Kata: Theatrics vs. Function

The Karate Thoughts Blog has a piece on tournament kata that caught my eye. While I agree that kata "is a rehearsal for an unfortunate, grave situation" I believe that there's more to these ancient forms and as a former competitor I'd like to offer my two cents.

Kata translates as "form" and on a certain level are artistic in nature. Aspects of aesthetic form includes maintaining correct stances throughout, proper foot alignment, looking before changing directions, and the execution of clean and precise techniques. In a good kata performance there should be a certain amount of gusto or passion evident but not so much that it becomes distracting or annoying. Most rulebooks on kata competition advise that judges should penalize competitors for trying to enhance kata with gymnastics or other crowd pleasing tricks such as too much or exaggerated kiai.

According to AAU karate rules, the kata must be performed with competence and must demonstrate a clear understanding of the principles it contains. Trying to convey a "clear understanding" of principles from swatting air seems like a tall order. How can anyone tell what the performer understands in the kata from a mere performance? Does an overly dramatic performance of kata necessarily imply that the practitioner is ignorant of the form's applications?

I'm generally in favor of tournament kata because it gives the practitioner the opportunity to perform and test out skills in an unfamiliar setting. But putting too much emphasis on trophies and even aesthetics can be an obstacle. Kata without an understanding of its self-defense applications (bunkai) are worthless. At any rate, when performing kata one should be engaged enough to convey a serious attitude sans the dramatics, while at the same time light enough to enjoy what you're doing. I see nothing wrong with that.

Breath, Ki and Altered States

Karate was once defined by a certain high level instructor I know as an endeavor that is both hard and painful - hard as in difficult, not the external or linear aspects. Painful is self-explanatory. Pain for me is not just getting walloped or incurring injuries but also a by-product of arduous training. Karate workouts tend to be very cardio/aerobic in nature. Speaking from experience, the feeling of fatigue brought on by oxygen debt is what, in the words of legendary football coach Vince Lombardi, "makes cowards of us all." Nothing pushes one's boundaries more than a brutal training session (shugyo). Shugyo "polishes the spirit" as Draeger puts it, and can even be undertaken solo sans a group setting, according to Forrest Morgan, author of the now classic Living The Martial Way.

The breath is closely related to the (controversial) concept of ki (chi/qi). Kiai (spirited shout) is a manifestation of this force that is not limited to karate. At a recent Japanese Spring festival I attended, a local kendo (sword way) school put on an exhibition match that featured players that liberally employed the kiai. I thought it was a bit much, but then I don't do kendo. Years ago, I took a jiu-jitsu seminar given by a renown Daito-ryu exponent who thought the kiai was "fake" if not downright silly. Shortly thereafter he went on to show a technique that was concurrent with a forceful exhalation. "Why exhale there?" I inquired. "It makes you stronger" was the response. A silent kiai, perhaps?

In karate, techniques that are performed with slow, deliberate muscular contractions are frequently executed alongside of forceful breathing. In Isshinryu the kata Seisan, Seiuchin and Sanchin use such methods. Sanchin is a unique form with no real bunkai (fighting applications) - at least none that I'm aware of - that dates back to antiquity. Supposedly it was Sanchin that the mytho-historical figure Bodhidharma brought from India to the Shaolin Temple in China to shock the lethargic monks out of meditative stupor. In reality, the Sanchin kata was probably a cognate of an earlier qigong form used to facilitate respiration and the circulation of blood.

One of my instructors would advise to "breathe through the heels" when performing Sanchin. Though not anymore, back in his day (the 60s) Sanchin was the last karate kata taught in Isshinryu. Naturally then, when testing for shodan (1st black belt) Sanchin was the last kata performed after numerous forms had been completed at full power and speed. The now heavily fatigued aspirant was then expected to fight everyone in the school! Talk about shugyo. And no uninspired renditions of kata for testing were allowed, as I once witnessed two candidates fail their 2nd dan promotions for not 'working up enough sweat' through a dozen or so forms. I must say, Sanchin produces a training effect like nothing else. A friend of mine that runs an Isshinryu school nearby does a version of Sanchin utilizing "Dragon Breathing" (i.e. very intense) that he says he learned from Advincula Sensei.

In early Chinese texts much is said about the power and magic of the breath. One Zhou dynasty (c. 500 BCE) inscription on the breath translates thus:

When transforming the breath, the inhalation must be full to gather the magic. To gather the magic, fullness must be extended. When it is extended it can penetrate downward. When it can penetrate downward it is magic. When it descends it becomes calm, solidifies, and is both strong and firm.

When novices are preparing for a test or tourney I advise them to take a slow, deep breath a moment before a point match or performance of kata. It has been long known that emotions affect the rate of breathing, but the opposite is also true: controlled breathing regulates the emotions. Stan Grof, a pioneer in transpersonal psychology and LSD research, has developed something called holotropic breathing that reportedly brings about altered states of consciousness. Thanks, no. If I want to achieve euphoria or pain-induced ecstasy I'll stick with good ol' martial arts training.

All Show and No Go

Back in my younger years I had a friend who owned a 67 Chevelle. In those days the Chevelle was considered the muscle car, a real street machine. Just one small problem: my friend's car only had an inline-six cylinder engine under the hood. Those sixes were good on gas but pretty lousy in the horsepower department. Yet people were afraid to drag race with this guy. Why? Because he had cool looking Cragar wheels all around, a header exhaust for his measly 250 cu. inch motor (which gave it a formidable growl when he hit the throttle), and a badass hood scoop. But on the strip this car was in a league with a Volkswagen. So the perception was that this car was an all-out racer, but the reality was that it had the performance of a scooter. Looks can always be deceiving.

