Speculations on Form: A Musculoskeletal Perspective

By Jessica Kern

Jessica is a Certified Neuromuscular Therapist and a Level 2 (Yellow) student at Wu Dao

A few months ago a question came up during a Kung Fu class:

When throwing punches in training, why is it so important to bring the fists all the way back to the waist? As Shi-fu Tim demonstrates, in a sparring or fighting situation you would virtually never bring the fists back that far because it would leave the body open and vulnerable to attack; he shows that it is generally best to keep the fists out in front of the body for protection and availability.

It may seem at first glance that we are looking at a conflicting set of ideas between training and fighting, but things are not always as they seem.

As a person who studies bodies and movement patterns for a living, I was intrigued by the question, and it got me thinking.

Perhaps it would be easiest to think of the body as a slingshot and the muscles as the elastic bands. If you're firing a slingshot, the more tension you put on the elastic band (without breaking it), the more power you get when you let it go. The mechanism for throwing a punch is much the same.

To translate this back to the human body, our muscles are a complex network of elastic bands that work together with the skeleton to create movement. In training, when we bring the fists back to the waist to prepare to throw a punch, we bring the muscles to their end range - pulling them back as far as they can go.

Technically this position activates shoulder and spinal stabilizing muscles (the "sling" of the slingshot), and puts the arm in a position so that when released forward for a punch, gives maximum potential for contraction of Serratus Anterior and Pectoralis Major, and Subscapularis (the "shot" of the slingshot).

The cool thing about the body is that the more we train our maximum range of movement, the more we can affect strength at any range. A muscle becomes strongest and healthiest only when we can take it through its full potential range of movement - because we challenge all the muscles fibers maximally. Strength through the full range means two key things for all muscles: better protection against injury and more power.

Training is about being prepared.

So even though we do not frequently use full range of motion in sparring or fighting situations, we are wise to be equipped with more than we need.

Martial Biking

By Julius Anastasio

Julius is a Level 3 (Orange) student at Wu Dao

Anyone who has navigated the streets of Boston by bike can recount how harrowing an experience it can be. A few days ago I was biking home from Kung Fu class during rush hour. Zipping by the adjacent gridlocked cars, a passenger-side door opened into the bike lane, catching my handlebars and sending me into the air.

The next thing I knew, I found myself kneeling on the ground, about 10 feet in front of my bike. After being thrown from my bike, I had unconsciously tucked into a dive roll, and had landed unscathed, sunglasses still on, the take-home container of leftovers in my backpack unopened.

I got up immediately and brushed myself off. Being the martial arts nerd I am, I was actually disappointed in how I had reacted (hitting the ground in stride would have looked SO much cooler). The passenger who had opened the door asked if I was alright, glancing over at my bent, sorry-looking bike. “I’m fine,” I said as I tried to bang the handlebars of my bike into some ride-able state. A woman who has witnessed the accident from the sidewalk asked me “Are you alright? That was quite a display of acrobatics.”

I replied with another quick “I’m fine, thanks,” as I got back onto my crooked bike seat just in time to catch the next green light. I rode the rest of the way home contemplating the events that had just occurred, particularly how useless the tune-up I had just gotten the day before was at this point.

Reflecting on the accident made me appreciate how lucky I am to have practiced martial arts for the majority of my life. Living in our current society, the chances that I will have to fight for my life aren’t very great. Accidents and falls, however, are much more likely. My years of martial arts training have conditioned me to internalize many movements, allowing my body to react unconsciously and automatically to protect myself in unexpected dangerous situations such as a bicycle accident.

We don’t always consider the beneficial side-effects of our Kung Fu training. We have a tendency to focus on the height of our sidekicks, the deepness of our horse stances, or the fluidity of a form. While Kung Fu does give way to these more concrete accomplishments, it also allows you to internalize those movements and become a part of you. Sometimes it takes real-life situations to make us to understand the true extent of what we are accomplishing in the countless hours we devote to training.

Iron Palm Kung Fu

Retold by Sissi Liu

The following is a folk tale told by Shifu Shi De Cheng during his Summer 2008 trip to Wu Dao. It is stories like these that inspired him to train in Kung Fu as a child.

