To-San is the 3rd form of the Chang-hon form set, and is the first form that features kicking. It has 24 movements and is mostly symmetrical. There are many foundational skills featured in To-San so it offers an excellent opportunity for beginners transitioning to the intermediate level, but also offers a place for seasoned veterans to improve on skills that are essential in the higher forms.
I love reviewing / analyzing the lower forms because we can pinpoint many of the "first time" movements and To-san features several. To-San starts with an outer block and for the "first time" features a reverse technique with its reverse punch followup. This is the first time a student will execute a block / counter in the same stance and so it is an important part in a student's development. Also a first, is what we call the "half step, half step" turn. I'm referring to moving your front foot across the body about a half step's width, and then your back foot a half step's width to complete the turn to 180 degrees to your right. This becomes an essential movement in later forms and can be practiced early here. Many hours will be spent by the beginner getting the timing of the first four moves of To-San correct, without looking too fast, too slow and or too off balance. From there we proceed to a knife hand guarding block and into what we call a straight spear-finger.
Here we get into another first. Off the spear-finger, we see one of the first clear hold escapes; at least, that's what I was always taught the downward turn of the hand (upward turn of the right elbow) was supposed to be. It is an interesting case of an actual application outside of punching, kicking, and blocking being openly visible. I don't believe the movement to be anything more than an escape from a wrist grab, though I recognize, that like many movements in nearly all the forms, that you can interpret it in many ways. As it has been a while since I wrote a forms analysis article, let me remind people right here that I subscribe to the notion that the simplest interpretation of a movement is probably its intended application. I bore quickly when playing the "well, it could be this..." game. I think 9 times out of 10, the movement is either meant to block something, or strike something.
Another interesting technique is the traditional back fist. This is also the first time we will throw this technique in a form. I find this technique particularly interesting, because unlike our straight and reverse punches, the traditional back fist is thrown very different from how it is in application. In sparring, the back fist is thrown parallel to the ground (most times) and is executed with a snapping motion that is contrary to the execution of its traditional forms application.
After a repeat of the opening moves, albeit with a 270 degree turn, we execute what we call an outer forearm wedging block (your vocabulary probably differs) and finally we see our first kick.
In my opinion, in a form already consisting of many "firsts" none is as important as the execution of the front kick, transitioning into a forward landing with a punch-reverse punch sequence. So many lessons will be learned here, and so many good or bad habits will be created right here in the third form. Paramount to all the the nuanced lessons you can take from the wedge to front kick to punch-reverse punch sequence is the idea that just because you are on one leg doesn't mean reaction force goes out the window. The front kick needs to be completed, with a proper re-chambering of the kick coming to a complete stop, before the hands adjust to the proper chamber position for the straight punch. Many students will struggle here, with balance, timing and finesse but the skills being worked in this very short sequence are so important later on / higher up in the forms list.
The form finishes with symmetrical high blocks leading into symmetrical knife hand strikes from horse stance. If you are an instructor reading this, you may be facepalming at the thought of how many times your yellow belts did the end of Dan-gun for To-san, or vice versa. It's not just you, don't worry. I facepalmed while writing this - because it happens all the time.
To-san is a great form, and really is the first form to me that feels "Taekwon-do". Although as I do more research on forms and I learn more and more that our beloved Chang-Hon forms are really just "Frankenstein's monster" variations of the Japanese forms; I can't help but feel like when they were constructing To-san, they really got it right. Far from an original creation, To-san, to me captures what I think they were shooting for in how they wanted TKD to look. To-san may not be "original" (go watch the heinan forms - in particular heinan yodan), but perhaps just like music, someone had to play certain note sequences the first time, and the fact that a great song is built from building blocks earlier used doesn't negate the greatness of the song that came after.
Monday, May 23, 2016
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Effective Testing Preparation - Part 1
Spring in Pennsylvania, like many places brings a big change to the weather. For my school, spring is also one of the times we have local dan testing and thus it brings big changes to our training patterns. My classes in late February slowly begin to become more "curriculum" heavy as spring rolls in, and by mid April, we're into full on testing focus. Testing is heavily on my mind right now so I thought I'd share my take on testing. If you are reading this from outside of my organization your mileage my vary as our tests may not align in structure or challenge. I plan on writing a part two to this post, where I will hopefully compile some of my favorite martial artists's takes on test prep. So far though, only one person has gotten back to me, so I may remove the "part 1" later.
I'd like to start by speaking generally about testing prep, and then working into more specific concepts.
One of the foundations to a strong test is good class attendance, which is more than just showing up. Anyone can show up to a class, go through the movements, break a sweat and go home. This sort of zombie training is a student's constant enemy when the time between test cycles goes from months to years to many years. The struggle is really real here, and it is up to you, to battle your internal auto pilot and stay tuned in and engaged. I've written about auto pilot before with regard to forms practice, but auto pilot is something to fight against throughout all of your training. Ask questions, experiment, and apply what you've learned in the past (when appropriate), to other aspects of your training. Although perhaps a topic of a future post, the students who never question, never apply, and never really engage the art are often times the ones with poor testings and aren't long for quitting entirely. Don't be that guy.
Another generalization about testing is in regard to physical fitness. Our dan tests are not very physically demanding, but that being said, you'll get only a very short recovery time in between forms. This is no secret and no surprise, so train accordingly. The final three dan tests (3rd to 4th through 5th to 6th) have very demanding form sets. 3rd to 4th sees you perform the 2nd longest form, 4th to 5th sees you perform the hardest 3 forms in the entire Chang-hon form set and 5th to 6th features 4 forms instead of 3 with the longest form thrown in for insult to injury. Knowing that you get one chance to do all three forms that day, you'll want to put your best foot forward for each. Being prepared for the physical demands of this is paramount to having a test you can be proud of. An easy strategy to help you with this is to do each form in sets of 3, with limited space between reps.
One final piece of general advice I have for you is to attend testings that are not your own. The more familiar you are with the process, the less stressful being on the floor will be. If possible, volunteer to be someone's partner and take part in tests that you are not being graded on. When you have years between testings, actually getting on the testing floor when not testing can become a valuable mental tool for when your turn to test is up. It will give you something to think about as you prepare and will numb some of the anxiety of being "on the spot" that testing can invoke.
Forms Prep
The first of the three segments of the test is for most people the most daunting. At higher dan levels it really shouldn't be as you've been ultimately focusing on the same three to four forms for years but there's something about the hush of the crowd that derails many a usually good practitioner. To prepare for testing, I do three types of forms training leading into my test.
First, I practice movement retention and endurance. Here I am only interested in going through the movements hard and strong almost as if I were testing. I block out thoughts of "am I doing this right" because by now, I should know this form, my instructor should have seen me perform it many times and any and all corrections should be complete if not well on their way to being complete. This is important, because I feel like it is this training method that "locks" the form in the most. Care must be taken that you don't do too much of this training until you are sure your form is right where you and your instructor wants it.
The second version of forms prep I use is slow forms. Here, I purposely slow my movements down to make sure my mechanics are working right. Going slower allows me to focus on attribute training in my forms. I can work timing, power, intensity, stance definition, body control or any other attribute I might need to work on. Sometimes I'll simply work on one sequence of a form when I really want to focus in and improve that area. Unless I'm specifically working on power generation, I won't worry about doing my forms "hard" here. Often times I am searching for the "mental switches and levers" that must be pulled to execute at the highest level, so just focusing on breaking the auto pilot and engaging the controls is practiced here. I will usually perform these two methods in equal parts.
The final version of forms prep I use is dry-running. As we never know the order of the form set we'll be performing, I'll do my three (or four) forms, one time, at performance level in a random order. I'll run through the forms one right after another just like I will on testing day. While doing this, I'll visualize myself at the test. I've been to many tests, so I can mentally paint a very accurate picture of what the room will look and sound like. I won't do this exercise more than two times a session, just because at the test, I only get one shot. I want this training to feel as close to the testing experience as possible. If I have a bad showing, I smile, and be happy that today wasn't my test. If I have a good showing, I try to replicate that the next time I do this exercise. I like this practice at the start and finish of a hard forms practice.