Has anyone ever seen these exhibitions of extreme or tricking martial arts on TV? I'm referring to the choreographed acrobatic stunts that masquerade as traditional forms or kata. Every time I see someone twirling a bo like a baton at a hundred miles an hour I think of my buddy's pseudo racing machine. On some level it's impressive, it may look good, but hardly any of it is useful in a combative sense. I'd like to see some bunkai (realistic applications) for some of these moves. Black Belt Mama's article on The Great Kata Debate was one of her finest, and it includes a video of a youngster performing kata that's interspersed with more kiai (spirit shouts) than you would find in most Bruce Lee flicks. Very annoying. His parents must be stocked up on earplugs when he's practicing at home. They should've bought this kid a set of drums instead of karate lessons.

Admittedly, some arts are more demonstrable than others. Tae kwon do certainly comes to mind with its flashy kicking arsenal. Africans enslaved in Brazil during the 17th century developed capoeira which today incorporates movements that resemble a cross between gymnastics and breakdancing. Mind you, I'm not knocking either one of these styles. They're difficult to learn and probably impossible to master unless you're a certain body type. Both systems began as combative arts, but modern tae kwon do has for the most part been relegated to sport. Capoeira routines are typically set to music and chanting. No-contact "matches" between capoeira practitioners are always a crowd pleaser, but generally don't arouse much interest from the traditional martial arts camp.

There's a memorable scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indiana Jones is accosted by a sword fighter. The would-be killer puts on a little show as he demonstrates his skill with some taunting air swipes only to be summarily blown away by Jones' trusty sidearm. Never bring a sword to a gunfight. As for my friend's prized Chevelle - he ended up wrecking it. Apparently he caved and tried racing somebody when he lost control of his vehicle and hit a tree. Miraculously he wasn't hurt, but he learned a hard lesson: It doesn't pay to show off.

Haragei

Whether speaking of human physiology or esoteric martial arts, the ability to generate power and maintain proper movement and balance begins by identifying your center of gravity (itten) located in the lower abdomen - the hara. When haragei is optimally developed, a special quality of power emerges - one that exceeds ordinary muscular strength. The feeling of being rooted, yet agile, is essential in every system in the martial arts. In explaining one of the secrets of Okinawan karate, goju-ryu founder Chojun Miyagi used the parallel of a willow tree enduring a wind storm; while the top of the tree and its branches sway in the direction of the wind, the trunk remains unmovable and planted. Conversely, when one feels tense, or relies upon typical "arm strength", this point of energy (ki) rises, and causes the practitioner to become top-heavy and off-balance. This is why maintaining proper stances and rotating the hips during various techniques are so important in the martial arts. The ability to kiai and the audible breathing aspects of certain forms must also begin in the hara.

The hara is also the reference point of mental focus in some meditation practices (mokuso), and is considered the seat of courage and intuition (kan), as expressed in having "guts" or a "gut feeling". Natives of many tribal cultures regard the abdominal region as the site of the mind, even the soul.

Despite some of the mystical connotations associated with the hara, in practical terms it is the source of one's power, balance, and spirit in the martial arts.

Lose Yourself

Does anyone remember the very first time they stepped onto the mat? How about the first time you were expected to kiai for a form? Did you feel strange, awkward or embarrassed? Self-consciousness is a barrier that many new students need to overcome, and as a rule of thumb, it should be approached in its own time and way. Confidence means believing in oneself. Becoming one with the task at hand is different. To illustrate this, here is a famous Zen story:

A wrestler named O'Nami, "Great Waves", was immensely strong and highly skilled in his chosen art. In private his skill was unmatchable - he defeated even his own teacher. And yet in public demonstrations, ordinary laymen could throw him without difficulty.

What happened? How could a man of such talent, who was capable of beating his own teacher, lose to anyone in public? In public, O'Nami felt pressured and threatened. He felt a sense of separation between himself and what he had to do. His occupation became a preoccupation. So O'Nami sought out the guidance of a local Zen master...

"Great Waves is your name", said the master, "so stay in this temple tonight and listen to the sound of the sea. Imagine you are those waves, forget you are a wrestler and become those huge waves sweeping everything before them."

O'Nami remained. He meditated all night on those waves - it wasn't easy though, he had distractions, unnerving thoughts interrupting his composure. But in time he prevailed with this exercise, and by morning he realized a new found vibrancy. That day, he entered a public wrestling tournament and won every bout, and from that day on, no one in Japan could ever defeat him.

When practicing martial arts, don't be the artist; become the art.

The Spirit of Kiai

For the benefit of the uninitiated, a kiai (key'-eye) is the traditional "shout" one hears in the martial arts - but it is much more. In fact, there is no adequate translation for kiai without a brief discussion of its main component, ki. Ki, or its Chinese equivalent, chi, is correlated to breathing. Spirit has an etymology that has roots with breath, as in respiration. Ki, spirit, and breathing are deeply connected. So coordinating one's breathing with martial arts techniques is imperative to mastering them. The kiai works its magic during exhalation, and just prior to a strike; breathing out allows us to generate maximum power. An added benefit of kiai has the potential to startle the opponent, while invoking our own passion and kokoro (fighting spirit).

An appropriate, well timed kiai should be used sparingly. It's important for a kiai to be as convincing as possible. In most traditional karate kata, two kiais make separate appearances, usually during a critical moment in the fight sequence. Since all kata start with a defensive move, the kiai represents an offensive conclusion delivered at the end of a series of techniques. There has been some misunderstanding of the real meaning of kiai; some regard it as unnecessary, or even phony. It's really up to the practitioner to give it significance, otherwise it just becomes a form of glorified yelling. For the dedicated budoka, the kiai symbolizes the manifestation of breath and technique, unified in an exultation of spirit.