Leaving wing chun

There will be a time when I am no longer able to practise wing chun, at least in a formal setting.  At some point, for reasons I'm not going into here, learning wing chun in a class will no longer make sense.  It would be wise, therefore, to spend time learning how to make the most of solo practice.

I'm pretty obsessive when it comes to learning the forms.  I'm by no means perfect - I doubt that description would apply to anyone - but I've got the general structure of sil lum tao, chum kiu and the beginnings of biu jee.  What about the muk yan jong?  For now, I've changed the order for myself and, when I think about it, this is just one of many modifications I've made along the way.

Why study biu jee next, leaving the dummy form until later?  The best I can do is to say that, for me, it makes sense to learn the forms in that order.  Knowing that the next step is to be graded on muk yan jong does nothing to change that.  What I learn has to be effective when the brown, smelly stuff hits the spinning cooling device.  How one person makes wing chun effective will differ from how another makes it work for them.  The next step, at least in my practice away from the class, is to learn what I can from biu jee.

None of the above is meant to offend my instructor, who stands as the only one of the many martial arts instructors I've had that I'm actually able to respect.  Nor is it meant as an insult to those who came before him, who played their part in the history and development of wing chun.  In truth, these people serve as pointers of the way, and we may ultimately walk a different path or, as Bruce Lee did with jeet kune do, create our own path.

I have to train twice as hard to progress at the same pace as other students.  Again, I'm not going into the reasons for this, save to say that they are the same reasons that I know formal training in wing chun will, one day, no longer be in my interests.  Everyone's wing chun will be different, and I'm certain that my fellow students will realise that my wing chun is very different, but again I'm not going into the reasons for those adaptations being necessary.

In some ways, I have already left wing chun and, at the same time, am still very much involved in it.  If that sounds like a contradiction, you have to realise that no two people will do wing chun in that same way: they will naturally prefer some aspects of the art to others, and have their own interpretation of how things are done.  In effect, they have their own wing chun and have left a generalised understanding of wing chun behind them, though the same principles underpin what they do.  If they punch, is it wing chun, or is it simply a punch?

Arnis has also affected what I do.  Importantly, working with a weapon has a positive effect on hand-eye coordination.  In my opinion, if the ability to use improvised weapons is available, it is wise to take that option.  Again, adaptations are made, some of which aroused the concern of the instructor at the eskrima club I attended for a few months.  I was asked what style of Filipino martial arts I practise, because I made comparatively short, hacking movements with the stick, combined with a lot of thrusts.  For this reason, it was suggested that I had learned a style with a focus on bladed weapons as opposed to the sticks.  In reality, I was using the principles of wing chun, adapted to stick fighting: covering my centreline, not overextending, and so on.

To be fair, I train privately in modern arnis and kombatan, so those influences are obviously going to make themselves known if I have a weapon in my hand.  Maybe I'm picking it up wrong, but the focus of the arnis of Luzon seems to be on the shorter blades, as opposed to a focus on longer blades in the eskrima of the Visayas.  I have no doubt that I will be corrected, if I am mistaken.

I also noticed a striking similarity between the movements and principles of arnis and those of biu jee.  When you think about it, this makes sense.  The point of Filipino martial arts is that something has already gone very wrong, and you are probably on the wrong end of a bladed weapon.  Logically, this is not dissimilar to the idea in biu jee that we are fighting from a position of disadvantage.

I think I understand the past masters who took their secrets to the grave.  I see the lack of tolerance in the modern age, and I'm able to remind myself of my reasons for wanting an effective method of self-protection, but I also see an argument for advanced methods of combat being concealed.  I will occasionally walk by someone whose eyes are nervously darting all over the place, and I understand them.  As much as we like to think we are civilised, there is an ever present undercurrent of barbarism in our society; it has probably always been this way, and probably always will be.

Through the martial arts, I unwittingly internalised some of the teachings of Zen from an early age.  The irony of this is that, although I see the value of learning a method of combat, I have little desire to use it in anger and certainly no need to prove myself.  The motivation I have for learning martial arts is that humans continually fail to live in peace with each other and, in some cases, actively seek to prevent others living in peace.

