too. If you believe that only Taika Oyata can properly interpret the kata, then you will never be able to interpret kata. If you believe that the yogi are special "fully realized beings", then you can never attain anything. But, when you realize that they are ordinary, then there is no reason (if you have the desire) why you can't also be great.

Now, go train,

Chris Thomas

Old Karate

I prefer "old karate." I mean this in three different ways.

When I first used the phrase, I had been training for about ten years. At that point I noticed that my movements felt familiar, well worn, broke in, "old" like that most comfortable pair of jeans, or like my battered fedora. This was muscle memory. Technique had become written onto the very fibers of my body. My nerves knew punching, kicking, moving, without any help from my brain. I remember thinking, at the time, how my karate had become old. It was an odd experience, because I found that karate was, well, soothing, to me. I found a relaxation from things like punching the makiwara (or a tree, or a wall, or...). And simply throwing kicks and practicing movement calmed me. It became my drug of choice. It was like an aged cheese, filled with flavor notes and complexity (Cheese? remember, I live in Wiscsonsin).

Secondly, I prefer "old karate" in the sense of the old ways (kodo or koryu). At first, I was drawn to the old karate by a kind of historian's interest. What did it look like originally? Are there more ancient (and more authentic) ways of doing some certain kata. I threw myself into a study of such things, hoping to discover, or learn, or reconstruct an earlier version of what I knew. Of course, I didn't have much access to historical sources. And I have to admit that I am glad. There are those who went off to Okinawa and sought out the oldest teachers and tried to find the oldest versions of kata. In this, they made great contributions to our understanding of the historical development of karate, and I am grateful to them. But, it seems to me that they also made a fundamental error – they assumed that, finding the oldest version of a kata would somehow make them wise.

I made the same error. At one point I was trying to learn as many kata and as many versions as I could. I was practicing 50 or 60 forms, and always looking to learn another "authentic" kata. Suddenly, one day, while trying to learn another such form, I realized that there was nothing there which wasn't also present in multiple other forms I already knew. And I began to suspect that there was no secret form which would provide the key to martial wisdom. When I met George Dillman, I realized why. Because I didn't understand what I was doing, the forms had nothing to teach. But, once I knew the function of form, rather than the form of form, I found I had too many kata. I stopped doing many of them, and still have too many for my own self (I need them for teaching and stylistic purposes).

So, "old karate" is not about which form one does, or how the moves are executed. It is about how the form is interpreted. It is about reclaiming original intent (which is the actual practical use of movement) and not some original pattern of movement. Sometimes, when I am talking about this meaning of "old karate" I use the term "classical" as opposed to "traditional." The traditionalist seeks to mimic the style's movements – the classicalist seeks to apply the style's concepts.

And finally, I prefer "old karate" in the sense that I am old. I am 52, and I have been studying karate since I was 12. My kicks are still pretty snappy, but when I was in my prime, my kicks were so fast that you couldn't see my foot (seriously). My stances are structurally better than when I was younger, but my legs are weaker, stiffer, creakier. So, I have to do a karate which works in two ways. First, it has to be something that I can do as an increasingly older man. And second, it needs to work effectively as a self defense method for an increasingly older man.

Hohan Soken told George Dillman (who, at the time was in his 30's) to "exercise today, the same way you will when you are 80." I think he was speaking of more than running and doing push-ups. I think he meant the entirety of karate training – train today, and always, doing what an aging and aged martial artist will continue to be able to do and apply effectively. So, I try to follow that advice, and in that way, I practice "old karate."

I prefer "old karate." It is the product of long years, it is simple, yet it has depth. It is not fancy or flashy, but, it continues to satisfy after all this time, and I see no reason for that to change.

Thanks for reading, now, go age your cheese (in other words, "Now, go train").

Chris Thomas

If You Don't Want to Teach Me, at Least Don't Mislead Me

Since I had originally trained in the Shotokan style, I decided to attend a seminar by Shotokan master Hirokazu Kanazawa. During the seminar, Kanazawa-sensei reviewed several kata; at one point during the discussion of a particular technique from the kata Jion, a black belt raised his hand and asked, “Sensei, could that move be a strike to the head?” At that moment I became somewhat hopeful. The question showed that this student was troubled by the woefully inadequate explanations for kata movements that he had been given over the years. It also showed that he was thinking and looking for knowledge. And, it was a pretty good question (as opposed to the usual, “What’s this move for?”). Perhaps he would be rewarded with a good answer.

“No,” Kanazawa answered. “It’s a block.” My heart sank as he then proceeded to demonstrate an obviously unrealistic and useless application of the movement. When he was finished, the questioner responded with a hearty and grateful, “Hai! Thank you, sensei.”

I shared this little episode via e-mail with a Shotokan practitioner in England. He responded by telling me that the only time he had seen Kanazawa demonstrate any “half decent” (his words) applications of kata movements was when he sneaked a peak during a private conversation Kanazawa-sensei was holding with Kato-sensei. This begs the question then, if the oriental instructors have better knowledge than they have shown us, why haven’t they shown it.

