Open The Door and Step Through

There are pitfalls we all experience when learning. These are the little errors and mistakes we adopt for one reason or another, that stay with us and become increasingly more difficult to “unlearn” as time goes by. Even in a class the need for the correction may not be noticed and the error may become engrained through habit. Those of us who have left the structure of a class and study on our own are even more at risk to perpetuate “incorrectness.”  Where does it come from? How do we get rid of it?

One day I convinced my new Tai Chi instructor, who taught Sun Style, to let me show him my Yang Long Form. After I finished he asked, “Why are you pointing down with your index finger in that one move? Don’t you know you are providing a ‘handle’ for an opponent to grab?” I hadn’t realized I was making the hook for Single Whip wrong, extending my finger instead or curving it inward to touch my thumb. Since I hadn’t practiced the Long Form in the context of a class for a year or two, no one was available to offer a correction until now.

Even within the context of a class you can adopt an bad habit. Early in my studies I was practicing the movement called Brush Knee. Another student came up to me and told me I was doing it wrong. “Think of it this way,” they said. “You open the door, then you step through it.” By this catchy phrase I was to remember to sweep my hand down and across my thigh and then take a step forward, pushing out with my other hand. I began doing Brush Knee this way and the catch phrase worked well ---to reinforce the incorrect sequence of the move. It wasn’t until years later in another class that my instructor stated a simple principle: “Always set your feet in position first so that you can use the muscles of your waist and upper thighs to direct the motion of the rest of your body,” or something to that effect. It made me think about the Brush Knee movement and I suddenly saw, then in practice felt, the correct sequence: step, set your stance, then sweep your hand across (brushing aside a kick or a low punch), twisting and pushing out with your other hand (energized from the hips).

The person who had given me the bad advice had most likely learned it that way in an earlier class taught by a different instructor. So bad habits can be infectious. It is also the kind of mistake you can only correct by feeling the corrected way of doing it. Kind of a vicious circle. I have to come up with a better catch phrase. Maybe something like, “Step on their toe and then hit ‘em in the groin.” Of course, the movement (or posture, as some people call it) is more or less one continuous action but it is often taught by breaking it down into components, thus, the linear, 1-2-3-ness of it to our inquiring minds. Here is a video that illustrates Brush Knee: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=geLkg3kboDU


Not bad, huh? I have to say, though, that I don’t exactly step heel first, leg straight and use the heel as a hinge for shifting my weight. I’ve seen that in a lot of videos, so I have to think about it, but it seems like it emphasizes the heel as a fulcrum a little too much. No matter. Notice the way he turns at the waist. This is more than a simple turn: it is a transfer of Chi from the Dantien. The Kua (inner thigh and hips) are the “movers and shakers” here. In fact, the movement is sometimes called Brush Knee Twist Step. I think of this whenever I watch professional baseball: the pitcher does not throw with his arm; he throws with his Kua! At any rate, remember to step through, and then open the door

I am (not) Bruce Lee

The other night I watched the documentary, I Am Bruce Lee, on Spike TV which followed a broadcast on that same channel of Enter The Dragon. Fans of Bruce Lee will enjoy the documentary which has a lot of “never before seen footage,” and many interviews with his wife, Linda, Kobe Bryant, Shannon Lee ) Bruce Lee’s daughter), and others, some to praise and some to criticize the praise in devil’s advocate style. It covered the well known biographical data, offered numerous clips, including interviews with Bruce Lee speaking about his philosophy. And so, ya, it was worth the watch. But I guess you either idolize the guy or you don’t.

What intrigued me was learning about Lee’s early life in Hong Kong (he was born in san Francisco but raised in Hong Kong) and his study of Wu style Tai Chi Chuan and Wing Chun which he learned under Master Yi Man. This plus the real life experience of street fighting led him to develop his own style of martial arts which he called Jun Fan Gung Fu (Bruce Lee’s Kung Fu), which he later evolved into what he termed Jeet Kune Do (The Way of Intercepting Fist) and which supposedly influenced, if not gave birth to, the phenomena called Mixed Martial Arts (A.K.A. kick ‘em in the groin, the face, anywhere--- there ain’t no rules!)