As far as a schedule goes, this is going to vary with your comfort level with forms in general. We all have a level of comfort when it comes to ample practice time. Some like to start training months in advance, for others, weeks are fine. Speaking anecdotally, the fastest I ever got ready for a dan test was 3 days. For the record, I was at the TKD school 6 days a week and would often train 2-3 hours per day, so I was very much so ready to go whenever. Conversely I trained for months to prepare for my 4th dan test because I knew I'd be testing in front of our grand master that day. I was at two different places in life for those two tests, and on both tests, I felt very very strong. For 4th I was no longer in a place in life where I could devote uncountable hours to training. To balance this, I started several months earlier. These different ways to look at forms though will help organize the chaos that can sometimes fill your mind when it comes to test prep.
Prearranged
The next section of testing is our prearranged section. I think if people had to pick their favorite part of their tests, most people would pick this section. There are often times at least 10-12 people up at once, and the feeling that everyone is watching you is usually a bit less for this part. The reality is, this is correct. While it is easy to track and watch 5-10 people all doing the same form, it's much harder to watch 5-6 groups of two do prearranged, so it is true that there are less eyes on you during this section, and if performance anxiety is your enemy, this is your time to shine.
Personally, I find this section to be the hardest to prepare for, for a couple of reasons. First, to practice this effectively, you'll need a partner. Second, most of the time you won't know every aspect of prearranged that is going to be asked of you. While some of the mainstays are a given, you'll never know when a Master might call out for something off the cuff. Being mentally prepared has served me well, and I'd invite you to again mentally prepare to the fullest for your prearranged section. For my 4th dan test, on the day of testing the candidates going for 4th were told we'd be doing club defense. I had no idea this was coming, was absolutely dreadful at weapons defense at the time and felt panic creeping up my spine. I did what I would hope any good black belt would do, I accepted it, and then I improvised, adapted and overcame the situation. My club defense was probably the weakest portion of that test, but I didn't let that affect any other portion of my test, so it was a victory for me nonetheless.
Like all testing, you cannot let the unexpected, and or a mistake foil your efforts. I've seen it so many times; someone makes a mistake in an early portion of their test and that mistake takes root in their psyche like a weed and ruins the rest of their test. The candidate loses confidence, makes more mistakes, and a cycle forms. Mentally building a wall around those mistakes (seriously, I imagine the mistake kind of like a spore, that I put a brick wall around) will help you.
The best advice for actual prearranged is to practice it all, whenever you can - and the stuff that is harder to practice (things like 3 on 1 sparring) make sure you understand the concept and visualize yourself succeeding in doing what you want to do in the match. If you memorize your prearranged responses, be ready--mix them up so that you can fire them off with instinct level speed and effort. If you are an improvisor, relax, and do what you do. I find this section to be pretty cut and dry, the people that look good are often times the people who asked a classmate to partner up before or after classes and worked extra time on their prearranged. In this case, it really is that simple.
Breaking
The final portion of our tests is the breaking portion. Although this section is now undergoing a radical change in our org, all dan candidates are still required to break somewhere. Although only 4th and above are now breaking at the public test, all ranks below that still have to pass a breaking portion. As I have a love hate relationship with breaking for testing (see my blog post and article on breaking featured in Totally Tae Kwon Do magazine), my views on breaking are very pragmatic. Breaking is one of the least ambiguous sections of testing. There's always a breaking requirement, a set number of stations that needs to be broken, and the actual breaking of the boards. Rarely do you get a list of variables that are so concrete and easily measurable. Unlike what makes a good form execution a good form execution - no one can argue with a non broken board.
If your requirement is for example, a two station break, with one station consisting of a spinning back kick, why would you go out and try to do a six station break? You're only graded on your requirements, and while it is natural and desirable to spice things up it is best to do so within the confines of the parameters of the requirement. I look at it like this, if I am told to do a 3 station break, I'm doing a 3 station break. My rationale is that if I break the first three stations, and then miss the 4th, I get a failing grade for not breaking all stations - even though I accomplished the requirement. There is no extra credit, you live by the break you choose and die by the break you choose, so choose wisely. Don't be afraid to stretch inside the confines of the break, but at the same time, make sure you don't over stretch into something that is a gamble. You only get one test (unless you fail I guess) so you need to be happy with your showing. Speaking personally, I remember every board that didn't break - and have to watch videos of the ones that did to remember them.
Your dan test is not the place to try something new, or experimental--remember that the purpose is to show that the techniques you pick have the power to do bodily harm if you need them to. The purpose of your break at testing is not to wow the crowd, or impress the board. Though it never hurts to impress the board, I'm always impressed by a cleanly delivered break and the flow from station to station. I don't need to see someone jump over a table blindfolded at a test. At the end of the day, it is the how of the break, not the what, that wins the day. Nothing bothers me more, than to see someone trying to do something overly complicated, or overly daring and missing stations. I want to see if your technique execution could cause pain, I have very little care about your ability to jump over a motorcycle.
Specifically, once your simple but effective and technique level appropriate break is decided, practice it. Air shields are a good start to see if you can get real power on each technique. After that, switch to smaller targets. The pieces of wood we use are cut almost like a sheet of paper, so copier paper makes for a great stand in for real wood. Speaking of real wood, if you have the means, a few shots at the actual break is a great idea. I like to run through my break with real wood a week or two before I test. If it breaks easy, I know I have nothing to worry about.
Another skill in breaking is picking good holders, positioning them properly and making sure they are holding to support the break. Look for bent elbows, bad stances and don't be afraid to tell your holders to look away if you fear they are going to flinch. This is your test, you're going to be the one who fails this portion - regardless of a bad hold. This is unfortunate, as a bad hold can make even the best technique fail to break.
This is largely how I approach testing preparation. As our dan tests are in my opinion much more of a mental challenge than a physical one, you'll see the heavy emphasis on mental preparation and visualization. My views towards breaking may not be the official views of the organization, but approaching breaking the way I have has never garnered me criticism. Whenever I have broken cleanly I have always been complimented for my breaks. It should be noted I'm not saying everyone should come out and break with straight punch, front kick and side kick, but again, blindfolded table jumps with motorcycles are best left for the demo and tournament circuits.
If there is a final thought that I have on testing it is this. Your instructor wouldn't put you out on the floor if he or she didn't believe you were capable of passing the test. Have faith in that! You are given a valuable piece of motivation fuel just by being invited, don't squander that with self doubt and pointless thoughts about "but am I really ready". You are ultimately doing the mental equivalent of openly questioning your instructor, something I doubt you'd do to his face. Testing is ultimately the beast you make it to be. In the Hagakure there is a saying: "Matters of great concern should be treated lightly...Matters of small concern should be treated seriously." taking this slightly out of context and applying it here is apt. I look at it like this: worry about the small things you do in testing, because the big things, are probably not big deals at all...in fact, the big problems you think you have probably don't exist at all.
I'd like to start by speaking generally about testing prep, and then working into more specific concepts.
One of the foundations to a strong test is good class attendance, which is more than just showing up. Anyone can show up to a class, go through the movements, break a sweat and go home. This sort of zombie training is a student's constant enemy when the time between test cycles goes from months to years to many years. The struggle is really real here, and it is up to you, to battle your internal auto pilot and stay tuned in and engaged. I've written about auto pilot before with regard to forms practice, but auto pilot is something to fight against throughout all of your training. Ask questions, experiment, and apply what you've learned in the past (when appropriate), to other aspects of your training. Although perhaps a topic of a future post, the students who never question, never apply, and never really engage the art are often times the ones with poor testings and aren't long for quitting entirely. Don't be that guy.
Another generalization about testing is in regard to physical fitness. Our dan tests are not very physically demanding, but that being said, you'll get only a very short recovery time in between forms. This is no secret and no surprise, so train accordingly. The final three dan tests (3rd to 4th through 5th to 6th) have very demanding form sets. 3rd to 4th sees you perform the 2nd longest form, 4th to 5th sees you perform the hardest 3 forms in the entire Chang-hon form set and 5th to 6th features 4 forms instead of 3 with the longest form thrown in for insult to injury. Knowing that you get one chance to do all three forms that day, you'll want to put your best foot forward for each. Being prepared for the physical demands of this is paramount to having a test you can be proud of. An easy strategy to help you with this is to do each form in sets of 3, with limited space between reps.
