Angel Cabales White Tiger seminar - full edit

Thanks to Rich Jacobson and the Northern Nevada Serrada Club, here is my whole 2 hour edited version of GM Angel Cabales' 1987 White Tiger seminar in Oakland, Ca., taken from over 6 hours of raw VHS footage.

https://vimeo.com/1169397680/3d0608efb2?fl=pl&fe=sh

 

The Immersion Lab Difference

Seminars have become an established feature in the modern martial arts landscape, particularly in the West, and come in a variety of flavors ranging from one-day single instructor courses to all weekend multi-instructor sessions. The purpose of these is generally to expose students to new ideas and techniques without the commitment of time and expense of weeklong camps. Some events are dedicated to one particular style or system and generally cater to those already studying that art and might connect material presented to rank requirements and promotions.

Events presenting multiple styles are more likely to have to limit time available for each presenter. A criticism often raised is that instructors, given the time constraints, cannot focus in depth and so will often focus on flashy techniques or drills which may be short on practicality and are all too often forgotten by participants soon after the event has passed. Two day events alleviate this somewhat by stretching an event over the weekend, but if there are multiple sessions occurring simultaneously, students might have to choose what catches their interest, and this can lead to cliques sticking together with what's familiar rather than experiencing new and different perspectives.

The Immersion Labs, seminar extensions of The Immersion Foundation, take a somewhat different approach. First a word about the Foundation itself. The Immersion Foundation is dedicated to hoplology, the study of weapons and related fighting arts, both historic and current.

The term hoplology was created by Sir Richard Burton in the 19th century, popularized in the 20th century by the late great Donn Draeger, and now reinvigorated in the 21st century by the Immersion Labs.

Donn Draeger was a prolific author and promoter of the martial arts, a WWII U.S. serviceman who lived for many years in post-war Japan and became one of the highest ranking Westerners to train in several of their arts. His goal was to propagate martial arts not only through actual training but to establish an intellectual framework for studying and contrasting arts from different cultures around the world. To this end he organized expeditions every few years to visit various countries, to discover and research martial systems often hidden in obscure byways. In doing so he was a pioneer in establishing connections between living systems of the Far East with audiences in the West.

The Immersion Foundation is the brainchild of Mahipal Lunia, who himself has lived in several countries and holds serious rank in a number of martial arts. Following the example of Draeger, he has organized trips to various countries to find and record indigenous martial arts. To this end he has enlisted traveling companions ranging from martial art masters to university professors and videographers, to record and study the styles encountered on these expeditions. This process of documentation goes on long after the expeditions end, with further collaboration and research geared towards publication. One such research associate is Michael Belzer, who as a junior associate of Donn Draeger in Japan was invited along on a month-long expedition through the jungles of Malaysia and who now, as curator of many of Draeger's original notes and writings, is sharing those archives with the Foundation.

The Labs are the flagship public face of the foundation; starting in 2018, there have been four Labs so far, with a covid-related break in 2021-22. These are three day events, each designed to showcase the chosen arts around a central theme. Stretching 10-12 hours over each day, the 10-12 instructors each get several hours of undivided attention from the limited enrollment of just 25 participants. In keeping with the thematic relationships between these arts, the instructors are also participants in each other's presentations, embracing the sense of cohesion and camaraderie through the weekend.

As perhaps the only person, besides staff, who has been at each of the four Labs (I've been invited as the sole vendor as well as participant) I've witnessed some of the finest presentations by top martial artists from around the world: from the Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, Cambodia, Japan, South Africa, northern Africa, Mexico, the Caribbean, South America, Spain, Portugal, Italy, as well as representation from legendary academies from Hawaii, Stockton, Los Angeles and more.

Lab 1, Legacy of the Blade, was organized around knife and sword from various countries, with a strong though not exclusive nod to FMA (Filipino martial arts). Lab 2, Stickmata, focused specifically on stick fighting arts. Lab 3, Born of Blood, featured arts from the S.E. Asia archipelago and Pacific islands while Lab 4, Holy Blood, Holy Blade, explored the influence of Spanish sword within many arts from around the world.

With generous time allotments, each teacher is able to begin with an historic overview of their art and its underlying principles, including demonstrating basic concepts, before taking students into hands-on practice. Given the high experience level of most participants, each session tends to move smoothly, and the generous time allotments mean material can be covered with a degree of detail not often found outside of academies.

As mentioned, Lab 4 was designed around the influence of Spanish sword on various arts from around the globe, some of which were quite new to most participants. Here are several brief examples from this most recent event, highlighting both the diversity and relationship between arts presented over the weekend:

Adam Myrie opened with an intriguing taste of North African Barbary sword-and-shield, a sophisticated style of combat that helped establish the reputation of Islamic warriors;

Mushtaq Ali book-ended the weekend with an equally esoteric presentation of Moro spear and shield as well as kampilan from Mindanao, which far exceeded anything I'd ever seen regarding use of that latter weapon;

Joaquin Marcelo ran a brilliant session on the influence of Spanish fencing in modern JKD;

Hollywood actor, trainer and stuntman Anthony DeLongis brought a room full of absolute novices to a level of safe competency with bullwhips that few in the room would have imagined.

Mahipal Lunia and Dexter Miksch, for the first time by any of James Keating's students, unveiled techniques for the American bowie knife in a distinctly unique approach that differs from almost anything else presented about that blade.

The entire list of teachers was equally impressive (and I've posted a link below to a more specific review). As different as each was from another, all were able to capture the essence of their respective arts within the common theme.