Wikipedia has a good entry on Wing Chun and I won’t go into it here except to point out a few of the similarities between Wing Chun and Tai Chi, similarities that may stem from some neighboring branches of the martial arts family tree. The origin story of Wing Chun involves a maiden who observes a crane fighting a snake--- sound familiar? Fundamental to Wing Chun is softness, relaxation, centered stance and good balance. The concept of simultaneous attack and defense is similar to Tai Chi’s sticking and following where you are never left in a vulnerable position but can flow with the energy of your opponent.

Wing Chun punches are Fa Jing: short bursts of energy where tension comes only at the end of the extension of the strike.Arms are held close to the body for the most part and kicks are also similar to those found in the Tai Chi form(s). So, although Tai Chi Chuan is characterized as an “internal art” and much of the other Kung Fu forms are “external,” there is something the student of Tai Chi can gain by observing the Wing Chun form(s). This also gives a certain perspective to watching those Bruce Lee films or old episodes of Green Hornet. The Wikipedia mentions a popular culture icon in the person of Donnie Yen. He played Yip Man in a recent movie:

Donnie Yen has also caused tremendous impact in the martial arts world through his various films. Yen is widely credited by many as the person responsible in popularizing the traditional martial arts system known as Wing Chun. Donnie Yen played the role of Wing Chun Grandmaster in the 2008 movie, Ip Man, which was a huge box office success, re-defining the genre of action films. This has led to a tremendous increase in the numbers of people taking up Wing Chun, allowing hundreds of new Wing Chun schools to be opened up in Mainland China and other notable parts of Asia. Ip Chun, the eldest son of Ip Man even mentioned that he is grateful to Donnie Yen for making his family art popular and allowing his father's legacy to be remembered. ---http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wing_Chun

Here is a clip from that movie: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIN4Qsdr51U&feature=related

Another part of the Bruce Lee legend that intrigues me is the story of his fight with Wong Jack Man in 1964. Lee was teaching his style of Wing Chun. Lee was part Caucasian and the local Chinese community took exception to his teaching non-Chinese students in the Chinese martial arts. Supposedly, Wong Jack Man, a student of Ma Kin Fung and a master of Xingyiquan, Northern Shaolin, and T'ai chi chuan, was sent to challenge Lee to a fight which, if he lost, he would consent to refrain from teaching non-Chinese. And shut down his school. From Wikipedia:

Individuals known to have witnessed the match included Cadwell, James Lee (Bruce Lee's associate, no relation), and William Chen, a teacher of T'ai chi ch'uan. Wong and witness William Chen stated that the fight lasted an unusually long 20–25 minutes. According to Bruce Lee, Linda Lee Cadwell, and James Yimm Lee, the fight lasted 3 minutes with a decisive victory for Lee. "The fight ensued, it was a no-holds-barred fight, it took three minutes. Bruce got this guy down to the ground and said 'do you give up?' and the man said he gave up" – Linda Lee Cadwell

One last thing about the documentary, it pointed out that Lee admired Muhammad Ali and studied his fighting style by viewing numerous films. He wanted to fight Ali but never got the chance. Well, he wooped Chuck Norris, so, you never know!

Swashbuckling!

Jose Ferrer in Cyrano de Bergerac

The other day I watched the movie, Cyrano de Bergerac (1950), with Jose Ferrer in the title role. (The trailer is at http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi1352663321/  and shows just a little of the fencing from the movie.) It made me think about the many “swashbuckler” movies I watched as a youth: those with Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone dueling up and down the castle stairs, jumping over tables, cleaving the tops of candles with a swoop of the sword; movies where the hero fights off a veritable mob of antagonists who conveniently line up to be skewered one at a time. Hollywood movies are, they tell us, about “suspending disbelief,” so that we accept whatever farfetched lunacy is thrown at us. But did Errol Flynn know how to fence, I wondered. I had recently purchased a book about swords called, appropriately enough, By The Sword, written by Richard Cohen, a five time United Kingdom saber champion and four time member of the British Olympic fencing teams. In it is a delightful chapter entitled, of course, “Swashbuckling.”

Cohen’s book traces the history of sword fighting from gladiator times through the present and touches (no pun intended) on many cultures with the unfortunate exception of the Chinese. There is a brief mention of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, but little more about Chinese swords and sword fighting than there is about Star Wars and light sabers. He explains that the scope of the book had to be limited at some point and he may be forgiven for this particular omission since he examines in great detail the evolution of foil fencing and therein lies the interest of the book.

