An Exploration in Cross Training and What it has Taught me About Aikido
Justin Chang
Benefits of Cross Training
There is only one human body. Every single martial art emphasizes certain core
concepts in its approach to the science of fighting. These concepts manifest themselves in the
nature of the footwork used and the style of attack. A key question to ask is what is the purpose
of the art and what is being emphasized. When I first started out in Modern Arnis, I wanted to
quit every day for the first six months because I had to learn to compartmentalize skills and
principles I had internalized. I also struggled with the basics of rhythm and weapon manipulation
and completely different footwork and body positioning for defense. I was coming to grips with
the difference in emphasized core concepts between my two arts. However, as the years went
by and I stuck with it, I realized that the two arts were much more similar than I initially thought.
Almost all of the throws in Modern Arnis are Aikido throws with slightly different angling,
methodology, and emphasized principles. As I continue to train, the congruent evolution of two
arts, both based on blade wielding warriors, becomes much more apparent
Training something else causes convergent nodes of principles to become further
reinforced as you realize they have congruence. Within neurology whenever we have a new
experience or memory, our nerve cells make connections, a pathway that represents that
experience is grown in the form of little spikes which act as chemical pathways between the
nerve cells. As we experience that same action, more and more connections get made to make
that action faster and more efficient. Seeing and applying the same principle from different
contexts works to enforce what has already been experienced.
It is up to us as responsible martial artists to sift through and apply different principles,
gather our own, and to know when to use them in context. Ultimately, that is the greatest gift of
cross training, context. In the light of comparison, one cannot judge without another. To know
the self, one must observe the other. Recall a time when someone pointed out something you
were oblivious to in your training. You likely never contemplated it because it was just “what
you’ve always done.” Training something else forces you to adopt another lens to see principles
through, and through comparison it sharpens what you have already trained because you know
what that is.
Angles of Attack
Weapons are amplifiers. Everything is more when working with weapons; force, speed,
and direction. Angles are easier to see when you have a weapon as a projection to trace
visually. We already troubleshoot angles in practice as often when we are off angle, the
opponent feels strong, however angle does not always come up as the obvious solution. One of
the basic fundamentals of Tomiki Aikido as I see it, the throwing of uke along a weakline, was
brought into sharp relief for me after extensive training with weapons. More often than not, we
are throwing the opponent down a 45 degree angle to their facing. This is the martial arts
principle of flanking. Head on, force to force, you meet stout opposition. Biomechanically, if you
shift over 15-45 degrees while still oriented to your opponent’s center, you have gained the force
advantage. There is little they can do to counter you at that angle as the human body is very
adept at making unidirectional movements because of the nature of our musculature, but when
it comes to bidirectional movements, it has to tap into multiple small muscles, most contained at
the end of long heavy levers. In short, on a flank, you have access to a lane where your force is
concentrated in a central zone moving in one direction, while your opponent’s force is at an
oblique angle from where they are most capable of generating force.
Further, it has taught me that while we emphasize staying in our center, our source of
power, we seldom speak of another aspect of center, that when we attack an opponent we
always attack their center. Structurally speaking, the reason a human being’s center is strong is
because our spinal column acts as the conduit for energy from our largest muscle groups in our
legs. If you disrupt the foundation provided by those muscles, you take away the ability for that
opponent to generate effective force against you. Brazilian Jiujitsu approaches the same
problem by changing the equation completely and choosing to fight in a position where the legs
are not engaged as a force generating structure. We reach into our opponents through points of
contact and seek to bend or neutralize the power they receive from their legs. When done
correctly, uke feels like they are falling while standing, or the entirety of their core locks out
because the brain cannot comprehend the shift in their equilibrium while still upright.
Ranges and concurrent training
One inch off and you miss. One inch too far and your offense is easily blunted. What is
the difference between a jo swing and a knife cut? Effectively, nothing but range. Each attack
has a generative arc of power leading from some point of pivot in the body. That can be the
hips, or the arms. Let’s assume all of our attacks are generating power from the hips, the joint
closest to our leg engine generating force. Picture a sword, swinging in an arc. While the entire
surface of the weapon is capable of transferring force, there is a band where that transfer of
force is optimal. We have been told it is roughly the top 6 inches of the sword. It is also roughly
the top third of the jo and the top 2 or 3 inches of a knife (bladed instruments do damage slightly
differently in that their small surface area concentrates force but the optimal cutting region is still
the top third or so). Any time you hit a target with a part of the weapon outside of that band of
power, the force transfer drops off significantly. If you step out of the band of power for any
strike, backwards (miss) or forwards (less effective), you have nullified much if not all of the
power.
