Early Influences

In 2004, after I received my final teaching license in modern goshin-jutsu, I visited a koryū enbu, a demonstration of classical Japanese martial arts, at the St. Louis Botanical Garden. Schools such as Tenshinsho-den Katori Shinto-ryū, Shindo Muso-ryū, Araki-ryū, Toda-ha Buko-ryū, and Yagyu Shinkage-ryū were represented. Each of these seemed to have a more subtle and refined method of weapons practice than the rough and tumble practice I had been taught along side our modern jujutsu.

There, while talking with Ellis Amdur, he asked me what was next for me, since I had recently been awarded the highest rank in my current style. I told him about my desire to learn Baguazhang, and he told me he knew of teachers in Maryland – in fact, he had practiced Xingyiquan while in Japan under Su Dongchen, and was interested in its sister art of Gao Lineage Baguazhang.

Ellis introduced me to Bob Galeone, a Karate and Aikido teacher who had learned Gao Bagua from Allen Pittman and Paul Cote in the lineage of Hung Yimien, a student of Zhang Junfeng. I began training in Gao Bagua with Bob in 2004. I subsequently received feedback on my training from Paul Cote and also Su Dongchen during his Essence of Evolution seminars in Minneapolis.

Bob was a senior Aikido disciple of Kanai and Saotome and working with him has been a very important gift in two parts:

1. His own efforts to understand the implications of Bagua on his Aikido practice has helped me first understand my aiki-jujutsu was actually Aikido (conversations with Clyde Takeguchi helped inform me of the provenance of many of the techniques I knew – variants of Aikido techniques practiced by Tohei Koichi and at Iwama, dating my teacher's teacher's training to 1950's era Aikido and not a separate surviving line of aiki-jujutsu from Tanomo Saigo and others) and then allow me to begin to refine the practice into something more realistic and effective.
2. Bob also introduced me to Paul Cote's Wu Taijiquan class he was attending as well as the kenjutsu group practicing at Capital. I began learning Wu Taijiquan and the Yin and Liu Baguazhang Paul was teaching in Damascus and New Market, and eventually started going to Pittsburgh to learn Xingyiquan from Paul's teacher Zhang Yun.

I've been doing a good amount of Gao bagua lately – linear (post-heaven) tactics while walking the circle, interspersed with the associated (pre-heaven) mother palm. The Gao bagua then takes on a form more similar in structure to the Yin bagua I am learning – namely, 64 changes done on the circle instead of 8 (or 10, depending on how you count) changes on the circle and 64 linear techniques. I've taken to doing one of the eight houses of Gao bagua in this fashion, and then one of the houses of Yin bagua, as part of my morning training. This way I hope to work both approaches to bagua in a balanced manner.

I enjoy the Gao bagua much more on the circle than when done linearly. One aspect of the art I continue to be troubled by is the heel-turn on the first mother palm. It is hard for me to do repeatably and reliably, without straining my joints. While it does allow for a rapid change of orientation, I wonder if I were to attempt to do so in an unscripted environment, whether I would be able to keep my balance during the maneuver. So, there still is a lot for me to work on, even after several years of practice.

Most of the locks and throws I knew from my jujutsu practice were done either in a self-defense scripted scenario against a particular grab at close range, or from a defensive block-and-counter maneuver at medium range. The self-defense escapes against various body grabs are effective and work well but I have abandoned the kempo body mechanics behind the punch responses. My reasons in doing so have to do with finding there to be numerous pauses in the applications where an opponent can change or continue to react. The assumption in our jujutsu practice was that when we would block and punch, it would stun the opponent, allowing us to follow up with a lock or throw. However, against an un-cooperating opponent, this is often difficult to manage. The good news is I have found many analogous throwing movements in the three bagua styles I practice. So, lately I have been going back to my old jujutsu practice to see how I can re-organize the curriculum of locking and throwing and hang it off of the bagua I know, instead of the kempo or karate it was originally presented as part of.