One final piece of general advice I have for you is to attend testings that are not your own. The more familiar you are with the process, the less stressful being on the floor will be. If possible, volunteer to be someone's partner and take part in tests that you are not being graded on. When you have years between testings, actually getting on the testing floor when not testing can become a valuable mental tool for when your turn to test is up. It will give you something to think about as you prepare and will numb some of the anxiety of being "on the spot" that testing can invoke.
Forms Prep
The first of the three segments of the test is for most people the most daunting. At higher dan levels it really shouldn't be as you've been ultimately focusing on the same three to four forms for years but there's something about the hush of the crowd that derails many a usually good practitioner. To prepare for testing, I do three types of forms training leading into my test.
First, I practice movement retention and endurance. Here I am only interested in going through the movements hard and strong almost as if I were testing. I block out thoughts of "am I doing this right" because by now, I should know this form, my instructor should have seen me perform it many times and any and all corrections should be complete if not well on their way to being complete. This is important, because I feel like it is this training method that "locks" the form in the most. Care must be taken that you don't do too much of this training until you are sure your form is right where you and your instructor wants it.
The second version of forms prep I use is slow forms. Here, I purposely slow my movements down to make sure my mechanics are working right. Going slower allows me to focus on attribute training in my forms. I can work timing, power, intensity, stance definition, body control or any other attribute I might need to work on. Sometimes I'll simply work on one sequence of a form when I really want to focus in and improve that area. Unless I'm specifically working on power generation, I won't worry about doing my forms "hard" here. Often times I am searching for the "mental switches and levers" that must be pulled to execute at the highest level, so just focusing on breaking the auto pilot and engaging the controls is practiced here. I will usually perform these two methods in equal parts.
The final version of forms prep I use is dry-running. As we never know the order of the form set we'll be performing, I'll do my three (or four) forms, one time, at performance level in a random order. I'll run through the forms one right after another just like I will on testing day. While doing this, I'll visualize myself at the test. I've been to many tests, so I can mentally paint a very accurate picture of what the room will look and sound like. I won't do this exercise more than two times a session, just because at the test, I only get one shot. I want this training to feel as close to the testing experience as possible. If I have a bad showing, I smile, and be happy that today wasn't my test. If I have a good showing, I try to replicate that the next time I do this exercise. I like this practice at the start and finish of a hard forms practice.
As far as a schedule goes, this is going to vary with your comfort level with forms in general. We all have a level of comfort when it comes to ample practice time. Some like to start training months in advance, for others, weeks are fine. Speaking anecdotally, the fastest I ever got ready for a dan test was 3 days. For the record, I was at the TKD school 6 days a week and would often train 2-3 hours per day, so I was very much so ready to go whenever. Conversely I trained for months to prepare for my 4th dan test because I knew I'd be testing in front of our grand master that day. I was at two different places in life for those two tests, and on both tests, I felt very very strong. For 4th I was no longer in a place in life where I could devote uncountable hours to training. To balance this, I started several months earlier. These different ways to look at forms though will help organize the chaos that can sometimes fill your mind when it comes to test prep.
Prearranged
The next section of testing is our prearranged section. I think if people had to pick their favorite part of their tests, most people would pick this section. There are often times at least 10-12 people up at once, and the feeling that everyone is watching you is usually a bit less for this part. The reality is, this is correct. While it is easy to track and watch 5-10 people all doing the same form, it's much harder to watch 5-6 groups of two do prearranged, so it is true that there are less eyes on you during this section, and if performance anxiety is your enemy, this is your time to shine.
Personally, I find this section to be the hardest to prepare for, for a couple of reasons. First, to practice this effectively, you'll need a partner. Second, most of the time you won't know every aspect of prearranged that is going to be asked of you. While some of the mainstays are a given, you'll never know when a Master might call out for something off the cuff. Being mentally prepared has served me well, and I'd invite you to again mentally prepare to the fullest for your prearranged section. For my 4th dan test, on the day of testing the candidates going for 4th were told we'd be doing club defense. I had no idea this was coming, was absolutely dreadful at weapons defense at the time and felt panic creeping up my spine. I did what I would hope any good black belt would do, I accepted it, and then I improvised, adapted and overcame the situation. My club defense was probably the weakest portion of that test, but I didn't let that affect any other portion of my test, so it was a victory for me nonetheless.
Like all testing, you cannot let the unexpected, and or a mistake foil your efforts. I've seen it so many times; someone makes a mistake in an early portion of their test and that mistake takes root in their psyche like a weed and ruins the rest of their test. The candidate loses confidence, makes more mistakes, and a cycle forms. Mentally building a wall around those mistakes (seriously, I imagine the mistake kind of like a spore, that I put a brick wall around) will help you.
The best advice for actual prearranged is to practice it all, whenever you can - and the stuff that is harder to practice (things like 3 on 1 sparring) make sure you understand the concept and visualize yourself succeeding in doing what you want to do in the match. If you memorize your prearranged responses, be ready--mix them up so that you can fire them off with instinct level speed and effort. If you are an improvisor, relax, and do what you do. I find this section to be pretty cut and dry, the people that look good are often times the people who asked a classmate to partner up before or after classes and worked extra time on their prearranged. In this case, it really is that simple.
Breaking
The final portion of our tests is the breaking portion. Although this section is now undergoing a radical change in our org, all dan candidates are still required to break somewhere. Although only 4th and above are now breaking at the public test, all ranks below that still have to pass a breaking portion. As I have a love hate relationship with breaking for testing (see my blog post and article on breaking featured in Totally Tae Kwon Do magazine), my views on breaking are very pragmatic. Breaking is one of the least ambiguous sections of testing. There's always a breaking requirement, a set number of stations that needs to be broken, and the actual breaking of the boards. Rarely do you get a list of variables that are so concrete and easily measurable. Unlike what makes a good form execution a good form execution - no one can argue with a non broken board.
If your requirement is for example, a two station break, with one station consisting of a spinning back kick, why would you go out and try to do a six station break? You're only graded on your requirements, and while it is natural and desirable to spice things up it is best to do so within the confines of the parameters of the requirement. I look at it like this, if I am told to do a 3 station break, I'm doing a 3 station break. My rationale is that if I break the first three stations, and then miss the 4th, I get a failing grade for not breaking all stations - even though I accomplished the requirement. There is no extra credit, you live by the break you choose and die by the break you choose, so choose wisely. Don't be afraid to stretch inside the confines of the break, but at the same time, make sure you don't over stretch into something that is a gamble. You only get one test (unless you fail I guess) so you need to be happy with your showing. Speaking personally, I remember every board that didn't break - and have to watch videos of the ones that did to remember them.
Your dan test is not the place to try something new, or experimental--remember that the purpose is to show that the techniques you pick have the power to do bodily harm if you need them to. The purpose of your break at testing is not to wow the crowd, or impress the board. Though it never hurts to impress the board, I'm always impressed by a cleanly delivered break and the flow from station to station. I don't need to see someone jump over a table blindfolded at a test. At the end of the day, it is the how of the break, not the what, that wins the day. Nothing bothers me more, than to see someone trying to do something overly complicated, or overly daring and missing stations. I want to see if your technique execution could cause pain, I have very little care about your ability to jump over a motorcycle.
Specifically, once your simple but effective and technique level appropriate break is decided, practice it. Air shields are a good start to see if you can get real power on each technique. After that, switch to smaller targets. The pieces of wood we use are cut almost like a sheet of paper, so copier paper makes for a great stand in for real wood. Speaking of real wood, if you have the means, a few shots at the actual break is a great idea. I like to run through my break with real wood a week or two before I test. If it breaks easy, I know I have nothing to worry about.
Another skill in breaking is picking good holders, positioning them properly and making sure they are holding to support the break. Look for bent elbows, bad stances and don't be afraid to tell your holders to look away if you fear they are going to flinch. This is your test, you're going to be the one who fails this portion - regardless of a bad hold. This is unfortunate, as a bad hold can make even the best technique fail to break.