The entire concept of jamming comes from meeting that arc as far from the band of
power as possible to limit force received. At the very center of that arc is the center of the
opponent, hence why we always attack center. Now, if you are the striker, imagine an opponent
has shifted out of the band of power for the weapon you are currently using. If you had the
ability to instantaneously swap out weapons to match where they are relative to you, wouldn’t
you do it? With that in mind, did your arc change at any point? Did your grip change on your
current weapon? Imagine they have closed on you past the point of effective range for a sword,
you switch to knife. Past the range of knives do you still have additional weapons to use? Tuck
in your forearm and the arc of your elbow is still in full effect. The smaller arcs are contained
within the larger arcs. The smaller motions are contained within the larger motions.
Now that we have established that strikes are the same at all ranges, let’s define what a
strike is: a transference of force to a target over a period of time. But wait a minute, Aikido is
primarily a throwing art with most of the strikes taken out. How does any of this come into play
besides knowing how to avoid strikes? What is a throw? Some might speak of it as a use of
leverage to overcome weight and displace an object. This probably aligns better with judo type
throws which hinge at the hip, but how many aikido throws do so? I put forth that Aikido throws
are essentially long winded strikes. They are transferences of force, delivered at a target
(usually uke’s center), over a period of time with the end goal to topple them to the ground. As
you familiarize yourself with the various disciplines within Aikido, you may start to notice
similarities between your actions during weapons work and your general Aikido. Many of our
throws in Hiji Waza and Tekubi Waza feel oddly familiar to sword and jo work. Uke’s arm
becomes the sword or jo. The hip rotations and footwork are generally the same.
Openings and quadrants
Weapons occupy space and zones. So do hands and arms. We are all familiar with the
principle of tegatana or “pretending your entire arm is a sword”. When engaging in swordplay,
the weapon acts as a feeler, you know where the opponent’s sword and focus are and any
changes in pressure allow you to read their intent. The same can be applied to tegatana. With
your outstretched hands, you occupy forward space giving you time to defend against attacks.
One of the quickest and easiest ways to defend your vital organs (which, one might add, are all
contained within your centerline) is to just have your arms in the way. Furthermore upon making
contact, it immediately puts you within a frame of reference from which you can draw
conclusions about your opponent and what paths you can take to aggress on them. Imagine a
cartesian plane with four quadrants and your arms in tegatana at roughly the center. It is likely
that an opponent will not just meet you at center and stay there. They will move around your
defense and into one of the quadrants. This plays into both defense and offense as whenever
you aggress along one line, you leave another open. To strike an example, take the Gyaku
Gamae-ate into Gedan technique string. Upon capturing one of their arms, we strike high. They
post a defense so we tie up both of their arms in an upper quadrant and attack low for the body
check.
Tangent: Regarding Cuentada
Balintawak Eskrima is a fast paced close range stick martial art where practitioners
engage in strings of techniques organized into “groupings,” each with a theme to impart. These
movements cover most of the possible lines of attack from a right handed aggressor. The
concept of “Cuentada” uses the knowledge of these lines of attack to set up counters and the
counters can loop ad infinitum. It is a game of probabilities rooted in the knowledge of positions
and options from those positions. A seasoned practitioner can thereby guide the actions of their
opponent by limiting or eliciting certain responses. We already see a semblance of this in our
technique strings in kihon, but I surmise the Cuentada could run deeper within Tomiki Aikido.
