I have never come across an eskrimador who practices the mystical aspects of traditional eskrima. Or if I have they never admitted it to me. My teacher says that he never learned it and that neither did his teacher. And, personally, I have no interest in those, because from what I've heard, these are not without a corresponding obligation, burden, vow, or condition that one must fulfill for the protection to be effective.
In this, the traditional eskrima that I practice is limited, but it is enough for me that I am learning and practicing only the fighting skills. I have no desire to be among those who publicly exhibit claims of mystical protection by performing such stunts as firewalking, bending or breaking spears, or having someone hack away at their bodies with swords.
Also it is said that it is forbidden for someone who has a true anting-anting or other analogous thing to talk about its nature to other people. If he does, he will lose its protection.
My take on the anting-anting, mutya, habak, and orasyon and why legends and belief in them persist to this day is that in "less enlightened times" it was easier for an eskrimador to put on the impression that he was under the protection of a supernatural spirit or power than it was to rely solely on his own skill and training, especially if he had to guard perpetually against jealous rivals or mere novices eager to establish a reputation by taking him out.
One would be less likely to tempt one's fate by setting to ambush or attack an eskrimador, no matter how distracted or unconscious he might seem, who may just have the unnatural invincibility of a crocodile, the strength of an agta (I would translate this as a "night ogre"), or the speed of a lightning bolt. Only an equally confident or a truly bold eskrimador would attempt to challenge another eskrimador with such a reputation.
As to their effect, a mutya, anting-anting, habak, or orasyon may, in the first instance, have a placebo effect of psychologically boosting one's confidence in his own skill and power or of demoralizing the opponent, while others, especially concoctions which are applied to the body or drunk, may have the effect of performance-enhancing drugs.
So far, that's all I can say about them.
Showing posts with label Boholano. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boholano. Show all posts
Friday, September 27, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
The Logo and the Slogan
What you see here is the logo which I made to remind me of my ideas about traditional eskrima.
The three sticks of different colors represent three popular kinds of sticks used in eskrima. The White is Uway. Black is Bahi. And Red is Kamagong.
The colors and their position in the triangle also carry their own meanings, apart from representing the aforesaid three kinds of wood.
White, as a color, also represents the apparent opening of an eskrimador's fighting guard. It is an opening which seems to invite attack, but which should ideally be impenetrable because of the eskrimador's skill and quickness.
Black here also represents the near-certainty of defense and powerful strikes from one's strong side, which is that of the dominant hand. On this side, the eskrimador should establish security.
Red represents how an eskrimador should be most watchful of his back and should be able to defend it. It requires a constant awareness of one's surroundings, because an unseen strike could be fatal and then blood would flow.
The triangle itself represents the lessons I have learned from triangle stepping.
The gaps between the sticks mean that no matter how good an eskrimador is, there is always the likelihood that the opponent can find a way in to dismantle one's defense. However, the gaps may also be openings, traps that the eskrimador may put in play to draw an opponent in.
Beneath the logo is the name of this blog and my idealized slogan as an eskrimador, written in my modified baybayin script: Bunal Bol-anon, and below it, Bahala'g Maigo Ko, Basta Mamatay Ka. For those who don't speak Visayan, this roughly translates into "I don't care if you hit me, so long as you die."
Fighting words, yes. And somewhat inconsistent with my having said that not all fights have to happen and that it is a far greater skill not to have to fight because you've already won the fight before it is fought.
I take these words as a personal reminder, because, in truth, I am too much of a pacifist that I sometimes need to remind myself that there are times when one must fight and also that, should there be a need to fight, it must be all or nothing.
The Lesson of the Triangle
In other eskrima styles, they talk about
the male or female triangle, drawing it on the ground or on the floor or using
sticks to outline it and employing the footwork in drills and other modes of
training.
For me, however, there was no one to teach
me that way and I probably wouldn’t have wanted to be taught so, given my bias for traditional
modes of instruction. The triangle stepping
I have been practicing is not distinguished as to male or female and is mastered
by making a triangle of three halves of coconut husks or shells and playing
eskrima upon it, or just stepping around without looking at your feet for
possibly hours on end.
The husks would be placed on equidistant
points, spaced at a pace apart. Years
before I met my teacher, I would do this for several hours at any one session
that I did decide to practice, which was not often. I did this because this was what elders told
me was one of the ways of traditional eskrima.
And because I wanted to learn through the old ways.
I had not yet met my teacher then, but I
had already learned some eskrima and I would say at that time that I was better
than some practitioners and thought myself adequately skilled. An opinion of myself which I now no longer
hold.