This is largely how I approach testing preparation. As our dan tests are in my opinion much more of a mental challenge than a physical one, you'll see the heavy emphasis on mental preparation and visualization. My views towards breaking may not be the official views of the organization, but approaching breaking the way I have has never garnered me criticism. Whenever I have broken cleanly I have always been complimented for my breaks. It should be noted I'm not saying everyone should come out and break with straight punch, front kick and side kick, but again, blindfolded table jumps with motorcycles are best left for the demo and tournament circuits.
If there is a final thought that I have on testing it is this. Your instructor wouldn't put you out on the floor if he or she didn't believe you were capable of passing the test. Have faith in that! You are given a valuable piece of motivation fuel just by being invited, don't squander that with self doubt and pointless thoughts about "but am I really ready". You are ultimately doing the mental equivalent of openly questioning your instructor, something I doubt you'd do to his face. Testing is ultimately the beast you make it to be. In the Hagakure there is a saying: "Matters of great concern should be treated lightly...Matters of small concern should be treated seriously." taking this slightly out of context and applying it here is apt. I look at it like this: worry about the small things you do in testing, because the big things, are probably not big deals at all...in fact, the big problems you think you have probably don't exist at all.
Friday, April 1, 2016
April's Fool - Memories of My First Trip to CTF Summer Camp
Instead of a mock post like last year - I'm going to tell you all a story of my first trip to CTF summer camp. It was a a time...fun and funny. It may not translate to the written word, and I've never tried my hand at comedy. I'm feeling particularly nostalgic because of an article I just wrote for Totally Tae Kwon Do Magazine is coming out tomorrow, so in the spirit of April Fool's day - please humor me.
(as an aside, I highly recommend listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan's "little wing" while reading this - I listened to it on loop while I wrote it, in a marathon session from 11:30 to 1am - I don't know...call it flavoring).
It had to be 99, but it may have been 2000. You have to understand that the years start to blend together, I know I was a black belt, and I had been one for a bit so it definitely wasn't 98. I wanted to go to camp, but things at home were not as stable as they had once been. I would have been 19, out of high school, working minimum wage jobs to support my hockey and TKD addictions. I had the feeling back then that I was wearing out my welcome at home, but things were chaotic there for other reasons not important to this story. Regardless, money was tight, and asking mom for more wasn't my favorite thing to do.
Jim Farrington, the first instructor I ever had, and someone I looked up to immensely at the time was constantly asking me if I was going to camp after class. He used to say that it was martial arts life changing. After sadly declining the year before because my finances couldn't support it, Jim offered to pay my way. Feeling it was bad form to turn him down, I graciously accepted, thanked him probably enough to make him nauseous and basically stopped sleeping at night out of sheer excitement until the day finally came to make the 4 hour drive out to Lock Haven to go to camp.
I'll never forget that night, it was a typical Pennsylvania summer night; hot and humid. I opened the hatch of my Ford EXP (fellow readers, I had THE absolute worst cars as a late teen / early 20 year old). I put my TKD bag, my clothes bag, and EVERY FREAKING MARTIAL ARTS WEAPON I OWNED, into my car. If I recall correctly, it was 2 bokkens, 1 katana, 3 sets of nunchucks, and at least two bos a 3 sectional staff (WTF, why did I have a 3 sectional staff?) and a few fake knives. I had never been to camp; I wanted to be prepared (this will be funny later). Realize that all I heard about camp is that it was awesome - specifics were not required, if my idols said camp was awesome, I didn't need specifics.
I set out for my longest solo drive in my life at that time. 4 hours on the PA turnpike and I80. I left in the early evening, didn't hit any traffic and fell in love with the long drive. The sky was beautiful, the music was heavy, loud and the night air cool coming in my car's windows. I was young, on the open road and about to set out for adventure.
I arrived in Lock Haven, parked my car, and grabbed just my bags. I never took a single weapon out of my car, but at least I was ready for the spontaneous weapons class or to you know, supply a small rebellion with arms if necessary.
I eventually got my room assignment - I think I was solo that year because my roommate bailed last minute. It was at this time that I learned my first important lesson about dorm life. They don't give you bedding. So I did what any other tough as nails black belt would do - I rolled out my uniform and slept on it. I was too embarrassed to ask anyone if they had extra sheets because in my boyish glee to just be attending, I forgot to ask if there was anything I needed to bring (so much for being prepared, I had enough weapons to fight a small army, but no sheets or pillow to sleep on).
It was upwards of 340 degrees in my dorm room. We were on top of some god unholy hill on like the 4th floor of a building with no air conditioning. I was baking for the first part of my night, and spent the first 3-4 hours staring at the ceiling and wondering how the hell I was going to get up in 3 more hours for the first workout. At some point I fell asleep, and the temperature dropped, because the next thing I knew I was in my uniform, and I had taken all the regular clothes out of my bag and had them stacked on me like a make shift blanket.
This may sound like pure hell to some of you--sleeping on a ratty college dorm mattress bare, with no blankets, no pillow--but man, it was CTF summer camp! No matter what, it was going to be awesome!
The first workout was at like 6:30 am, it was "optional" in the sense that you didn't have to wake up and go to it, but Master Lenny Young was going to bang on everyone's door at 5:45 and if you didn't come, he was going to make fun of you in front of a group of people, so it was optional only if you wanted that kind of attention. Nothing would stop me from getting out there though.
It was a sight. 80 of us, in a dewy field on what would turn out to be a beautiful Saturday in late July. The sun was just coming over the mountains when the first technique was called out - and the sound of an 80 strong kiap echoed across the field we were in. Chills my kind readers, absolute chills. The workout was hard, but satisfying - I was in my glory.
After morning workout we had breakfast. Always a fast eater, I retreated back to my dorm to take a shower. After the shower, I came back to my room to find Jim's door open, across the hall and "do you feel like we do" from Peter Frampton blasting out of his portable radio. Unlike me, Jim came prepared it seemed.
I got dressed, opened my door and just sat on my bed taking it all in. I didn't go to college out of high school, and when I eventually did go, I didn't live on campus in a dorm, so this was my one and only experience with this sort of lifestyle. Sitting on my bed, suddenly Farrington bursts into my room....in a full redman suit. He would proceed to make stereotypical martial arts sounds and do mock techniques. It was so ridiculous, from someone who was always, always so serious...I don't think I ever laughed as hard as I did at that moment in a TKD setting anyway. I was a bit hardcore and took it all way too seriously back then, so you have to understand how rare that was to just cut loose. We were both happy to be there.
The rest of that day I don't really remember. I know I was whooped, and I was invited to a bar after by the older black belts, even though I don't believe I was old enough to drink yet. (Again, I forget the year, and subsequent camp trips featured a TON of drinking - almost embarrassingly large amounts of drinking). All I remember is doing impressions of my favorite black belts. One black belt in particular who wasn't at camp had the most insane stances, and boy did I do a mean impression of him in the bar that night--everyone was laughing. I think it was the first time I felt like TKD was more than just my thing. For the first time, people saw me not as some hardcore TKD fanatic, and I thought, maybe that would be ok.
Someone gave me a spare sheet that night, so sleeping was a lot better the second night. Beer and 8 straight hours of TKD helped a bit too.
All I remember of the Sunday session was getting my ass absolutely beat by Ty Smith in extended outdoor sparring, feeling so sad to be leaving this truly amazing experience and finally understanding Farrington's reason for wanting me to come to camp at least once. I would go on to go to the next 6 camps in a row, but that was the last camp Jim ever went to. His time in TKD was coming to a close.
But every time, and I do mean, every time I hear "Do you feel like we do" - I think of Jim in his redman suit.
(as an aside, I highly recommend listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan's "little wing" while reading this - I listened to it on loop while I wrote it, in a marathon session from 11:30 to 1am - I don't know...call it flavoring).
It had to be 99, but it may have been 2000. You have to understand that the years start to blend together, I know I was a black belt, and I had been one for a bit so it definitely wasn't 98. I wanted to go to camp, but things at home were not as stable as they had once been. I would have been 19, out of high school, working minimum wage jobs to support my hockey and TKD addictions. I had the feeling back then that I was wearing out my welcome at home, but things were chaotic there for other reasons not important to this story. Regardless, money was tight, and asking mom for more wasn't my favorite thing to do.