For example, consider the finishing movement from Gao's single palm change, where both arms are upraised and you step out to walk the circle again (cf. this clip of Luo De Xiu, at 0:12, 0:25, 0:42). This sequence can be used to throw an opponent back and down. It is a much more efficient application against a hook punch than what I had been shown in modern goshin-jutsu, where we would parry and then disconnect to strike in towards the chest or throat with a very strong elbow strike with the same hand, finally unfolding the forearm outwards and turning the hips to throw the opponent down. The finish was very effective, as well as the strike, but there is a large gap between the parry and strike during which an opponent remains able to change.

The more curving entry from Gao bagua looks less clear at first glance, but happens much quicker than the staccato blocking and striking movements I describe above. Even though in Gao bagua the final action is not (at least by me, at my current novice level of development) done with the same amount of momentum, it is more effective because it disorients the opponent to a greater degree. The opponent still believes he is successful in his attack, so does not think to begin to change his action until it too late. When he does, it only feeds into the technique. The curving entry itself protects you from the hook punch as you engage the opponent.

In my earlier goshin-jutsu, we had a direct version of the throw which bypassed the block – simply enter deeply with the elbow strike – but it had very little margain for error. Also, we sometimes would block, then manipulate the attacking arm around before attempting the throw – this felt more secure, but took a lot of time, and assumed the opponent would not move once engaged. The good news for me is that baguazhang winds up expressing much more smooth and direct entries into many of the finishing techniques I had been drilling for years. So, in many ways, it does not completely replace but rather amplifies and extends my previous Aikido and Kenpo practice. My skill at the jujutsu locks and throws was good enough that I do not have to go back and learn a new set of locks and throws – just work on more efficient entries to them, and continue to refine my understanding of when they are appropriate to apply and when they are not. For example, against a skilled taijiquan exponent there is nary a chance they will succeed. But that is another story.

The above technical scenario depicts a common problem in practicing martial arts. When we are simply drilling a technique, over and over again, to gain a fundamental level of skill at the approach it is teaching, by definition our partner in the exercise is allowing us to practice the technique. Otherwise we cannot learn. However, once we become facile at the technique, and can do it in that environment to great effect, it becomes important to either work the technique in a non-scripted environment (like sparring or grappling), or really vary the parameters (i.e. context) of the practice, to get a sound understanding of when the technique is valid and when it is not. As students in a particular school, we are often not allowed to vary the base parameters of our practice that define our style (e.g. in aikido, that our attacker is using shomenuchi, or that we use a sliding step on an entry, or in kempo, that we follow a particular set block and parry response). This makes it difficult to be sure that those parameters are valid assumptions. We might find a quite different reality upon assuming them in random conflict. This is a difficult issue, affecting styles with old provenance and recently-invented amalgamations alike – a subject worthy of its own post (or several): to what extent do you need to break the form in order to make what it is you are doing work? This begs another question: how well do you actually understand the form you are professing to practice?

Gao bagua's 64 linear tactics themselves are a synthesis (developed in Tianjian) of bagua, xingyi, and taiji. So, in my personal practice lately I have been playing around with the idea of more directly exhibiting the xingyi and taiji I know within them. For example, when beginning in san ti, or finishing with benquan or paoquan, I have been practicing the Hebei Xingyiquan movement. I've also played with drilling the taijiquan heel kick at the end of each Gao kicking sequence before the final paoquan movement. Since I am not teaching these arts, only practicing them, I want to somehow meld a firm presentation of their skills in my body so that if I were to use them in an unscripted environment, I would have a cohesive presentation of these arts in my body. This is not entirely novel of an idea, in that the kicking series (usually the sixth house) for different lines of Gao bagua are different. In a while, I will go back to the original way I was taught of doing the sixth house of the Gao linear tactics to see if I notice any different sensations when doing them.

I continue to work on my breath and posture as part of my martial arts practice, to help develop connection between the different parts of my body. In yoga, I continue regular breathing practice to purify and energize the body – helping prepare it for meditation. I view my hatha yoga practice as a spiritual pursuit: I engage in asana (yoga posture) practice to balance out the body and bring my awareness to the way in which my breath can unify body and mind. Doing so, I am aiding the development of my Buddhist practice.