Tag: Liuhebafa

Push It

Instructor Ken Wildner catches me while playing a more freestyle version of push hands.

I recently had the pleasure of pushing hands with instructor Ken Wildner of the Tampa Bay Martial Arts Group, who contacted me earlier to see if I was interested in sharing and exchanging. Ken has a background in water boxing (from different lineages than mine). After seeing some of the vids of his group, including this one, I was impressed with how they approached push hands in a variety of ways, from fixed step to almost anything goes, so I invited him to one of my classes so that my students could also benefit from his knowledge and experience.

Ken didn’t disappoint. He’s highly skilled in the chess game of push hands, and he’s a good guy. If you click on the link above (or here), you can see raw, unedited footage of Ken and me engaging in a fairly freestyle version of push hands. I tasted the ground at least a couple times during our play—but still had a hell of a lot of fun getting out of my comfort zone. (Note: You’ll see my wife, a hung gar instructor, first in the video. Although she’s never trained push hands, she catches on very quickly and is gung ho about almost all things gung fu.)

Now you might wonder why I’d post a video where I, as an instructor, end up on my ass. After all, in the world of traditional Chinese martial arts, it seems like 99.9% of vids are of instructors, well, looking good and saving face, especially in front of their students. However, I think this is often achieved because instructors stick only to their own styles and schools, closing themselves (and their students) off, which can actually hurt the students and the arts more than it helps them. Many, many instructors only do and show stuff that makes them look good—or, hell, look practically invincible—in order to build themselves up.

It was clear to me from watching the vids of Ken and his group that this wasn’t their modus operandi and that “win” or “lose,” everybody was gaining something in the process. This is the same approach I myself follow, including with my students, which is why I invited Ken to class in the first place and why I’ve posted the vid. Whether you’re a student or instructor, you should push yourself, even if it means you end up on your ass. There’s no shame in that if you’ve gained something. In general, I’d rather lose face than lose an opportunity to learn something that makes me better.

Needless to say, we had a blast with Ken and are looking forward to the next time he’s in town. If you’re ever in Tampa Bay, I highly suggest you reach out to Ken to check out his group. Whenever you have the opportunity to get out of your comfort zone (in a way that’s safe, of course), I say to go ahead and just do—or push—it.

Can You Bullseye a Womp Rat?

“It’s not impossible. I used to bullseye womp rats in my T-16 back home, they’re not much bigger than two meters.”—Luke Skywalker

If you’ve seen Star Wars (Episode IV – A New Hope), you’ll probably remember that Luke Skywalker saved the day and the galaxy by firing torpedoes from his X-wing space fighter into the exhaust port of the Death Star, a moon-sized battle station with enough firepower to destroy a planet. This was considered practically impossible because of how narrow the approach was, how small the exhaust port was, and how fast the fighter craft would be approaching—not to mention that there would be resistance from the enemy.

This scenario got me thinking: In “no-holds-barred” type fights, is the reason why strikers have historically done poorly against grapplers because they’re essentially trying to bullseye a womp rat? (For the sake of this discussion, let’s define strikers as those relying primarily on punches and kicks and grapplers as those relying primarily on throws or on shooting in followed by submissions and chokes.)

Sure, at the highest levels of striking and grappling, both can work and be devastating. No doubt that striking with adequate force to a vulnerable area can be a showstopper. And no doubt putting someone in a guillotine with adequate constriction around the neck can also be lights out. The question is which of those against a moving, non-compliant, resisting, and perhaps even aggressive opponent is more likely to work.

In my opinion, in a situation where both opponents square off beforehand (e.g., in a UFC competition), if you rely primarily on striking, you’d better be Luke Skywalker and able to bullseye a womp rat to stop even a decent grappler. Although there are many vital areas and pressure points all over the body that a striker can target, a grappler’s targets are by comparison largely, well, large (e.g., the legs for a takedown) and arguably easier to get to, requiring less precision and coordination than a punch or a kick. Sure, a well-placed knee to the head or elbow to the back of the neck can stop someone shooting in for a double-leg takedown. But there’s a reason why the sprawl is generally more effective against someone shooting in: executing the knee and the elbow with proper timing and distance are like, well, bullseyeing a womp rat. And if you don’t bullseye the womp rat, the grappler’s going to be all over you.

So, what to do if you’re a striker? Well, one obvious solution would be to practice bullseyeing womp rats more. By increasing your precision and speed against a decent grappler at full speed, you increase your chances of being able to use it in a realistic situation. But in my experience there’s a big problem with this solution: finding a person who’s willing to be kneed or elbowed like that. When executed perfectly (especially if you try something like hitting a person in the trachea when they shoot in), striking can be very dangerous—and that makes it problematic in training. Unfortunately, being unable to train at full speed makes using these strikes in real combat much more difficult.