Many of my questions about fencing scenes in movies were answered by the “Swashbuckling” chapter. Everything I mention from this point on comes from Richard Cohen’s well researched and insightful book. Fencing in the movies is more or less as old as the cinema itself, at least dating to the early Twentieth Century and epic films like Quo Vadis? Of course, the many versions of The Three Musketeers (over thirty), The Prisoner of Zenda, Zorro, numerous pirate movies, Shakespearean dramas and so forth featured individual fencing matches between heroes and villains as well as battle scenes. In the individual fights, realism began to emerge as a desirable element.

Douglas Fairbanks, Sr.

Douglas Fairbanks Sr. popularized sword fighting in early silent films and started the long lineage of The Three Musketeers and D’Artagnan films. As Cohen states: “Of all the actors who have fought with swords the best actual athlete remains the five-foot five-inch Douglas Elton Ulman --Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. Yet he made all his swashbuckling movies after the age of thirty-five.” The fact that Fairbanks did his own fencing in the films set a standard other actors would need to follow, and follow they did, taking fencing lessons or training with fencing masters.

Early actors who fenced included Ramon Navarro, Rudolph Valentino and John Barrymore. But as the trend toward realism, the advancement of cinematic techniques and the studios’ paranoia that actors could be injured led to the use of doubles, a new breed of actor was born: one rarely mentioned in the credits or seen in close-ups ---the trainer/doubler. Cohen profiles several important individuals who took on this role, such as Fred Cavens, who taught and doubled for a long list of cinema swahbucklers, including Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. and Jr., Errol Flynn, Louis Hayward, Cornel Wilde and Basil Rathbone.

Errol Flynn in The Seahawk

So was it just a lot of clanging together of swords or did these actors present a fairly good style and technique? Rathbone, Cohen says, was “a good club fighter”. He probably did most of his own fighting and was paired with Fred Cavens, doubling for Tyrone Power or Errol Flynn (although Flynn wasn’t doubled that often when he fought Rathbone) in films like Captain Blood, The Mark of Zorro and The Adventures of Robin Hood. Flynn was “athletic, looked the part and remains the most convincing swordsman ever to have appeared on film,” but hadn’t studied fencing to the extent that Rathbone or Fairbanks had.

Watch this fight between Tyrone Power and Basil Rathbone from The Mark of Zorro: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=McDfLkLqJAE

Cohen mentions the 1956 film, The Swan, in which Louis Jourdan is a fencing instructor to Grace Kelly. He describes: “During a couple of lessons, naturally conducted without masks, we see Kelly performing very proficiently --a long lunge, a beat attack, then parries in prime, seconde, quarte, and octave, finishing with a doublé.” Then again, there are foibles: Stuart Granger, making Scaramouche, fell during a duel and was knocked out. He also ended that film with twelve stitches in his leg and a shoulder injury. No doubling here!

And watch this sequence from The Court Jester with Danny Kaye battling Basil Rathbone. Rathbone said Kaye was so energetic after only three days of fencing lessons that he, Rathbone, couldn’t keep up with him! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3oURsGzs9o&feature=related

Although the list of actors and actresses is a long one, those individuals who arranged the fight scenes and trained the actors, also doubling for them is short. Cohen mentions four from before the 1950s that were noteworthy: Fred Cavens, Henri Uyttenhove, Ralph Faulkner and Jean Heremans. Faulkner was the best, competing in the Olympics and acting major roles in various movies in the 1930s.  When Stuart Granger took fencing lessons for Scaramouche in 1952, it was from a British couch, Bob Anderson. Part of Anderson’s career included playing Darth Vader in the laser sword fight with Luke Skywalker in The Empire Strikes Back. (For some reason, I always thought the laser swords were computer generated which, now that I think of it, would have made the dueling sequences very difficult to choreograph. They were actual swords made of carbon fiber coated with reflective paint.)

