Kime, or Chinkuchi

We often speak of "kime" in our classes:  The focusing of power at the end of a technique, at the moment of impact.  It is a sequence of relaxation / tension / relaxation which happens almost instantaneously in more advanced practitioners. This is a difficult concept to understand for a beginner, and one which needs constant attention and refinement for the more experienced student.  The beginner tends to have far too much tension in the body for kime to be effective.  This not only slows down the technique, but it can actually be damaging to the body.  There is a good article in the Shotokan Times discussing fascia - the covering of organs, connective tissue, and muscles which is found throughout the body - and its relationship to Kime.


In Okinawa, there is a slightly different term regarding this concept:  Chinkuchi.  It is the process of near instantaneous tension and release throughout the body, which must be learned by physical practice over a period of years before mastery can be approached.  Jesse Enkamp describes this as a feeling like a sneeze.


A really down-in-the-weeds examination of this subject can be found in an article published in the research journal Body and Society.  This article is rather esoteric, but it can be summarized thusly:  Kime is a body consciousness which is achieved through repeated thoughtful practice of the body in motion.


Obviously, the key to achieving Kime - and anything else in Karate - is PRACTICE.  Regular, dedicated, intentional practice. 



Get on the deck and sweat.




  

Iron and the Soul, by Henry Rollins

The following is an essay by Henry Rollins, (the last) lead vocalist of the punk band Black Flag.  This story is about his life as an adolescent finding purpose, confidence, and resilience through physical training.  I wish I had a Mr. Pepperman in my life when I was at that age!  I have found that training in Karate-do has the same sort of effect as what Mr. Rollins calls the Iron.

"I believe that the definition of definition is reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself.


Completely.


When I was young I had no sense of myself. All I was, was a product of all the fear and humiliation I suffered. Fear of my parents. The humiliation of teachers calling me “garbage can” and telling me I’d be mowing lawns for a living. And the very real terror of my fellow students. I was threatened and beaten up for the color of my skin and my size. I was skinny and clumsy, and when others would tease me I didn’t run home crying, wondering why. I knew all too well. I was there to be antagonized. In sports I was laughed at. A spaz. I was pretty good at boxing but only because the rage that filled my every waking moment made me wild and unpredictable. I fought with some strange fury. The other boys thought I was crazy.


I hated myself all the time. As stupid at it seems now, I wanted to talk like them, dress like them, carry myself with the ease of knowing that I wasn’t going to get pounded in the hallway between classes. Years passed and I learned to keep it all inside. I only talked to a few boys in my grade. Other losers. Some of them are to this day the greatest people I have ever known. Hang out with a guy who has had his head flushed down a toilet a few times, treat him with respect, and you’ll find a faithful friend forever. But even with friends, school sucked. Teachers gave me hard time. I didn’t think much of them either.


Then came Mr. Pepperman, my advisor. He was a powerfully built Vietnam veteran, and he was scary. No one ever talked out of turn in his class. Once one kid did and Mr. P. lifted him off the ground and pinned him to the blackboard. Mr. P. could see that I was in bad shape, and one Friday in October he asked me if I had ever worked out with weights. I told him no. He told me that I was going to take some of the money that I had saved and buy a hundred-pound set of weights at Sears. As I left his office, I started to think of things I would say to him on Monday when he asked about the weights that I was not going to buy. Still, it made me feel special. My father never really got that close to caring. On Saturday I bought the weights, but I couldn’t even drag them to my mom’s car. An attendant laughed at me as he put them on a dolly.


Monday came and I was called into Mr. P.’s office after school. He said that he was going to show me how to work out. He was going to put me on a program and start hitting me in the solar plexus in the hallway when I wasn’t looking. When I could take the punch we would know that we were getting somewhere. At no time was I to look at myself in the mirror or tell anyone at school what I was doing. In the gym he showed me ten basic exercises. I paid more attention than I ever did in any of my classes. I didn’t want to blow it. I went home that night and started right in.


