Watching kata

Training kobudo in Okinawa
with Matayoshi sensei and
students from UMass.

When I first started training Goju with Kimo Wall sensei, we trained in a fairly large room at the Univer -sity of Mass -achusetts Amherst. The room was probably 20 or 25 feet deep and 30 or 40 feet long, plenty of space, though there were often 50 or 60 of us lined up for training. The space was fine for warm ups and basics—we would generally line up one arm’s length apart, side to side, and a little more than the distance of a front kick, front to back—but it was a little tight if we were doing kata, particularly classical subjects. So we often took turns training. For example, black belts would divide into two groups; half the group would do a kata while the other half sat on the side and watched, and then the other half would do the same kata while the first group watched. 

This was often the way people trained in Okinawa, Kimo sensei explained, because the dojos were generally much smaller than they are in America. But the real point, he said, was so that each person could watch and learn, not just from one’s seniors but also from one’s juniors. The idea was to have an opportunity to check oneself. If one saw a mistake in someone’s kata—perhaps the elbow hadn’t been kept down or the shoulders were raised or tense—one was supposed to use that opportunity to check one’s own technique. It was the teacher’s job to correct the student, but it was each student’s job to correct him or her self. This was, in fact, the way Kimo sensei taught; I never heard him correct an individual student’s mistakes in front of the class. He would always comment to the whole class. “Check your feet.” “Don’t forget to breathe.” “Elbows down,” he would say, even if he had noticed only one person making the mistake. And I would always check myself to see if he was talking about me, and thought everyone else did as well. 

Doing Sanchin in Gibo sensei's
dojo in the '80s.

When we sat and observed kata, Sensei said, “first watch the feet, then the eyes, and then the hands.” Well, I thought, that’s pretty clear, but what am I watching for? Are we only watching for mistakes? If we already know the kata, what can we learn from watching someone else do it, aside from making sure that we didn’t make the same mistakes ourselves when it was our turn? I suppose in some cases, nothing. If all we’re looking for is mistakes, and we don’t see any, then there’s nothing to learn here. But perhaps it’s not really the movements themselves as much as the movement, how someone moves. 

There’s a video I used to watch a lot of a guy doing T’ai Chi saber form on YouTube. His movement was so incredibly natural and fluid that it was hard to tell where one technique finished and the next one began. You couldn’t really see his intent or the moment when the muscles required for one movement gave way to the muscles required for the next movement. In some way it reminded me of something Picasso had reportedly said about painting, something to the effect of, “It took me four years to learn to paint like Raphael but a lifetime to draw like a child.” 

Practicing sanchin dachi
and stepping with the log.

And yet natural movement, for lack of a better term, often seems to fly in the face of what we are led to believe is “good kata” from videos of winning tournament performances. What we usually see is kata performed with exaggeratedly large arm movements, techniques done with excessive dynamic tension, movements that are so fast that the use of the whole body is sacrificed, movements that are so slow that the functionality of the technique has disappeared entirely, and positions that are held (and seemingly admired) for so long that whatever practical use they may have had—particularly in relationship to the techniques that precede them and the ones that follow them—is forgotten. In fact, we seem to be forgetting the whole purpose of kata; that is, to preserve and practice self defense techniques.

I can remember when I first started to train Goju. I would go home and practice walking in sanchin dachi, focusing on balance and grounding and using a crescent step. It felt so unnatural but I was committed to practicing it until it felt good. Nowadays I try to make all of my movement natural, but it doesn’t look very much like the demonstration kata I see at tournaments. There’s very little locked down movement, labored breathing, rigid holding of postures. Some would no doubt say my kata is “sloppy.” Where are the punctuated, staccato movements? the dynamic tension? the deep stances? the loud breathing? the scowling look intended to intimidate the meek? But kata, it seems to me, is not a performance piece, and we’re not role playing. If anything—and if it’s even possible—we’re trying to demonstrate our understanding of kata applications, or bunkai, every time we do kata. That’s hard enough. Oh, and then trying to move naturally. You see, there it is again, Nature. It's always at the heart of things.

What's wrong with this bunkai?

I've been watching a lot of bunkai recently. It seems everybody and his brother is putting out videos of bunkai. One guy out there seems to put out half a dozen short bunkai clips a week, and none of them seem very effective. Another guy has these "martial minutes" where he gives these techniques cute names, though the techniques only seem to have a remote resemblance to the katas. I've started to get discouraged.