Cohen more or less bemoans the advent of high-tech cinema, giving Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon as one example. Too easy to lop off arms and legs in the editing room or fly actors on wires, bouncing them up walls and across roof tops. The old timers, the Fairbanks and Flynns, were actually striking metal against metal, he argues. The language of the cinema (a.k.a. special effects) was secondary to skill and prowess and acting ability. Although we have come to take for granted spectacular computer graphic effects and yearn for more, more, more… it is also true that the traditional fighting skills embodied in fencing and other sword oriented martial arts are grist for the mills of the entertainment industry in ways that cars chases (and crashes) could never be. Something fundamentally human resides in the romantic, exotic, exhilarating combat of long gone ages that is so compelling, it has endured since the advent of cinema to today. The clash of metal on metal!

The overall attitude presented by Richard Cohen in his chapter, “Swashbucklers,” in the book, By The Sword, seems to me to be a purist belief that skillful and accurate fencing should be the goal in the portrayal of sword fighting in the movies. This notion appeals to my own snob sense. I do think that although the viewer may be uninformed about the nuances and rules of foil fencing, watching the real thing is always going to be more rewarding than experiencing the gratuitous, exaggerated mimicking we sometimes see in films. However, (there is always a however), it may be appropriate to end this dissertation with a little gratuitous exaggerated mimicking: the fight scent from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhCHw0Ovqf4

The Brennan Translation: Sanshou

There is a blog you should know about called Brennan Translation, http://brennantranslation.wordpress.com/ where you will find many translations by Paul Brennan of Chinese martial arts manuals. Recent posts include, “Methods of Applying Taiji Boxing Taji Quan Shiyong Fa),” by Yang Chenfu, originally published in 1931, “Taiji Two-person Set (Taiji Sanshou Duida),” by Chen Yanlin, 1931, and “Dragon Shape Sword (Long Xing Jian),” by Jin Yiming, 1932, as well as other classic Chinese writings.

I was particularly interested in reading about Sanshou, the two-person form. My teacher in Santa Fe, Michael DeMarco, introduced advanced students to Sanshou once he felt they had sufficiently mastered the Long Form and had had some experience with Push Hands. It is rarely taught in most venues for learning Tai Chi, perhaps because the form itself, be it Short Form or Long Form, Yang, Wu, Chen or Sun, demands a great deal of time for learning and for serious practice. Through Brennan’s translation we have this description from Chen Yanlin:

Paired practice is related to each of the entire series of thirteen dynamics [i.e. the eight techniques of ward-off, rollback, press, push, pluck, rend, elbow, and bump, plus the five directions of footwork – forward, back, left, right, and center] within the solo set. One by one they are plugged in, according to appropriateness of response, and linked together with each other to compose the two-person sparring set. The way it has been put together can be described as seamless, constantly transforming, endlessly subtle, and is truly the masterpiece within the system.

You begin your study of Sanshou by practicing solo, that is, doing one half of the “dance” without a partner. This lets you concentrate on the form of the movements and establish a natural flow and rhythm. Later you work with a partner in a choreographed sequence of movements. The roles of each participant are reversed and the form becomes cyclic.

There is what I would call a “combative” form of boxing called Sanshou, which has evolved from different martial arts techniques, wrestling, kick boxing and so forth. The term means “free hand” and is characterized by a seeming lack of rules, an “extreme” combat sport. There are many tournaments of Sanshou boxing and the similarity between this and the traditional Tai Chi form is hard to visualize. Around 1979, the Chinese National Sports Committee began experimenting with Sanshou as a competitive sport. In “A Brief History of Sanshou” by Master Li, Yongqian, Master Li explains:

Sanshou: San means open or free . Shou means hands . Sanshou literally means open or free hands . Sanda: San again means open or free . Da means hit, beat, or fight . Sanda is the more common term, whereas Sanshou is the official name since Da makes it sound too brutal or violent.

But the Sanshou form we are concerned with is the antithesis of violence. It is about sticking and following, about sensing your opponent’s energy, as Chen Yanlin says, “neutralizing and issuing” in subtle and continuous movement. I’ve always found Push Hands to be limited, especially the fixed stance version of Push Hands. In the Two-person Form of Sanshou the art of Tai Chi reveals itself, the nature of the individual movements becomes clear.

More Virtual Volumes

This won't help you with your form, but it's kind of fun. The video is from a show that the Discovery Channel did on extreme martial arts in, I think, 2003. There are several clips on Youtube but I recommend watching this one from CastTV. Although it will come with pop-ups and ads, the quality is much better than the clips on Youtube which appear to have been filmed off someone's TV screen. The narration is pure hokum, but the computer imaging is worth it.