The Structure of Tegatana
When fighting with a melee weapon, that weapon not only becomes your primary
conveyance of force, it also becomes your chief defense against aggression. A sword fighter
holds their weapon between their opponent and their own body in order to:
- Shorten the line of attack
- Impede the attack of the opponent
a. Be in a position to control and counter any incoming attacks
Returning to the cartesian plane example, we would hold our guard at center because it
allows the shortest distance to rush to defend all four quadrants. We also want our weapons
forwards to act as potential feelers on incoming attacks as well as to shorten the distance and
therefore the time it takes to execute our own attacks. The primary defensive structure of Aikido
is the extended katana grip, or the “Sword Frame”. This structure, much like a bladed
instrument, focuses all of our force along a single line, in the center. Like a knife, the angle
allows material which is passed to either side by the central focus to be pushed aside further as
the center proceeds forwards. This structure forms a wedge which we drive at the opponent to
execute many of our techniques. I believe it is also the basis of many of our kuzushi. Together,
the two hands make a roughly equilateral triangle radiating from our centerline directly forwards.
Acting independently, our two hands then form two smaller acute triangles with which to apply
force. These triangles, however, only work when they are pushed into material. An axe only
splits wood on a specific line. Powered by our hips, the most efficient motions for transferring
force are spear-like rotating thrusts and pinwheel slices of the arms in line with the direction of
our hip rotations, hence, jo and sword style motions predominate in our kata.
Kuzushi are Attacks
Returning to my previous statement about how a throw is just a long winded strike, we
also know the importance of kuzushi. The misnomer that Aikido does not have strikes within it,
or that strikes are only present as distractions does not do the true power of the art justice.
Each kuzushi is an attack against the opponent with a successful “hit” being the
breakdown of their balance and the connection to and control of their center. This becomes
more apparent within the weapons katas contained in dai san. An extra extension has been
added, allowing you to understand that “I connect to the extension which connects to uke.”
Remove the extension and realize, “uke is the extension.” Back away and view the larger
picture with the borrowed lens of a striking discipline and realize strikes generate power and
transfer energy through extensions, “throws are strikes.” When do we start transferring energy
into uke? From the moment we make contact, “kuzushi are attacks.”
In the formative years of my growth in Aikido, I had very little striking experience. Half a
year here in Wado Ryu karate and half a year there in basic kung fu were what I had to work
with. I was still a grappler/thrower at heart, which made understanding the principle of targeting
beyond difficult to grasp. Within our current doctrine, we barely mention this, and it is likely
implied through repetition and training, but without overtly speaking about a principle, it is very
difficult to understand it theoretically. The closest we get to describing targeting in our
techniques is probably “metsuke”, or eye contact. In a circuitous way it makes us target the only
target worth aiming for, the opponent’s center. Our kuzushi are “attacks” which radiate from our
legs through our hips, through whatever our points of contact are, into their center. We do this
because if you control uke’s center, you control uke. Now, targeting can also be applied to other
parts of the body in practice. For instance, isolating the forearm and focusing all of your body’s
energy into driving the elbow to the ground in a Sumi Otoshi. While the focus for your energy is
the elbow/arm, the end result is the shoulder is locked and the center of uke is moved. Similarly,
the two Dai San techniques which involve cutting uke’s knee with the tegatana, we isolate the
energy to the target by cupping the ankle to prevent lateral movement.
Tangent: Regarding Shizentai
We are the style that attacks the attack. From the moment of first contact, we seek to
connect to uke’s structure and “attack” their center, disrupt their structure, and steal their
balance. Our kuzushi are our initial attacks and our hips are the conduits through which we
launch them. I’ve already said that our legs are the foundation of all our power generation. To
expand on that, the position of our legs dictates in which direction we can generate force. If I
have my right leg forward, I have effectively closed off hip rotation clockwise, to the right side. It
is not impossible to generate clockwise force in this position, but it is definitely harder. If you
stand in natural stance, you have access to either hip and therefore double the options for initial
kuzushi.
Timing and Distance
We have all definitely heard the saying “slow is smooth, smooth is fast.” Besides being a vague
training mantra, we seldom break down and explain what we mean by it. Here is my breakdown:
Slow is Smooth
Slowing a technique down while learning it ensures you attempt to cover the key points
and principles that make it work. Often when students rush, they glance over important
aspects of a technique.
Smooth is Fast
Proficiency in a technique almost invariably leads to the technique being done more
quickly over all, not because the practitioner is going faster necessarily (this is often why
many students attempt to go fast because they equate speed with proficiency) but
because they have made each step of the technique more efficient such that it takes less
time and effort to do each. You begin priming the next step while doing the previous step
and they blend together seamlessly. You don’t go faster, you go sooner and do things
simultaneously.
