Arnis Sticks

Here is a picture of me posing with the Arnis/Eskrima/Escrima sticks I bought recently.

I know that Arnis goes particularly well with Wing Chun, and that is my main interest in the art; I also know, however, that it complements other styles of Kung Fu and Karate equally well.  It's a shame that the local Filipino Martial Arts class shut down a few months ago because, as things stand, I am learning from a series of books on the art.

If you want just one book from which to learn the art of Arnis/Eskrima, I would recommend "Eskrima - Filipino Martial Art", by Krishna Godhania, published by The Crowood Press.  It is quite an extensive book on Arnis/Eskrima, and maybe too detailed for some.  In some cases, it may be that "Modern Arnis", by Remy Presas has enough to add to what you already practise.  Modern Arnis is the style which is now a part of the education system in the Philippines, whereas the Warriors Eskrima in Krishna Godhania's book is based on more traditional styles.

As I have mentioned above, Filipino Martial Arts seem to go particularly well with martial arts which base their practice on forms/kata/taolu.  Actually, I would class sinawali and the flow drills of Arnis as forms.  A very real benefit of training the Arnis drills is better coordination: something that has been a weakness for me, and a fatal flaw in Chi Sau.

Some people stick rigidly to one system of combat; some use one system of combat as an anchor, but occasionally leave their mooring to build a better picture of what works for them; some will use whatever works and adapt to circumstance.  We are all different, and will each benefit from a different style of learning.

One last point, about the name.  Arnis and Eskrima are used in different parts of the Philippines to describe the same art, whereas Kali is a recently invented word.  To put it simply, I know that Arnis and Eskrima are used as names for the art in the Philippines, but I haven't heard Kali so much, and it is certainly not its traditional name, so I won't be using it as a name for the art, if I can avoid doing so.

Letting Go

This morning, I drove past Colwyn Bay Pier.  At one time, I was fully behind the campaign to preserve this relic of Colwyn Bay's past.  Now, I think it's time to let go.  When I think about it, this whole week, in many ways, has been about letting go.  In fact, I could say the same thing about the past two years of my life.

Before I move on, I should make clear my reasons for withdrawing my support for the campaign to save the pier.  Colwyn Borough Council, and a consortium of interested parties, made an application to the National Lottery Heritage Fund.  That application has been turned down and, as the local paper has rightfully pointed out, that would mean a bigger financial burden for local taxpayers.  Even with the Lottery funding in place, there would have been a hefty gap in the budget to restore the pier.  We must also consider why the National Lottery Heritage fund rejected the application for funding.  One of the qualifying criteria for that funding is that the project must be self-funding when the grant has been approved - Colwyn Bay Pier, clearly, is not.

Those behind the campaign to save the pier talk at length about happy childhood memories of time there.  My reply would be that those happy memories are exactly that - happy memories which will not fade if the pier is no longer there.  It is certainly a marvel of Victorian splendour or, more to the point, was at one time.  If you look at historic photos, you will see that its structure has changed over the years.  Parts have been added.  Parts have been taken away.  Over the years, it has closed down, reopened, closed down again.  Whether we like it or not, the pier does not attract visitors in the same numbers it once did.  I would ask the very people supporting the preservation of the pier how many times they have visited the site, when it was commercially viable, since those happy childhood memories.  In reality, it provided nothing that could not be found within the town of Colwyn Bay itself, so people had little reason to visit.

There is an argument that opening the pier would create more jobs, and provide commercial space for new business.  I would point to the number of shops that are closed, and boarded up, within Colwyn Bay.  The pier is away from the commercial centre of the town, so requires time which a lot of people simply don't have now.  By asking for the structure to be saved, a lot of time and money is being spent on simply delaying the inevitable.

There are the kiosks along the promenade, should a visitor wish to buy an ice cream, a cup of tea, or even a serving of fish and chips.

It adds to the character of the place?  I've heard that argument, and I have to disagree.  If I stand at Old Colwyn and look along the sweep of Colwyn Bay to Rhos, the view is interrupted by a man made structure jutting out into the sea.  I have a similar objection to the council extending the promenade into the sea (their new project, which has seen a section of the promenade closed to tourists, while they complete the project). I hear people saying that the beaches of Asia are some of the best in the world, because they are comparatively free of man made structures.

Colwyn Bay is not the same town it was when the pier was built, and yet a number of the population seek to preserve a past which is now gone, even though it may prove detrimental to the future of the town.  In the long run, it is a battle which will be lost, and they would be wiser to support a cause that benefits Colwyn Bay.  Someone who was once a friend of mine is on the committee of an organisation seeking to save the pier.  His motive, on closer inspection, was self-promotion by association with the campaign.