Watch xma jin vs katana in Educational  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

If for some reason (blogger?) this doesn't play, go to http://www.casttv.com/video/erg5q31/xma-fights-xma-jin-vs-katana-video

Otherwise, the Youtube version is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZtkwjboRDw&feature=related

A while back I blogged about what I called "Virtual Volumes": some still photographs I took with a held-open shutter of me doing the form in the dark wearing "rave gloves" which had flashing LEDs on the tips of the fingers and thumb. I was excited about what I learned about the form by creating this visualization of an external envelope, if you will, tracing the path my fingers made. I made me focus on what that path might look like while I practiced in a well lit room and so I became more aware of the arcs and the relaxed limbs that are so important to correct Tai Chi form.

 I stumbled across this video and liked the effect of the streaming path from the tip of the sword coupled with the full movement of the body. Why the skeletal overlay, I don;t know, but as today is Halloween, I suppose it's appropriate. If you do look at the Youtube version(s) you'll see a lot of inane comments (some should probably be censored) about whether the Japanese Katana could beat the Chinese Jian. Both cultures tried to conquer each other back in the day, so it is an interesting question.

The Katana is a saber and good for chopping and slashng while the Jian is a highly sharpened thrusting and piercing weapon, light and easy to manipulate. When the Jian is associated with Tai Chi forms the contest between it and the Katana is pretty much a contest between the internal martial arts and the external. As the narration suggests, it is brute force against athletic ability. I have to wish, however, that the video had gone a little further into the Tai Chi aspects of the sword. Fencing isn't just a bunch of dodging around and stabbing. The Tai Chi principle of "sticking" is paramount.

Watch this video of Chen Man Ching's sword class as he fences with a student. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwFTHa_TtlE&feature=results_main&playnext=1&list=PLA64BD325DB2D825C You can readily see the how he follows the energy of his opponent and redirects it to move her into a vulnerable position. It is very akin to Push Hands.  Chen Man Ching moves effortlessly and applies no pressure against his opponent's sword.

Workshop With Grandmaster Chen

William C. C. Chen leading a session in the Long Form

On this spectacular autumn weekend in Madison, Wisconsin, the Tai Chi Center of Madison and resident teacher, Jody Curley, hosted a Tai Chi workshop with Grandmaster William C. C. Chen. I’ve written before about this amazing man. He’s now 78 and moves like a much younger man, due, of course, to 60 years of perfecting his art. He teaches and gives workshops worldwide but also writes and investigates the physical aspects of human existence which he calls “Body Mechanics.” He is always seeking to improve the communication of his ideas to others and is fascinating to listen to during these workshops.

I only attended a few of the sessions but I was rewarded with many insightful observations and demonstrations as he took us through the Short Form or the Sword Form. I’ve been working on my own --- no classes --- for over a year now and I try to apply things I’ve learned from Jody and Master Chen. I try to feel “winding up the heart” and “leading with the fingers” and “waking up.” It takes more discipline to work on your own, but there is a wealth of ideas that comes from a concentrated dose such as this special weekend was.

Grandmaster Chen and Jody Curley

Grandmaster Chen was kind enough to bring copies of a draft of an article he has written entitled, “Fingers is The Work of Art,’ soon to be published in one of the leading Martial Arts magazines. In it, he analyzes and describes in detail the role of the fingers in various physical activities from golf to bowling to boxing and Tai Chi. He separates the fingers into two groups: the thumb, index and middle finger into the “index fingers,” and the ring and pinky fingers into the “pinky fingers.” In fact, at the beginning of our workshop session on the Short Form, he distributed rubber bands to the group, placing them on our hands so that the rubber bands ringed the “index fingers,” making us aware of these two groups.

Nerves of the hand, showing Median and Ulnar groupings

The index finger group is controlled by the Median nerve while the pinky finger group is controlled by the Ulnar nerve. Each set of fingers can be thought of as having separate functions: the index fingers as action fingers and the pinky fingers as pre-action fingers. Now this all may seem pretty complicated, even obtuse, but consider a simple movement in which the hand rotates. The axis of that rotation is along the line of the index fingers. The pinky fingers turn around that axis and the index fingers spin or twist. To further complicate your contemplation of this example, realize that during this simple movement, the big toe presses down and the inner thigh muscles contract, thereby connecting the feet to the hands through the waist (winding up the heart before action, then energizing).