To summarize the key points:

1) 30-40 hours of training over 3 days, allowing for a deeper dive;

2) Renowned teachers from across the globe coming together to share rare and unusual arts;

3) Limited enrollment for a high teacher-student ratio;

4) Historic and cultural overviews of the arts presented;

50 Hoplology, as to how various weapons evolved within different cultures and environments

Immersion Lab #4: Holy Blood, Holy Blade review on Martial Myths' page

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ljzm4sG4jI

Michael Belzer's review on Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/michael.belzer.3/posts/pfbid06mKxZvvnxK1XzG2FfEAR98vP37Ds2xWEBPXo9XuDsMH1KJ1EU6hxrFA4MtaBL8E3l

SECRETS OF RATTAN

In the interests of preserving this info, I'm re-posting it again.  I know a number of FMA practictioners who have used this information over the years for their own sticks or even for production.

The article below is one that I posted on the Eskrima Digest sometime in the mid-1990’s.  I’m sure if you do an archive search there for Stickman you will find it.  This information has been posted on other sites over the years, so I didn’t bother posting it myself.  I gave this info out because I was moving away from doing rattan and focusing on developing synthetic sticks.  I was the first person to successfully market those, and it was years before others began cloning my products in those styles.  I still get orders for rattan from time to time, though, and so I keep a hand in doing these. 

I’ve eliminated a step or two along the way, mostly the oven burning.  I’ve got to the point where I can monitor the wood coloration closely enough with just the propane torch that I don’t feel the bake stage is as important.  The danger of over-drying the wood by baking is it will splinter quickly.  I also no longer burn or “candle” the ends because I have a way of cutting the sticks that leaves a hard glazed darkened surface on the ends already, which I think looks even better.  The end burn is cosmetic for those without the equipment and technique to do this.  These days the glaze cut is a signature for my rattan. 

Since the glaze cut is also accurate for a square angle, I don’t need to flatten the end on the disk sander.  Consequently I’m using a bench grinder with a Scotch-brite wheel to round the edges and smooth the nodules.  They’re a lot more expensive than disk sandpaper.  I wish they lasted longer!  The advantage is a nice finish with less chance of gouging out the wood.

BTW, I STILL have and use my two 6’ rattan bo staffs from 1986!  Rattan might blow up from absorbing power in shorter lengths, but it’s a great wood in longer sizes.

Jeff “Stickman” Finder, Feb. 2, 2006

 

Secrets of Rattan

I got my nickname "Stickman" from supplying rattan to many Stockton escrimadors about 10 years ago. Since I don't make much rattan anymore, I might as well pass along some of my secrets. You can quickly see why making good rattan sticks is labor intensive, but the results will, if done properly, be worth the effort. The steps are simple, but there is a lot of technique in doing it right. A very Zen exercise, actually, as loss of focus at any stage can ruin a "perfect" stick.

First, I cut it to the length I want. I then grind the ends flat on a disk sander, then bevel the edges to eliminate sharp edges and prevent splintering. Next I sand down the nodes until they are smooth, again to prevent splintering. This involves angling the side of the stick against the rim of the sanding disk; an improper angle will gouge into the wood and the stick must be turned constantly to avoid flat spots.

After the sanding is done, I use a propane torch to bring the oils to the surface of the wood. Again, the stick must be kept in motion to avoid burning it, and hot pads are used because the stick can get very hot and retain the heat a long time. I will usually bring the oils up on one half of a stick, then put on my burn pattern, before switching ends and doing the other half. I like a "leopard spot" pattern, which involves darkening patches of the wood. It is imperative to keep the stick moving, and as soon as coloration begins, to get off the spot. One can see poor burn technique on most commercial sticks. In the burnt area there will be little blisters or holes in the skin where the oils popped from the heat. These weaken the wood from over-drying. A little color is better than too much. One trick for burnt areas, also good for the sanded nodes, is to rub the oil from your nose onto the wood (you can use your fingers; this is as fine a grade of natural oil as sperm whale oil, the finest grade sought by old-time whalers. Also good for repairing scratches in furniture, musical instruments etc., or defogging your glasses).

During this stage, I also like to burn the ends of the stick. I will basically light the end like a candle, then keep turning it to prevent deep burns, finally blowng it out.

Another burn pattern, called "tiger stripes", can be done by rolling the sticks across an electric stove element. I learned this one from Sonny Umpad. Some Hawaiian escrimadors I trained with would throw their sticks on the bbq after cooking their meat, to bake the wood and get their patterns off the grill. Reversing the stick angle can give a cross hatch pattern).

After this stage, I bake the sticks in an oven at about 375 degrees for 10-15 minutes. It is important to monitor the sticks constantly, so they don't over-bake. During this process, steam will come out of the end of the stick (you may see some of this with the torch as well). As soon as the steam stops, the stick is done! Sometimes one end will finish before the other; let the dry end stick out of the oven. I like to pull the sticks out and tap the ends on tile. A wet sound means "not finished". As soon as it has a crisp click, it's ready. By constant monitoring, the sticks get moved and turned, so they don't overbake on one side or one end.

If a stick is crooked, straighten it out while still hot. I just lay it on the floor and bend the other end up (using hot pads). As it cools, the stick will retain the adjustment. A properly heat treated stick is essentially hollow; you can blow on one end and feel warm breath come out the other end! The again, an over-dry stick will do the same . . .

