Patience, Grasshopper: On Being Offensive

I know it takes time and practice to learn anything new. As still as the green blades of a rice paddy appear, they are indeed growing and will one day yield a harvest that will sustain you. But unless I've got a book in my hand, I'm not always good with stillness and boring repetition, with identical green leaves repeated endlessly. If there's one thing Wing Chun is trying to force into my dull, adult brain, however, it's Patience.

For the first year of my training, I had to travel 365 miles to find the best Traditional Wing Chun. Needless to say, I wasn't at the Academy all that often. Is it any wonder there have been gaps in my understanding? This may sound ridculous to you, Si-Hings, but it wasn't until this week that I finally understood--and I mean really internalized--the merits of an offensive pak-sao.

This was not the fault of my instructors, per se. Looking back, I can see that all of the elements were there--the right words spoken, the correct forms demonstrated and practiced, the attempts by one particularly kind and patient Si-Hing to pound it into my brain. But the pressure of sash testing time and time again collapsed these barely-processed thoughts into the same wrong maneuvers every time.

After eleven years as a college instructor, I have a decent understanding of the millions of ways students come to connect with classroom material. It isn't simply differences in learning styles (auditory, kinesthetic, mathematic, spatial, etc.). The specific material is also being filtered through a lifetime of experiences, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Sometimes it takes throwing an entire toolbox full of strategies at a student to help a particular concept stick. I can explain the adiabatic process five different ways to Sunday (basically: what happens to a big chunk of air as it rises or sinks through the atmosphere) and get nothing back but crickets. Then someone in the back of the room says, "I get it! Rising, rainy. Sinking, sunny." And half the room sighs and nods. Fifty pairs of eyes refocus. The whole room gets brighter.

Sometimes that moment never comes. That's okay, too. But I'll do my darnedest to find the right wrench to unscrew that nut and let in something new.

When I began training with Si-Fu Tom Schoellhammer up here in the Bay Area, I was mildly frustrated to be starting again from scratch. How to hold my guard. How to stand in low-horse stance. How to punch. But my husband had agreed to take the class with me. He knew so little and needed to go slow and get over his fear of inexperience. (Okay, okay. I give. I needed the practice, too. Okay, shut up, already. I REALLY needed some back-to-basics.) By the time we'd finished the first session, I felt like it had been an important lesson in patience and simplicity. When the second session started, the class had grown. And so we started, once more, right back at Square One.

I thought I'd lose my mind.

When do we go over the bil-sau? Or practice a proper tan-sau? How many weeks before we even get to the gosh-darn front stance, again?!? (click here for a glossary of terms*)

I didn't dare ask. You know what happens when you ask one of those pushy questions of your Si-Fu, right? Exactly. Because the other students were new and timid, Si-Fu was being extra kind, but I wasn't ever going to assume he was above making me do endless push-ups or spending the rest of class crouched in low-horse stance. As my senior Si-Fu, Eric Oram, said once as he bowed to a student, "Never take your eyes off of your opponent." As he reflexively bowed in return, the student looked down. "Never," repeated Si-Fu. And he attacked the oblivious student. With a smile. Of course.

Eventually, we DID learn some new techniques. And because we were going excruciatingly slow, I was able to process maneuvers like the gan-sau from beginning to end: my forward guarding hand sweeping the opposite shoulder in its arcing trajectory, the pinky-side blade of my hand facing outward as the hand comes back down, protecting my belly button from an attack with room to spare. No, not perfect, but sinking in.

What grabbed my attention most, however, came on the last night of the eight-week session. Offensive footwork. Yee-haw.

Defensive footwork makes perfect sense, to me. A fist coming at you? Side-step. "Get out of the way of the bus," says Si-Fu Schoellhammer. It seems perfectly intuitive, doesn't it? If someone tries to hit you, isn't the most common human instinct to tuck your chin in and pull backward? Of course it is. (Okay, Si-Hings, maybe you have the reflexes of a superhero and would be around the attacker's back in 1/50 of a second. Work with me, here. I'm still a hero-in-training.)

But offensive footwork requires that you actually step TOWARD your opponent. And you step using a leading foot that starts out facing 90 degrees away from the direction in which you're about to move. What gives?

My biggest problem is remembering to crank my hips around. If I'm starting in a left side neutral stance, my hips, shoulders and toes all point to the right oblique and the left hand of my guard is out in front. I watch my opponent, who is standing in right front stance, until the lead elbow indicates to me that a straight punch has committed to coming my way. I swivel my hips to face 90 degrees to my left, so that they end facing the left oblique, as I'm also stepping forward on my left foot toward that left oblique. My opponent's punch has just passed over my right shoulder. But, for a beginner, it feels counter-intuitive to step in the same direction the punch is coming from.

This was my initial stumbling block. Why would I step INTO my opponent's guard? But I'm not, actually. I'm stepping past it on the outside. (There are times when I might step inside my opponent's guard, but I still don't feel comfortable doing that, yet. Just my own lack of experience, at this point. I'll be writing a post explaining this, called "The Box Of Doom", soon. Stay tuned.)

The trick is the change of direction. One minute I'm in a left side-neutral stance, the next I'm charging forward with my left foot driving past my opponent's leading right foot, my left hand barely moving in the pak-sau to send the offending fist just enough off course that the straight punch passes me by. By the time my right foot steps in to catch up, my opponent's fist is past and I'm in a great spot to control his/her right elbow. I am now completely out of the way of both arms, on my opponent's side or rear quarter.

I think I like it here!

I don't know why, exactly, it took me so long to understand this. I've been executing the offensive pak-sau maneuver since Day One at the L.A. Academy. I guess it was one of those "doing it without understanding it" things. (Heck, that's how 99% of us live 99% of our lives anyway, isn't it?) For some reason, Si-Fu Tom Schoellhammer's inexorably slow training progression did the trick. That wrench applied just enough torque on this nut to loosen her up and make her understand.

Now...how about that offensive lop-sau? Maybe in the next. Slow. Session.

*Sigh.* Patience, Grasshopper. Patience. There is an entire field stretching out before you, waiting. One blade at a time.

When she's not being offensive, Angela can also be found on Twitter and at her other blogs: A World of Words, Sundance...Or Bust!, and the Silicon Valley Mom's Blog (for which she is a contributing writer). This is an original post to the Basic Training to Black Sash blog.

*Please Note: The sounds of the Chinese words used in Wing Chun have variant spellings when translated. The glossary linked to here is not exhaustive in showing the many spellings possible.

Muscle Memory: The Importance of Sil Lim Tao

It's June 12.
My plane is late coming into Burbank, California. Traffic is heavier than usual for this part of town. Thankfully, I've got a ride, so I'm able to change in the car on the way (when you grow up with a little brother, learning how to change without being seen becomes second nature). The regular Basic Training instructor is vacationing, so I worry aloud about the temperament of the substitute and any waiting punishment for being tardy. Maybe, with traffic this heavy, everyone else will be late too. I cross my fingers.

I bow just inside the door and looking up see that the room is packed with students. I rush to get my mat shoes laced up, execute the push-up pennance required, and bow onto the mat. Si-Hing Joseph is a small and wiry man--entirely steel wire, by the look of him. The few times I'd seen him enter the Academy to the enthusiastic greeting of the other students, his watchful intensity made me look twice, sizing him up. Tatted up to the neck, he's the kind of person I'd probably saunter to the other side of the street to avoid. Lucky for me, he barely gives me a second glance, tonight.

I've come in during the partner drills, feeling scattered and nervous. But I manage to focus on the moment, thanks to G., the biggest guy in the place and my favorite sparring partner. I figure if I can handle someone that muscle-bound in a fight, my miniscule 5'2" frame might bring enough hurt to buy me time and make a run for it. He accidently hits me in the ear, though it doesn't hurt as much as he thinks it must, and now he's afraid to throw a real punch. I try to remind him that I can't learn to effectively block if there's no power behind his fist, but he's still feeling tentative. So I start giving him a ration and we laugh our way through the rest of the drills.

Si-Hing Joseph closes out the class with a long, thorough Sil-lim Tao so that the newest students in the Basic Training course can catch on. And so that those of us who already know the Sil-lim Tao can work on permanently etching the forms into our minds. So why is this silly-looking set of moves that look like some weird dance so darned important?