There was a session on applications which focused quite a bit on boxing techniques. We spent a lot of time hitting a pillow held against a pillar and learned how to hold the fist loosely, without clenching the fingers, and to match the power of the punch to the amount of resistance it encountered. One workshop attendee mentioned to me that she had never done any of the push hands or other more “combative’ activities before and hadn’t realized how much fun they were! There is something very invigorating about landing a punch, particularly when you can feel the winding up of the heart, the arching and rotating of the hand and the whole connection to the feet that is involved in the mechanics of a punch.

We also practiced the application of “Brush Knee,” learning how to uproot an opponent who was punching toward our groin. When my partner resisted my attempt to brush aside his arm, I could not move him. Once I learned to use the “waking up” technique, placing my “brushing” hand under his arm and straightening my body from the hips, I could move him easily and he could not resist. So much can be learned by working with another student of the art that it makes me question my lone wolf attitude these days. It is all the more important to seek out and attend these kinds of workshops and to experience the teachings of unique individuals like William Chen. It’s not for nothing that they call him “Grandmaster!”

My Karate Kid

This weekend my six year old grandson was visiting and I asked him to show me what he was learning in his Saturday Karate class. He waved away the idea of showing me the warm up exercises, went into what I would call a bow stance, and threw some straight forward punches, stepping with each. He then showed me a forehead block and a middle block and a couple of kicks. I have to say I was impressed. He can’t have had much more than two or three lessons and his form, at least to my eyes, looked pretty darn good. Of course he’s a boy genius, but, I thought, he must have a good teacher. He’d tried a Tae Kwan Do class last year and had not had a good experience. In the past I’ve had some doubts about the advisability of young kids learning martial arts. OK, it gives them self-confidence and teaches them discipline and good sportsmanship, and blah, blah, blah. But.

Kids get a steady diet of fighting in movies, TV, comics and video games. Now, the movie, “Kung Fu Panda” is one of my favorites. But I’ve been waiting for one called “Tai Chi Panda” to come out. My grandson has watched me doing the Yang form and from an early age he tried following me. Other grandkids that live across the country have shown us their Tai Chi and Yoga practices during visits. It all makes a great deal of sense when you compare it to my generation’s youth and our schooling in the arts of “gladiator sports” like football, baseball, hockey, and so forth. Exercise is always a good thing. Raising your physical skill levels is always a good thing. But pitting young people against each other in combat and competition only builds insecurity, anger and aggression. Think I’ll get email on this one?

The key to it, it seems to me, is the good teacher. If you’ve seen the classic first version of “The Karate Kid“, you remember the “bad guy” karate teacher that fostered aggression in his students. Of course, in real life, there aren’t any karate teachers that do that. Are there? But it seems there has always been an undercurrent of nastiness in the popular culture (I.e., USA culture) view of the martial arts. Ever since Bruce Lee was Kato in the Green Hornet, the romantic idea of kicking the crap out of somebody in a mysterious Eastern way has appealed to young people. If you were five or six or ten or twelve, which would you rather do, move slowly and gracefully in the park with a bunch of old people or punch and kick and jump and yell, “HEY-YAH”?

To sort of change the subject, I’ve noticed a lot of people getting certified to teach Tai Chi lately and a number of schools offering teaching classes. Do I think that this will  eventually lead to high school curriculums in Tai Chi or ESPN coverage of Push Hands competitions? I do not. It could lead to quite a number of not so great teachers who perpetuate not so good form. But that’s the glass half empty speaking. The more the merrier, I say.

Although I’ve been studying Tai Chi for nine or ten years now and I don’t feel confident enough to teach a whole class. In the classes I’ve taken in the past we often would pair off and the more advanced students would work with the newer ones. This forced you to think about your form: having to explain it to someone else and look for things that needed correction made you aware of your own short comings.

This weekend is another W. C. C. Chen workshop, this time in Madison, Wisconsin. I‘ve been working on my own now for maybe a year and I‘ve learned to look at my self critically so as not to get sloppy. However, I think I need a dose of humility and an expert hand at correction. I‘ll attend the Sword Form, Short Form and Applications sessions. As I've said before, the key to it is having a good teacher..