Jim Farrington, the first instructor I ever had, and someone I looked up to immensely at the time was constantly asking me if I was going to camp after class. He used to say that it was martial arts life changing. After sadly declining the year before because my finances couldn't support it, Jim offered to pay my way. Feeling it was bad form to turn him down, I graciously accepted, thanked him probably enough to make him nauseous and basically stopped sleeping at night out of sheer excitement until the day finally came to make the 4 hour drive out to Lock Haven to go to camp.
I'll never forget that night, it was a typical Pennsylvania summer night; hot and humid. I opened the hatch of my Ford EXP (fellow readers, I had THE absolute worst cars as a late teen / early 20 year old). I put my TKD bag, my clothes bag, and EVERY FREAKING MARTIAL ARTS WEAPON I OWNED, into my car. If I recall correctly, it was 2 bokkens, 1 katana, 3 sets of nunchucks, and at least two bos a 3 sectional staff (WTF, why did I have a 3 sectional staff?) and a few fake knives. I had never been to camp; I wanted to be prepared (this will be funny later). Realize that all I heard about camp is that it was awesome - specifics were not required, if my idols said camp was awesome, I didn't need specifics.
I set out for my longest solo drive in my life at that time. 4 hours on the PA turnpike and I80. I left in the early evening, didn't hit any traffic and fell in love with the long drive. The sky was beautiful, the music was heavy, loud and the night air cool coming in my car's windows. I was young, on the open road and about to set out for adventure.
I arrived in Lock Haven, parked my car, and grabbed just my bags. I never took a single weapon out of my car, but at least I was ready for the spontaneous weapons class or to you know, supply a small rebellion with arms if necessary.
I eventually got my room assignment - I think I was solo that year because my roommate bailed last minute. It was at this time that I learned my first important lesson about dorm life. They don't give you bedding. So I did what any other tough as nails black belt would do - I rolled out my uniform and slept on it. I was too embarrassed to ask anyone if they had extra sheets because in my boyish glee to just be attending, I forgot to ask if there was anything I needed to bring (so much for being prepared, I had enough weapons to fight a small army, but no sheets or pillow to sleep on).
It was upwards of 340 degrees in my dorm room. We were on top of some god unholy hill on like the 4th floor of a building with no air conditioning. I was baking for the first part of my night, and spent the first 3-4 hours staring at the ceiling and wondering how the hell I was going to get up in 3 more hours for the first workout. At some point I fell asleep, and the temperature dropped, because the next thing I knew I was in my uniform, and I had taken all the regular clothes out of my bag and had them stacked on me like a make shift blanket.
This may sound like pure hell to some of you--sleeping on a ratty college dorm mattress bare, with no blankets, no pillow--but man, it was CTF summer camp! No matter what, it was going to be awesome!
The first workout was at like 6:30 am, it was "optional" in the sense that you didn't have to wake up and go to it, but Master Lenny Young was going to bang on everyone's door at 5:45 and if you didn't come, he was going to make fun of you in front of a group of people, so it was optional only if you wanted that kind of attention. Nothing would stop me from getting out there though.
It was a sight. 80 of us, in a dewy field on what would turn out to be a beautiful Saturday in late July. The sun was just coming over the mountains when the first technique was called out - and the sound of an 80 strong kiap echoed across the field we were in. Chills my kind readers, absolute chills. The workout was hard, but satisfying - I was in my glory.
After morning workout we had breakfast. Always a fast eater, I retreated back to my dorm to take a shower. After the shower, I came back to my room to find Jim's door open, across the hall and "do you feel like we do" from Peter Frampton blasting out of his portable radio. Unlike me, Jim came prepared it seemed.
I got dressed, opened my door and just sat on my bed taking it all in. I didn't go to college out of high school, and when I eventually did go, I didn't live on campus in a dorm, so this was my one and only experience with this sort of lifestyle. Sitting on my bed, suddenly Farrington bursts into my room....in a full redman suit. He would proceed to make stereotypical martial arts sounds and do mock techniques. It was so ridiculous, from someone who was always, always so serious...I don't think I ever laughed as hard as I did at that moment in a TKD setting anyway. I was a bit hardcore and took it all way too seriously back then, so you have to understand how rare that was to just cut loose. We were both happy to be there.
The rest of that day I don't really remember. I know I was whooped, and I was invited to a bar after by the older black belts, even though I don't believe I was old enough to drink yet. (Again, I forget the year, and subsequent camp trips featured a TON of drinking - almost embarrassingly large amounts of drinking). All I remember is doing impressions of my favorite black belts. One black belt in particular who wasn't at camp had the most insane stances, and boy did I do a mean impression of him in the bar that night--everyone was laughing. I think it was the first time I felt like TKD was more than just my thing. For the first time, people saw me not as some hardcore TKD fanatic, and I thought, maybe that would be ok.
Someone gave me a spare sheet that night, so sleeping was a lot better the second night. Beer and 8 straight hours of TKD helped a bit too.
All I remember of the Sunday session was getting my ass absolutely beat by Ty Smith in extended outdoor sparring, feeling so sad to be leaving this truly amazing experience and finally understanding Farrington's reason for wanting me to come to camp at least once. I would go on to go to the next 6 camps in a row, but that was the last camp Jim ever went to. His time in TKD was coming to a close.
But every time, and I do mean, every time I hear "Do you feel like we do" - I think of Jim in his redman suit.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
The Fallacy of Rank
I believe that much of what we think about rank in the martial arts is a lie and is causing more problems than it is solving. There is so much baggage attached to belt color, dan number, the titles of "black belt"," master" and "grand master", and progression through rank. It is a source of trepidation for some, and a source of frustration for others. I've been dealing with the stress of rank for a long time, both in my personal advancement and as an instructor. If there is something in the arts that creates more animosity in practitioners within an individual school or organization, I haven't found it. It fills the message boards and fuels more heated discussions than many other topics. Our thinking about rank is putting an undue burden on our training and looking at it differently could allow us to see our fellow martial artists in a much different and better light.
Although some schools in certain styles will not promote you until you until you defeat your peers, I have no experience with this format and can't say that I have ever heard of a TKD school using this as a metric. What I'd like to discuss is the process of time served, a testing fee paid, a physical and mental test taken and passed and a new rank rewarded. There are some variations in this process but my experience is that this is how most TKD schools operate. I'm also assuming a level of correctness. It is entirely possible to do something correct, and not skilled.
The place that I believe where rank derails is the attachment of skill. Rank is hardly an accurate description of skill. There's evidence of this all around us but that simple idea, that a rank X is supposed to be better than a rank Y is a fallacy. I have so many stories I could tell, so many examples I could cite that I could write a whole book on the topic. I saw a green belt get challenged to spar as an equal with a black belt and watched the green belt get the best of the situation. I've seen yellow belts in competition absolutely slaughter red belts when there weren't enough of each in either division to have separate divisions. In my first ever tournament fight I took a seasoned tournament veteran and 3rd dan to sudden death - the gulf in our time as black belts could have been measured by decades. In forms that day, without warmup I beat 11 other black belts. I had been a black belt for all of 6 months at this point. Worst of all, I've watched more than one respected martial artist quit because they thought it wasn't fair that they would be the same rank as students they saw as inferior or less prepared. I could go on, I could go on for a very, very long time.
I don't honestly think that rank was ever an accurate description of skill. You only have to look at the training regiments in your own schools to see the evidence of this. Looking at my school now, we have high ranks of black belts that for the most part are all over the board in terms of skill. I'm sure if you take a long hard look at the people of your school you will see that no matter how stringent your testing requirements are, that two people of the same rank are more often than not very different with regards to their skills. Even thinking back in my school to a time when we had the most parity, the black belts that I admired that were all 3rd dans, each had strengths and weaknesses and in some regards were on very different levels of skill to each other.
I find that skill changes way too frequently to be measured by a one off evaluation. Skill is constantly in flux to a certain degree. Day to day, we all have good days and bad days and sure, we're not going to base the sum of our work in the arts on any given one day. That being said, over the course of years many things happen that affect our skill. We get older, we get injuries, the amount of time we have to dedicate to training or our opportunities to train with the right people all can drastically change our skill level - yet our rank always stays the same or goes up.