Here's a video of Seiunchin bunkai by Morio Higaonna:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NMJgHOhDTBI

What's wrong with this bunkai? In the first sequence, since Higaonna sensei takes the kata apart move by move, there's nothing lethal about the first move--the hands coming up and then down again to deal with a double wrist grab--so he puts in a front kick to the opponent's groin. He doesn't even get the opponent to release his grab until he kicks him! And the front kick he employs is not in the kata! Bunkai is supposed to be an analysis of kata. Horse stance is not a good kicking stance either. He also doesn't move off line. The kata shows one stepping in at an angle.

Where Seiunchin bunkai begins.

In the next move, Higaonna sensei steps to the outside of the opponent's right punch. Again, the kata does not step this way when it shows off-line movement. Then he blocks the punch with the palm-up movement, followed by a grab of the arm. Then he attacks the opponent's ribs with a "nukite" finger strike. One problem here is that the finger strike is not very lethal when aimed at the ribs. The other problem is that it's easily thwarted in this position--the attacker need only bend his elbow down to cover the ribs.

First step forward in Seiunchin.

The problem with the third sequence is that it doesn't look anything like kata. He does not shift back into cat stance against the opponent. Why the hands are shown together in kata is not at all clear, because they aren't in his bunkai! And then he pushes and punches to the attacker's chest--again, not very lethal.



Bringing the head down.

In the fourth sequence Higaonna sensei shows, he blocks the attacker's right punch with his left open hand and then attacks with his right rising elbow. This is also confusing, because Higaonna sensei doesn't step back as in the kata movement--in fact, when he finishes the technique the wrong foot is forward. And it's questionable whether the elbow attack would even reach the opponent in this case. Perhaps that's why he pushes the attacker away at the end--out of frustration.

Grabbing the head.

So how do so many people get it wrong--because Higaonna sensei has a lot of followers!? I think there are a number of reasons. One: They look at kata as individual and isolated techniques, instead of combinations or sequences of moves that go together. Two: When they practice bunkai against a partner in the dojo, they don't try to see how the opponent would react to any of the techniques. Since they don't actually connect with the opponent, the opponent ends up standing there as stiff as a makiwara. Three: They don't look for the techniques to be lethal. When the technique is lethal, it usually involves an attack to the head or neck.

Turning the body--hair and chin.

Take the second point first. If you pull the arms of a double wrist grab apart and down to the sides or if you see it as a double lapel grab, it brings the opponent's head down also. Then apply the first point: techniques in kata are not isolated and independent. Once the head is brought down, bring the hand up and grab it--the hair or topknot--with the right hand. The palm is brought up to remind you to keep your elbow down. Then apply the third point: techniques are lethal. The target of the nukite finger strike is the opponent's throat, not the ribs. Then, continuing to apply the principle that techniques are connected in sequences or combinations, the head is twisted, pulled in and then pushed forward. Then, stepping back and pulling the opponent back--who has been turned at this point--the back of the opponent's neck and head is attacked with a right rising elbow/forearm as the left hand holds onto the opponent's chin/neck. This ends the first sequence in Seiunchin kata. And every technique of the bunkai should look exactly as it does in kata--only where the hands touch in the last technique there's actually the opponent's head between them. The sequence may seem a lot longer than Higaonna sensei's rather simple block-punch/kick, but the other principle always present in Okinawan karate is that the defender should move in such a way as not to allow the attacker a second attack. One should receive the attack (uke) and control the opponent from there on.

This last point--get out of the way or move off-line--is actually one of the problems with Hiagonna sensei's interpretation of the opening move of Seiunchin. By seeing this as a release from an opponent's double-handed wrist grab--as if anyone would get themselves into this in the first place!?!--Higaonna sensei doesn't take into account the stepping movement shown in the kata. If the attacker is coming from the front, the kata shows the defender stepping forward (and off-line) along the northeast angle to deal with the attack. Putting oneself into a relatively safe position against the opponent means moving to his outside. So if we look at his attack as a cross-grab or his left hand grabbing my left wrist, I can explain not only how the hands move but also how the feet and stance of kata are utilized in the bunkai.

Here's a video of Shisochin bunkai by Higaonna sensei that shows many of the same interpretive problems:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-embKzrjaI

Attack to the back of the head
or neck to end the sequence.

So what's the lesson here? Well, in the first place, there's probably a good argument not to put any videos of yourself on the Internet. There's probably good reason not to put anything into words, too, or to state an opinion contrary to generally held beliefs, but I've been out on that limb before. So the real lesson, it seems to me, is that when bunkai doesn't look like kata, it's not the right bunkai. Oh, and it should make sense too. And be real.