What did I learn from working on the
triangle? I learned about balance and my
own proportions. But what I consider the
most important lesson from triangle stepping is that there is always a third
point.
The lesson of the triangle is that the feet
are two points and the third point is that one step forward, backward, or
sideward which I take to regain balance, to gain leverage, to evade or redirect
an attack, or to close distance.
Whatever the position, that third point is always there and one should
never think that he is out of options.
How is this of use to the eskrimador? Let’s state it this way: Footwork should be
second nature to an eskrimador. It
should be something that moves by itself, not something that one has to think
actively about while engaged in a fight.
It should not be a reaction through perception, but a reaction through
sensation, in much the same way that doing chi sao teaches speed and
sensitivity in wing chun.
In eskrima, triangle stepping is the way to
mastering footwork.
Monday, September 23, 2013
In Defense of Myself or Reconciling Ironies: How a Bruce Lee Fan Can Be a Traditional Martial Artist
I know what you're thinking. You're wondering just how a Bruce Lee fan can practice as a traditional martial artist. And that saying so would make me a walking oxymoron.
If you met me a little over a decade ago and expressed a less than favorable opinion of Bruce Lee or his skills as a martial artist or fighter I would be among the first to jump on your throat and beat you into fanatic reverence for the man, the myth, and the legend. Attacking Bruce Lee then would have been the same as attacking the memory of my father.
What has changed since then? You may say that I have mellowed and, though still a fan, I'm no longer as rabid as I was then.
I am a fan in that I admire his achievements and am impressed by his abilities. I will always hold Bruce Lee in high esteem as the compleat martial artist. But what I am not is a follower. I have my own way to follow. It is not better than Bruce Lee's, it is just my own.
I have no intention in being a martial artist of becoming the best fighter there is. I have had injuries which have become physical limitations to achieving such an ambition. And although I understand the reasoning of Bruce Lee's martial arts philosophy and agree with the bulk if not all of it, my reason in practicing eskrima is now more for reasons of cultural preservation than of athletic preparation.
Of course, I took up eskrima to become an able fighter, to learn how to defend myself. But in the ensuing years it has become apparent to me that almost everyone else is coming up with newer, more modern ways of practicing the art. For those interested in these styles, they can go to the clubs teaching such styles.
At one point, I realized that if most everyone else was going this way, there should be someone who can show a way back for those who might want to study the art's past. (Except perhaps for the mystical. Knowing nothing about it, I cannot discuss that aspect of traditional eskrima which delves into oracions, mutyas, and anting-antings. This is something my teacher says he never learned, or even his teacher before him. But, in Bohol, I have heard that there are still some who do and, as with all that is mystical, one is forbidden to openly talk about it or even describe the rituals.)
In his later years, Bruce Lee would come to say that he no longer believed in styles and that even his own Jeet Kune Do could not be said to be the best martial art. He went on to say that structurally most of us are the same, having two hands and two feet, knees and elbows, and what other tools one may have. Taken far enough by their practitioners, all martial arts will eventually resemble each other, because there's only so much that one can do with the human body. I believe this is the reason why you would see many cognate techniques even in martial arts that developed independent of each other.
Ultimately, Lee said, it comes down to honestly expressing oneself. This is what I'm trying to do through traditional eskrima.
My teacher only taught me through sinawali, and though there were several stick and pinute disarms, he only taught me two knife disarms, which when used up or down, right or left might almost seem like a new technique but is in fact only applications of the two. One will also realize that these two disarms are just variations of one knife disarm. So there was not a lot of technique to learn, but I trusted in what I learned to be effective. I might never have been in a real fight, make that a real street fight, especially with knives, but my teacher had, on more than one occasion, and he made sure I learned how to deal with knives in a way that I can use it so. Old-school, so to say.
I must admit that through books and Youtube videos and with the help of training partners I have learned more than what my teacher taught me. What I have learned is not purely traditional, but his teachings and his method, or lack of it, will remain to be the core of my practice of eskrima. And his approach will always be my standard for training.
I cannot say that my eskrima is the best or that it teaches everything there is to know, but what I have done is teach it the way I was taught and train in some of the traditional ways that some elders, only a couple of whom were eskrimadors, have described to me.
These days, however, one sees a lot of modification with most eskrima/arnis/FMA schools, especially those that are most popular. People are coming up with new drills, adding techniques and a multitude of disarms. Some of these styles or systems may be doing a lot of the same things as the traditional, but they've also been doing a lot of things their own way. This is understandable, because even in the traditional stuff I learned there was always the improvisation of the individual practitioner. But with a few of them, sometimes what is new obscures the old.