Finally, when the stick is warm, I rub it down with the bone. You can hear little crackles as parts of the wood or skin compress. Finally, I buff the stick out on a buffing wheel. This gives it a good shine, spreads the natural oils evenly, and improves the adhesion of the grip. It feels much nicer than lacquer and will give off the familiar "burning" smell during training.

These, then, are my 7 steps: cut, sand, burn, bake, bend, bone, buff. Using this process, I've had some rattan last for years, such as my bo staffs made in 1986, which I still use for contact drills, with no splintering. The biggest problem is over-drying; that'll kill a stick quickly. A "perfect" stick is rare; I usually can spot my blemishes, but done right, these will last as well as can be expected for rattan.

BTW, one reason to train with power is to get used to handling it, a point well emphasized by the Dog Bros. I can finesse lots of my students, but when a big strong guy comes along, I either handle it or not, and that is experience. I'm not saying power is necessary to deal with power, but if you haven't felt it (or haven't worked with it recently) it can be a rude surprise. Again, really well prepared rattan should handle power, though obviously not as well as other materials such as certain hardwoods, plastics or metals.

Espada y Daga positions

The late Decuerdas GM Art Gonzalez used to talk about the emotional value of different positions – defensive, offensive, etc. In that vein, I’m again thinking of espada y daga, especially if one is confronted by multiple opponents.

In a typical right-hand, right lead position, a stick or primary weapon would be in that front hand, a knife or backup weapon in the left, guarding closer to the body. The purpose of the longer lead weapon is to maintain distance and keep opponents at bay, while the purpose of the retracted secondary weapon is to punish anyone who gets inside that perimeter. As such, this is a more defensive posture (as in mindset, not a static pose).

A left lead, on the other hand, is more aggressive. That brings the shorter weapon into a more active countering range, where it and the lead hand have overlapping reach and the ability to coordinate and cover each other more effectively. The attitude there is “come in if you dare”, as an opponent will be facing both fangs at once, not as much sequentially. A savvy opponent will note such thing, but which can change in a split second. Footwork can fix many problems such as distance and angle, as well as hide intention and probe to set up an opponent.

Lefty vs Righty

Training left-handed fighters in a predominantly right-handed world is a topic of endless conversation, particularly when it comes to weaponry.  My teacher, grandmaster Angel Cabales, said to just teach lefties with the stick in the right hand to keep things simple.  I've had many left-handed students over the years, and what I tell them is the weaker right hand will gain strength and coordination while their strong left hand will become proficient in checking, joint locking, disarming, etc., and for the most part that works.  As Angel put it, each hand develops specialized skills, so neither is ignored.  On the other hand, his son Vincent (and some other instructors in Serrada) teach left-handed students to use the weapon in their stronger hand, which may be simpler for them at the beginning but creates complications down the line.  This debate is as old as military formations, where one person in line who is not in conformity with the rest not only stands out like a sore thumb, but in the old days of shield lines could create a dangerous gap for the enemy to break through. Even today in rifle drills and marching formations, everyone is expected to be on the same page. 

I've seen similar debates when it comes to things like teaching guitar.  There is no particular reason a left-handed guitarist needs to flip the instrument upside down, usually requiring modification of the instrument's bridge and restringing.  One hand simply learns the fingerboard, the other how to strum or pluck; simple.  It's exceptionally rare to find someone like Jimi Hendrix who could truly play ambidextrously regardless of how the guitar was strung.

Now in many FMA styles such as Serrada, there are drills such as lock-and-block or numerado where one training partner feeds strikes with either hand while the other practices counters, as well as double stick sinawallis which ostensibly train us to deal with an attack to either side of our body.  That's all fine and good, but when it comes to sparring with weapons, it gets more complicated.  Many are familiar with what the Inosanto/IMB folks call the "box drill" or sumbrada, a counter-for-counter exercise which, as far as I know, was introduced in western FMA practice by Angel Cabales.  It is a symmetrical flow drill where each partner essentially is doing the same pattern, albeit 180 degrees out of sync.  This teaches the shortest, most efficient counter to certain basic strikes, though at more advanced levels it becomes free flowing and any counter can be used.  However, if one partner is left-handed and the other right-handed, this symmetry no longer exists and the pattern is irrevocably broken.  As far as I can tell, there is no easy way to reconcile the two opposing sides, though it is possible to create and practice it as an asymmetrical exercise.

Recently two new students began training with me.  One of them was born without a right hand, while the other is decidedly right-handed.  This introduces the complexity of opposite handedness right at their fundamental level of training.  While I can certainly go lefty myself to teach that individual, it is certainly more difficult for them to learn to practice together, especially as the right-handed one will have to learn twice as much as usual in the earliest stages.  We're a long way from introducing them to counter-for-counter sparring, but I've already put some time into figuring out how that will work.  Frankly, it's harder than the basic symmetrical drill, and will certainly create extra challenges if and when they reach that point in training. 

Cross-stepping in Serrada Escrima?

Serrada Escrima, as taught by GM Angel Cabales, emphasizes simple, direct movement. This is especially seen in the footwork, which focuses on linear heel-toe alignment with an opponent’s centerline. Angel eschewed things like cross-steps or twisted body positions, though in fact examples of these can be found within the system. His “punch block” for angle #3 is an example of the latter. Cross-stepping, however, was not formally taught, at least in my experience. However, as with kicking, which Angel used sparingly and with just a couple of simple variants, he would tell students with experience in other systems to use what they knew from there too. While the basic concept taught is to learn to hold your ground with that linear alignment, in fact Angel understood movement, sometimes saying we weren’t born where we stood, so we knew how to move already. In practice, it isn’t always practical or possible to remain directly in front of someone, in their line of fire, and so lateral movement is necessary to find more advantageous positioning. Of course the first technique usually taught is the outside block for angle #1, which involves moving off-line without a cross-step, but are there times when the cross-step is a valid or even necessary option? I would argue yes. For instance, in backpedaling in a circular manner vs. a #2 (high strike to one’s right side), as opposed to the classic technique of facing the attack in place, one has the option to step ito the outside first with the lead right foot, which opens one’s centerline, or with the rear left foot, which will be a cross step. Of course either option is a brief transition, as we typically re-align into the linear centerline alignment. One clear example of cross-stepping from Angel himself, as captured on video, was a powerful #1 slash (high downward diagonal right forehand) while cross-stepping back to the left with the lead right foot. It’s a finishing type power blow, but as Serrada teaches constant vigilance against a persistent opponent, we don’t pose in that posture but continue to step through to re-establish our “spot”. Now on a personal level, given my background from Kenpo, Aikido, and especially Sonny Umpad’s “Visayan Style Corto Kadena”, I will sometimes in free flow carenza (form) utilize more cross-stepping and low stances compared to classic Serrada. Sometimes I’ll use these as well in sparring. After all, Serrada wasn’t designed to fight other Serrada fighters, but to deal with any style, and so I will simulate other methods as a way to give students or training partners a different look, as well as do practice deceptive ways to move in and out of range. Ultimately combat is free-flowing and unpredictable, as Bruce Lee famously preached, and so exploring various methods has value. In this I like to quote the famous artist Pablo Picasso, who said “Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist.”

Relationship of Serrada's lock position with Wing Chun's chi sao

Many martial artists have at least some glancing knowledge, if even only from YouTube, of Wing Chun’s chi sao exercise where partners face each other and interlock hands, each with one in a palm up position (tan sao) and the other in a downward hooking position (fook sao) … and hopefully I recalled those correctly. The hands are then rotated back and forth between these positions in the basic form of the exercise.

Less well known is the “lock-and-block” position used in Serrada Escrima, and perhaps some other FMA (Filipino Martial Art) systems as well – GM Hortensio Navales’ system from Panay comes to mind. In this position, the main weapon, be it a stick or blade, is in the primary hand, which generally and for this description we’ll assume to be the right. The hand is palm down (pronate), with the weapon basically parallel to the front of the body, pointed at a downward diagonal angle towards the left. In this manner it essentially can cover the torso defensively from about the right armpit to the left hip. The other (left) hand, holding a shorter weapon, generally a knife or dagger (daga), is basically on the same level as the right hand, so that it is above the longer primary weapon, but held back closer to the body, in reserve, and also so as not to impede any upward movement of the primary weapon. The shorter weapon generally points forward towards the opponent, so that the two weapons essentially form an x and y axis, or two sides of a box (your torso being a third side).

Now, take away the weapons, and what you see looks like one position from Wing Chun’s chi sao, with the left in tan sao and the right in fook sao. Conversely, put those weapons in the hands of a Wing Chun practitioner doing that and you pretty much can’t miss the similarity!

Whereas Wing Chun rolls the hands between these positions, Serrada does not …. but it can and sometimes should. Why? The lock-and-block position is designed for the primary weapon to jam and trap the opponent’s arm, allowing the opposite hand to strike targets. That sets up perfectly if you are outside of the right arm, or even inside of the left, but other positions can be trickier and possibly force you to have to cross yourself in less optimal manner. However, using that Wing Chun chi sao roll, we’ve now reversed the position of the weapons, where the short weapon takes on the role of checking while the primary weapon in the right hand does the dirty work.

So which position do we use? The right hand in the lock position, as first described above, is the main and most common position. One of our primary concepts, however, is directness, and so in checking, we try to utilize the hand closest to the limb being checked as it can orient more quickly and efficiently. This means there are times when we’ll need to check with the off-hand, which is where this rolling switch comes into play. GM Angel Cabales utilized this daga checking from time to time, though it wasn’t stressed in the curriculum and he always finished back in the primary position. That being said, we always want to have versatile options that meet the needs of a given situation.  

It is with great sadness I learned this morning of the passing of my friend, grandmaster Ron Harris, who died suddenly yesterday of heart failure. Ronald was an amazing person, a university professor who championed conservative values while promoting the economic success of black Americans. As a martial artist, he trained with the best, from Dan Inosanto to Leo Gaje, with whom he traveled to many seminars. Ron held a 7th Dan in Kajukenbo and was once tapped by Sijo Emperado to create an escrima system specific to that art, though it never caught on due to lack of qualified instructors at the time. He taught "Classic Eskrima", as well as Muay Thai, Boxe Francaise/Savate and Taekwondo. He contributed articles to Black Belt and Inside Kung Fu and other publications, and sponsored seminars around the country, first coming to my attention with tournaments he threw in San Diego in the 1990's. He was well-versed in BJJ, and his younger brother Russ trained the first American to beat the Brazilians in the Octagon. Ron trained Marines in hand-to-hand over the years (he currently has a son at Annapolis) and just this summer I designed a training dagger for his program, which I was showing to folks at the MACE seminar just two days ago. Through Ron I've met some amazing martial artists, like Jan Miernyk and Dan Medina. I'm still in shock over this news, and I'm sure he will be missed by many.

Today I received the second email I've had of someone saving their life with one of my lightweight plastic flutes. This is the kind of thing that really makes my day!

"I'm writing to let you know that the wonderful shakuhachi flute I purchased from you about one year ago finally failed, but despite being a beloved possession and a joy to train with and play it broke while saving me from hospital bills or my life. I was walking to my car after my HEMA class that I supplement with FMA when I observed a disheveled man swinging a bat at someone's car screaming obscenities. I called the police but he observed me doing so and started swinging his bat angrily on the ground screaming. All I had in my hand and not my bag was the flute. He swung at me as I rushed in with a guard and I heard a crack as his bat struck my flute. Had the flute not been there the bat would have hit the back of my ribs cleanly but the flute STILL HADN'T broken. THe break instead occurred when I redondoed the flute around and began beating him hard about the head. One of the strikes sent the top of the flute flying leaving me to punyo and knee until the cops arrived. Had your flute not been there, I could have been hurt severely or killed by a dangerous man. It may be a while before I can get another one of your beautiful pieces to play and train with. But I am grateful for your weapon and hope I never have to use one again in earnest. Between the flute, FMA, and HEMA, I'm in one piece today."

The Three T's

The "three t's" are a basic progression of learning, which can apply to a broad range of physical skills, which I'll reference here to the pursuit of skill in martial arts. They are tools, targets and timing.

The first T is tools, and these are primary. Can you imagine going to a carpentry class to learn to build things, and not be taught the safe and proper use of the various implements before starting to use them, or driving a car without first knowing basic controls? In karate, for example, among the first things taught will likely be a horse stance and how to throw a basic punch. From there one branches out into other stances, blocks, parries and strikes, and how to combine them. In styles that feature footwork, one may start with a on-guard position and a simple step or two, combined with related hand movements. Eventually both methods ought to achieve similar goals.

The second T is targets. Without these, we're simply dancing. Targeting brings specificity to our action. Tools teach "how"; targeting teaches where and why. For instance, the various applications of finger jabs, claws, chops and punches. This engages the imagination by creating external focus and takes us through the various stages of mechanical development of skill.

The third T is timing, which is knowing "when" to do what is needed. Initially it is a mechanical process as our conscious mind struggles to control all the details. When we learn techniques, it is an internal dialog about coordinating information. As we progress, it becomes relational to external circumstances. Just like learning to drive a car, what feels awkward at first eventually becomes unconscious and automatic. Without timing, we have a pile of pieces from which to assemble a puzzle. It is the difference between "dead" (self-involved, unresponsive) and "live" (fully responsive and aware) martial arts. No longer do we try to figure out which technique corresponds to whatever confronts us; our action is innate and appropriate. Bruce Lee described this using water as a metaphor; it has no shape but simply fills whatever vessel into which it is poured. Circumstances are our container through which our actions now flow accordingly.

In application, these three elements tend to come into play in reverse. For example, when someone throws a punch, we need to move inside or outside of the opponent's body structure to avoid the blow and set up counters. Our entry is timing. Once we have position, targets become accessible, to which we apply various tools (strikes, grapples, takedowns, etc). Our goal is to become un-self-consciously proficient in the mechanics involved, freeing our conscious awareness to monitor and evaluate what is appropriate and necessary.

Fitness Quest

Well, today was mission accomplished. A wild idea that popped into my head about my 60th birthday was today brought to fruition. On October 12th I suddenly thought "my birthday is exactly in one month. What should I do to mark it?" and then the idea of doing 600 push-ups appeared. At first I tried to dismiss it as ridiculous. After all, I could be doing fun stuff, and this sounded like work. But the idea hung around persistently, waving at me from the edges of awareness, and soon I came to embrace the idea of this as a worthy challenge, a kind of quest. A friend from the aiki side of martial arts turned me on to a Japanese term, shugyo, for a similar type of disciplined spiritual endeavor.

I'd probably gone years without doing 600 push-ups, and with some shoulder injuries, I'd only begun doing them somewhat regularly about a year ago for rehabilitation. If I was going to make this happen, I'd have to train for it, and so I set a secondary goal of 3000 push-ups in the one month run-up to my birthday. That meant averaging 100 push-ups a day, which I broke up into numerous sets of 10 or 20, logging every set in my notebook. Exercise can be addictive, and I quickly realized that 3000 was too low a goal, so within the first few days I refocused on 4000 pushups for the month. Sundays were my big days, doing upwards of 300 push-ups during football game commercials, getting ahead on the count so I could rest on another day during the week.

I reached 4000 Monday evening, giving me Tuesday to rest up before the big day today. Ironically, I'd been pain free all month, but the last few days one of my shoulders was sore from working so hard. Now the underlying goal of this quest was to strengthen deep muscle and connective tissue. The push-ups were varied to hit muscles from different angles to support the shoulder joint, incorporating inclines, declines, close grip, wide grip and uneven grip push-ups as well as traditional flat ones. Some were done for explosiveness, others on slow count to feel the burn deeply. This was pure volume work, more like the 6x daily Bulgarian power lifter workouts than fatigue-and-rest body building. It was harder to start these last few workouts because of the soreness, but once I'd done a couple of sets to warm up, everything felt fine. I also supplemented the push-ups with yoga stretches, Indian clubs, kettlebells, squats, pull-ups and planks.

After the focus and consistency to get ready, today almost felt anti-climactic. Last night, waiting for midnight, I meditated and examined my mental state of readiness. In my mind, I felt I had already accomplished my goal. After the stroke of midnight I did 7 sets of 20 before going to bed, so that I wouldn't feel pressured for time when I awoke. By noon I'd finished half, 300, and then late in the afternoon I did the rest. Almost. I got to 580, only one more set of 20 to go, and couldn't just do it. I felt the distance I'd come, all the emotional and mental energy driving the physical work, and had to let the moment marinate awhile. Finally, as with every other set, I felt the time was right, and then it was done.

So how do I feel, now that it's done, besides sore, or tight from pumped muscles? My posture is better and I stand taller. I feel more fit and energized. There's currently a calm sense of euphoria, that I accepted and followed through on a crazy, spontaneous thought. There are lots of deadlines in life, but a challenge for its own sake is different. Unlike work or bills, there are no external consequences if we choose not to do something of our own volition. Everyone who competes in any sport, however, knows the feeling and sacrifice of preparing for an event, as do those who take on solitary pursuits for their own sake.

Having done this, I'm enjoying the feeling of accomplishment, and also the urge to build on it rather than see it as a single endeavor. I don't know what my next will be, but it won't focus on push-ups! Perhaps 100,000 punches on a heavy bag before the end of the year? Hmm .....

Disputes between martial artists are like disputes between academics. It's as though a geology professor in Montana were to declare exclusive purview over the entire field, and declare those credentialed professors at other institutes of higher learning to be unqualified in the discipline all have studied from the same sources. Outside a narrow group of initiates in the field, does anyone take that seriously or even care?   

At best titles reflect achievement; our society is a meritocracy, where pieces of paper declare worth. At worst they feed the ego, all too often poisoning a person's self-inflated sense of importance. Introducing oneself as a grandmaster might raise an eyebrow in an elevator, as much because of the esoteric reputation it connotes than any real appreciation. It's no different than a lawyer introducing himself as a senior partner in some law firm of which you've never heard. You may appreciate the long climb it took to reach such a position, but even if you are interested in services offered, which will probably be a narrow field of specialized expertise, you would probably be wondering how much coin he would charge, and in reality much of the work on your behalf would be done by much less exalted, and certainly less expensive, low-level "associates" grinding their way through the corporate hierarchy.

When I was starting my journey in martial arts nearly half a century ago, actual grandmasters were as common as real dragons. If you were to meet one, it would probably be at a distance. Even if it was in a seminar, the actual hands-on mentoring would almost undoubtedly be from lower ranking instructors. That may be less true nowadays, especially in some arts, but that is because rank, like the dollar, has inflated. I can meet more grandmasters at a party now than I encountered in my first 30 years on the mat. Does this somehow diminish the value of what was learned from those other teachers? Certainly not. If anything, without developing a background and depth, encounters with the higher ranks would be no more significant than that introduction in an elevator.

My Tai Chi teacher, the late John Wong, held rank of 5th degree or higher in at least 4 systems. He trained under William Chow, was a trusted associate of Adriano Emperado, and taught his grandfather's system of Tai Chi at his Wu Shing Academy. He told me that my knowledge was like a PhD in martial arts, but to a novice, little of that matters. It is the basics that they need, and it takes years to pour so much information into those just starting their journey.

Back when I was a freshman at Cal Berkeley in 1973, it was explained why that university had more winners of the Nobel Prize and other high honors than almost any other school on the planet. It was because professors there had teach classes for underclassmen, unlike other institutions where tenured professors could reside in their ivory towers amongst their peers and learned journals. What this meant was they had to constantly ground themselves in the fundamentals of their discipline. It's a lesson that applies to many areas of life.

Aikido, an art in which I spent some time back in the 70's and 80's, has one of the most logical ranking systems I've seen. First and second dan black belts assist more senior instructors. By third dan their skills are more clearly evident, but it generally takes a fourth dan to teach at one's own school. Fifth and higher were quite rare, generally encountered in seminars or as visiting teachers, a practice I truly appreciated in that style. It was a rare privilege if you trained at a school where such presided, but again, much of the hands-on monitoring and correction came from those under the head instructor.

Back around 1990 I met an elderly Taekwondo teacher who held a fifth dan in that art. He flatly stated that ranks beyond that were for politics, not skill. In truth, by the time most get to such a level, their physical skills are diminishing with age. Their value is what they can pass on to those below them. In my own chosen art of Escrima, my teacher, the late grandmaster Angel Cabales often said that his Master's certificate was "for politics. While rank such as that is generally reserved for the closest and most dedicated students, the truth is much of the art will be passed on by the much larger pool of instructors and even advanced but uncertified students. some of whom might be as skilled in the art despite lacking a piece of paper.

This is not to denigrate those who rose to high rank, but simply to point out the pyramid structure of hierarchy. Much like an iceberg, what is seen is only the tip, supported by the vast mass often undetected beneath the surface. In truth, what rises to the top once was below; do not presume those who toil without recognition are less worthy than those who once were such themselves.

An interview I did in 2014 with Professor Paul-Raymond Buitron (visiting from Laredo, Texas) at VEA Martial Arts in Manteca, Ca., in which I talk about my personal history in Escrima:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5CGjOQtQmA

Check out all the other interviews with various masters and grandmasters by Prof. Buitron under "Sages of Escrima" on Youtube!

