Kata
(Form)
形
Without changing the outward form, we must never do the same kata twice- this is a waste.
Note:
Following the Japanese standard, 's' will not be used to indicate
plurals.
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The word “Kata” (kah-tah, not kadda), means 'form' and
they are one of the chief means of passing along information in
traditional Japanese culture. Kata often comprise a series of
postures and gestures that, when performed in sequence, transmit
principles of an art. Interestingly, modern research indicates that
assuming certain postures or positions do more than just change our
bodies- they can effect mood, behavior and even thought patterns.
Training
in Kata (forms) despite their reputation, is more than rote
learning through slavish repetition. Good kata practice must
consist of pushing back, asking questions (of oneself and the
sequence) ultimately, pulling them apart to find potential beyond the
bunkai (discussion) and and oyo (applications). Oyo
also separates the uchi/ura (inside) from the soto/omote
(outside)- many oyo are not immediately obvious (even to
participants of a tradition, let alone to those watching a form from
the outside) and require explanation and demonstration by a senior or instructor. Receiving oyo is predicated on a certain amount of confidence in the character of a
student, that the lessons won't be misunderstood, neko ni koban (coins to a cat or as we say in English, casting pearls before swine) or misused. One way that this determination is made through observation of a
students' Kihon (fundamentals), which provide both
tools and technology to perceive and (eventually)
manifest the skills contained in kata.
In
this context, Kihon exist as a means to inculcate a series of
consistent and dependable mechanics (things like turning,
transferring weight, correct grip and manipulation of tools, etc.)
that function without conscious thought. The more thorough one's
grasp of kihon, the more reliably they work, which in turn
means the more efficiently you can learn, practice and implement the
lessons of kata, particularly under pressure.
Building
on the foundation of Kihon, students begin to learn Kata.
A key component to making the jump from the external imposition of
forms into a usable skill is built-in to sound practice:
progressive stress testing. What the heck does that mean? That
before 'sparring' as such*, 'unpredictability' is introduced while
completing forms with a more skilled uketachi (receiving
sword) or uchitachi (swinging sword) senior partner. Once
shitachi (performing sword, the junior) has learned the
overall series of movements, uchitachi begins to make
alterations, sometimes quite subtle, to the timing, distancing,
rhythm and applied force of a kata without changing the overall
sequence. It is the job of uchitachi to provide shitachi
with practice 'at the limit of his/her skill' without exceeding that
point (discouraging the junior by just beating the tar out of him/her
or moving faster than the junior can respond to properly**.) Having
to adapt to this pressure can evoke very real physical symptoms of
being in 'live fire' situations such as “fight or flight”,
“adrenal dump”, “hyper-vigilance” and other strong biological
responses but without incurring some of the poor habits that
free-play can bring. Shitachi is forced to be adaptive without
panicking or abandoning the sound mechanics imparted by kihon,
and always against a slightly stronger opponent than is comfortable.
Although
this happens under controlled circumstances (E. G. both Uchitachi
and Shitachi know the general shape that the engagement
is going to take) there is a plasticity required to reacting
appropriately as you come to embody the underlying principles. This
method is ingenious for the ways that it causes stress and provides
solutions to those stressors, leading Shitachi to make
(stylistically and situationally) appropriate choices lest he/she get
whacked, bumped or cut, sometimes severely. At the same time,
Uchitachi is being trained to tinker with the junior's
perception of timing, distance, connection, power and intent, all
while leading the engagement with sensitivity (changing the ways in
which one engages).
This
holds true for waza (techniques) as well; unarmed kata, rather
than treating striking and grappling (or therapeutic bodywork for
that matter) as merely a technical repertoire, provides a
'seiteigata,' an idealized form of how principles can, or
perhaps ought to, be articulated together. If these seiteigata
are a vehicle for transmission, the oyo are something of a
map***... the course and speed of your journey depends, in part, on
the interplay between Tori the (taker or 'winner' of a
technique) and Uke (the receiver or 'loser').
