2d vs 3d Waza

"You are trying to do a technique!" said Jack. I knew I was, old habits truly die hard. Such a statement would have sounded like madness to me years ago, but not these days. We had been practicing some concepts from Ichimonji no Kata, and at first I had been in a fairly comfortable zone. I had been watching the tactical space I was familiar with, I knew the terrain. As we moved on to different shaped attacks, and different directions to maneuver, started including Gyaku and other forms, I started to struggle.

Jack mentioned that we students were mostly doing two dimensional techniques. In other words, we were trying to 'push' our opponents down (one direction) and in order to do this we were trying to unbalance them with a lateral movement (second direction). He pointed out that such techniques might not work because the opponent must simply resist sufficiently in two dimensions to prevent them. If the opponent is stronger than you, or has fast reactions, they have a good chance of beating/escaping your technique. Instead we were told to use three dimensional movements, adding an extra direction of movement to the form. This makes it much harder for the opponent to resist and converts their resistance into further imbalance. This is much more efficient.

I knew this, I should have known this. I even teach this. So what was wrong?

I was in the wrong place. A three dimensional technique uses Kaname (a spiraling action), which requires you to be in the Kukan no Kyusho (correct point in space), and you can only find that point if you are paying attention to the changing tactical environment.

I have been taught many times the precedence of Ethics first, then Tactics, and finally Technique. It is a natural law of nature. If you are focused too much on doing a specific technique you might lose focus on the tactical space. If you lose the tactical space your technique will become two dimensional. It might work, it might not, depending on your opponent. By focusing on being in the correct tactical position as a priority, the technique can become much more efficient. You don't have to 'try' so much.

So when I hear my teacher say "You are trying to do a technique!", perhaps I should try to be more tactically positioned instead. I already know how to try and 'force' a technique if I am in the wrong place. If I want to learn and improve I need to start focusing on the higher priorities.

Soft training and slow training

"Everyone knows that the yielding overcomes the stiff,

and the soft overcomes the hard.

Yet no one applies this knowledge.” 

― Tao Te Ching

Last night we continued our theme of controlling the opponent through his own resistance. Jack mentioned that, last year in Japan, Hatsumi Sensei had revealed the importance of a well integrated body combined with soft hands. I had certainly noticed that concept before when experiencing techniques from various Shihan, but I couldn't understand how or why it worked. It was also very difficult to practice because although it sometimes 'just happened' for me, it wasn't repeatable and therefore difficult to improve upon.

We practiced a technique whereby there was a temporary moment of body tension that caught the opponent by surprise and unbalanced them, it was done subtly but we focused on it in slow time. Without slowing ourselves down we could not 'feel' the effectiveness of our kamae, could not develop our timing, and our uke could not experiment with natural resistance. There was no way to improve by rushing it. As we got more comfortable and as the technique sped up, the kamae, the tension, and the technique itself started to disappear and blend in to our movement.

Some of us had a Muso Dori variation applied to our arm. It felt dangerous, scary, as if our joint was at risk of being damaged, even though it was slow and his hands were soft, there was no way to prevent the pain without throwing ourselves onto the floor or breaking our kamae even further. Jack explained that in a real moment of danger our adrenalin will excite our muscles, and our movements will become fast and hard, adding an extra 30%, or so, of intention. Because of this, it is not necessary to try and hurt the Uke with hard and fast motions when training properly, that could happen anyway, depending on the situation. So this focused slow and attentive training was the way to really teach our bodies how to do it correctly.

Training while injured

I have often heard my teacher talk about training while injured, more importantly though he actually does it himself as an example. Please note the use of the word 'injured', rather than 'highly contagious', or 'seriously ill'.

Many Budoka train frequently, with various different partners, in various different locations. Some work out, or partake in sports, others do physical tasks for work. The chance of hurting a muscle, tendon, or bone over time are high, not to mention the elements of repetition and natural aging. Eventually, something will go wrong. What then?

It really is a personal decision, but here are a few things to consider.

Training should be good for your body if done correctly. You should usually leave the dojo with a sense of well-being, as opposed to a reservation of "how much longer will I be able to do this?". Training should get the juices flowing, and serve as a source of rehabilitation for injured areas.

It is sometimes possible to learn from the injury, and use it to improve your Taijutsu. Often bad form increases the pain experienced performing certain movements. For example I once had a bad shoulder, if I did my Jodan Uke incorrectly I would experience searing pain in my nervous system. By training while injured I re-enforced myself to do a better job of it.

The injury may have happened because of something you can change (bad choice of training partner aside). It could be that you have issues with structural Kamae and movement. Other considerations might be the overall state of your health, such as extra weight and lack of flexibility. Even how we deal with the stress in our lives can effect how we move.

Injuries are a part of life, and real life does not go on hold for you. Part of training is to be able to accept and adapt to the situation. What if you are in danger while injured? It is sometimes good to test yourself a little, and see how you would 'keep going' despite an injury.

Other people might be injured too. Training with other injured people gives you both a chance to train without impacting the rest of the dojo, you can also both appreciate and protect certain areas. Training with injured people and taking their condition into account can also be good training.

Know your enemy

At a recent seminar we were being taught the importance of not focusing on a specific technique, but instead to flow with the opponent. If the Uke tried to pull, we used that pull. If the Uke tried to push, we used that push. If we lost our 'cool' and focused on trying to make a specific technique happen, then our technique could be beaten easily by a strong or tricky opponent.

At one point I was training with my partner, and I started to have problems. I kept wanting to do something, I kept panicking and rushing to what I thought should be the conclusion of the technique. It then dawned on me, 'I' am the problem here. Of course, my Uke is a potential problem too, if I do not move and protect myself he will surely hurt me. But once I have gained some familiarity with the form, my biggest problem is my own lack of self control.

It is difficult to time the movements well. To hold a good integrated kamae, at the right time, in the right place. Taijutsu is difficult. I have to be patient (忍), this is 'training' after all, and not a real fight (実戦). If I can not apply the principles of what I am learning in the environment of a training hall, how can I believe in my training?

I must learn to master my enemy, now that I know him.