However, ultimately as one of my instructors coined, “Slow is slow and fast is fast.” If you
cannot be at a place at the right time due to physical or skill limitations, you cannot do the
technique. That is why we must be proficient at a technique and ready to do that technique
where it needs to be done.
Distance takes time to cover. It takes us ‘x’ amount of time to cover ‘y’ amount of
distance. The longer the distance, the longer it takes. In a sense, that means that distance
means time. In order to be at the right place at the right time, you must move at the right pace to
get there. Timing requires proper judgment of distance and understanding where two bodies will
be in space. Timing is essentially distance management.
Something we hardly ever think about, outside of perhaps long weapon training is reach.
With a tanto, you have a negligible reach advantage. For all intents and purposes, you are still
punching your opponent and are at empty hand range. Weapons sparring with differences in
reach and weapon length have driven home a couple of points for me.
- Angles make or break attacks and defenses
- Footwork is the best defense
- Attacking and defending ideally should not be done sequentially but
simultaneously. - If you are outranged you must compensate by moving sooner, faster, or further.
You must make up time.
Tangent: Regarding Zanshin
Within the scope of my learning, I believe zanshin has been mishandled or has been lost
in translation as a concept within our art. While watching certain weapons videos from certain
classical Japanese sword arts, the term zanshin was brought up, but in a very specific context.
Zanshin for this style were specific stances or positions, much like guards, to ensure swift and
decisive follow up should the opponent require further dispatching. To draw a parallel with what
we have in practice, I think the closest comparison is actually our pins where we threaten the
break and relent when uke yields, followed by our deliberate escape.
Focus
Nothing tightens your focus more than threat of injury or death. It combines both
instinctual aspects and conscious agency to the purpose at hand, to survive. It imposes a razor
focus on the mind that we as martial artists must learn to draw from at will. We could learn all
the theoretical knowledge of martial technique and repeat all the repetitions to instill it in our
bodies and muscle memory, but if we lack the will to act it is all pointless. We are learning a
martial art, an entry in the book of the science of fighting. We must learn to “turn it on” and do
what has to be done without hesitation, but as is one of the hallmarks of Aikido, we must also
always be in control. Nothing teaches that better, faster, or more vividly than using weapons
because there is impetus to do it well or suffer consequences. Weapons work teaches us to
harness the power and intent to strike our target with force and accuracy but also to control our
strike such that we can choose at any time where to end or direct our energy. It makes the
utmost sense to me that the Dai San culminates in a sword on sword set to act as a capstone
which instills intent, focus, and control.
Parting Thoughts
Opening myself to the context of a weapons striking art has allowed me to see the
myriad similarities within different martial arts. The founder of Modern Arnis was well practiced
in Karate, Judo, and Balintawak and each of those styles fed the martial artist within him.
Everything blended because there are many things which can work in any scenario; many tools
in a toolbox for many tasks. Empty hand karate forms contain throws and locks in their motions.
Many judo throws are efficiently executed by “punching the opponent into the ground” or “kicking
their legs out from under them”. To recall the concurrent arcs and training previously mentioned,
our throws come predominantly from sword and jo strikes.
My old sensei once said to me that at some point in my martial arts journey, I would
discard the kata. He told me kata was the scaffolding that was put in place to guide a student to
the principle. Once the principle was built, the scaffolding could be taken down. He said it would
set me free. At the time I did not understand and was not ready to take that leap away from the
familiar. Now, I have an inkling of what he meant to impart to me. After the principles had been
absorbed, I was free to explore a sea of principles. For me, leaving the scaffolding of technique
meant I would be leaving the safe harbor of one particular style. There would no longer be “yes”
and “no”, only “it depends”. I would have to take responsibility for my own learning as nobody
else would be cataloging and organizing all my experiences for me. Over the past few years, I
have done much exploring. I have revisited judo, I have mixed in striking drills, and have applied
different Aikido principles in different contexts. I have seen many ways to fail in pursuit of ways
to succeed. I have come through on the other side with more variations than I can remember. I
have at times walked completely off the path of Aikido and at others, have watched the paths
converge. I feel the experience has led me to become a more robust and well rounded martial
artist.
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