Same difference

I remember when we were little, when our parents would let us out and we would roam freely through the woods and fields. They expected we would come home for lunch whenever we got especially hungry. On summer evenings, we had to be in by dark. It was a different world, a different time. When I head off into the woods now, I generally stick to the trail. It might almost seem as though I'm headed somewhere--no longer running for a hollow tree glimpsed off in the distance or following a meandering stream. As long as I'm in the woods, it doesn't much matter to me where I am. I'm just content to plod along in the company of trees, without a hint of the grid-like overlay of civilization's labyrinth of roads and houses. I hear the echo of Bill Bryson's words: "However far or long you plod, you are always in the same place: in the woods," and that's enough. Though I've often felt that I could see the hint of a sneer on Bryson's face, as if he needed to shield himself against the criticism he anticipated from cynical urbanites.

Perhaps he didn't mean to imply anything in the least disparaging. His book, A Walk in the Woods, is wonderfully entertaining, though it seems to find much of its humor in the ineptitude of its protagonists, in the unlikeliness of their shared adventure to hike the Appalachian Trail. Yet I wonder why we should feel so out of place in these primal surroundings, which of course aren't even so primal anymore, now that we've fenced it in and preserved it as a state park or labeled it a conservation area.

The other thing about that quote is that it makes it sound as though it's all the same, that it's all just a bunch of trees, one pretty much like the next. Sometimes I think this tendency to generalize, to smooth out all the rough edges and do away with differences, is quite human. I remember it was almost a common retort when we were children to respond to a friend who might correct something you said with the quick rejoinder, "Same difference." I'm sure that ended it when I was a child, though I'm not at all sure what it really means. But it got me thinking about the ways we tend to treat techniques in kata when they appear to be the same--that is, we assume that techniques that look the same must function the same in kata.

Open hand block from Shisochin.

The open-hand "block" we see in Shisochin is not the same, nor does it perform the same function, as the open-hand technique in Seipai kata. If we isolate the techniques, they appear to be the same, but each technique in kata is influenced by the techniques that precede it and the techniques that follow it in any given sequence. And the logic of this suggests that there may be slight variations in how each is performed--variations that differentiate it from techniques that only appear to be the same. The supposition, of course, is that there is no hard and fast alphabet of techniques that comprise a single system of self defense and that we are then meant to rearrange these techniques--as if we were forming words and sentences from letters--into various kata. Though this is certainly how we seem to think of "basic" techniques when we practice head blocks (jodan uke) and chest punches (chudan uke) and down blocks (gedan uke) and front kicks (mae geri) at the beginning of every class. Perhaps we don't really stop to consider that these "basics" form a very small percentage of the techniques found in the classical subjects of Goju-ryu.

Open hand "block" from Seipai.

It is this bent of mind that tends to divorce kata techniques from their applications or bunkai. The open-hand techniques after the first turn in Seisan kata--turning to the south after the opening sequence of techniques in the front-facing line--are another example of this, I think. After the initial right arm circular block and the left palm strike, the kata moves into a right-foot-forward basic stance while the left arm and left palm is brought down and the right arm and palm is brought up, finishing with the right palm rotated and facing forward. This same technique is done once more, stepping forward into a left-foot-forward basic stance, before pivoting to the right to finish the sequence with the "punches" and kick to the west. In some schools, these techniques are done twice--first stepping with the right and again stepping with the left--and in others, four times, twice with each hand and foot. In either case, the "message" of the kata is that the two techniques are meant to function together; that is, both are part of the controlling technique of the bunkai sequence, following the initial block and attack of the first technique that occurs on the turn. (The repetition of four of these techniques suggests that both sides are being shown or practiced within the kata. Either that or an attempt to bring the kata back to the original starting point at the end, though this certainly does not generally seem to be of any importance in Okinawan kata.)

The second palm-up technique from
Seisan kata just before the pivot
to the west.

The point here, however, is that the second of these techniques (and the fourth, if one chooses to repeat this technique four times) is done a bit differently. In the first of these techniques, the right hand is brought up palm first and then rotated until the palm is facing forward. The second technique is usually done that way also, with the left palm rotated until it is facing forward. However, if you watch some of the older teachers perform Seisan kata, you will see that at least some of them do not rotate the left palm. Rather, the left palm is brought into the chest, only facing forward as it is brought in towards the chest, the movement that precedes the turn to the right (west) to finish the bunkai sequence. The reason it is performed this way in kata by some of the older teachers is that the left palm has been brought up into the opponent's chin (the right has hold of the hair) and as the left palm is brought in towards the chest the opponent's head is twisted in. Then, with the pivot to the right or west, the opponent's head is twisted sharply in the opposite direction.