Try this on. Have you ever had to do one of those dreaded "team-building" exercises where you have to fall backward into the waiting arms of your trusted colleagues? It's darn-near impossible to force yourself to stay stiff when everything inside you is screaming, "Open your eyes! Put out your hands! Sit on your butt!" We learn that first reaction to falling backward as babies, when our fat little rumps and soft bones can take that kind of rear-end beating while we first learn to walk.

Small children LOVE repetition. You know, the kind that drives parents bonkers, as they beg us to read the same bedtime story for the fifth time tonight. From the same book we've been reading. Every. Single. Night. For the last three weeks. But as bored as we adults get, children use that repetition to soak up information like little sponges--from our voice inflections, to the look of the printed words, to learning the colors and shapes on the page--they absorb it all. Through this experience, slowly but surely they learn to read.

It doesn't stop with childhood. Every action we perform, even as adults, creates a neural connection. And the more times we perform that same action, the more those neural connections become hard wired. I drive the same way to work every day. I get in the car, strap in my daughter, and turn on the mental auto-pilot. I don't think about each turn, I know them all by heart. So when I go grocery shopping, I have to force myself to think about what I'm doing, to make that right turn instead of the left. Many's the time I've been distracted by something going on in the back seat and belatedly realized I'm headed for the freeway instead of into town. Ugh.

But apply that same neural principle to learning the basics of Sil-Lim Tao, and it becomes a reflexive reaction to whatever might come at you. Each move is a defense, a response, an attack. Each move has a purpose, whether you've been shown it's exact nature yet, or not. Once you know the Si-lim Tao, you don't have to think so hard about what to do next--it's downloaded into your mind, like a program from The Matrix. And your muscles remember.

Neural connections and muscle memory are the keys to any sports activity. In fact, you can even program your muscles to remember an activity through thinking about it, if you can imagine it doing over and over and over again. Have you ever noticed Olympic athletes sitting quietly before a gymnastics routine or a slalom run? It's called creative visualization. They're going over every maneuver, imagining themselves executing a perfect performance. And their muscles remember what their minds imagine.

Motivational coaches use this strategy to encourage you to "think yourself rich" or "imagine your way to success". Yes, it sounds ridiculous. But there is a grain of truth to that spiel--and we know it, deep down. When we think self-sabotaging thoughts, worrying about failure and seeing worst-possible outcomes in our lives, we're reinforcing neural connections and essentially programming our minds for self-destruction. This is why I believe praying, wishing, even meditating with a clear need, want, or goal in mind can, in one way or another, bring those things to us. We're programming our minds to see the steps that will get us there. Programming our bodies to remember.

That's not to say that imagining yourself winning the lottery will beat those bzillion-to-one odds. (I wish.) But practicing and, later, imagining your way through the Sil-lim Tao over and over may help cement it into your mind. And make the work of programming your muscles that much easier.

Afterall, no one's going to give you time to think about it in a fight.


If you liked this post, you can also find me blogging at Silicon Valley Moms as contributing writer, A World Of Words, and Sundance...Or Bust! Or you can follow me (AngelOrr) on Twitter.

Shut Up And Punch: On Breathing Through Your Nose

September.

The month when mother issues REALLY start to come to the forefront of my training.

Kids' school functions, family celebrations, a new team-taught course I'm participating in, and prepping my Geography students for the first exams of the semester are all sucking up my time and mental energy. This weekend was the first of Si-Fu Oram's seminars that I've missed in I-can't-remember-when. It fell during my anniversary get-away, so I can't complain...much. But it was hard to chill out when I knew my Si-Hings were surging forward without me. I missed the mat.

What I really needed to do was BREATHE.

The subject of breathing came up during one of Si-Fu Shoellhammer's classes, recently. I suppose I'd been a bit too talkative that evening (who ME???) and at one point, Si-Fu reminded me that there were "many benefits" to breathing through my nose. Curious, I asked what they were. "You mean, besides not talking?" he smirked. I shut up and went back to the combination at hand.