Another, probably better solution is to work some grappling into your game. Both standup and ground grappling will almost certainly occur naturally in any situation that is not for some reason limited to striking. In fact, even in western boxing, fighters will clinch, sometimes throwing the opponent away to make space or staying in the clinch and getting off short, powerful body strikes. And I don’t disagree with grapplers who say that most street fights go to the ground (I just disagree with a percentage like 90%—I’m not sure it’s quite that high).

A third way to make striking potentially more effective is to make your strikes heavier. That way, even if you miss your intended target the size of a quarter, you might at least do some damage to the area you do hit, perhaps jolting your opponent enough to then allow you to hit your intended target. So, if you’re primarily a striker, ask yourself if, like Luke, you can bullseye a womp rat when the entire galaxy’s fate rests on it. If not, consider practicing on more (and different) womp rats/partners, consider working in some grappling to your skill set, or consider making your strikes heavier. But whatever you do, don’t join the dark side.

Introduction to Water Boxing, Part 6

By practicing the five old fists of Xingyi Chuan, we can often develop the proper mechanics of certain movements/forces in Zhu Ji more quickly.

In part 6 of my series of videos introducing water boxing, we look at how Xingyi Chuan fits into our approach. In addition to training Zhu Ji, we train the five old fists (beng chuan, zhuan chuan, pi chuan, pao chuan, and heng chuan) to focus on mechanics. When learning a form, it can sometimes be difficult to focus on the proper mechanics for a particular movement (or force or posture) because you’re often learning several movements and the transitions between those movements–all at the same time (sort of like a martial arts version of multi-tasking). Because a Xingyi fist like zhuan chuan has the same (or at least very similar) mechanics as some of the movements in the form, by practicing it as a drill we can concentrate solely on those mechanics and, ultimately, put those mechanics into the form. There’s a lot to learn from the mechanics of the five old fists, but perhaps the most important concept to get out of it in the beginning is yin/yang theory, including reprogramming your nervous system to think with and about the other side/half of your body, ultimately enabling the other side/half to be engaged naturally. You can also take this approach by just focusing on one movement in the form and drilling it over and over again.

Introduction to Water Boxing, Part 5

In part 5 of my series of videos introducing water boxing, we look at how we use our bones. Unlike in many internal arts (for example, in most styles of tai chi), in water boxing, we don’t necessarily avoid using force against force. This is one of the reasons why the solid (ice) stage of water boxing is learned/taught first (and why we place so much emphasis on structure). It may also explain why some people have described the feel of water boxing’s force as being similar to Xingyi Chuan and why, unlike in tai chi, we use the 70/30 stance.

Introduction to Water Boxing, Part 3

Water boxing generally uses three primary stances.

In part 3 of my series of videos introducing water boxing, we look at the three primary stances: the 60/40 stance, the 70/30 stance, and the 90/10 stance. The reason why I use this terminology for the stances is because probably the most important thing to practice in the beginning is the weight distribution. From there, you can better adjust for the proper length, height, and width, as well as engage the use of the kwa (hips), all of which will enable you to use the stances in a dynamic and more combat-oriented way.

Introduction to Water Boxing, Part 1

The opening movement of Zhu Ji provides an excellent introduction to water boxing’s approach to training and combat.

When people see me perform the opening movement of water boxing’s foundational form, Zhu Ji, one of the most common questions/comments they have is why I keep my palms out (away from my body) rather than down (toward my body) when I lift my arms overhead. Virtually all tai chi and even some water boxing practitioners practice their forms’ opening movements with their palms down when lifting their arms. In this video (the first in a series I’ll be doing to introduce water boxing), I explain one of the main reasons I practice and teach the movement this way, using this movement as an introduction to water boxing.

“Kick With Your Fists and Punch With Your Feet”

The title of this blog post is a line from the 2019 dark comedy film The Art of Self-Defense. It’s a pretty good movie, and I recommend it if you like dark comedies. In the movie, the line is meant to be serious advice, but to most viewers it will come across as funny because of the seeming absurdity of it. However, if you understand body mechanics, you’ll know that the concept is actually spot on.

Although kicking with your fists and punching with your feet might seem counterintuitive at first (especially when it comes to kicking), therein lies the key to why the concept works: To strike with real power, you need to focus on the “counter” aspect of the motion/mechanics. Note that this concept is just one of the many principles of counter motion/mechanics that should be applied when striking. But it’s a very powerful one because you’ll let the physics of counterbalance, counterforce, and, depending on the mechanics, counter torque work for you instead of against you, enabling you to deliver a heavier, more accurate strike.