This, of course, raises a difficult issue. Kata should always inform bunkai. Otherwise we're left with all manner of creative interpretations that don't bear the least resemblance to kata movement. But kata was meant to preserve bunkai or self-defense applications. We have, I think, an innate desire to generalize movement, to homogenize it in order to understand it. But from a certain perspective, there really is no such thing as standard or basic technique, no generic chest blocks, for example, when it comes to the classical kata if each scenario is unique. Certainly there is good technique and bad technique, but the performance of any given technique is really dependent on how it is used in a sequence of kata movements. Occasionally, I think, over time, some of these movements, for whatever reason, have undergone subtle changes--differences have been dropped, rough edges have been smoothed out, until what was once only similar is now seen as the same technique.

When I was a lot younger, I used to look at every tree, judging whether it was a good climbing tree or not. I know a lumberman who would look at trees and size up the quality of the wood--was it soft or hard, straight-grained or not. The techniques of kata are the same--they're not generic, but rather dependent on how they fit into kata, how they are used within the self-defense scenarios of Goju-ryu kata. Like trees, I suspect, they're all different.


[For a more detailed discussion of these techniques see my book, The Kata and Bunkai of Goju-Ryu,
https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/562446/the-kata-and-bunkai-of-goju-ryu-karate-by-giles-hopkins/9781623171995/]

A Mawashi-uke to you too!

Starting position of
mawashi technique
at the end of Seipai.

I’ve read a lot of discussion on the Internet recently about mawashi-uke and neko-ashi dachi. Some of this has been couched in questions about the possible origins of Goju kata—a subject that opens up endless bandying about of theory based on little more than observation, interpretation, or personal bias. Some of this, of course, is prompted by individuals promoting their own lineage or traditions, but there’s little actual evidence to go on other than the perceived similarity of appearances.

And this is what has always interested me in discussions of this sort—they are all based on appearances, and appearances, as we all know, can be deceiving. For example: Some would suggest that Saifa kata and Seisan kata must have similar origins because they both end in neko-ashi (cat stance) with a kind of mawashi-uke. Others, however, would suggest that Saifa was a kata that came not from Higashionna sensei but from Miyagi sensei, because Kyoda sensei didn’t teach Saifa. Some suggest that the Okinawan katas came originally from China because we can find similar postures—cat stance with what looks like the ending hand positions of mawashi-uke--in various Chinese systems, or vice-versa. What really needs to be compared, however, are the applications—the bunkai, if you will—of the various postures.

Final mawashi position
at the end of Saifa.

Starting position of
mawashi technique
at the end of Saifa.

The mawashi-uke is actually not as ubiquitous as it would seem, outside Goju-ryu training kata, like Geki-sai dai ichi, Geki-sai dai ni, Gekiha, or some of the other training subjects practiced in various Goju-ryu schools. A kind of mawashi-uke occurs at the end of Saifa, but it’s not the same as the one we find at the end of Seisan kata. There is no mawashi-uke in Seiunchin or Shisochin or Sanseiru, though there are open hand techniques and we see circular movements. Is the mawashi-uke in the middle of Kururunfa the same as the end technique of Saifa or is it more like the end technique of Seipai?

My point is that it’s difficult, if not misleading, to only compare appearances, when any perceived similarity in appearance is clearly secondary to how a technique is meant to be applied. (This, of course, raises a whole other question--that is, the question of how a technique is meant to be applied, based on its occurrence within the structure and sequence of a particular kata, and how it could be applied, based on one's own creative imaginings.) It’s a martial art, after all, not a dance performance. A number of years ago, there was an article published—and it received widespread notice and still does to this day—that attempted to classify the Goju-ryu classical kata according to their appearances. Did they end in cat stance or horse stance? Were they symmetrical or asymmetrical? But if we are going to study the relationships between the different kata of Goju-ryu, we should be studying the bunkai of the techniques in kata, not their outward appearances. The mawashi at the end of Saifa is meant to capture and twist the head of the opponent—to break the neck (colloquially) or traumatize the spinal cord, if you will. The ending mawashi-like technique of Seipai is intended to do the same thing. So is the mawashi in the middle of Kururunfa.  And the one at the end of Seisan. They are all used for the same purpose, but they are situation specific, so they look a little different. My suggestion: Put kata in its place. It’s a useful method to remember the form of technique and perhaps to study the thematic nature of certain movements or techniques. But put the emphasis back on bunkai, on the study of application. Comparing techniques based solely on appearance is a bit problematic to say the least.

Although this position in Seiunchin
kata and the position above from
Saifa kata may look similar, the
bunkai is very different.