After class, though, I cautiously asked again. Here are the ones he offered, though he explained that there were more:

WHY WING CHUN STUDENTS SHOULD BREATHE THROUGH THEIR NOSES

1. It warms the air. As it passes through the sinuses, the air is warmed in its longer path to the lungs. Warm air is more readily-absorbed within the lungs than cold air.

2. It slows the heart rate. When we experience moments of conflict, our brains tell the centers of adrenaline production to pump this chemical into our systems. This speeds up the heart, which prepares us for the human fight-or-flight response. However, at rates of over 100 bpm (beats per minute), fine motor skills begin to decrease. Not a good thing in a fight situation. Missing a critical punch is the stuff my nightmares are made of. Breathing through the nose can slow the heart rate enough to maintain the coordination necessary for overcoming an adversary.

3. It increases saliva production. Breathing through the mouth dries up your saliva. With the mouth closed, however, the tongue rests on the roof of the mouth, which actually increases saliva production. Saliva nourishes the mouth and throat, and moist airways allow for a more efficient flow of air. (Might I add, from personal experience, that a dry throat also HURTS?)

4. It protects your teeth. If your mouth is open, your teeth and jaw can be more easily broken by a hit to the face. Keeping your teeth together can also prevent you from biting your tongue accidentally--or on someone else's purpose.

Such simplicity. Each of these seemed perfectly reasonable. And what's more, when I was in L.A. for a class the following week, I started breathing through my nose and I found I was more focused. Why? Well...

Maybe it was because I just shut up and punched.

Wing Chun and The Butterfly Effect

No, I didn't do exceedingly well on my testing. I passed, but not with the high marks I would have liked. But that was three weeks ago. And something's changed.

The Butterfly Effect states, in essence, that if a butterfly flaps its wings in the rain forest, the movement of air in that one spot affects all of the other molecules of air around it. This creates a cascading series of events that can ultimately effect the course of a larger event--that movement of air becomes the seed from which a hurricane develops.

In a similar sort of internal butterfly effect, I've often found that a shift in one life circumstance leads to shifts in other parts of my life. Each change supports the next until what once seemed unimportant suddenly becomes life-altering. In Wing Chun, something as simple as a shift of one's balance or a movement of the hips can realign your center, lead to new openings, and change the course of a confrontation.

Si-Fu Shoellhammer's class in Millbrae has realigned my center in ways I never imagined.

Up to now, I've only been able to drive or fly down to L.A. every other weekend, leaving huge gaps in my training. Now I'm able to stay focused, reinforce the neural connections I'd built, and I'm internalizing more of what I'm learning. In the Millbrae class, I have the chance to ask questions, I'm getting more personal attention (I love attention), and the slower pace has helped me to work on my structure and breathing. Funny, you don't think about breathing much when you're doing it. And yet, it's become one of the most important parts of my training.

Add to this the fact that my husband agreed to join me in the class. At first, he was nervous and somewhat unsure of himself. But he was diligent about practicing at home (even more so than I was, to tell you the truth), which encouraged me. We practice together the basic movements, allowing me to focus on my own structure as my husband slowly builds his. We often discuss basic principles and strategies of Wing Chun over breakfast. And I finally have someone with whom I can share what I've learned during my visits to the Academy in L.A.

We've both started shaping up. I can feel my hips again (after two kids, I'd almost forgotten I had them) and my clothes fit better. I've saved a lot of my pre-baby clothes (what woman doesn't save at least one pair of pants, just to remember?), and might even fit into some of them again soon. And my husband? God bless 'im, the man-boobs are finally starting to shrink.

I've gotta say, it's helped (ahem) other areas of our marriage, as well. Heck, just having time alone on the way to and from class has turned it into a date night. I know, sad but true. Welcome to the modern world of parenting.

When I was in L.A. last weekend, the senior students started feeding me real punches because they could see how much my focus had changed. I'm no masochist, but the energy of a real punch felt good!

Between Si-Fu Oram's seminars and Si-Fu Shoellhammer's regular classes, I'm starting to feel like more than just a lowly white sash. I'm starting to feel like I belong...right where I am.

Who Needs T.V. When You Have Wing Chun?

Si-Fu Eric Oram and Si-Hing Robert Downey, Jr., training on-set

Sorry for the long absence. I’ve been doing my best to enjoy my summer vacation and have spent more time running up and down the state for classes than I have in front of my computer. But I'd rather be doing Wing Chun than sitting in front of a screen, anyway.

A week ago, Si-Fu Oram (who is currently co-ordinating fight sequences for Iron Man 2) was forced to change the upcoming sash testing date from a Tuesday to a Saturday, so I now have no excuse for not going. Nevermind the fact that I have to leave at stupid o’clock that same morning, in order to accommodate a previously-organized Friday night sedition session of part-time community college faculty. One week. Now, less than that. By the time I post this, I’ll be staring down the barrel of the weekend. Urg.

One new development has been extremely helpful. Si-Fu Tom Schoellhammer, who graduated from LAWCA, is trying to build a following on the Peninsula—his Millbrae Rec. Center courses started this week on Monday. My husband signed up, so we got a sitter for the kids and made a date of it. He was nervous, but Si-Fu went easy on us and my sweetie did quite well. And while there haven’t been enough classes yet to truly help me with my testing this weekend, I’m ecstatic to finally have an instructor who knows the style I’ve been trained in, and who will likely continue to teach in the area. Six consecutive Mondays for $40, total? You can’t beat that.

The best part? My husband finally understands exactly where my bruises come from. And I have a training partner!

Still, I’m stressing. I know I have the offensive pak-sau/punch and the defensive lop-sau/punch footwork down. We actually practiced the latter in Si-Fu Schoellhammer’s class on Monday. But offensive lap-sau/punch? I’m still not 100% sure. I know that I’m stepping forward, pressing my opponent’s balance, but which stance am I using for which punch coming at me? I combed through YouTube videos until the wee hours, last night, to no avail. Every one of the instructors who had posted there used a different term. Annoyed after watching too many modified versions of Wing Chun, I gave up and went back to Spider Solitaire.

This morning, my husband and I practiced our stances in the kitchen while the kids ate breakfast. When I looked over, they had the same fascinated, slack-jawed expressions on their faces they exhibit while watching cartoons. I turned back and grinned.

I mean really, who needs T.V. when you have Wing Chun?

Photo © 2009 CraveOnline Media, LLC

http://www.superherohype.com/news/ironmannews.php?id=8348

Catching My Breadth

After sitting on my last post for a while, I started thinking that perhaps I've got some more crap to let go, in my life. That rotten ex took more than just a ring from me...but is facing him going to solve the problem? Highly doubtful he'll give it back. So why put myself through the ringer all over again? I have more important things to worry about. Like testing. And surviving Si-Fu's classes.

I missed the last round of exams. Since I'm only able to make it to classes once every other week, and the Saturday classes are oriented toward chi-sao, I've been missing out on the Basic Training and am really feeling the lack. I didn't feel ready at all--I would have made a complete ass of myself in front of the whole Academy. Hell, the five year-olds in the kids' classes know the Wing Chun pledge better than I do. No, really. Those little guys rock. But not me. Not right now, anyway.

My experience in Si-Fu's class two weekends ago really rammed it home.

You see, the only class that Si-Fu teaches on weekends is the black sash chi-sao class. He often includes sets of basic movements, as well, but mostly it's partner drills (such as bon-sao/lap-sao combinations like these, demonstrated here by the pros). But this class is also geared toward students who can already demonstrate the difference between a defensive and an offensive pak-sao (sorry, couldn't find a good video for these). Honestly, do you know how long it took me to get the difference straight? I'm still not even sure I have it down solidly. I know that was the one thing I blew mightily on my first test.

I haven't been able to make it to the Friday night Basic Training classes in several months because I've been watching a soon-to-be-divorced friend's kids after school. Which of course makes it tough to get to L.A. in time for class at 6 p.m. It feels like this gap in my training is threatening to swallow me.

Immediately after my black sash class on Saturdays is the gold sash course (the gold sash being the highest level you can attain in this particular program). After the break between classes, Si-Fu has kindly allowed me to sit at the edge of the mat and jot down notes from the earlier class, any useful information shared by my Si-Hings (senior students), and the lovely golden nuggets of wisdom Si-Fu happens to let drop. I'd been drawing diagrams, scribbling quotes, and making mental connections between the art and life-in-general. I'm not just cooling down, I'm processing what I've just learned.