Weeks passed, and every once in a while Mr. P. would give me a shot and drop me in the hallway, sending my books flying. The other students didn’t know what to think. More weeks passed, and I was steadily adding new weights to the bar. I could sense the power inside my body growing. I could feel it.


Right before Christmas break I was walking to class, and from out of nowhere Mr. Pepperman appeared and gave me a shot in the chest. I laughed and kept going. He said I could look at myself now. I got home and ran to the bathroom and pulled off my shirt. I saw a body, not just the shell that housed my stomach and my heart. My biceps bulged. My chest had definition. I felt strong. It was the first time I can remember having a sense of myself. I had done something and no one could ever take it away. You couldn’t say sh–t to me.


It took me years to fully appreciate the value of the lessons I have learned from the Iron. I used to think that it was my adversary, that I was trying to lift that which does not want to be lifted. I was wrong. When the Iron doesn’t want to come off the mat, it’s the kindest thing it can do for you. If it flew up and went through the ceiling, it wouldn’t teach you anything. That’s the way the Iron talks to you. It tells you that the material you work with is that which you will come to resemble. That which you work against will always work against you.


It wasn’t until my late twenties that I learned that by working out I had given myself a great gift. I learned that nothing good comes without work and a certain amount of pain. When I finish a set that leaves me shaking, I know more about myself. When something gets bad, I know it can’t be as bad as that workout.


I used to fight the pain, but recently this became clear to me: pain is not my enemy; it is my call to greatness. But when dealing with the Iron, one must be careful to interpret the pain correctly. Most injuries involving the Iron come from ego. I once spent a few weeks lifting weight that my body wasn’t ready for and spent a few months not picking up anything heavier than a fork. Try to lift what you’re not prepared to and the Iron will teach you a little lesson in restraint and self-control.


I have never met a truly strong person who didn’t have self-respect. I think a lot of inwardly and outwardly directed contempt passes itself off as self-respect: the idea of raising yourself by stepping on someone’s shoulders instead of doing it yourself. When I see guys working out for cosmetic reasons, I see vanity exposing them in the worst way, as cartoon characters, billboards for imbalance and insecurity. Strength reveals itself through character. It is the difference between bouncers who get off strong-arming people and Mr. Pepperman.


Muscle mass does not always equal strength. Strength is kindness and sensitivity. Strength is understanding that your power is both physical and emotional. That it comes from the body and the mind. And the heart.


Yukio Mishima said that he could not entertain the idea of romance if he was not strong. Romance is such a strong and overwhelming passion, a weakened body cannot sustain it for long. I have some of my most romantic thoughts when I am with the Iron. Once I was in love with a woman. I thought about her the most when the pain from a workout was racing through my body.


Everything in me wanted her. So much so that sex was only a fraction of my total desire. It was the single most intense love I have ever felt, but she lived far away and I didn’t see her very often. Working out was a healthy way of dealing with the loneliness. To this day, when I work out I usually listen to ballads.


I prefer to work out alone. It enables me to concentrate on the lessons that the Iron has for me. Learning about what you’re made of is always time well spent, and I have found no better teacher. The Iron had taught me how to live. Life is capable of driving you out of your mind. The way it all comes down these days, it’s some kind of miracle if you’re not insane. People have become separated from their bodies. They are no longer whole.


I see them move from their offices to their cars and on to their suburban homes. They stress out constantly, they lose sleep, they eat badly. And they behave badly. Their egos run wild; they become motivated by that which will eventually give them a massive stroke. They need the Iron Mind.


Through the years, I have combined meditation, action, and the Iron into a single strength. I believe that when the body is strong, the mind thinks strong thoughts. Time spent away from the Iron makes my mind degenerate. I wallow in a thick depression. My body shuts down my mind.


The Iron is the best antidepressant I have ever found. There is no better way to fight weakness than with strength. Once the mind and body have been awakened to their true potential, it’s impossible to turn back.