Kata without bunkai is like...I don't know what

People often hold this first position
in Saifa for much longer than they
would if they were applying it.

When I watch kata performed on YouTube, I wonder why there isn't more reality to it. In other words, why isn't kata performed with the same timing, the same force, the same rhythm as bunkai? I see so many kata performed with stilted, punctuated technique. Kicks are performed with little balance or speed. Oh sure, the kick is fast and powerful (sometimes anyway) after it is thrust out from its cocked or chambered position, but a kick has to be fast from a standing position--that is, before the opponent knows you're going to kick. And punches are held in place with little thought to how impractical it would be to leave one's outstretched arm out, inviting the opponent to break it.

Most people hold or chamber their
kicks when they perform Saifa kata--
something that would be too slow
in reality.

Sometimes even the bunkai demonstrations that accompany these performances of kata are just as ridiculously unreal, just as oblivious of the reality that they are ignoring. Grabs and arm-bars are employed against the arms of opponents that obligingly hold them in an outstretched position long enough for the one demonstrating bunkai to step in and execute the technique--what my teacher used to call a "dream technique."

I am not advocating that kata be done at a hyper-accelerated speed. (I'm not sure why Hokama sensei does super fast kata. I'm sure he has a reason.) There are techniques in kata that don't need to be fast. There are grappling techniques and techniques that manipulate and move the opponent's body that would necessarily require less speed. But one doesn't stand poised on one leg before the execution of a kick. And if a grab follows a block, then it must be done quickly or realistically the opponent would withdraw his arm.

The opening move in Seipai
is often done in an overly
dramatic fashion.

I think the same sort of unreality often comes into play with people who profess to attack vital targets with a single knuckle punch or finger strike. A confrontation is fast, dynamic, and constantly changing. To imagine that you're going to be able to hit a small pressure point on an aggressive and moving target may be a bit unrealistic. I always liked Sifu Liu's response to a student who asked about pressure points. Liu Sifu (of Feeding Crane) said he just hits the area with the whole hand, and that ought to cover it.

If kata is meant to preserve technique and allow the practitioner to practice technique when he or she is alone--when there isn't a partner to train with--as a method to perfect technique that we will eventually learn to apply against an opponent, then why don't we practice it the way it is meant to be applied? Why not practice kata with the same speed and sense of reality that we would use in doing bunkai? Instead, we seem to do kata as if it were some separate dance performance. Watch the overly stylized and dramatic performances of kata at tournaments. Even credible and supposedly knowledgeable practitioners of Okinawan karate succumb to the histrionics of this performance paradigm. Where did it begin? Why has it continued? It seems to me that it's one more shroud pulled over the eyes of the unwary--one more thing that makes bunkai so difficult to "see" within kata. Change the rhythm and the speed of techniques and who knows what you may come up with...or not.

And so, the method...or how we look at kata

We often bemoan the fact that so many people out there don't seem to see the same things we do. Even when you explain it, people just seem to think that it's just another bunkai. But it's not. There's a method to the madness. But we tend to take that for granted. Or we mention it in passing, as if it's incidental. I was reminded of this by a comment a student made:

Receiving or "uke" technique
from Seipai.

"When it comes to science, peer review generally focuses first on the methodology. The criteria and methods applied to the collection, selection and analysis of data (kata) are presented first. Spend the time to explain the development and application of the methods, as it effectively determines the results (bunkai)." (Narda W.)

Now I have learned the occasional bunkai from various teachers. And I have seen seemingly endless examples of bunkai that individuals have come up with on their own. There are videos on the Internet, pictures in books, and it's a part of every stage demonstration of karate nowadays. But there is no methodology behind the analysis. In each demonstration, the attacker punches and the defender suggests that you could do this, or you could do this, or you could do this. And sometimes these scenarios are quite creative. But this is not a system of self defense.

So what is the method we use in figuring out bunkai? 

Controlling or bridging
technique from Seipai.

When we began a serious inquiry into kata and bunkai, we simply turned around a principle that we had always been taught as students--that is, to attack the center line. It's the same thing, I suppose, as you find in T'ai Chi push hands, finding the opponent's center and then pushing there. So logically we thought that if the attacker is attacking the center line, the defender should step off the center line. The first step then is to look at kata and determine whether it shows how to step off the center line. In more colloquial terms, does it show you how to get out of the way? The way this translates into kata analysis is that the steps and turns in kata take on renewed significance in determining how a technique is applied, where the attack is coming from, and, of course, how to get out of the way. More importantly perhaps, they cannot be ignored. Secondly, it brings with it the corollary that the defender moves in such a way that the attacker is only allowed the one, initial attack. 

