In part 7 of my series of videos introducing water boxing, we look at leverage. We sometimes use it in ways that may be different than how other arts use it. For example, in one of the earlier movements in Zhu Ji, we use leverage to come over the top (among other things).
Tag: water boxing
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 4
In part 4 of my series of videos introducing water boxing, we look at the joints. In water boxing, we say that when one thing moves, all things move. And when one thing stops, all things stop. Moving all the joints together is one of our fundamental principles. It’s also one of the reasons we generally train by moving slowly. Once your body starts to naturally move with the joints in sync, you can begin to move faster to further develop and apply the force that results from that synchronization.
Introduction to Water Boxing, Part 1
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.
Kung Fu First Dance: Perspective and Gratitude
During these unprecedented times, I think it’s more important than ever that we keep our training in perspective and are thankful for everything that it has given us.
A hundred years ago, we probably would have trained mostly for martial purposes. Today, with most of the world being largely safer and more stable, many of us train for other reasons as well.
When I started training in the martial arts more than 30 years ago, I just wanted to be like Bruce Lee. I could never have imagined that because of my training I would ultimately meet the kung fu girl of my dreams.
In October 2019, I married that kung fu girl—and I got to do a kung fu first dance with her that was magical. Neither she nor the dance would have been possible without my training.
Who would have guessed that my martial art would turn into a marital art? So, the next time you train, be thankful for all the ways your art has enriched your life.
Why I Train on the Heavy Bag
Although I’m more of a traditional martial artist than a professional fighter, I find hitting the heavy bag to be one of the best ways to train water boxing. It’s a great workout—and a reality check. Just like sparring with an opponent who is trying to hit you back or grapple you into submission, the heavy bag will force you to think about your art in a different way. I think it can help improve your form (as in your mechanics) and your forms (as in your understanding of Zhu Ji).
One thing I like to do is to focus on a certain strike from a form, work that strike on the bag, and then use that experience to figure out how to improve my mechanics. Obviously, there’s a big difference between hitting the air and hitting a 100-pound bag, especially one swinging toward you or braced by a partner. Sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised by how well a strike works on the bag—and other times, I’m disappointed. Either way, I find I learn something. When possible, I then incorporate what I’ve learned back into the strike when I practice the form.
I also like to use the heavy bag to figure out how to put different strikes together in a meaningful way. Although some forms have useful combinations of strikes built in, there are many combinations you can put together that you will not find in any form. However, hitting something solid with weight—just like sparring against a noncompliant opponent—will also make you appreciate the potential limitations of a dozen lightning fast punches in a row, if only because hitting the heavy bag in succession like that requires a decent amount of stamina.
As a traditional martial artist, I find that one of the biggest weaknesses in how we sometimes train is that it can make our footwork lousy or impractical. Although doing forms can teach you a lot, working out on the heavy bag teaches you about distance, space, and movement (assuming, of course, you are not just standing in one spot all the time). Like a western boxer, I like to move around the bag. Because water boxing has its own footwork and combat theory, I might look different than Muhammad Ali and Manny Pacquiao—but I still move.
In a previous post, I discussed how I used untraditional training methods like taking video to improve. I find that taking video of my bag workout sessions has really helped me because I can see for myself what I can do better. (Tip: Try taking video from different angles.)
Naturally, working out on the heavy bag has its risks and limitations. You could get hurt (I suggest starting very light, especially if the bag is firm or very heavy, until you’re conditioned). You might get sloppy and complacent because the bag doesn’t hit you back. You could become obsessed with just hitting and ultimately end up one dimensional. You run the risk of overestimating your striking power. (Note: You might also underestimate your striking power. You have to know how to gauge what is and isn’t a powerful strike on a bag and on a real person. Just because the bag doesn’t swing much doesn’t mean you lack power. In fact, the bag might not swing much because you’re actually very powerful!)