As I've said before, I'm nowhere near considering myself a master, and probably never will, but there is still the idea that I should keep some of my relatively limited knowledge under my hat, as it were.  At the same time, I hope that what I choose to share proves to be valuable in some small way.

Becoming an expert

"If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants." - Sir Isaac Newton

I am occasionally consulted as an expert, in certain subjects, by friends, family and sometimes even acquaintances.  It is not, however, a one way thing.  If I know someone with specialist knowledge, I will consult them on matters relating to that knowledge: it just makes sense.  As I said, it's others who judge me to be the expert, not me, and I certainly don't believe I will ever have the necessary arrogance to consider myself a master of anything.

If I accept the notion that I have specialist knowledge, however, as there is clearly evidence to support this, then how did this happen?  How did I, or anyone else, surpass the knowledge of those with a passing interest in specific fields?  The clue, I would suggest, is in the question.  I know more than someone with a passing interest.

How easy would it be to develop a working understanding of something in which you have no interest?  It would be difficult, wouldn't it?  How about going beyond a basic understanding to a more comprehensive appreciation?  I don't know if it would be possible, but I expect it would be something akin to torture.

Becoming an expert in your chosen field takes patient study or practice, often over many years.  This can seem like a chore or, if you're genuinely interested in what you are doing, it can be very enjoyable.  Why would you choose to become an expert in something you don't enjoy?

Let us pursue those things which bring us joy in the pursuit of them.

Acceptance

Sometimes, things that I see, and hear, from family, friends and acquaintances, lead me to believe that people are becoming less tolerant.  I don't know whether it is the nature of modern forms of communication, such as social media, text messaging and others, or a more fundamental change in society, but there seems to be more of an "I win, you lose" attitude on display.

Maybe it's me.  I have to accept that I may be wrong about things.  For example, I see various movements which are supposedly concerned with creating equality, and yet they represent the interests of one group only.  I'm not saying that the groups that are represented are not disadvantaged, but the people who claim to represent them seek advantages for their chosen group, not equality.  Surely that isn't right?  I must be mistaken.  Maybe I'm looking at it all wrong.

Over the years, I have listened to many people and come into contact with many systems of belief.  Everyone goes through this, and our own beliefs are derived, at least in part, from what we take on board or reject.  How much of this is simple confirmation bias, we have no way of knowing.  Due in no small part to the aforementioned confirmation bias, our internal system of belief determines how we view and interact with our external world.

A personal view

My own way of dealing with others is based on a simple principle, which has more to it than appearances would suggest, though it can be summed up as follows:

1.  Understanding (optional)
2.  Acceptance

Is it surprising that understanding is optional?  It shouldn't be.  We should, of course, make an attempt to understand others, but is it always essential?  I would suggest that it isn't even always possible.  We do not all share the same experience, or background.  More to the point, based on what I have seen and heard recently, not everyone is able to empathise with others, or willing to even try understanding.

Am I suggesting it is possible to accept that which we don't understand?  I'm not just suggesting it is possible; I'm suggesting that it is essential.

Accepting without necessarily understanding

There are people, and viewpoints, we will never understand.  I don't understand terrorism, or racism, or any of the numerous forms of bigotry which are clearly not going away any time soon.  I can't condone these things, and that is not what accepting their existence is about.  Instead, I accept that some people hold beliefs which are abhorrent to me.  Having accepted this, I must ask myself what I can do about it, and accept that, in reality, there is little or nothing I can do.  Others are already fighting against these things, many of whom have more power and influence than I, so another thing I have to accept is that it is not my fight.

I started with an extreme example, so let me approach this from a less contentious angle.  Suppose that I had a friend who, for a hobby, liked to go base jumping.  It's not something that I understand, because I have no inclination to do it myself.  To me, it's a risky pursuit, and I have no intention of endangering my life needlessly.  However, that's just my point of view.  Do I question my friend's sanity, or our friendship, because we differ in this way?  No.  I accept that the friend will continue to go base jumping, even though I don't understand.

A recent example

Recently, a video clip has been circulating where a prominent atheist challenges belief in God.  The issue is that this person is relatively famous, is seen by a number of people as having a great deal of intelligence, and is denouncing a system of belief in a very public way.  It would be easy, and perhaps understandable, for those who feel they are the targets of his outburst to react with anger.  There are good reasons for religion and politics being taboo subjects in most workplaces: few things provoke such strong feelings, and few things are capable of causing such offence if mishandled.

