Fencing as Meditation

Greetings Dear Reader, long time no post! After a short break due to time constraints and temporary loss of muse I have returned. Sometimes it's easy to lose track of why we do the things we enjoy, for instance last night I arrived at the club in a slightly tense state. It had been a niggly day and the last couple of weeks have been a bit stressful and I really wasn't in a good frame of mind. I didn't fence one competitive match all evening however it turned into a good night because I ended up having a great lesson with Coach Andy to work on my epee skills. It was quite a tough lesson as I was lucky enough to catch Andy when he had some free time with no queue so it was nearly a full half hour. As the lesson progressed I found myself worrying less about all the other stuff and getting more into the correct mind set i.e. just doing my fencing. And it felt good! The chance to concentrate (or not, paradoxically) on one thing was very mentally refreshing if somewhat physically exhausting. But even that was a nice kind of tired. I guess it shows that sometimes you just have to get out there and do stuff and just occasionally the Universe provides. You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you get what you need.....

The Courage of the Straight Arm

I read an interesting article in 'The Sword' magazine this week (it's published by British Fencing for it's membership) written by Prof William Gaugler on the merits of the straight arm in foil fencing. (it's important to think Foil because the straight arm is a whole different beast in epee). The basic proposition of the article was that a fencer persistently presenting a straight arm will be very hard to overcome, particularly if that fencer is adept at deceiving any attempt by the opponent to take or beat the blade or otherwise assume the right of way. I was discussing this with a friend at the club and we decided to have an experiment with it. It quickly became apparent that this was easier said than done and the fencer with the straight arm would need to have superlative technique in order to make it work, particularly when it came to responding to a beat on the straight arm. (Probably the only way to respond would be to parry riposte the resultant attack I guess....) However we did agree that the straight arm has many things going for it. It is intimidating and once it is out there the opponent has to do something about it in order to score. Their possible offensive options are somewhat limited so if (and it's a big if) you've comprehensively trained yourself to respond to the right things in the right way you do have a chance to gain a significant advantage. You also have to have an iron-like unshakeable confidence in your own application of the technique as it is very easy to chicken out and withdraw that arm! Is it an invincible strategy? Probably not. Will it work well in certain situations? Probably yes. The best thing about articles like Professor Gaugler's is that it makes you think about your fencing; and that's most of the fun!

What's Your Battle Standard?

The great Samurai warlord Takeda Shingen had a battle standard on which was written the characters "Fu Rin Ka Zan" which translate as "Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain". A bizarre thing to write on a battle standard you may think, until you investigate further. The characters are an abbreviation of a section of Sun Tzu's Art of War which talks about the characteristics of an effective military force. "Therefore when it moves swiftly it is like the wind, when it goes slowly it is like a forest; it is rapacious as fire, immovable as mountains". An effective force must be able to move swiftly in order to overcome the enemies tactics, but it must also be well ordered like a forest. It must consume it's opponents completely but also be capable of being as immovable and intimidating as a mountain. (Musashi also comments on the characteristics of mountains, it's a very popular image). So Shingen was setting out his principles for all to see; his enemies, his own troops, his subjects etc. What he was also subtly doing was letting these people know that he was well read in political and military tactics so should be respected and perhaps feared. Shingen was indeed one of the most respected warrior lords of his era, so much so that when he died his life-long enemy Uesugi Kenshin wept with sorrow at the loss his passing represented. The question I have is, if you had one, what would be on your battle standard?

Drawing the bow, but not releasing the arrow....

I came across the above phrase whilst re-reading "The Demon's sermon On The Martial Arts" by Issai Chozanshi. (Do not fret Dear Reader, the Demon of the title is a Tengu rather than a Satanic variant. Think more like a mischievous and only occasionally malevolent mountain spirit). Anyway, it struck me as an excellent metaphor for the coaches dilemma; i.e. how much is the right amount to teach someone? A sports coach of any variety has to find the right level of instruction for the student he is dealing with and there are a lot of different blends of student. Some students want to be very competitive, some don't. Some students simply enjoy the challenge of learning, some don't and prefer to carry on at their own level. Some students just like the encouragement a Coach should give them, some just like to challenge themselves and have a quiet smile to themselves when things go right. Some students respond well to feedback, some crumble at the first hint of advice. Some students just don't want anything to do with a coach at all (apparently Musashi never had a teacher and it didn't seem to do him much harm..!)
On top of the considerations of the student themselves, the instructor has to consider the technique being taught. How far can the coach take the student? Can the bow be drawn and the arrow released or are there things in the technique that mean the student has to release the arrow himself? Most fencing techniques can be taught to a simple mechanical level but there are always subtleties that the student can only learn for themselves by doing. The Coach has to decide how far to take the student on that journey. Not far enough and the technique will not be comprehended at all; too far and the technique will be obscured by technical details and opaque subtleties.
The final piece of the puzzle is the Coach themselves. They will have a view on what they like doing. Some prefer to teach the simple stuff, some prefer the more complicated techniques, some prefer groups, some prefer individuals, some prefer that their students outgrow them, some prefer they don't. I enjoy teaching the basics to people and spreading the word but I guess my take on the coaching that I really enjoy can be summed up with two examples. One from Confucius who, if he turned over one corner, would not teach a student who didn't attempt to turn the other three (harsh but fair!) and from Walt Whitman's 'Leaves of Grass'.... "I am the teacher of athletes, he that by me spreads a wider breast than my own, proves the width of my own, he most honours my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher."