My favorite Horsewoman suggested a slightly different entry for today; Saturday’s class led to some observations about cross-training in martial arts that she found somewhat interesting. Last week in a different context, Sensei Geoff commented that cross-training was almost always good, and I guess I was thinking about that this week.
Once again this week we rotated partners every 20 minutes or so – a practice which I didn’t understand at first, but I now appreciate the wisdom. Cross Training came up with each partner in a slightly different context.
I started out working with Heather, who had been on travel for a while and is effectively starting over. So she and I worked on the first five techniques – the strikeing or atemi techniques. Kind of interesting what she remembers and what she doesn’t. She needs a reminder about the gross theme or structure of the technique (For number one, step to the inside, parry across, capture with the other hand, then more the primary hand to the throat and shuffle forward so that the throw comes from your hips), but she’s got very good habits – she controls the hand without thinking about it, and has a good control of my balance; clearly she remembers quite a bit.
The cross training part came when we were reviewing the third technique. The formal name is gyakugama ate, but I’ve always called it “stretching the bow”. The thrower steps off the line and parries to deflect the attack, then traps the attacker’s arm with the outside wrist and slides the inside wrist up the arm to the neck. “old-school”, that would have been a strike to the neck, but since we like to re-use our partners, we simply press on the chin. Slight pressure on the bottom of the chin with one hand and on the trapped wrist with the other hand has the effect of preventing the attacker from recovering his/her balance. The thrower can them shuffle calmly towards the attacker’s rear; since the attacker cannot step back to recover balance, they drop to the ground. There are a number of ways to stretch the bow; I can do it with raw strength, but I’m trying to get away from that habit. It is crappy technique and somewhat unpleasant for my partner. Heather was having trouble with it too. She wasn’t getting my chin up and my head back. (The typical beginner problem is to release the pressure on the bottom/outer wrist; she had good tension there, but wasn’t managing to seize control of my posture and balance). Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that her upper shoulder was elevated and engaged. I had a sudden epiphany as the sound of my taiji teacher’s [Dante Gilmer of http://stillwatertaichi.com/ ], “Shoulders in their sockets” . I reached out and pressed down gently on her shoulder to get her to relax the joint. Once her shoulder dropped, my chin and it popped up to the sky, my spine bowed and she had control of my posture and balance. One small shuffle and I dropped like a rock. Last year I don’t think I would have spotted the shoulder or been able to offer the correction.
My second partner was Richard, who has arrived at our club after training elsewhere. It is always very cool to see how different people interpret different techniques. Richard has wickedly cool blending and timing. I actually had to step up my attack, because if I didn’t attack with intent, then it was difficult for him to execute techniques. Tomiki style Aikido has a slightly more formalized curriculum than most aikido groups, so he’s working through our basic curriculum, adapting what he has learned, and I’m learning how other clubs view the core movements of aikido. Most of these techniques he recognizes, but there are differences in entry and in one case our dojo has a specific custom that we do for safety, but which is not done other places (I see very senior instructors doing it in video all the time, which is why I won’t mention the specific practice. It isn’t wrong, we just don’t do it that way). This time through we worked on “the way we do things”, but next time I work with him, I want to see if I can take advantage of what he can teach about blending.
My third partner was Eric, and cross training came up in a context that was perhaps a bit less constructive. I’ve mentioned that because several of us have knee problems, Sensei Geoff has permitted (encouraged) us to demonstrate the kneeling techniques from a standing position. My third partner on Saturday was Eric, who has done these standing variations a few more times, and I really liked the way he demonstrated them. The technique which is formally known as gedan ate, but is known within the dojo as “go away kid you bother me”, when kneeling involves the attacker grasping the outside of the thrower’s sleeve and pulling him upwards; the thrower then breaks free the grasped arm and pressed down on the inside of the attacker’s knee – this collapses the knee joint. I like that technique a lot from a kneeling position because it is so economical. The standing variation of the technique naturally doesn’t involve the up/down component. The attacker grasps the sleeve; the thrower snaps his arm across his body to free the sleeve and then strikes [perhaps – see below] the attacker on the return with the knife edge of the hand. Still economical, but somewhat more violent.
The problem was that the body motion is very similar to the setup for a shoulder strike in Taiji. My body moved naturally into a shoulder strike and rather than striking with the outside of my hand, I started to strike with the point of my elbow, backed by the entire force of my body. Before I actually struck, I realized the problem and pulled the attack. Eric got a puzzled look on my face and tried to find a gentle way of pointing out that the strike had to be a bit more convincing. I explained that the strike was almost too convincing, and we repeated the technique more successfully.
The point of the story is not that I’m all deadly (My favorite horsewoman is shouting “street!” to mock me). The point is – and curiously the same point came up in Taiji class the next day – that there are really very few martial arts moves. There is a difference between the backhand strike that is correct for that kata and the shoulder strike, but it isn’t a very important difference. It is important that I do the right move for the set of techniques so that I practice safely with my partner, and important that I demonstrate my knowledge of the set of techniques correctly. But there are deep structural constraints that arise from the anatomy of the human body, and there is a great deal of transferability from one art to another. The point is that we all bring something different to the mat, some unique contribution.
I’ll close by clarifying my caveat about “strikes” above – which is where the whole topic came up in Taiji class. (and further reinforce the cross training theme). Fielding – one of our senior students – doesn’t like us to use the word “strike” for techniques that involve lots of motion. His training uses the word “strike” for a set of striking techniques that don’t involve a lot of motion – they are short sharp movements that damage the opponent, but don’t involve “throw”. I’m probably not explaining his objection very well, but it is sufficient for context. In Taiji on Sunday, Dante was talking about the difference between “push” which is “long energy” that will result in a throw, and “press” that doesn’t create a throw. Just to confuse matters, he used the term “strike” in exactly the opposite meaning that fielding does. But the point is the same. Much of Aikido is about seizing the opponents balance and then transferring some momentum, which results in a throw. The throw isn’t about raw force, it is about maximum results with minimum effort. If I can unbalance my opponent and prevent him from recovering that balance, then fairly trivial force (no more than that which I would normally exert in walking forward), will result in a big throw. Reading back over that, I’m not sure I’ve clarified anything – I think that I explained it fairly badly. But it seems to me that it unifies the observation about the value of cross training.
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