This investigation leads one to consider the steps and turns in kata, and where the beginnings and endings of sequences and combinations might be. This may be an assumption--that katas are composed of sequences or combinations--but it arises naturally when we see that the different techniques in kata fall into different categories. There are, on a basic level, defensive actions and offensive actions. But more specifically we begin to see that there are "blocking" or receiving techniques, bridging or controlling techniques, and violent, ballistic, finishing techniques. And that, in essence, is all you need to begin the study of bunkai.

Finishing technique
from Seipai.

There are, however, a number of other caveats we employ while testing out bunkai. The first of these is that the bunkai must follow the kata. That is, in applying the technique, it should be done against an opponent the same way it is done in solo kata performance. That includes both the hands and the feet. It includes any steps you would take in kata or any turns that are part of the technique. They should all be shown in the application of the technique. To be honest, at first we had some problems with this strict adherence to kata. We had originally learned the movements of the classical subjects the way they are done in the Shorei-kan tradition (Toguchi sensei). There wouldn't seem to be terribly overt or significant differences between the three or four major schools of Okinawan Goju-ryu, but even some small differences can greatly affect how one sees the application of techniques, and some katas, like Sanseiru, have very pronounced differences. So over time, and after a visit to Okinawa and training in the Shodo-kan tradition, we began to do all of the classical subjects in the manner of Higa Seiko's Shodo-kan. This certainly does not mean that any of the other traditions of Okinawan Goju-ryu are any less authentic or wouldn't lead one to similar results, but the Shodo-kan katas seemed to suit our purposes.

Receiving technique
from Sanseiru kata.

The second caveat is to understand the structure of the kata, though this may be something you discover on your own. The Goju-ryu classical subjects are composed of entry techniques, controlling or bridging techniques, and finishing techniques (as stated above). Each kata is composed of a limited number of sequences or combinations; some have three, some have four, and some have five or six. It is not always easy to figure out where the combinations are since the controlling and finishing techniques are separated in some kata. In some kata, the entry techniques and controlling techniques are shown on both the right and left sides before the finishing techniques are tacked onto the second sequence. Sometimes it is difficult to determine whether a technique is the final technique in a sequence or the beginning of a new sequence--the technique seems to work equally well in both cases. This is true for the final techniques in both Saifa and Seipai, for example. 

Finishing technique from
Sanseiru kata.

The third caveat is that the application of the technique in bunkai should not require excessive physical strength. More often than not, it should only require a thorough and practiced understanding of the technique and very little or no physical strength. If a bunkai seems to require too much physical strength on the part of the defender, we generally abandon the bunkai and start all over again. And usually we have discovered a much better application. After all--and I've said this before--if you're faster and stronger than everyone else, what do you need a system of self-defense for anyway?

And lastly, the application--that is, the full combination of receiving, controlling, and finishing techniques--should be lethal. I don't know how else to say it. Goju-ryu is a system of self-defense, not a sport or "mixed-martial-art-like" activity, with rules and regulations, to be used in mutually agreed upon combat. It was developed for a different age. It may even be a bit anachronistic. But the techniques of this system are meant to finish an encounter, to end a confrontation. They are incredibly violent. Many of the techniques that end a sequence involve breaking the neck of the opponent. These are techniques that you can't really train in bunkai. But that, I believe, is the reality of the bunkai...and the method. 

Third Principle...in no particular order

"Block the hands, protect against an elbow, but attack the head."


Attacking the head in the last
technique of Sanseiru.

The sequences or combinations in the Goju-ryu classical subjects begin with how to block or receive (uke) the opponent's attack, whether it is a punch/strike or a grab. But in the Goju kata, the defender will always go for the opponent's head or neck. These techniques are far more lethal. The idea, of course, is that this is a system of self-defense; it is not meant for sparring or sport. I have already spoken about this idea in reference to the "dreaded arm bar" of Seipai kata. But it is also true of the last technique in Sanseiru, for example.

Attacking the head
in Saifa.

Or this apparent middle-level punch in Saifa.

 

Or this elbow technique to the back of the neck or head in Seiunchin.



This is something to keep in mind when analyzing kata or looking for bunkai. The initial technique blocks or receives (uke) the opponent's attack. Sometimes this initial technique may be accompanied by a simultaneous attack with the other hand. However, whether the attack is simultaneous or not, this is followed by a bridging or controlling technique.  Once you have bridged the distance, or have hold of the attacker, look for the finishing techniques. These finishing techniques almost always involve an attack to the head.

Attacking the head in Seiunchin.





Even the seemingly ubiquitous mawashi-uke is mostly used against the opponent's head and neck when we see it in kata.