How can we practise acceptance when faced with such a challenge to our beliefs?  Well, we must accept that others have a right to their beliefs, and also that these are the beliefs of just one person.  Some will point out that he is representative of atheism.  No, he isn't.  He is just one person, and I would guess that atheists do not all hold the same beliefs, beyond the one which defines atheism.  I have no reason to believe that he understands, or accepts, people who believe in God.  Then again, I have no reason to believe that he does not understand or accept those who believe in God.  He either accepts that others have beliefs which differ from his own, or he dismisses these people as deluded and not worthy of his time.  In terms which those who put their faith in science will understand, he is Schrödinger's atheist: given that he is in the entertainment industry, and therefore needs an audience for his livelihood, we must accept that the box may never be opened.

When acceptance leads to rejection

A few year's ago, a friendship that had lasted many years came to a sudden end.  Your first thought may be that my friend passed away but, as far as I know, he is alive and well.

There was a time when I hadn't seen my friend for many years, and seeing him again seemed to go well at first.  After a while, however, I started noticing things weren't quite right.  I don't know whether it was the time apart, or a greater level of maturity on my side, but I realised that certain patterns had always existed in the way we interacted.  In short, it had always been a one-sided friendship, and not a very good one.

What I had to accept was that the same patterns would keep repeating, and that I had spent a number of years fostering a relationship that didn't exist in reality.  The hard thing to accept was that the best course of action was to turn my back on someone I had regarded as a friend, however mistakenly.  Once it had been accepted, however, we just drifted apart.  In the time since, I've made new friends, and those are friendships that are actually worth keeping.

Learning to accept ourselves

Acceptance, you see, is not just about what we allow into our lives.  We must also accept that there are some things we need to let go.  This is especially true when we are seeking acceptance, especially from ourselves.  The whole self help industry thrives on us not being happy with who we are, feeling that we must change in some way.  Yes, it is healthy to let go of anger, mindfulness is a very useful thing and assertiveness also has its place, but there is a point at which we must be at peace with who we are.

If you feel that you are not good enough, when is that going to stop?  What will you have to change before you are finally happy with who you are?  Is it not better to treat yourself with kindness, acknowledge flaws where they exist and actually believe that you are fine as you are?  The main point here is to accept our flaws; whether we do anything about these flaws depends on their effect on us, and others.

I hope I have made my point.  It is better to come to accept something or someone through understanding, but understanding is not a prerequisite of acceptance.

Thought for the day: appearing as a novice

In numerous spheres of my life, I appear to be a novice.  It is apparent that I am not someone who knows nothing, but maybe I am someone who knows very little.  Some may mistake it for modesty, of course.  I sincerely hope it doesn't come across as bumbling incompetence.  What it is, and has always been, is something that I learned at an early age: tell someone that they exhibit more skill than you in the performance of a task, and they will usually help you to do better.

What we are fighting against here is our own ego.  We like to believe that we excel at certain things and, being the social animals that we are, the approval of our peers is important to us.  This tendency does not serve our interests.  The belief that we are highly skilled, even gifted, goes hand in hand with the arrogant notion that we can learn nothing from others.  To seek advice or guidance is seen as a sign of weakness or inadequacy.  So, we take a position where the appearance of mastery, the illusion of mastery, halts our progress.

People with whom I train in martial arts would probably be shocked to learn that I first trained in a combat art at seven years of age.  Similarly, my classmates who are studying towards a Microsoft qualification alongside me might raise an eyebrow, if they knew that I owned my first computer in the early 1980s.  In both cases, they might expect me to be more competent than I appear.  The point is that I seem to be a novice, and I retain the mindset of a novice, so that I may learn from others.

I believe that, at a certain point in our lives, any new knowledge that is acquired will be framed within that which we gained previously.  If I take my knowledge of computers as an example, I have pre-existing ideas and concepts about how computers function.  The user interface has changed over the years, and numerous technologies have been developed, added, or replaced.  In effect, the core of what I know is the same, but the layers of abstraction surrounding that core have changed.