We believe tired cliches that speak of there being no such thing as talent - which I find to be an absolute joke. If you don't believe that some people just have an unfair shake (both ways, talented or not so much) I don't believe you have been doing this long enough or have been exposed to enough people. I've worked with both the extremely talented and not so, and while I do believe that good old fashioned hard work can take you very, very far - it has nothing on raw talent, which can get you so much farther, so much faster. One way or another though, sometimes the extremely talented and the not so much talented find themselves looking at their belt and then looking at each other - and the birth of a major problem occurs.
I believe we want rank to equal skill, but even in the face of all this evidence against rank equaling skill, we pass judgement of our peers and seniors and subordinates based on rank. We scapegoat and pigeon hole rank to suit our judgmental arguments of who should be a given "rank" and who doesn't deserve to be a different "rank". Again, most systems don't have it in their guidelines that to reach 2nd grade you "have to be able to kick like this guy over here". It would create quite a paradox because eventually someone could come along that kicks better than the standard well before they should be. What then do you do with the old standard -- demote him?
So if rank can't work this way, and it is so clearly flawed, why do we want it to work so badly?
I'm not sure of the answer, and I doubt there is just one. Maybe it has simply to do with wanting to put things in some kind of order. There's so much discipline in the arts, it stands to reason that the rank system should also be orderly and logical. It certainly doesn't make sense that a 3rd dan might not be as skilled as a 1st dan, but it happens. It could also be that westerners somehow soiled the rank system and changed it; I'm not a historical rank expert though so it is hard for me to back this up. I don't think it is a stretch though, because I believe we've clearly come to believe the connotations of black belt that the non martial arts world created. For example businesses use the term "black belt" to mean subject matter expert, when we all know that a black belt is supposed to just be a master of the basics. A master of basics is a far, far cry from a subject matter expert - but black belt is used interchangeably. Is it so hard to accept that the person who graduates 1st in their class gets the same piece of paper as the person who graduates last in their class? Just as that last in class graduate may struggle to find a job, the last in class black belt may struggle to defend themselves, or do well in competition. There's just only so much a martial arts instructor can do.
It's funny, but the schools that we lament for allowing you to prove time in and pay for any given rank really have it figured out in a way. I'm not condoning such an action, but really, we make allowances for certain things all the time. We grant the injured but persevering a break on jumps and spins, we grant the older and less flexible a reprieve from kicking high or moving fast. When you strip it down to the least common denominator in these cases - what is left as a requirement but time in? I know I am generalizing, and maybe your school makes no allowances but many do. The proof is in the sheer amount of bad martial arts you see on youtube, usually performed by someone with a black belt around their waste and multiple stripes on their belt.
This has led me to look at rank from a very pragmatic point of view. First I see it as a visual representation of your general experience in the art - essentially a placeholder that says "at this school, you are here" It speaks to many things, dedication, loyalty, perseverance and experience being the most prevalent. It's an generalization and not an exact indicator of skill. Second, it is a tool for your instructor to use to mark your personal progress; this being an extension of my first point with the added factor being your instructor gets an "at a glance" generalization for the logistics in running a class. It gives him or her an idea of what you know and what you need to know.
I don't think it is a bad thing to separate rank from skill. The tenants that I follow start with courtesy and integrity and along with some self control, give me the ability to respect my superiors, subordinates and peers appropriately because of their rank - NOT because of their skill. Maybe because I work in a professional office environment, where this sort of behavior is a requirement to earn a living that this comes easy for me. It's a lot easier in my eyes to give blanket respect, than it is to carry around the mental baggage of "why did that guy make it to that level". After all, in the end we're all in the arts as a practitioner for ourselves. No one loses a rank based on some random classmate's poor performance. Thankfully the modern arts haven't adopted that type of corporate occurrence.
Although some schools in certain styles will not promote you until you until you defeat your peers, I have no experience with this format and can't say that I have ever heard of a TKD school using this as a metric. What I'd like to discuss is the process of time served, a testing fee paid, a physical and mental test taken and passed and a new rank rewarded. There are some variations in this process but my experience is that this is how most TKD schools operate. I'm also assuming a level of correctness. It is entirely possible to do something correct, and not skilled.
The place that I believe where rank derails is the attachment of skill. Rank is hardly an accurate description of skill. There's evidence of this all around us but that simple idea, that a rank X is supposed to be better than a rank Y is a fallacy. I have so many stories I could tell, so many examples I could cite that I could write a whole book on the topic. I saw a green belt get challenged to spar as an equal with a black belt and watched the green belt get the best of the situation. I've seen yellow belts in competition absolutely slaughter red belts when there weren't enough of each in either division to have separate divisions. In my first ever tournament fight I took a seasoned tournament veteran and 3rd dan to sudden death - the gulf in our time as black belts could have been measured by decades. In forms that day, without warmup I beat 11 other black belts. I had been a black belt for all of 6 months at this point. Worst of all, I've watched more than one respected martial artist quit because they thought it wasn't fair that they would be the same rank as students they saw as inferior or less prepared. I could go on, I could go on for a very, very long time.
I don't honestly think that rank was ever an accurate description of skill. You only have to look at the training regiments in your own schools to see the evidence of this. Looking at my school now, we have high ranks of black belts that for the most part are all over the board in terms of skill. I'm sure if you take a long hard look at the people of your school you will see that no matter how stringent your testing requirements are, that two people of the same rank are more often than not very different with regards to their skills. Even thinking back in my school to a time when we had the most parity, the black belts that I admired that were all 3rd dans, each had strengths and weaknesses and in some regards were on very different levels of skill to each other.
I find that skill changes way too frequently to be measured by a one off evaluation. Skill is constantly in flux to a certain degree. Day to day, we all have good days and bad days and sure, we're not going to base the sum of our work in the arts on any given one day. That being said, over the course of years many things happen that affect our skill. We get older, we get injuries, the amount of time we have to dedicate to training or our opportunities to train with the right people all can drastically change our skill level - yet our rank always stays the same or goes up.
We believe tired cliches that speak of there being no such thing as talent - which I find to be an absolute joke. If you don't believe that some people just have an unfair shake (both ways, talented or not so much) I don't believe you have been doing this long enough or have been exposed to enough people. I've worked with both the extremely talented and not so, and while I do believe that good old fashioned hard work can take you very, very far - it has nothing on raw talent, which can get you so much farther, so much faster. One way or another though, sometimes the extremely talented and the not so much talented find themselves looking at their belt and then looking at each other - and the birth of a major problem occurs.
I believe we want rank to equal skill, but even in the face of all this evidence against rank equaling skill, we pass judgement of our peers and seniors and subordinates based on rank. We scapegoat and pigeon hole rank to suit our judgmental arguments of who should be a given "rank" and who doesn't deserve to be a different "rank". Again, most systems don't have it in their guidelines that to reach 2nd grade you "have to be able to kick like this guy over here". It would create quite a paradox because eventually someone could come along that kicks better than the standard well before they should be. What then do you do with the old standard -- demote him?
So if rank can't work this way, and it is so clearly flawed, why do we want it to work so badly?
I'm not sure of the answer, and I doubt there is just one. Maybe it has simply to do with wanting to put things in some kind of order. There's so much discipline in the arts, it stands to reason that the rank system should also be orderly and logical. It certainly doesn't make sense that a 3rd dan might not be as skilled as a 1st dan, but it happens. It could also be that westerners somehow soiled the rank system and changed it; I'm not a historical rank expert though so it is hard for me to back this up. I don't think it is a stretch though, because I believe we've clearly come to believe the connotations of black belt that the non martial arts world created. For example businesses use the term "black belt" to mean subject matter expert, when we all know that a black belt is supposed to just be a master of the basics. A master of basics is a far, far cry from a subject matter expert - but black belt is used interchangeably. Is it so hard to accept that the person who graduates 1st in their class gets the same piece of paper as the person who graduates last in their class? Just as that last in class graduate may struggle to find a job, the last in class black belt may struggle to defend themselves, or do well in competition. There's just only so much a martial arts instructor can do.