The Iron never lies to you. You can walk outside and listen to all kinds of talk, get told that you’re a god or a total bastard. The Iron will always kick you the real deal. The Iron is the great reference point, the all-knowing perspective giver. Always there like a beacon in the pitch black. I have found the Iron to be my greatest friend. It never freaks out on me, never runs. Friends may come and go. But two hundred pounds is always two hundred pounds.


https://www.artofmanliness.com/articles/henry-rollins-iron-and-soul/

Butoku

Butoku means "martial virtue."  The following is from the late Shuri-te Karate expert Chibana Choshin, 1885-1969, founder of the Kobayashi-ryu style of Karate.  The article was assembled by an unknown person from quotes and teachings of Chibana Choshin.


"The great master Itosu Anko studied Karate very hard. He was not only a great Karate expert, but a scholar and excellent calligrapher. I first visited Anko Itosu in 1899 and asked him to teach me Uchinan-no-te [an old name for Karate].


Twice he refused me, leaving me waiting at his entrance gate. Only upon asking him for the third time did he finally accept me as a personal student.


He taught Karate secretly at his home to a select group of about six or seven followers. They trained in Bu (Karate as a martial art), not as sport, as they do now. During that period of time I, too, kept my training a secret, even from my family. In 1903, or 1904, Itosu sensei began to publicly teach Karate in the school setting. It was at this time that I told my parents that instead of going to school I had been practicing the art of “te.”


In 1918 a group of Karate enthusiasts (Hanashiro Chomo, Kyan Chotoku, Miyagi Chojun, Mabuni Kenwa, Go Kenki, Oshiro Chojo, Yabu Kentsu, Kyoda Juhatsu, Yabiku Moden and myself) formed a group for Karate study since the two greatest teachers had died (Itosu Anko and Higaonna Kanryo both died in 1915). It was called the Karate (written as Tode) Kenkyukai which was established in Shuri City.


This was the first time that practitioners of different methods (Shuri, Naha and Tomari styles) met to train together and exchange information. Each time we met one senior would lead the training and all would benefit from their knowledge. This lasted until 1929 when, because of the popularity of this art, we all became too busy with our own students to train collectively.


I first began to teach Shuri-te Karate-jutsu in 1920 but by 1929, at the age of 44, I opened my first training hall (dojo) in Shuri City. In 1933 my good friend and colleague, Magusuku (Miyagi) Chojun, and I registered the names of our respective teachings with the Dai Nippon Butokukai (Greater Japan Martial Virtue Association). I called my teachings Shorin-ryu meaning the “small forest style.” My colleague, Chojun-sensei, called his style the Goju-ryu meaning “the half hard and half soft style.”
We were good friends and he died in 1953. He was a good colleague and a friend to all Shorin practitioners. He is missed.


Both Bucho (Bushi) Matsumura and Itosu Anko were poor. When I spoke of this to Itosu he told me that this was not a universal truth, that is that a martial person is poor. He stated that Okinawan bushi (warriors) were poor because they did not know how to handle money, as was the custom back then.
A true Okinawan martial artist makes his living away from the martial arts. They should not concern themselves with the making of money out of teaching the martial arts. A martial person must make their living away from the martial arts so as not to contaminate it through the influence of “making money” in order to “make a living.”


This is the Okinawan way.


Karate, as it is transmitted, changes every few years. This is a common phenomenon. It happens because a teacher must continue to learn and adds his personality to the teachings. There is an old Okinawan martial arts saying that states that Karate is much like a pond. In order for the pond to live, it must have infusions. It must have streams that feed the pond and replenish it. If this is not done then the pond becomes stagnant and dies. If the martial arts teacher does not receive infusion of new ideas and/or methods, then he, too, dies. He stagnates and, through boredom, dies of unnatural causes.


I remember learning the kata Tawada Patsai (Passai/Bassai) from Tawada-sensei. At that time I was receiving instruction from Itosu and he, too, taught a version of Patsai kata which he called the Matsumura Patsai, which I learned.