I spent much of my life learning Japanese martial arts and, to my shame, learning to apply them in an unfortunate number of physical encounters.  It was only later, when I read Bruce Lee's Tao of Jeet Kune Do, that I was able to fully make sense of the adaptations I had made to the Japanese arts I had learned.  To be fair, a lot of earlier things I had read in Combat magazine (now discontinued), had more of an effect, but Tao of Jeet Kune Do consolidated that knowledge.

I currently study wing chun, and this is unfamiliar to me.  Even after four years of practice, I question whether I am really picking it up.  What I am learning in that class is being framed within an already existing philosophy, elements of which have been inadvertently passed on to some of the newcomers I have trained with over the years, during my attempts to assist them in getting to grips with wing chun.  It is only after the event that I realise I have corrected someone's wing chun by explaining it using the principles of tai chi, jeet kune do or other previously existing knowledge I have acquired.  Maybe I am a source of confusion, rather than enlightenment.

The whole notion that you can't teach an old dog new tricks is wrong, I believe.  We never stop learning, or having the ability to learn.  The process simply becomes more complicated, for the reasons I have stated.  It is not, on the whole, a bad thing, though.  Some time ago, when I was a jujitsu student, we spent a class sparring.  As a spinning roundhouse kick neared my face, I stepped back out of its range and, as the originator of the kick had his back turned, stepped in and booted him in the backside.  I couldn't tell you where I learned it (examining the movement, Shotokan karate seems to be the likely source), but it happened quickly, automatically and with little conscious thought.

The point is that we may appear to be a novice, and at the same time be capable of innovation, because our previous experience gives us a different perspective.  We should also keep our ego under control, be humble, and realise that we can learn much from others.

Fixing sound problems in Windows 7

One of the most common problems I've had to deal with, on Windows PCs, are issues with device drivers.

I'm going to concentrate on sound issues here, because it is a problem I have come across a number of times, and removing sound drivers is relatively safe.  If you happen to lose any work by removing sound drivers, I take no responsibility for that, nor can I see any reason why it might happen.  Make sure that your computer is connected to the internet throughout this procedure.

We'll go through the process first, and then I'll explain why drivers might fail.

1.  First of all, we have to open the management console by clicking the "Computer" button from our Start menu with the right mouse/trackpad button and selecting "Manage" from the menu that appears.

2.  When the management console appears, we want to select "Device Manager" from the pane on the left.  In the central pane, you will see the hardware that Windows recognises in your PC.  Your sound controller will be under "Sound, video and game controllers".

3.  Click on your sound controller with the right mouse/trackpad button.  From the menu which appears, select "Properties".

4.  Along the top of the properties window, you will see tabs.  Select the one which says "Driver" and then press the button which says "Uninstall".

5.  You will receive a warning that you are about to remove the device from your system.  In this case, we also want to remove the driver software.  In some cases, just removing the device and restarting the computer will work but, in this case, we're going to remove the driver software as well.

6.  When you click the OK button, the process of removing the driver will start.  Windows will then ask if you want to restart the computer.  When restarted, Windows will search for device drivers for your sound controller.  The process may take a long time.

7.  Windows is likely to have installed a standard driver for your sound controller at this point.  You have sound, but the driver may not be making full use of your sound controller's capabilities.  So how do we get the latest driver for our sound controller?  Well, the easiest way is probably by using Driver Booster (available free from http://www.iobit.com/driver-booster.php).  If we start this program, it will check that all the drivers on our system are up to date, so it will potentially improve much more than our sound performance.

When you select "Update All", the program will download updated drivers from the internet, create a restore point and install the drivers.  All of this might take some time.  If you are happy with the way your computer is performing, you may say this is an unnecessary waste of time.  If, however, you want to get the most from your hardware, having the latest drivers installed is highly recommended.

Why is all of this necessary?

I may need to get technical here.  Most PCs, and the hardware in them, ship with vendor-specific device drivers.  These drivers will be updated as long as the manufacturer can make a business case for the updates.  In short, you're covered until the manufacturer wants to sell new hardware.