It's funny, but the schools that we lament for allowing you to prove time in and pay for any given rank really have it figured out in a way. I'm not condoning such an action, but really, we make allowances for certain things all the time. We grant the injured but persevering a break on jumps and spins, we grant the older and less flexible a reprieve from kicking high or moving fast. When you strip it down to the least common denominator in these cases - what is left as a requirement but time in? I know I am generalizing, and maybe your school makes no allowances but many do. The proof is in the sheer amount of bad martial arts you see on youtube, usually performed by someone with a black belt around their waste and multiple stripes on their belt.
This has led me to look at rank from a very pragmatic point of view. First I see it as a visual representation of your general experience in the art - essentially a placeholder that says "at this school, you are here" It speaks to many things, dedication, loyalty, perseverance and experience being the most prevalent. It's an generalization and not an exact indicator of skill. Second, it is a tool for your instructor to use to mark your personal progress; this being an extension of my first point with the added factor being your instructor gets an "at a glance" generalization for the logistics in running a class. It gives him or her an idea of what you know and what you need to know.
I don't think it is a bad thing to separate rank from skill. The tenants that I follow start with courtesy and integrity and along with some self control, give me the ability to respect my superiors, subordinates and peers appropriately because of their rank - NOT because of their skill. Maybe because I work in a professional office environment, where this sort of behavior is a requirement to earn a living that this comes easy for me. It's a lot easier in my eyes to give blanket respect, than it is to carry around the mental baggage of "why did that guy make it to that level". After all, in the end we're all in the arts as a practitioner for ourselves. No one loses a rank based on some random classmate's poor performance. Thankfully the modern arts haven't adopted that type of corporate occurrence.
Friday, January 15, 2016
The Other Sine Wave
Sine wave is a polarizing topic in Taekwon-do. One side believes in it zealously, while the other shuns the practice set forth by General Choi in the 80s. My school doesn't execute forms with sine wave, as our Malaysian heritage somehow skipped the sea change that divided TKD practitioners forever. Regardless of our C-step execution, we should all be practicing a sine wave when we execute our forms, not necessarily the down up down stance kind of sine wave, (although many do, and I don't judge). I'm referring to the relaxed, tensed, relaxed state as we go from transition to transition -- movement to movement.
I've been hung up on this since learning Tong-Il a few weeks ago and now more than ever I feel a pull towards mastering this concept which is easy to conceptualize, but very difficult to execute, let alone master. To date I have focused my Tuesday night class on this topic in a variety of ways for more than a few weeks in a row now. It's eating at me for a few reasons. For one thing, the tension / relaxation (from here on referred to as the TR sine) in forms, when executed properly looks amazing. Turn on any of those WKF world championship videos that everyone raves about on the forums and you'll see people who have mastered the art of the TR sine. Their forms look so fast, so fluid and so clean because they are experts at, among other things, starting their movement from a completely relaxed state, going to complete tension at the point of the strike or block and returning, nearly instantly to that relaxed state. I'd argue that it is the contrast of the tension and calm that is so compelling about these executions of form. This is especially evident whenever a forms practitioner executes a move in a form that is fast, transitions to something that is done slow and smooth and then immediately executes a fast move right after. It grabs the eye, and is often a thing of beauty.
It's not just for looks though. Learning to harness the TR sine, and executing it is a very effective way to increase hand and foot speed through forms practice. When performed properly, your entire form becomes one giant plyometric exorcise! All the people who believe that forms do not help your fighting are clearly blind to the fact that forms are a great place to develop actual speed. Forms have most definitely helped increase my explosiveness in sparring and I attribute that to constantly focusing on the TR sine. Although I don't get the opportunity to spar as much as I like, people still consider me "fast". Many factors go into being a "fast" fighter but my actual speed has been maintained thanks to TR sine. Because of this I'll never be one of those people that sees forms as pointless. Forms are the antithesis of pointless, if you are practicing them correctly that is.
I find that true relaxation is the hardest part for most people to accomplish in pursuit of a true TR sine. Tensing the muscles and producing power is easy for most people, but when I look at them doing a series moves and say "relax" to them, I frequently get blank stares and a continuation of a plateau of tension and power. They just never come down after adding power to their first strike. It is hard though, when we occupy our mind with the fear of looking weak, the fear of making a mistake, the fear of criticism from the higher ranking students, the fear created by "oh no the teacher is watching me" it can be very hard to relax. I find the average student is dealing with one or two of these fears at any given time during every classroom session. They are natural states of mind that even seasoned veterans like me succumb to from time to time -- it is no wonder relaxing can be challenging to achieve.
Thus the quest for absolute relaxation starts with the state of mind. I used to tell my students to practice their forms as if they are the only thing that exists in the entire universe, but ultimately the cliche, "dance like no one is watching" is probably more accessible and easier to visualize. As a person who never danced that well, I was incapable of this and had to actually start this in my solo training. I actually needed proof that no one was watching, it seemed, to execute forms like no one was watching. In time I was able to quell all of those fears and actually do my forms relaxed in or before regular class.
Relaxation is paramount in self defense situations as well, as being too tense can take its toll on a fighter in a myriad of different ways. By being in relaxed state during self defense, we can limit or prevent tunnel vision and actually be aware of what is going on around us in a potentially very stressful situation. We also limit over extension when relaxed -- and keep our openings after attack at a minimum. By being relaxed we try to force technique less, which also allows us to conserve energy. Relaxation in fighting comes more from experience practicing self defense and sparring, but making it an important part of your forms will only help you in these areas as well.
I attribute much of my forms skills to understanding the TR sine and always making it a focus of my practice now. As I used to just dial up the forms to maximum power and intensity, I find that now I am actually more explosive, my forms look even better, and my endurance is better because I'm actually not working as hard. Concentrate on your relaxation and your forms as well as many other attributes should improve!
I've been hung up on this since learning Tong-Il a few weeks ago and now more than ever I feel a pull towards mastering this concept which is easy to conceptualize, but very difficult to execute, let alone master. To date I have focused my Tuesday night class on this topic in a variety of ways for more than a few weeks in a row now. It's eating at me for a few reasons. For one thing, the tension / relaxation (from here on referred to as the TR sine) in forms, when executed properly looks amazing. Turn on any of those WKF world championship videos that everyone raves about on the forums and you'll see people who have mastered the art of the TR sine. Their forms look so fast, so fluid and so clean because they are experts at, among other things, starting their movement from a completely relaxed state, going to complete tension at the point of the strike or block and returning, nearly instantly to that relaxed state. I'd argue that it is the contrast of the tension and calm that is so compelling about these executions of form. This is especially evident whenever a forms practitioner executes a move in a form that is fast, transitions to something that is done slow and smooth and then immediately executes a fast move right after. It grabs the eye, and is often a thing of beauty.
It's not just for looks though. Learning to harness the TR sine, and executing it is a very effective way to increase hand and foot speed through forms practice. When performed properly, your entire form becomes one giant plyometric exorcise! All the people who believe that forms do not help your fighting are clearly blind to the fact that forms are a great place to develop actual speed. Forms have most definitely helped increase my explosiveness in sparring and I attribute that to constantly focusing on the TR sine. Although I don't get the opportunity to spar as much as I like, people still consider me "fast". Many factors go into being a "fast" fighter but my actual speed has been maintained thanks to TR sine. Because of this I'll never be one of those people that sees forms as pointless. Forms are the antithesis of pointless, if you are practicing them correctly that is.
I find that true relaxation is the hardest part for most people to accomplish in pursuit of a true TR sine. Tensing the muscles and producing power is easy for most people, but when I look at them doing a series moves and say "relax" to them, I frequently get blank stares and a continuation of a plateau of tension and power. They just never come down after adding power to their first strike. It is hard though, when we occupy our mind with the fear of looking weak, the fear of making a mistake, the fear of criticism from the higher ranking students, the fear created by "oh no the teacher is watching me" it can be very hard to relax. I find the average student is dealing with one or two of these fears at any given time during every classroom session. They are natural states of mind that even seasoned veterans like me succumb to from time to time -- it is no wonder relaxing can be challenging to achieve.