In 1913 or 1914, having practiced the Tawada-no-Patsai with all my heart, as was the custom back then, I approached Itosu and advised him of this. He asked me to demonstrate the kata for him. I did and Itosu then stated to me that was the finest performance of this rarely seen form that he had ever witnessed.


He then told me that this form must be preserved and passed on to future generations and to add it to his (my) teachings. So [in Kobayashi-ryu] the Matsumura Patsai is now called the Patsai-no-sho and the Tawada Patsai is called Patsai-no-dai.


Many of today’s practitioners are too timid in their training. They train with only the thought of being able to finish and not with the thought of progressing – pushing yourself to become better. You must train hard if you want to progress otherwise you are just a mediocre practitioner, and there are many of them.


If you wish to learn mediocre karate, go some place else and do not waste my time.
If a teacher teaches with his heart he can only expect the student to train with their heart. It is only right – then both the teacher and the student progress. The student motivates the teacher and the teacher teaches the student the correct attitude and spirit of the Okinawan martial arts. This is good training – the student and the teacher progressing together!


When you train you have to devote yourself only to the way of Karate – think of nothing else. Do not think of others, or what they may think. You must develop the ability to focus your mind, hands and feet strongly. You must not only learn body movements but also research and study the art itself.


You should develop and improve yourself before you reach the age of fifty. Your body naturally begins to deteriorate after fifty years old so you must then adjust your training accordingly. If after fifty you still train every day then you may not decline so much. I noticed a slight decline at age fifty, but I don’t think I declined much at all between fifty and sixty years of age.


Of course, you cannot help deteriorating to a degree but if you continue training you will not age so rapidly, even between seventy and eighty years of age. Therefore, train continuously.
In the old days we trained at Karate as a martial art, but now they train at Karate as a gymnastic sport I think we must avoid treating Karate as a sport – it must be a martial art at all times!


Your fingers and the tips of your toes must be like arrows, your arms must be like iron. You have to think that if you kick, you try to kick the enemy dead. If you punch, you must thrust to kill. If you strike, then you strike to kill the enemy.


This is the spirit you need in order to progress in your training. The effort required is great, and you can strain the body by doing too much. So keep in mind your own physical condition and train accordingly.


Years ago I decided that through my own hard training I wanted to leave my name connected with Okinawan Karate-do. I trained hard and taught to the best of my ability and talent. Now I think that my name will remain a little in the history of Okinawan Karate-do.


Not only do we need physical training, we need to think for ourselves, studying and researching the kata and their applications.


It is vitally important to understand kata and train your body to develop the core of Karate. You can achieve a five or six times increase in your body power if you train hard. Naturally, if you do this you will be pleased with the result, so train very hard.


Whether you become great depends on only two factors – effort and study. Your movements must be sharp – never be slow – and when you train at kata your eyes will get sharper and your blocking and striking will get stronger. Even when you reach the age of seventy or eighty you must continue your research with a positive attitude, always thinking “not yet, not yet…”"


h/t Jesse Enkamp

Dojo Kun

Dojo Kun are general rules of conduct for students of martial arts.  Many dojo have these rules posted in a conspicuous place near the entrance, and everyone from the most senior Dan rank to the newest white belt are expected to adhere them.  Here are ours, from O'sensei's book Kempo Karate Do.

Dojo Kun

Dojo Kun are rules governing conduct of students training in a martial way.  The following is from O'Sensei Chitose's book, Kempo Karate-Do:

 

1.  Always maintain respect for courtesy.

 

2.  Always have a serious attitude.

 

3.  Always use polite language.

 

4.  Always maintain a high spirit.

 

5.  Always maintain a high level of cleanliness.

 

 

 

Those who study Karate-Do must take these five principles to heart.

Karate Nerd in China

This is the first in a series of videos from Jesse Enkamp about his trip to China to explore the Chinese origins of Okinawan Karate.  Much of what he is shown from a master in White Crane Kung Fu looks very similar to some of the moves in our kata Ryusan, and our Hen Shu Hos:





NB: The story of the origin of White Crane Kung Fu can be found in Patrick McCarthy's translation of the Bubishi.