Now, a number of vendors will ship hardware which is based on roughly the same internal components, and the manufacturer of those components will provide reference drivers for those components.  Those reference drivers are usually updated for longer than vendor-specific drivers.  Windows, with vendor-specific drivers installed, will only look for updates to the vendor-specific drivers.

Why do drivers need to be updated?  Well, to be honest, problems may be found with older versions of these drivers, or manufacturers may find new ways of getting more performance from their hardware.  Sometimes, the problems only become apparent when updates to Windows replace system files which are being used by device drivers.  The upshot is that keeping device drivers up to date may improve the performance and stability of Windows.

Thought for Christmas Day: finding a way through the darkness

It's Christmas, and the day started with me waking from a nightmare.  I'm not going to share the nightmare in such a public sphere, but the meaning of it is important.  We are all subject to negative influences, demons, an inner darkness, or whatever you want to call it.  It can come from within, or it can be external.

The new year will soon be here so, here in the UK at least, we're thinking about new year's resolutions: promises we make in the belief that keeping those promises will lead to a better year.  For me, it's the banishing of the aforementioned inner/outer darkness which is important.  First of all, we must locate the sources of the negative things in our life, whether we have created them ourselves, or had them created for us.  We may notice a pattern of self-sabotage, where our own beliefs and values are holding us back, or we may see that our situation, or the company we keep, is less than ideal.  Letting go of these things may not be easy, but it is essential for our happiness.

Often, it is only when we suffer that we see how things should be different.  Over the last week, I've suffered with back pain, and it has forced me to evaluate my lifestyle.  Knowing what changes should be made is just a start, however: making the changes is potentially more difficult, at least in our minds.

In his book, Instant Calm, Paul Wilson states that we are easily able to walk a plank that is placed on the ground, and will do so repeatedly with equal success.  If we suspend the plank between two tall buildings, however, he suggests that the task suddenly becomes impossible, and the source of this is our imagination.  So it is with making the necessary changes to our lives.  We may make negative predictions about things which could go wrong, and maybe talk ourselves out of making any changes.  Well, maybe the tendency to make negative predictions is the first thing we should tackle.

One of my favourite phrases, as I'm sure I must have said before, is "I'll deal with it."  It's a powerful tool.  The reason it is so powerful is that it calls on past evidence of our ability to deal with things.  It is likely that we have suffered many calamities in our lives, and all the evidence points to us having dealt with the aftermath of what appeared to be a great catastrophe at the time.

Ultimately, we can choose to have this dark cloud hanging over us, or we can take action to remove the cloud.  Staying where we are may be the easy option, but is it the right one?  If you could see what is wrong, it would be foolhardy not to put things right, wouldn't it?

If you're reading this, I hope you're having a good Christmas, if you celebrate the occasion.  If you have plans for the new year which scare you, I salute your plans, because they are likely to bring great changes to your life.

Thought for the day: modern music is terrible

I always thought that, as I aged, I'd hear current music and react by complaining how extreme it is or that it lacks any kind of melody.  The reality is that modern music, with few exceptions, bores me.  The contestants on X Factor, technically competent, though not exciting or especially talented performers, are guilty of this.  Actually, some of them enter with a spark of individuality, which is then extinguished by the production team.  I see the music industry collapsing into a mass of mediocrity and banality.

I grew up in a time when, every so often, the major record labels would get a wake up call, because some musical genre emerged right under their noses and shook everything up.  Now, the majors have bought most of the small independent labels, so what we have is music that is safe, commercial, sanitised.

I don't expect everyone to share my musical taste, but it amazes me that I can download sample tracks from 3hive or Fingertips for free, and they blow away what I hear on the radio.  Thankfully, I also know artists like Jennie Vee, Catherine AD and Paul Draper who are still producing music that is anything but boring.

Paul Draper illustrates the point perfectly.  In the late 1990's and into the new millennium, he fronted a band called Mansun.  As is always the case with great bands, it didn't last.  I can still listen to them today, though, and I love their music just as much now as I did when it was first released, if not more.  It doesn't bore me.  Rather tellingly, the Mansun album which most successfully splits opinion amongst fans, Little Kix, is largely the result of unwanted interference from the record label.

The industry needs to be shaken up again; it needs another seismic shift; it needs to stop playing it safe.