The area of pressure point knowledge is a good example of this very phenomenon. One of the truly great masters of the 20th century was Shogo Kuniba, the head of the Seishinkai karate organization. Kuniba-sensei loved to teach karate in the United States because his American students gave him permission to experiment and innovate (whereas, in Japan, he was expected to simply fulfill the role of soke/inheritor of his father’s karate style). As he was dying of cancer, Kuniba assigned the leadership of the karate organization in Japan to his sons, but he designated an American, sensei William Price, to inherit his own innovated karate system. According to Price, in the last few months of his life, Kuniba-sensei began to share information about pressure point techniques. Price says that Kuniba expressed regret that he had withheld the knowledge for so long, and that there was no longer enough time to fully divulge this aspect of karate to his heir.

Mike LaMonica is perhaps the western world’s most senior exponent of Hakko-ryu jujitsu, directly under the the system’s founder, the late Ryuho Okuyama, who awarded him the license of Menkyo-Kaiden. LaMonica-sensei and I only met in person once (at a baptism), but I did have occasion to talk with him on the phone. Our conversation was about the use of pressure points as part of the performance of Hakko-ryu kihon waza (the basic techniques of the system). As we talked pressure point specifics, LaMonica’s litany became, “Yes, but we don’t teach that until 5th dan.”

A similar comment is made by aikido exponent Morihiro Saito. Saito-sensei has stated (apparently quoting the teachings of aikido founder Ueshiba) that atemi, or the attacking of vital points, is essential for better than 90% of aikido technique to be successfully applied; yet, this portion of the art is not taught prior to 5th dan (achieved after about 20 years of training!) ostensibly so that students can concentrate on other aspects of the training. It seems odd that the very element that is required for the successful execution of aikido techniques is intentionally left out of student’s practice.

A friend provided me with a video taped seminar taught by Taika Oyata. Oyata-sensei was the first to demonstrate pressure point techniques in a public manner. He often demonstrated pressure point knock-outs and listed kyusho-jitsu (pressure point fighting) as a part of his curriculum. In the video, Oyata-sensei was teaching a small group of eager students (one of whom – I was surprised to see ­– was an old dojo-mate of mine from back in the 70’s). At one point, Oyata began to lecture on a knock-out technique. He slowly and deliberately demonstrated the technique so that everyone attending could follow. The students watched intently and imitated his movements (heck, I was imitating the movement as I watched the tape). Then suddenly, and without prior notice, Oyata knocked out the student he was using as uke.

The students in the seminar were all delighted to see this technique so convincingly proven. I, on the other hand, had a different reaction. Being a pressure point practitioner, I realized immediately that the technique Oyata-sensei had actually used to knock out the student was not the one he had been teaching. (And just to be sure, I backed up the video and watched it again in slow motion.) He had been pointedly misleading those students! (By the way, the technique is revealed at the end of the book TUITÉ: Advanced Pressure Point Grappling, which I co-authored with my teacher George Dillman.)

Pressure point expert George Dillman trained under Oyata-sensei in the early 80’s (and received 7th dan from Oyata). It was Oyata who taught him the fundamentals of kyusho-jitsu which formed the basis for Dillman’s own research and study. Clearly, Oyata-sensei had shared accurate information with Dillman, yet, Dillman himself says that he often saw Oyata teach wrong information in seminars.

Now, I must be careful here lest I seem to be criticizing Oyata-sensei. If it were not for his willingness to share knowledge about pressure point methods, this information would still be the subject of myth and fantasy. And, I don’t want to judge another person’s decision to withhold information from unproven students, since I myself have certain techniques that I simply will not teach anyone who is not at least a black belt and a person I have some measure of confidence and trust in. And there are also cultural realities. Instructors like Kanazawa-sensei, and Oyata-sensei probably feel that access to their knowledge must be earned through years of devoted, unquestioning, adherence. Ok, I get that, but there is a clear difference between withholding some information, and intentionally mis-teaching. It is not just that Kanazawa saves the decent application for private conversation, it is that he teaches bad application to the faithful, who accept it with a hearty thank you. It is not that Oyata holds back information, it is that he presents wrong information. I am not Japanese! So, understanding this from a cultural perspective doesn’t mean that it I am not offended to be treated this way. Withhold information, if you must, but at least don’t send me chasing my tail.

George Dillman is the exact opposite as an instructor. I have, many times, had him show me some secret technique, insisting I tell no one, only to have him tell me a few weeks later how he just taught that “secret” to 100 people at the latest seminar. I came to understand that he was not actually sharing secrets that I was to keep, he was giving me a head start on the the things he was working on and planning to introduce to others. And this is part of the reason why the DKI (Dillman Karate International) instructors are so knowledgeable and skilled. As one astonished newcomer said to me, “I figured Dillman could to do it; I never thought all his people could, too.” And this is why there are competing organizations out there, teaching and presenting pressure point knowledge (they learned it by being part of the DKI, where knowledge is freely shared).

It turns out that, when knowledge is held back, it is lost. Just as Kuniba-sensei was not able to pass on all he knew in the short time he had between his diagnosis and his passing, so knowledge has been lost across the ages. But, when knowledge is shared openly, then it not only endures, it prospers. Because Dillman would share everything he knew, his students were able to explore new areas of practice. They then shared that, and we all got better. I believe we actually understand pressure point fighting methods better now, than at any point in the last century. And this is not because we are great masters. We just are generous in our teaching and sharing. In this we are simply following George Dillman’s example (who, in fairness, was following Professor Wally Jay’s example), and the result is magnificent.

So, share what you learn, and we will all become better.

Thanks for reading. Now, go train.

Chris Thomas