Long long ago, there was a young man who was weak and thin. He was constantly being picked on by other young men of his village. One day, after hearing stories about the mystical Kung Fu warrior monk in the mountain, he decided to set out to learn Kung Fu from the monk. With few belongings, he hiked far far away and into the mountain where the monks lived.

Upon arriving at the temple, he discovered the old monk. After several days, he got up the courage to approach the monk, and asked, "Shifu, will you accept me as your disciple?" The monk rejected.

The young man did not give up. Over the course of months, he voluntarily performed chores and begged the monk to accept him. The monk finally did.

The young man was ecstatic. He asked the monk, " Shifu, what will you teach me today? The other young men in the village are constantly hassling me. I need skills to protect myself."

The monk replied, "You see that boulder by the tree? Just gently pat it with the front and back of the hands."

The young man was in utter disbelief. However, he accepted Shifu's instructions and began patting the boulder.

The young man persisted day after day to pat the boulder. A month went by, he became impatient, and reasoned to himself, "I came all this way just to pat a boulder?"

He went to the monk and urged, "Shifu, I have been patting the boulder for a month. When are you going to teach me some real Kung Fu?"

Shifu said, "Be patient. You need to pat the boulder."

The young man went back to his boulder.

A year passed, the young man got up the courage to ask Shifu again, "Shifu, don't you think I'm ready to learn Kung Fu?"

Shifu replied, "You have to go pat the boulder some more."

Another two years went by, the young man decided that it was time to press his case again. He pleaded with the monk, "Shifu, please, teach me some Kung Fu."

Shifu turned to him and said, "It's time for you to leave now. You better go."

Confounded by the response, the young man, despaired. He wrapped up his belongings and descended the mountain.

Upon returning to the village, the villagers came to meet the returning "Kung Fu master." They said, "You have returned! We heard you found a great Kung Fu monk as your master. You must show us some of your skills!"

The young man, feeling total embarrassment, replied, "In all honesty, I did find a master but I didn't learn anything."

The villagers were incredulous. "You were gone for years. How can you say that you didn't learn anything? You are just being modest. You must be hiding your Kung Fu skills."

All the villagers became convinced that the young man had acquired Kung Fu secrets. The news spread. More and more people came from near and far to meet this young Kung Fu master whose skills were inconceivably powerful that they certainly could not be demonstrated.

Being hassled by such constant inquiries, the young man became truly frustrated with his utter lack of skills and others' impression of him. One day, he returned home, pursued by a mob of villagers and visitors. He sat down at the dining room table, surrounded by the crowd of people, pressing him to show them his skills. No longer able to contain his frustration, he stood up and exclaimed, "I really didn't learn anything!" and slammed his palms down on the thick solid wood table. There was a loud "crash" as the table broke in half and fell to the floor.

Everyone was silent. The young man had in fact conditioned his palms into iron weapons.

Form Over Substance?

By Sissi Liu
Sissi Liu is the Yoga instructor and a Level 5 (Green) student at Wu Dao

Many students of traditional martial arts either adore or despise the study and practice of forms (Tao-Lu in Chinese). There are also those who feel that forms are simply a part of traditional martial arts practice and are therefore resigned to learning them. The rationale for the learning forms is unclear to many. To make the matter worse, it seems that forms have been relegated to the status of a performing art, accompanied by flashy costuming, flimsy weapons, musical accompaniments, with acrobatic moves and sometimes even stage effects to entertain the audience. One is therefore forced to question, “Is there perhaps too much form over substance when it comes to forms training in traditional martial arts?”

To address this question, it is helpful to examine the origin of forms. Chinese martial arts extend greatly in terms of style. Each style was created with an embedded philosophy on gaining the advantage in a fight. Through hands-on practice and real-life battles, discoveries about body mechanics and strategies were made, and specializations were thus formed. Contrast Praying Mantis and Choy Lay Fut Kung Fu, which are both taught at Wu Dao: Praying Mantis exhibits quick strikes and hook grabs, with the intent to turn defense into offense; Choy Lay Fut features aggressive and powerful techniques that are better suited for continuous offensive attacks. Contrast these with Yang Style Tai Chi, which is founded on the idea of redirection of force and energy. Shui-jiao, or throwing, represents yet another ancient branch of Chinese martial arts that may be unfamiliar to most Americans. Expand this further, Chinese martial arts is also comprised of Chin-Na techniques, weapons use, internal styles, and beyond.

