"The exercising of weapons putteth away aches, griefs, and diseases, it increaseth strength and sharpeneth the wits, it giveth a perfect judgment, it expelleth melancholy, choleric, and evil conceits, it keepeth a man in breath, in perfect healthe, and long life." – George Silver (1599)
“Sparring is not like love making that you have to remain erection through the whole process. Tiger doesn’t need to keep mouth open when chasing a deer.”
“Interrupt your opponent’s force before he generates it.”
“It makes no sense to train your solo forms in school with others. There are better way to train in school. Some CMA guys just don’t understand the difference between school work and homework.”
“If every training session you push yourself so hard that you hate to do it again than that will not be good. You should stop your training when you feel great and you still want to continue but you force yourself to stop. This way you always look forward to the next training section.”
“The opening that you can “see” may not be true opening. It’ could be a trap – raise guard to invite a kick, drop guard to invite a punch. The opening that you can “feel” will be the true opening. This is why one needs to build up bridge (making leg/arm contact) before futher commitment.”
“How do you expect a girl to go to bed with you if you never say ‘I love you’? You say ‘I love you.’ She says ‘I love you too’. Then you get to say ‘Good, let’s go to bed!’ That is using and then borrowing force. First, you give, then you take.”
“What’s my style? ……My style is the style that can beat the shit out of you!”
Miles had read it too and remembered the story about the “dinky little poke” which was this “secret technique” where a precise shot (aimed thru hit up thru chin to cerebullum?) would rattle the brain and cause KOs. The book also has a neat one about someone weaponized breath and one with a Kiai master.
[mind you in the book the guy gives a very powerful exhalation that stuns the consciousness of the author of the book, not this humming]
“The Tao Of Tai Chi Chuan – Way To Rejuvenation” by Master Jou Tsung Hwa
One night, as I practiced Tai Chi Chuan, I saw the crescent moon rise. Suddenly, I understood the connection Chang San-Feng made: the back of the hand is yang, the palm is yin. As the hand turns, a crescent of yang appears. We have two hands, so they must match one another like the relationship between the sun and the moon.
From this I was able to recognise that the pa kua, representing eight phases of cyclical change, is the key to the torso method in Tai Chi Chuan.
The master key to the art of Pa Kua is the circular arrangement of the eight trigrams. Practitioners may imitate circular walking, but they must understand the eight trigrams for their art to truely be “Pa Kua”. The master key to Hsing-I is the relation of the five elements in each movement.
But all of us, whether we train in martial arts or not, do battle daily with some of our worst enemies: depletion of energy, ageing, illness, aches and pains, lack of direction, lack of concentration, stubbornness, laziness, and other ailments and negative proclivities of the human condition. Against these enemies, MMAs can’t hold a candle to TMAs—particularly the internal martial arts. Anyone who doesn’t believe this should watch the movies Requiem for a Heavyweight or The Wrestler. Both are realistic portrayals of the toll that ring combat sports take on the human body and spirit. Or, if you need real-life examples, think of Muhammad Ali, whose Parkinson’s Disease was probably caused by too many blows to the head or Mickey Rourke, star of The Wrestler, disfigured and also the recipient of too many head strikes, forcing him to retire from the ring and return to acting (thank goodness!). Then afterward, watch any YouTube video of traditional martial arts masters in their seventies and eighties who move as if they are decades younger than their calendar ages. To put it another way, the “broken-down pug” is a well-known stereotype for a reason, but how may of us have an image of the “broken-down karateka,” or, even more ludicrous, “the broken-down tai chi chuanist?”
This guy (Morihei Ueshiba – founder of Aikido) is 85!
The first level of practice is called “Icy Woman.” At this level we develop a root so that when pushed the opponent’s force is directed through our body down to the ground. As the Icy Woman’s structure improves she is able to keep this rooted quality continuously during dynamic movement. If played as a game, both people will try to keep even pressure on their opponent’s root. The moment the pressure is broken either partner can move to sever their opponent’s root. The game can also be won root-to-root. In this case each person uses a blend of twisting, wrapping, expanding and condensing to improve the integration of their root. Root against root, the better root will win.
The second level of practice is called “Watery Woman.” At this level it is necessary to become weak. If played as a game, the goal is to try and find some ice in your opponent. Ice is either structure or rootedness. The Watery Woman does not attempt to compete structure-against-structure nor does she try to uproot her opponent. She gives up rootedness and structure for fluid movement and weight. The Watery Woman sloshes her weight in and around her opponent, she only wins when her opponent makes a mistake–the mistake of becoming icy.
The third level of practice is called “Steamy Woman.” At this level her body becomes cloud-like. Empty and full at the same time. When the Steamy Woman meets ice or water in her opponents she simply floats them out of the way. Her mind is not on her body at all, but all around it at play with the elements of volume, momentum, and density. Inside a steam-like feeling moves around freely without regard to purpose or concept. Like a cloud, it has no agenda. Outside the game is played by the shifts and swirls of presence.