Dogs are psychic.  I learned this back in the late 1970's.  I began training in a couple of martial arts and in yoga in 1978, figuring I'd decide which one to focus on after getting a taste of each.  I soon set aside Tai Chi for later, focusing on Kenpo, but I kept up the yoga practice with private instruction for about a year.  In hindsight, I wish I'd stayed with it longer; if I'd realized how popular it would become worldwide (especially with young women) that probably would have enticed me to stay. Regardless I did get a lot out of the principles, which I continued to use in my martial arts stretching over the years. 

So what does this have to do with dogs?  I had two malamutes living with me back then.  Every time I would start a routine, they'd immediately crowd around, making it impossible.  It wasn't that they were trying to stop me, it's that they loved the energy of what I was doing.  My solution was to put them in the back yard, and this is where I discovered their ability to sense things.  The spot where I would practice was not visible to them.  I could sit there for any length of time and they'd be content to lie on the porch.  The second I started a routine, however, they'd immediately begin howling and scratching at the back door to get in!  This wasn't random either; it was every time!  It took a lot of focus to ignore them; it wasn't easy, and perhaps one reason I abandoned that particular practice.  Instead I began doing the Tai Chi stretching routine I learned at the Wen Wu school.  These are standing stretches, so I could do them with the dogs in the house.  Being upright, I wasn't down on their level where I was vulnerable to their interference, and for whatever other reason, those didn't excite the same response.

In more recent years I've noted other times dogs take to act in response to what I'm doing.  In particular, they always seem to know when I'm going to the bathroom.  The dogs can be quietly out in the yard, but the instant I'm unable to run out to correct them, they begin barking at neighbors or fence fighting with their dogs!  Yelling from inside the house won't work when they know I can't come out, and how they know this is a mystery known only to them.

So what exactly is it to be psychic?  If nothing else, it's the ability to sense things unrecognized by others.  The first time I recognized this in dogs was the behavior of our miniature schnauzer in the  2-3 days before my father's death when I was 14.  It was odd, my mother noted, how the dog was slinking out of the room whenever my father walked in.  That was unusual, as they had a good relationship, and my father would often take the dog with him on long walks.  Suddenly the dog was nowhere to be found when dad got the leash. On the last day of my father's life, the dog was missing.  Eventually I found him quivering under the couch.  That night, after dinner, my father had a massive heart attack; I found him slouched in his chair when I went to play chess with him.  The ambulance arrived, and my mother, usually a slow and cautious driver, tailgated it across town to the hospital while I was left home alone.  That dog and I had never been close, but that night he crept into my room and joined me on my bed, the first time he'd sought me out in the five years he'd lived with us.  Though he and I never closely bonded (he was definitely my mother's dog) it was the turning point in our relationship.

Spontaneity

There are different priorities in training.  One of mine is spontaneity.  This involves the abilities to both think and act in a quick and fluid manner, all terms that can be further qualified.  Working backwards:

Fluid means smooth.  Smooth can be fast or slow; what matters most is timing.  Impeccable timing will neutralize many things. 

Quick is acceleration, the ability to get from A to B in as short a time as possible.  Fast is the speed at which you are moving when you get there.  In longer performances, such as a foot race, winners may not be moving as fast as second place, but they get there first.  The faster runner, not being as quick to reach speed, plays catch-up.  In longer races, though, the overall speed of the winner will be decisive.  It matters not how quickly you initiate movement off the line in a marathon.

Action springs from the mind; of that there is no question.  Training increases neuromuscular connections, building faster, more efficient responses.  How well one performs, though, is as much about the clarity of mind and will as it is about the condition of the body.  Whatever we do when we train, we are training our minds how to use our body.

Notice I used "minds" in the previous sentence, the plural form of the word.  We have both conscious and unconscious systems in operation.  Which is in charge and how well they cooperate is key.

We spend a lot of time being aware of our conscious thoughts.  Seems self-evident, but we really spend most of our time in unconscious states.  It's when we tune in that we become self-conscious.  This state of awareness is fantastic for thinking thoughts, analyzing information, reading this or having a conversation.  It is good for directing the unconscious mind, which is where willpower comes in, but cognitive perception is always the last link in a chain that starts from physical stimuli interpreted unconsciously and then elevated to immediate attention.  At that point, decisions are made, and the unconscious mind sends signals back downstream to activate physiological responses.

The unconscious mind, however, is capable of making its own decisions, whether it is to jump if we hear a rattle in the bushes, or to reach for the phone when it rings.  In a sense martial art training is very Pavlovian; we see/hear/feel a stimulus and we respond reflexively.  It is possible to react even before the conscious mind is activated because there are sub-brains throughout the body.  These are the major ganglia, such as the solar plexus and at the tailbone.  We used to mock dinosaurs that were so big they had brains at each end of their body; it turns out that isn't such a bad model after all.

There are other levels of the unconscious, however, beyond just mastery of the physical body. 
There is a higher level of awareness, so refined as to be unbeknownst to many people.  This is a place where things like wisdom come from, and root awareness.  Nothing can happen on any level without recognition.  How we move through the world, how we project ourselves, is all an image chosen on such a deep level. 

When we train, we can practice mindfulness, becoming aware of every thought, move, nuance in each and every moment.  Conversely, we can practice no-mindfulness, where there is no thought, or more correctly, no awareness of thought.  Paradox is wonderful; there are many ways to the mountaintop.  Either way, the inhibition of conscious thought is removed from the director's seat, relegated to a more appropriate role as spectator.  Sometimes I've experienced it as a commentator, like a sports announcer, but such is a distraction, a ploy to pay attention not to the action but the chatter, a status once-removed.  Thought may become awareness of one's thinking; the point is there are ways to capture or corral the monkey mind.  What is hypnosis but fixating the mind very specifically?