In
the best case, Uke (again, the more experienced person)
moderates the level of feedback (ranging from almost leading at the
beginning, through level-appropriate resistance, to eventually,
actively countering) that forces Tori to stay aware of the
very real possibilities of unexpected changes. This
type of practice eliminates the 'Geez, I can't wait for it to be my
turn to actually do something other than just get beaten-on' feeling
that can permeate one's experience as Uke; It also keeps
Tori from developing a false sense of competence,
believing that 'winning because the script calls for it' is an
expression of skill. Being able to feel how minor changes from Uke
can majorly alter (or utterly wreck) the interaction is a gift. . .
even if it doesn't feel like one at times.
So
where does the notion that kata training is solely the
mind-numbing practice of arbitrary sets before we get to the 'good
stuff' even arise? It may be that early Western students (of
traditional Japanese arts anyway; other cultural tradition's reasons
might be different) didn't, in large part, have language in common
with their teachers- it would have been simple to get someone to
follow along with exercises, forms and free-play without requiring
in-depth explanations. Some of it may also come down to fundamental
pedagogical concepts like Shu-Ha-Ri (essentially 'learn, embody,
transcend [a form or method]') carried over from pre-modern Japan.
Contrast that with Western models (outside of guild systems), in
which one spends significantly less time in emulation and more time
in 'application' or free-play (this is not to imply that good
teachers did/do not continue to engage their charges with some
pattern practice- to wit: Italian fencing schools in particular are
known to have featured some esoteric training through form; much of
that information has, unfortunately, been lost to time).
Wherever
it derives though, bridging the conceptual gap between
“boring/repetitive” and “engaged/lively” can fundamentally
effect the ways in which one approaches forms. In return, those
forms deliver to us new ways of, at first moving and gradually
experiencing things by shifting perspectives. By fully
integrating a series of somatic responses, their intended
meaning and accompanying
mental/emotional components one comes to appreciate the brilliance and care that went into their formulation and transmission. Ultimately, well-designed kata offer far more than
proscribing where you put your hands and feet; they provide a
(meta)physical connection with our traditions themselves, linking us
directly with the experience of practitioners of the past and
present while charging us to hold the teachings in trust for the future.
Yours
in appreciation,
Jigme
Chobang Daniels, Instructor
Aoi
Koyamakan Dojo
Reader's
note: you may notice that there is no mention made of solo forms
here. Sure, when many people hear the word 'kata'
the image that springs to mind is of a bunch of people, clad in white
keikogi, doing the same individual 'kuroddy' form in unison (either
unarmed or equipped with boating/farming equipment). Despite that
powerful image, the omission is purposeful- I am not familiar enough
with the teaching and practice of Karate no kata**** (training forms
of Karate) to offer any thoughts of use. As for Japanese arts,
Tandoku
Renshu
(literally, solo or single [person] forging) do exist and serve
valuable roles in one's physical, biomechanical and proprioceptive
development. However, these methods cover a lot of ground-
everything from stretching/strengthening, tendon/fascia development
and alignment exercises to full-on solo forms with and without
weapons- these tend to be pretty specific to individual traditions
though. In the tradition to which I belong, we have some interesting
examples with a couple of tools that are designed to be done as both
Tandoku
and Sotai
(partnered) Renshu
and function well without alteration both ways (but, as is often the
case, really 'make sense' with another person providing 'pressure').
*
Which can, without sound kihon, degenerate quickly into
competition on the order of doing anything, including sacrificing
principle, good mechanics and strategy in order to win at a slightly
more dangerous version of tag.
**
Displaying a gross distortions of transmission not beneficial for
either the senior (who is usually displaying ego) or junior.
***These
oyo can, depending on the art, run the gamut from overt to
cryptic.
****
An important linguistic note- Karate no Kata are the forms of
Karate. Karatekata means false, fake, made-up, etc.