So long as you keep everything in perspective, I say go whack the heavy bag. At the very least, you’ll get a good workout. At the most, you’ll see your form, forms, and force improve heavily!
The Best Way to Increase Your Power
Want to increase your striking power? Physics tells us that momentum (in other words, striking power) is equal to mass multiplied by velocity. Thus, to increase your power, either you increase your mass or you increase your velocity.
Of course, ideally you’d increase both. By applying proper mechanics, which is how we train Liuhebafa, you will indeed increase both. But, in theory and in practice, I’ve found that the best way to increase power is by focusing on applying those mechanics with the goal of increasing mass rather than with the goal of increasing velocity.
So why do we focus on mass rather than velocity? Again, physics (and biomechanics) gives us the answer: the amount you can increase the mass in your punch is many times the amount you can increase the velocity of your punch.
I found an interesting online article from Scientific American entitled “Pro Boxer’s Punch Carries Heavy Weight,” which shows the difference in speed (in essence, velocity) and force (in essence, momentum) between world-champion welterweight boxer Ricky “The Hitman” Hatton and a non-boxer. It turns out Hatton is twice as fast: his punches averaged around 25 mph and his fastest punch was 32 mph compared with the non-boxer’s best attempt, which measured 15 mph.
What’s really interesting in this study, however, is that Hatton’s force was measured at 10 times the average person’s. Let’s assume that Hatton weighs the same as the average person (Hatton fought at about 147 pounds and the average adult in Europe weighs about 156 pounds). Because his speed is twice the average person, his force should be twice that of the average person.
So how did Hatton manage to instead hit with 10 times the force? Simple: he used much more of his body’s mass than the average person uses. Most people (including many martial artists from what I’ve seen and felt) tend to punch only with their arm. A 150-pound person’s arm weighs on average about 8 pounds while their trunk (torso) weighs on average about 72 pounds (see here and here). It’s not hard to figure out (or to feel, if you were fearless enough to let Hatton punch you) that an average person punches with only around 8 pounds of mass whereas Hatton—who engages his arm and body—punches with something closer to 80 pounds of mass. (Note how nicely the math works here: Assuming Hatton and the average person have the same punch speed, Hatton would have 10 times the striking power just based on his ability to get 80 pounds of mass into his punch compared with the average person’s 8 pounds.)
When I teach Liuhebafa, I always focus on the impact that proper mechanics will have on engaging more mass. Although proper mechanics will also increase velocity, I don’t focus on it because, as we can see, it does not contribute to striking power as much as mass does.
Naturally, there is a way to increase your mass without applying proper mechanics—you simply eat more. But I suggest the only time you focus on that is after a good training session!
“Master” Versus “Teacher”
In traditional martial arts, the terms “master” and “teacher” are usually used interchangeably. But for the sake of this post, I make the following distinction:
- A master is someone whose own martial skill level is (or was) high
- A teacher is someone who has students whose martial skill level is high because of him/her
This is the same distinction that is often made in sports: a (good) player versus a (good) coach. Good players don’t necessarily make good coaches. And good coaches weren’t necessarily good players. The skills and methods to be a good player or master are not exactly the same as those to be a good coach or teacher.
Note that I emphasized above that a teacher is someone whose students are good because of him/her. Why the emphasis? Because sometimes students (of a bad teacher) were already good from having studied with a different (and good) teacher. And sometimes students become good despite having a bad teacher (note that this is not the same as students becoming better than their teacher, which I’ll discuss in another post). And then, of course, some people are just freaks/naturals and would be good almost no matter what.
So in the world of martial arts, a master has his/her own martial skill. And a teacher might have his/her own martial skill, but for sure his/her students (depending on their own abilities and other factors) should have martial skill from having studied with him/her.
Turns out some people are masters, while others are teachers. And occasionally—but not that often—people are both. Unfortunately, quite a few are neither.
So what’s most important for you to find? A master? A teacher? Both? (More on this in an upcoming post.)