As part of our test, Master Evans gave us a written assignment. The assignment was to discuss sparring, specifically as a Quantum yellow belt. At Quantum, sparring becomes an important part of the curriculum at yellow belt. (white belts do not spar and high white belts may spar with no contact).
The following is an excerpt from my paper
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Fear is the emotion most expressed by students after sparring class. Fear can take many forms. Among these is the fear of personal pain or injury as well as the fear of injuring another person.
When facing a partner trying hit or kick you, fear of personal pain or injury are usually the most immediate fears faced by a new yellow belt. This fear is not completely unfounded as bumps and bruises are common. However, sparring with experienced practitioners is no more likely to result in injury than participation in many other sports such as skiing, soccer, or football. It is the fact that another human being appears to be trying to hurt them that makes sparring different from these other athletic pursuits. Yet it is also the fact that they are engaged with another human being that facilitates the student’s ability to examine what is truly injurious pain and what is simply a bump or bruise.
The Quantum sparring rules dictate that it is the responsibility of the more experienced student in the round to create a learning environment for the less experienced partner. As students begin to see this, they realize that they are actually in control of the situation and begin to see which of their fears are unfounded and which are more real. It is the ability to see what is real and true that is one of the lessons we hope practitioners are reaching for as they become high intermediate and advanced students. Yellow belt students have the opportunity to engage with intensity using powerful straight line techniques. As they do so and find that they are not injured, they begin to learn the skill of facing one’s fears and dismissing those that do not serve.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Humor
This post is not specifically rank advancement related, but sometimes these serious blogs need comic relief.
When you look at martial arts through our American culture eyes, there are some things that are kind of funny--funny in the way we laugh at awkwardness. I mean, we run around in white outfits that don't necessarily fit us properly, as we learn stuff we may move with all the gracefulness of a foal taking its first steps and we shout these guttural sounds while we do it. Then there is the counting in Korean (badly). It's kind of funny.
So, about a year ago I was thinking about our one step sparring drills. It occurred to me that when you start these drills it is kind of like a knock-knock joke. The attacker steps back in a specifically outlined preparation for attack and kihaps to single that he/she is ready to attack. The attack can proceed when the defender kihaps. However, the defender does not have to kihap until he/she is ready. In that way, one steps are like a knock-knock joke.
In that joke, the "who's there?" person holds all the power. The joke cannot go on without that question. Similarly, the defender in a one-step exercise holds all the power. The exercise cannot proceed without that second kihap.
So, next time you are doing one-steps, think "knock knock". It's funny.
When you look at martial arts through our American culture eyes, there are some things that are kind of funny--funny in the way we laugh at awkwardness. I mean, we run around in white outfits that don't necessarily fit us properly, as we learn stuff we may move with all the gracefulness of a foal taking its first steps and we shout these guttural sounds while we do it. Then there is the counting in Korean (badly). It's kind of funny.
So, about a year ago I was thinking about our one step sparring drills. It occurred to me that when you start these drills it is kind of like a knock-knock joke. The attacker steps back in a specifically outlined preparation for attack and kihaps to single that he/she is ready to attack. The attack can proceed when the defender kihaps. However, the defender does not have to kihap until he/she is ready. In that way, one steps are like a knock-knock joke.
In that joke, the "who's there?" person holds all the power. The joke cannot go on without that question. Similarly, the defender in a one-step exercise holds all the power. The exercise cannot proceed without that second kihap.
So, next time you are doing one-steps, think "knock knock". It's funny.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Humility
Well, I've been obviously delinquent in writing here pretty much all summer. I suspect I am not the ONLY blogger ever to have started strong and then shown up with a "sorry I have not written in a while" post. :)
But I have had subjects for this blog rattling around in my head for a while. Here is one. Though I am now wearing my yellow belt, the idea for this post started as I was ending my time as a white belt for the 2nd time:
Humility
In our school as in others, the red belt represents fire. Personally, though it is clear to me that the element I channel best is earth, I have always been fascinated by fire. I know I am not alone in the being drawn to the duality of this element. Fire can injure but also can help avoid damage done by cold. It can be destructive and also beautiful. Fire is both feared and admired.