Now that we've popped down the rabbit hole, how does this apply?  When we learn to flow, we learn to think more quickly than other people.  We recognize possibility in motion; we respond to changing circumstances before they overwhelm us.  We allow intuition and feeling to operate tactically, while our conscious mind strategizes goals.

Keeping the details alive

I see many videos of Serrada these days where people are doing things that Angel worked so hard to train me not to do, things like cocking a #1 strike back behind the shoulder, or reaching in with the check hand automatically in lock position at the end of techniques, or stepping into daga range on basic techniques.  Those are details I try so hard to pass along to my students so that Angel's insights don't simply disappear.  After all, he had reasons for ever inch of movement, and we went to train with Angel to gain his insights from real combative experience, so why would we ignore what he shared with us?

Most of those details should be familiar to direct students, certainly those from the 80's when Angel claimed to open up his teaching completely.  There are of course some variations between practitioners, based on skill and application in the moment, but overall the folks who were training during my time with Angel are technically very similar to how I was taught.

Passing along a martial art is like the childhood game of telephone, where kids sit in a circle and pass along a message whispered from one to the next.  By the time the message goes full circle, it is often completely scrambled from the original.  This is common to many arts, and one reason why different lineages appear.  It's one thing to innovate and explore, making the art one's own, but it's another to lose sight of the original intent and practices.

I'm by no means saying I'm the sole repository of Angel's knowledge.  He taught many people, and some lessons may only have come from a specific question in a class or been shared with those whom he trusted.  This is why there is benefit in training with a variety of instructors.  That's one thing I really liked about Aikido training, that teachers would visit each others' schools and share their insights.  An arm bar is an arm bar, but there are different ways to make it effective, after all.  Still, Angel was as sharp and discerning a teacher as I've ever met, and it would be a pity if years from now the art bearing his name were to become something he would not recognize or acknowledge.

Twirling For Power

Why twirl a stick?  There is a reason for this if done properly; it isn't just to look cool.  First, the downside.  It can leave you open to a high counter if you're not careful.  Timing and positioning are important considerations.

The reason to twirl is to generate power in a very compact motion compared to a linear strike.  If I throw a #1 strike (high right forehand) in a linear motion from a fully retracted position, my hand travels approximately 20 inches.  I can add some arc, either by cocking my wrist or positioning the stick over my shoulder.  Both add power, but affect timing because my hand has to travel the distance, and the over-the-shoulder position leaves my face unguarded.  A twirl moves the tip of the stick a tremendous distance, further and more quickly than retracting and reversing direction. 

Let's do some math.  The circumference of a circle is pi (3.14) times diameter (C=pD).  If I have a 20 inch stick, the diameter of a twirl is 40 inches but the distance the tip travels is approximately 10.46 feet!  That greater distance allows tremendous acceleration.  With a 28 inch stick, the tip covers some 14.65 feet!  All this is done with minimal hand travel;  add a short "pump" to the motion and the effect can be devastating. 

I've often demonstrated this by having someone hold out their stick for me to strike.  First I hit it in as linear a motion as I can, as though I'm throwing a punch, a relatively weak hit given the lack of mass in the stick even compared to impact from a fist.  Then I tell them to hold on tight as I strike with a twirl, moving my hand as little as possible.  If the stick doesn't fly out of their hand (I warned them to hold on tight!) they'll certainly feel a much greater shock.  If that had been their wrist, the fight likely would have been over.

Of course there are other reasons to twirl, such as reversals around blocks or for secondary hits to targets, or to hide intention before attacking a target, but as a hidden way to hit hard, it's something that is often overlooked.

Stickman Escrima T-shirts now available!  The silk-screened mandala image started as a photo of an array of training knives for an escrima club; the fist and stick were done by renowned rock 'n roll artist John Seabury, one of the featured artists in the book "Art of Rock".

Ballistic Punching

Recently I've been reading up and watching video of Systema, a Russian system that's becoming more popular in the West. I see a lot of similarity with things I do, incorporating some of the concepts I've learned over the years from Aikido and Tai Chi as well as Escrima. One is something Val Riazanov call "ballistic punching", a term I've used as well to describe the idea. It involves relaxation, not tension; more like firing a bullet than pushing a car. Extreme examples, but to get the idea ... Here's a simple example of how it works. Punch your fist into your opposite open palm. You can do it like a baseball player pounding the palm of his glove, just putting it in there so it sticks. Now keep doing this: stick, pull it out, repeatedly. Now throw one punch that's faster but not "harder" or deeper, just faster. Let it snap back on impact. Feel the difference in energy? There are specialty spark plugs that have capacitors. This takes the incoming electrical charge, stores it for a millisecond and then discharges it in a much shorter but more intense burst of energy, resulting in a hotter spark. Just another analogy.

Vallejo's Pistahan Festival sure appears successful. I say "appears" because I couldn't get in! It took maybe 15 minutes to drive there, then I spent longer than that looking for parking. It didn't help that there were dozens of cars ahead of me, circling block after block and double parking in hopes someone would leave. I finally gave up and went home. My consolation prize was stopping off in Hercules on the way and picking up some Filipino food. Choko's Cuisine had dinuguan today ... not bad!