I have said all I want to say about Colwyn Bay Pier.  What it brought to my mind, however, is how we sometimes hold on to the past, even when it is not in our interests to do so.

I also met someone today who once attended the same martial arts class as I do, but gave it up because of health issues.  I stopped to say hello to him and asked how he was, to which he gave a short answer before walking on.  For him, it is apparently a part of his life which is over, and he has no intention of being reminded of it or dwelling on it.  A similar point was driven home to me this week, when the brakes failed on my car.

I took my car to the garage, to get the problem with the brakes fixed, and the man dealing with it expressed the opinion that my car is now rather old and I should think of getting a replacement.  I have had the car for eight years now, so it has been a large part of my life.  In that time, it has taken me many places, but it also serves as a reminder of the bad times during which I owned the car.  Moving forward usually involves embracing changes in our lives.  In short, the car is an ever present reminder of a past I am slowly coming to terms with and letting go - one filled with hurt, anger, sorrow and pain.

Over the last two years, the things which have led to great advancement and achievements in my life have all involved major changes to my life.  It is as true for anyone as it is for me.  It often takes tremendous courage to make those changes, and the result of those changes may be uncertain, so the only way to move forward is to constantly question whether we are happy to stay as we are.

The hardest part can be discarding values and beliefs we have held for a long time, even though they may not be serving our interests.  We should always be ready to admit we are wrong; otherwise, we are denying ourselves the joy of learning.  Recently, I have had my own values and beliefs challenged many times.  I am not ashamed to say a lot of my values were wrong for me, and standing in the way of positive change.

Preserving the past is a noble sentiment but, if that past has a negative impact on the future and stops things moving on in a positive manner, we must know when to let go.  Our happiness depends on it.

Shyness

Sometimes our own nature works against us.  In my own case, I find my life is often blighted by the terrible shyness I have suffered since childhood.  Over the years, I have found ways to cope and ways to disguise it, but it is always there.  Unfortunately, it often conspires against me to give people the wrong impression.

I've been thinking about it a lot, and my comfortable limit seems to be three other people in a room with me.  Anything above this, and I start to struggle against the urge to escape.  A therapist would no doubt have some pretty wild theories regarding why this should be, but I don't need a therapist to explain that one for me.

For most of my childhood, I had to deal with no more than four people in the same room.  I won't go into specifics of the family structure, but I can be certain of that fact.  I was very rarely in the company of more people than that.  The only times I was in the company of more people were when extended family or friends were present to celebrate Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries and so on.  Unfortunately, a certain member of my immediate family had a very specific character flaw, whereby those occasions were an opportunity to throw unwanted attention my way, embarrass and humiliate me.  To make matters worse, they were also an opportunity to quote things I had said in the mistaken belief that they were private.

As a result of early life experiences, it is difficult for me whenever there are more than three people in my company.  It is particularly bad when attention is drawn towards me.  Another thing I have noticed is a tendency to react strongly to perceived embarrassment or humiliation.

I have heard the view that you can no longer blame past experiences for how your life has panned out when you have passed a certain age.  I would counter by saying that, while you are ultimately responsible for yourself as an adult, bad experience can make things considerably more difficult.

Today's Lesson

I try to take something positive from each day, and today I want to share that with you, before this day is over. Today, I learnt the true value of tolerance and patience.  There are subtle differences between those two virtues - tolerance is the ability to endure personal injury and appreciate that others are different from ourselves; patience is the ability to wait for what we desire or endure undesirable behaviour in others - but, when applied to our attitude towards our fellow humans, they are very similar qualities.  With that in mind, I will discuss them here interchangeably.

It is important that we do not deny our own nature.  I have to confess that my own tendency has been towards conflict.  I grew up in quite a tough environment, so certain responses were programmed deep into my psyche from an early age: responses which no longer serve me as well as they once did.  As a child, it was inconceivable that I should understand the feelings, needs and behaviour of other people (Jean Piaget, a Swiss developmental psychologist and philosopher, noted that children are essentially egocentric).  What changed?  I started my study of martial arts and, through that study, discovered Eastern philosophy.