In other words: I'm catching my breadth so I don't end up out of my depth.

Two weeks ago, the black sash class ran over time and, effectively, blended into the gold sash class. During the water break, I spoke to Si-Fu for a few minutes and he asked me if I'd be staying for the rest. I was surprised, because I'm not officially a gold sash student. It's one thing to observe the class. It's another entirely to be out on the floor. I told him I'd like to continue to stay and take notes, if he'd let me. "The best seat in the house is on the mat," he replied. Say no, at that point? I think not.

So, I bowed back onto the mat. And immediately turned into a drooling infant. At least as far as the other students were concerned, I'm sure. I was struggling just to put the combinations together in the right order, while the rest of them were moving into the realm of thinking creatively, fluidly pushing past the set movements and testing each other for openings. All of them were kind and, for the most part, patient. But there were a few annoyed sighs and some barely-disguised frustration at being stuck with a total neophyte. Honestly, I can't say I blamed them. They paid full pop to learn, not to teach. But I suppose there was a lesson there for both of us.

This weekend, Si-Fu wasn't there, so the next most senior instructor ran the class. My husband and kids were in town with me, so I wasn't able to stay the extra hour. Part of me was glad--I didn't want to be on the mat, this time. The class is amazing, but a little scary for someone who grew up in a family where looking like a fool was right up there with the worst of social sins. I'm not sure I'm ready to join the ranks of the more serious students. Not because I don't want to. But because my training hasn't gotten me far enough, yet.

Summer officially begins on Thursday for the kids. And you can bet I'm going to make the most of it. Momma's got a ticket to ride, babies. I'll be flying into L.A. for the Basic Training class once again, come hell or high water. It's time to get caught up, kiddies.

Oh, and one other thing...
One of the gold sash students from the L.A. Academy recently moved up to the Bay Area. I had hoped to meet with him to train and now he's going to be teaching a beginner's Wing Chun class at the Milbrae Community Center. The class runs six successive Monday nights in July and August. If anyone's interested, please leave a note in the comments section below, and I'll post the details here. It's only $40 and totally worth a try. I think my husband is even going to give it a go. (Crossing my fingers--I need a work-out partner!) I'll be there for sure.

Hope to see you on the mat!

Walking Into The Lion's Den--Gracie Jiujitsu

I've been watching YouTube videos of martial arts, lately. Just about anything I can find on Wing Chun, of course. But this week, I discovered a show called Fight Quest. It's a Discovery Channel series showcasing two fighters who travel the world learning different martial arts disiplines and recording their experiences. After watching all the Wing Chun pieces, tonight I found the Brazilian Jiujitsu segments (see the first segment, above). And--

Shit.

I remember this stuff. All too well.

In college, I dated a martial arts expert. A crazy-ass con artist who still goes by his nickname (but I know who he really is). He was so deeply into Gracie Jiujitsu, he hung out at the home of the Gracie cousins on a regular basis (don't ask me which ones...there were a lot of them in L.A., at the time). I learned a lot, living with this asshole and his sparring partner. It was quite an education. Though I wasn't actually training with them, I was around them all of the time and I couldn't help but learn some of it.

Mostly, the guys found it fun to tie me into knots. That was my training. Practice dummy.

After training in Wing Chun, I'm sure I'd rather know how to keep from getting to the pavement to begin with. But if I was ever there, Gracie Jiujitsu would be the tool I'd want most to use.

Learning it, though? I don't know if I have the mental fortitude to walk back into the lion's den and learn that evil ex's style.

Then again...he still has my high school class ring. He borrowed it once, said he'd lost it at his boxing school. I know it was a lie. Like so many other lies he told, I believed him at the time because I was kind and trusting and loyal. And naive. And just plain stupid.

But I know where he teaches. And I vowed once to someday get that ring back. He took it like he took a lot of things, from me. But this is one thing I can get back. Certainly not with Wing Chun or Jiu-jitsu (I've gained a little bit of wisdom since I was 19). But...

Someday it's going to happen. Someday.

Maybe...