If you don’t believe me, keep your hands at your side and deliver a kick, any kick, on a punching bag or, even better, to a striking pad held by a partner (that way you can get feedback from the receiving end). Then do it by allowing yourself to engage your hands in whichever way you normally would. Unless your normal body mechanics are very off, I’d bet that when you engaged your hands, you had a noticeably more powerful kick. (You can also try the same experiment with a punch, though it’s harder not to engage the feet at all because most punches are thrown while standing up. You could sit and let your feet dangle while throwing a punch. And then do the same punch while standing up.)

So, why does the concept of kicking with your fists and punching with your feet work? Well, probably the most obvious advantage is that it gives you better balance. And you’ll likely notice that it allows you to get more of your body behind your strike. Those two things alone will give you a dramatic increase in power. But they’re just the beginning. They come from an elementary and mostly passive use of counter mechanics. However, once kicking with your fists and punching with your feet become second nature to you, your nervous system will have undergone a rewiring that will allow you to go even deeper. Although getting to this depth can take time, it’s well worth the effort and patience because then you can start to actively use counter mechanics to increase your power even more by more actively engaging your hips (kwa).

The concept of kicking with your fists and punching with your feet is not unique to water boxing (Liuhebafa). However, water boxing’s principle that when one thing moves, all things move (and that when one thing stops, all things stop) is actually one of the big reasons I stumbled on the concept and made sense of it. For water boxers, the joints should move together simultaneously or very close to simultaneously. I was practicing throwing sidekicks (which are not part of water boxing’s primary curriculum) on a heavy bag when I observed that my kicks were lacking real power. At first I couldn’t figure it out. Then I realized that one of the problems might be that I was violating water boxing’s principle of all joints moving together when I kicked. So I focused on getting my joints to move together while kicking.

In the beginning it felt odd to try to engage all my joints while kicking, especially because the legs are in general much heavier and stronger than the arms. But it soon became clear that a powerful, heavy sidekick is not in the feet/legs but in the hands/arms. Although you may come to this epiphany through a different route than I did, I think you’ll find that “kick with your fists and punch with your feet” is more than just a funny line from a movie—it’s one of the main ways to truly deliver a heavy strike.

Should You Learn One Style or Many?

Before I came to Liuhebafa, I was training in Bak Mei. I loved it—in fact, at the time it was all I wanted to learn. But then my teacher told me he wouldn’t teach me more Bak Mei until I learned Liuhebafa. Among other things, he told me learning Liuhebafa would make my Bak Mei better. It didn’t make sense at the time, but now it does. Although it depends on your goals and your resources, following are some of the reasons why I think learning more than one style will make you better:

  • To compare and to contrast can yield great results in your personal development and in the understanding of your style(s). You may understand fast better if you understand slow. You may see circles where you used to see lines. You may feel powerless when you’re actually very powerful.
  • Unless you’re only expecting to fight people from your style, you better know what other styles do. This is one of the big reasons why traditional martial artists have often fared poorly in freestyle bouts with MMA fighters. If you think your style has it all, I think you’re going to be very surprised when someone hits you with great force from an angle you never expected or gets out of your rear naked choke by slightly adjusting their alignment in an imperceptible way.
  • The way I’ve learned traditional Chinese martial arts, the different styles represent different methods/types of power generation. Sometimes these methods/types contradict each other. But sometimes they can actually complement each other. This is probably the primary reason my teacher told me Liuhebafa would make my Bak Mei better.
  • You’ll engage with new people who likely have different perspectives and different attributes. You’ll see both the strengths and the weaknesses of your style—if you keep an open mind (see the last bullet).
  • By learning something new, you keep yourself open. And vice versa. This may be the biggest reason to learn more than one style. Think about it this way: if your style’s founder hadn’t been open-minded, you wouldn’t be learning that style right now.

So you might be asking yourself why, as a Liuhebafa teacher, I’m advocating learning different styles. The answer, it turns out, is a little complex: I myself continue to train in other styles, and I even sometimes teach them to my students (for very specific purposes). I also learn about other styles from my students, who have come from backgrounds such as tai chi, Burmese Bando, judo, kung fu, aikido, and kendo. I exchange ideas, occasionally fists and feet, and the rare chokehold with my wife (who trains in Hung Gar and Choy Lay Fut). Also, when I can, I try to push hands and play with people from different styles—and even with non–martial-artists, who sometimes surprise me.

If you have the time and resources and you want to get good overall, my advice would be to find one style that works best for your mind, body, and soul and then specialize in it, making it your primary style, while continuing to learn other styles, whether casually or formally. You may end up sticking with your primary style your entire life—or, like me, you may someday have a new primary style that fits you better than your previous one. Either way, I think you’ll find that staying open and learning new things will make you better. That is what I’ve found has worked best for me. It’s also why the way I teach and train Liuhebafa is different from many other teachers.