Sun Tzu wrote that knowing your enemy, and knowing yourself, would give you the strength to win a hundred battles without a single loss.  My interpretation of this stems from his assertion that the greatest victory is that achieved without hostility.  I must use an example to illustrate my point.  Less than two years ago, a great wrong was committed against me.  The magnitude of the injury caused is made apparent by the fact that I desired revenge.  To tell the truth, I could see no way for me to find peace without vengeance.  For me to do this, I had to follow Sun Tzu's advice to know my enemy (if you haven't read "The Art of War", I highly recommend it, for those with the intelligence to understand) and find their weaknesses.  One of the downsides of the internet is the digital trail we leave behind us.  Anyone with the skills to analyse the written word, or what our interests, goals and relationships say about us can virtually peer into our soul.

I know just about all I want to know about my enemy now.  The result of my knowledge is a greatly increased ability to exact a terrible revenge, and also a reduced likelihood of following the path which leads to getting my revenge.  I will never regard this person as a friend, nor will I ever forget the terrible injury which was inflicted, but my knowledge has led to understanding and compassion.  The very weaknesses I sought to uncover have made this person more real, more human, to me.  I feel no shame about my initial reaction, because I see that my life, especially my early life, has conditioned me to react aggressively to any perceived threat.

The main asset we possess in our quest to move forward is our ability to recognise our strengths and weaknesses for what they are.  I saw my vengefulness as a strength, and in reality it is a sign of weakness.  Patience, tolerance, the ability to know and understand another person - those are the things which require the most tremendous strength.

Filipino stick fighting

I've been thinking a lot about Filipino stick fighting recently.  To save confusion, I will be referring to it as Arnis throughout this post, though it is also known as Arnis De Mano, Escrima, Eskrima or Kali.  In the Philippines, where it is taught as part of the Physical Education system, it is referred to mostly as Arnis - at least it is in the areas of Manila I visited.

I haven't been able to train in Arnis recently.  I created some makeshift training sticks some time ago, and trained as much as I was able to.  I have ordered some genuine sticks now, and will be resuming my training.  Some might ask my reason for training Arnis, when I am already a Wing Chun practitioner.  Wing Chun is a great system, and it works, but there are reasons for specifically training in Arnis.

The UK is increasingly becoming a society in which armed attacks are a reality, especially attacks with knives.  To understand the range of motion and characteristics of a weapon, experience of fighting with weapons is necessary.  As much as I love Wing Chun, and I trust that it can be used against knife attacks, the weapons of Wing Chun (if, for a moment, we discount our own limbs as weapons) are the last thing to be introduced to a student.  Anecdotal evidence would suggest that Ip Man only taught three people the knives form, for example.  I learn martial arts for self protection.  I want to close any gaps in my defensive repertoire as quickly as possible.

Another consideration is improving coordination.  This is something which I have been looking into a lot recently.  It is probably an overlooked aspect of fighting fitness.  Strength, endurance and even flexibility are all emphasised in our training to be martial artists, just as it is with sports, but coordination is seemingly neglected in our training.  Yes, there is an argument that the training itself improves coordination, and I will go along with that.  Practising the Wing Chun forms has led to a marked improvement in the precision of my movements, but I still struggle with Chi Sau.  Some members of the class get to practice Chi Sau away from the class, and I, unfortunately, have no one to do this with, so my coordination is below the level of some members of the class. The only way I could feasibly reach, and surpass, their fine motor skills is to do something other than Wing Chun to improve matters - something which trains similar movements.

The funny thing is that, here in the UK, we are more likely to refer to Filipino stick fighting as Escrima.  The use of Remy Presas' Modern Arnis as the system which is taught in the Philippine education system has led to the name Arnis being used widely in the Philippines.  In some areas, however, Escrima or Eskrima is still used.  Here, Modern Arnis is not so well known, so we tend to train in more traditional Filipino stick fighting systems, and use the name Escrima (or Eskrima) as a result.

It's easy to see how the difference in the systems which are most prevalent could lead to differences in how Arnis is performed in the UK and its native Philippines.  If we look at what has happened to jujitsu in the UK over the time it has been here, it is clear that there is the potential for any introduced art to assume the character of its new host nation.  Ip Ching apparently said something along those lines when members of the class I attend visited his training centre in Hong Kong - the way we do Wing Chun is different.  There is also the example of Lau Gar Kung Fu, which some would argue has completely deviated, in its UK form, away from the original Chinese art.  Recently, I heard that Bob Breen, here in the UK, teaches Jeet Kune Do in a very different way to how Dan Inosanto teaches it in America.  I'm not surprised, even though Bob is technically Dan's student.

As long as it is effective, I really don't care.