Forms most likely became a common way for creators and practitioners of each style to anthologize the essential techniques of their system for the ease of memorization, practice, and documentation. While many Shaolin forms were documented in text, in the absence of literacy, forms, transmitted as an oral tradition, became the means for passing down coveted martial arts knowledge. It was also a method for protecting intellectual property of a particular martial artist or lineage. For example, from Chinese mnemonic rhymes, we get vivid technique names such as "monkey grabs the peaches." These rhymes enabled generations of idea accumulation and refinement to survive through the millennia, carrying with them the wisdom of the teachers who came before us.

The process of learning through forms may therefore seem counter-intuitive. Traditional teaching methods put much of the burden on the student. Instead of being taught the applications of techniques within a form, one studies the form over a long period of time. Through many iterations of practice, combined with personal trials and analysis, one begins to appreciate the effectiveness and the variety of applications of each technique and combination as well as the overall structure of a form. Just as one gains profound insight through the rereading of a great classic, one's understanding of techniques and the advantages and disadvantages of a particular style may change and deepen with the knowledge and growth of the practitioner. The goal is to extract the essence of the style from a form and be able to comfortably and sometimes creatively apply the techniques in a physical conflict.

During his visit to Wu Dao last summer, I asked Shifu Shi De Cheng, a Shaolin Warrior Monk, how many forms his Shaolin master knew. He named a few but emphasized that his master was particularly skilled at two forms, one of which was Xiao Hong Quan (Little Hong Style Fist) a form typically taught to beginners but one that encompasses many fundamental Shaolin techniques and a plethora of applications.

Ultimately, forms training is a means to an end. It has an important place in traditional martial arts practice but its place must be well understood and not corrupted by an enthusiasm for its entertainment value. As a martial arts student, the objective of learning forms should not be to collect them, but to perfect and internalize the skills and techniques that they seek to teach. With this in mind, consistent training in forms can yield intellectual stimulation and personal growth.

Application of Kung Fu in Peru

By Chris Greci
Chris Greci is a Level 3 (Orange) student at Wu Dao

On my recent trip to Peru, I had my first experience with applying Kung Fu training in a real life situation. No physical contact resulted. However, I found that Kung Fu training gave me the confidence to act, and therefore helping to avoid a potentially problematic outcome.

After a day tour in Cusco, Peru, I decided to eat dinner with a friend I met, and little did I know at the time, maybe practice some Kung Fu, too. We were eating at a fast food place called "Brembos." The seating was tight at a small table for two with some seats facing back to back with adjacent tables. About half way through the "hamburguesa con queso," there came a shriek. After the second of confusion, I realized there was a hand in my friend's purse from a man sitting at an adjacent table.

A few seconds went by as I analyzed my environment and options. (Necessary as the local police are not known to protect tourists; only the tourist police have this interest.) The man was in his mid twenties, a few inches shorter and heavier than me, and looked like a Peruvian. I got up, walked around the table, looked directly at him and in a firm Spanish tongue, said, "What are you doing?" I then instructed my friend to search her purse to make sure that she had all her belongings.

Meanwhile, I held my ground and blocked any escape he may have had in this narrow hall-like room as I waited. While she was checking her purse, he became impatient and got up. I backed away a half step, rooted my stance, and confirmed with my body language that I still was not going to let him leave. He remained standing, but regressed into a frightened state, like a cornered, helpless animal. A few moments later, she confirmed that she had everything and I let him pass without any physical confrontation, remembering how Shi-fu always said that a martial artist tries to win a fight mentally first, before having to use force. This was a wise and preferred approach given the uncertainty of public and police response should a confrontation ensue. Later, I realized that the physical confidence gained from Kung Fu training provided the support for the mental aspect of the confrontation; the physical and mental aspects are symbiotic pairs.

In the end, a potentially awful situation was avoided; a girl was grateful for having her belongings saved by an acquaintance. I sat back down and we finished our meal. It was interesting to note the reaction of the locals in the restaurant. The incident was interesting enough for them to raise their heads. One asked if everything was okay. But that was all. In America, an on-looker would have called the police. Here, it was just the typical ambiance of a typical fast food restaurant. In a small city of a third world country, you are on your own and you must maintain full awareness of your surroundings.