In our dojo, at red belt you are darn near the "top of the heap". You are encouraged to take control of your own training; you help run the school; you enter sparring class with the freedom to fight on your feet, on the ground and at any distance; and you take on the responsibility of ensuring that other students are ready for rank promotion. In short--you're a big shot and like fire are approached with both caution and admiration.
Putting on a white belt again changes that. While some of the teaching and assisting responsibilities remain, you return to the back of the room and no longer have many of the freedoms enjoyed at red belt. For me, this has allowed me to take another look at the duality of fire.
One slightly warm Seattle summer Sunday, several of us met to do forms in the park. One of my red/white belt training partners and I were the senior students in this informal class and after working the forms we knew, we worked with others on their forms-review, refining and teaching new material. I had the joy of working with a wonderful young man who is a blue belt (now high blue) who has been training longer than I have and was in Seattle on summer break from college. As I worked with Anwar, I was filled with a sense of humility. Though my academic knowledge of his rank form was more extensive than his, Anwar is physically my superior. He is a phenomenally strong man who has maintained a lot of flexibility through training more than half of his life. Here I was, wearing a white belt, showing this very advanced athlete what to do next.
In that moment, the verbiage of my teaching changed. Instead of "no, the chamber for that technique is this way" I said things like "when I do that move, I try to remember to chamber palm down". I started simultaneously looking for things to compliment as well as areas that needed improvement and was able to see that nearly every move had a little of each.
If we pass fire on to another person, we do not hand them a large burning log. Rather we pass along a small stick with a small flame, or even a gently burning ember. These smaller versions of fire still contain everything needed to build a large fire which can harm or protect. Yet it is in the passing of the smaller version that we set the recipients up for success and allow them to take the fire we give gently and build it in to their own.
But I have had subjects for this blog rattling around in my head for a while. Here is one. Though I am now wearing my yellow belt, the idea for this post started as I was ending my time as a white belt for the 2nd time:
Humility
In our school as in others, the red belt represents fire. Personally, though it is clear to me that the element I channel best is earth, I have always been fascinated by fire. I know I am not alone in the being drawn to the duality of this element. Fire can injure but also can help avoid damage done by cold. It can be destructive and also beautiful. Fire is both feared and admired.
In our dojo, at red belt you are darn near the "top of the heap". You are encouraged to take control of your own training; you help run the school; you enter sparring class with the freedom to fight on your feet, on the ground and at any distance; and you take on the responsibility of ensuring that other students are ready for rank promotion. In short--you're a big shot and like fire are approached with both caution and admiration.
Putting on a white belt again changes that. While some of the teaching and assisting responsibilities remain, you return to the back of the room and no longer have many of the freedoms enjoyed at red belt. For me, this has allowed me to take another look at the duality of fire.
One slightly warm Seattle summer Sunday, several of us met to do forms in the park. One of my red/white belt training partners and I were the senior students in this informal class and after working the forms we knew, we worked with others on their forms-review, refining and teaching new material. I had the joy of working with a wonderful young man who is a blue belt (now high blue) who has been training longer than I have and was in Seattle on summer break from college. As I worked with Anwar, I was filled with a sense of humility. Though my academic knowledge of his rank form was more extensive than his, Anwar is physically my superior. He is a phenomenally strong man who has maintained a lot of flexibility through training more than half of his life. Here I was, wearing a white belt, showing this very advanced athlete what to do next.
In that moment, the verbiage of my teaching changed. Instead of "no, the chamber for that technique is this way" I said things like "when I do that move, I try to remember to chamber palm down". I started simultaneously looking for things to compliment as well as areas that needed improvement and was able to see that nearly every move had a little of each.
If we pass fire on to another person, we do not hand them a large burning log. Rather we pass along a small stick with a small flame, or even a gently burning ember. These smaller versions of fire still contain everything needed to build a large fire which can harm or protect. Yet it is in the passing of the smaller version that we set the recipients up for success and allow them to take the fire we give gently and build it in to their own.
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