Thus the quest for absolute relaxation starts with the state of mind. I used to tell my students to practice their forms as if they are the only thing that exists in the entire universe, but ultimately the cliche, "dance like no one is watching" is probably more accessible and easier to visualize. As a person who never danced that well, I was incapable of this and had to actually start this in my solo training. I actually needed proof that no one was watching, it seemed, to execute forms like no one was watching. In time I was able to quell all of those fears and actually do my forms relaxed in or before regular class.
Relaxation is paramount in self defense situations as well, as being too tense can take its toll on a fighter in a myriad of different ways. By being in relaxed state during self defense, we can limit or prevent tunnel vision and actually be aware of what is going on around us in a potentially very stressful situation. We also limit over extension when relaxed -- and keep our openings after attack at a minimum. By being relaxed we try to force technique less, which also allows us to conserve energy. Relaxation in fighting comes more from experience practicing self defense and sparring, but making it an important part of your forms will only help you in these areas as well.
I attribute much of my forms skills to understanding the TR sine and always making it a focus of my practice now. As I used to just dial up the forms to maximum power and intensity, I find that now I am actually more explosive, my forms look even better, and my endurance is better because I'm actually not working as hard. Concentrate on your relaxation and your forms as well as many other attributes should improve!
Monday, November 2, 2015
So-San: The Longest Form
When I was a low rank, the longer forms grew to a magical or legendary status and I longed for the day when I would finally learn them. I mean, more of a good thing like forms is a good thing right? Yoo-Sin, Moon-Moo, and So-San are all amazing forms for their own set of reasons. I've written about some of these forms, but I've been reluctant to write about So-San since it is my highest and newest form. It's been almost a year now of working on this one as my highest and I finally feel ready.
To start out I must admit that So-San is my favorite form. While many students say that their highest form is their favorite, this isn't the case for me. There is just so much nuance in this form, that a person could spend five years working on just this form, and probably feel like they were finally getting the hang of it. I've been working it for one year now, and I feel like I am starting to get a good enough handle on the form to finally start to explore that nuance.
A good friend described So-San to me (before I learned it) as the form of little forms, and if there is a piece of advice I have for anyone about to tackle the form it is to keep the mindset of a bunch of little forms. So-San's 72 movement construction is completely unique. In Yoo-Sin for instance, you fire off 1/3 of the form ( the first 23 movements) from just 11 stance changes. What this means for the less visualizing capable is that you are doing multiple hand techniques from the same stance in Yoo-Sin, which in my opinion makes its 68 movements much easier to manage from a memorization stand point. To reach the 1/3 mark in So-San (the first 24 movements) you have already hit 18 different stance changes. You are almost changing stance on every single technique in the first third of the form. Although all of these early moves are symmetrical in both forms, I believe So-San to be the harder form to wrap your mind around, unless you break it into manageable parts.
The many stance changes early in the form is a lead in to another one of the things I love about So-San. The form has a "block, counter attack" kind of feel to it that almost pays homage to the first ten forms and feels so very satisfying to execute. In addition to being a form of smaller forms, it could also be described as a collection of one steps performed as a form. This can be seen in the first eight moves in a row, and then frequently in the second and third portions of the form.
Further making this form stand out is the prominent slide stepping into certain techniques. In my opinion, more than in any form, the slide stepping feels natural, and adds a dimension of power to the form that punctuates the block and counter strike make up. It's like the form was intended for self defense (hosinsul) break down.
Finally, the form features the three basic kicks, and a jumping front kick. For this form it is fitting. There is a sense of no nonsense with the kicks in this form. There is no question that the only demonstration of the art in this form is of the damage capability of TKD's kicks.
If forms are really supposed to be fights against imaginary opponents than this is the form to hang that entire argument on. It's just a pity that it comes so far down, and that many people will end their TKD careers before ever getting to learn this. It's a terrific form.
To start out I must admit that So-San is my favorite form. While many students say that their highest form is their favorite, this isn't the case for me. There is just so much nuance in this form, that a person could spend five years working on just this form, and probably feel like they were finally getting the hang of it. I've been working it for one year now, and I feel like I am starting to get a good enough handle on the form to finally start to explore that nuance.
A good friend described So-San to me (before I learned it) as the form of little forms, and if there is a piece of advice I have for anyone about to tackle the form it is to keep the mindset of a bunch of little forms. So-San's 72 movement construction is completely unique. In Yoo-Sin for instance, you fire off 1/3 of the form ( the first 23 movements) from just 11 stance changes. What this means for the less visualizing capable is that you are doing multiple hand techniques from the same stance in Yoo-Sin, which in my opinion makes its 68 movements much easier to manage from a memorization stand point. To reach the 1/3 mark in So-San (the first 24 movements) you have already hit 18 different stance changes. You are almost changing stance on every single technique in the first third of the form. Although all of these early moves are symmetrical in both forms, I believe So-San to be the harder form to wrap your mind around, unless you break it into manageable parts.
The many stance changes early in the form is a lead in to another one of the things I love about So-San. The form has a "block, counter attack" kind of feel to it that almost pays homage to the first ten forms and feels so very satisfying to execute. In addition to being a form of smaller forms, it could also be described as a collection of one steps performed as a form. This can be seen in the first eight moves in a row, and then frequently in the second and third portions of the form.
Further making this form stand out is the prominent slide stepping into certain techniques. In my opinion, more than in any form, the slide stepping feels natural, and adds a dimension of power to the form that punctuates the block and counter strike make up. It's like the form was intended for self defense (hosinsul) break down.
Finally, the form features the three basic kicks, and a jumping front kick. For this form it is fitting. There is a sense of no nonsense with the kicks in this form. There is no question that the only demonstration of the art in this form is of the damage capability of TKD's kicks.
If forms are really supposed to be fights against imaginary opponents than this is the form to hang that entire argument on. It's just a pity that it comes so far down, and that many people will end their TKD careers before ever getting to learn this. It's a terrific form.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Update on Absence
It's been a while since I posted. My family welcomed our second child, a healthy baby boy on August 3rd. Much of my absence from writing can be attributed to the responsibilities of preparing for a new baby, and then actually caring for a new baby. It's been a great time period, filled with many joys and many challenges and it is now, thankfully starting to settle back to what feels like every day life again.
In addition to that, I'm working on some writing that is actually much bigger than the blog. It is an ambitious project, unlike anything I have ever worked on. I'm excited to share more details on this, in the near future. It is martial arts related, and it is writing related, but that's all I feel comfortable saying at the present time.
Finally, I got hit (from a blog point of view) with a pretty serious case of writers block. I haven't had much to say that felt compelling to me recently. I want to write about So-San, but I'm still finding my voice on that form. Being the longest form in the Chang-hon set, there are many things I'd like to say, but saying them in a concise voice has been eluding me. I'd also like to address U-Nam some more. When I wrote my post on U-Nam, I had just learned it, and didn't really have it down. I would eventually end up teaching it to about 40 members of our org, and that gave me a great perspective on what the art meant for others. I'd also love to do a Q&A type of post, but as there are so many things I am reluctant to opine on, I often find that I come away with no answerable questions when I solicit for them.
So I am not gone, the blog is not dead...please stay tuned for future content.
In addition to that, I'm working on some writing that is actually much bigger than the blog. It is an ambitious project, unlike anything I have ever worked on. I'm excited to share more details on this, in the near future. It is martial arts related, and it is writing related, but that's all I feel comfortable saying at the present time.
Finally, I got hit (from a blog point of view) with a pretty serious case of writers block. I haven't had much to say that felt compelling to me recently. I want to write about So-San, but I'm still finding my voice on that form. Being the longest form in the Chang-hon set, there are many things I'd like to say, but saying them in a concise voice has been eluding me. I'd also like to address U-Nam some more. When I wrote my post on U-Nam, I had just learned it, and didn't really have it down. I would eventually end up teaching it to about 40 members of our org, and that gave me a great perspective on what the art meant for others. I'd also love to do a Q&A type of post, but as there are so many things I am reluctant to opine on, I often find that I come away with no answerable questions when I solicit for them.
So I am not gone, the blog is not dead...please stay tuned for future content.
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