I feel that should there be a need for the modern-day eskrimador to find his way back, we must also know and be able to show the way.
I have my own path as a martial artist and the only honest way I can express myself in this is through traditional eskrima. This is what I do because, for all the value of vicarious learning, I am most bound to that which I have learned from my own experience. Of this, at least, I think Bruce Lee would approve.
And, come to think of it, traditional eskrima is itself without system and without method.
If you met me a little over a decade ago and expressed a less than favorable opinion of Bruce Lee or his skills as a martial artist or fighter I would be among the first to jump on your throat and beat you into fanatic reverence for the man, the myth, and the legend. Attacking Bruce Lee then would have been the same as attacking the memory of my father.
What has changed since then? You may say that I have mellowed and, though still a fan, I'm no longer as rabid as I was then.
I am a fan in that I admire his achievements and am impressed by his abilities. I will always hold Bruce Lee in high esteem as the compleat martial artist. But what I am not is a follower. I have my own way to follow. It is not better than Bruce Lee's, it is just my own.
I have no intention in being a martial artist of becoming the best fighter there is. I have had injuries which have become physical limitations to achieving such an ambition. And although I understand the reasoning of Bruce Lee's martial arts philosophy and agree with the bulk if not all of it, my reason in practicing eskrima is now more for reasons of cultural preservation than of athletic preparation.
Of course, I took up eskrima to become an able fighter, to learn how to defend myself. But in the ensuing years it has become apparent to me that almost everyone else is coming up with newer, more modern ways of practicing the art. For those interested in these styles, they can go to the clubs teaching such styles.
At one point, I realized that if most everyone else was going this way, there should be someone who can show a way back for those who might want to study the art's past. (Except perhaps for the mystical. Knowing nothing about it, I cannot discuss that aspect of traditional eskrima which delves into oracions, mutyas, and anting-antings. This is something my teacher says he never learned, or even his teacher before him. But, in Bohol, I have heard that there are still some who do and, as with all that is mystical, one is forbidden to openly talk about it or even describe the rituals.)
In his later years, Bruce Lee would come to say that he no longer believed in styles and that even his own Jeet Kune Do could not be said to be the best martial art. He went on to say that structurally most of us are the same, having two hands and two feet, knees and elbows, and what other tools one may have. Taken far enough by their practitioners, all martial arts will eventually resemble each other, because there's only so much that one can do with the human body. I believe this is the reason why you would see many cognate techniques even in martial arts that developed independent of each other.
Ultimately, Lee said, it comes down to honestly expressing oneself. This is what I'm trying to do through traditional eskrima.
My teacher only taught me through sinawali, and though there were several stick and pinute disarms, he only taught me two knife disarms, which when used up or down, right or left might almost seem like a new technique but is in fact only applications of the two. One will also realize that these two disarms are just variations of one knife disarm. So there was not a lot of technique to learn, but I trusted in what I learned to be effective. I might never have been in a real fight, make that a real street fight, especially with knives, but my teacher had, on more than one occasion, and he made sure I learned how to deal with knives in a way that I can use it so. Old-school, so to say.
I must admit that through books and Youtube videos and with the help of training partners I have learned more than what my teacher taught me. What I have learned is not purely traditional, but his teachings and his method, or lack of it, will remain to be the core of my practice of eskrima. And his approach will always be my standard for training.
I cannot say that my eskrima is the best or that it teaches everything there is to know, but what I have done is teach it the way I was taught and train in some of the traditional ways that some elders, only a couple of whom were eskrimadors, have described to me.
These days, however, one sees a lot of modification with most eskrima/arnis/FMA schools, especially those that are most popular. People are coming up with new drills, adding techniques and a multitude of disarms. Some of these styles or systems may be doing a lot of the same things as the traditional, but they've also been doing a lot of things their own way. This is understandable, because even in the traditional stuff I learned there was always the improvisation of the individual practitioner. But with a few of them, sometimes what is new obscures the old.
I feel that should there be a need for the modern-day eskrimador to find his way back, we must also know and be able to show the way.
And, come to think of it, traditional eskrima is itself without system and without method.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Fighting Without Fighting, or Sun Tzu and Miyamoto Musashi in Eskrima
No traditional eskrima technique is comprised by just one strike. Even in practice. A technique may be taught in steps, but its application takes you through a series of motions where finality is spelled by taking the enemy to the ground, making sure he has no means of fighting back or is unwilling to.
The Japanese have a saying, “Ichi geki hissatsu.” It means to finish one’s enemy with one strike; to kill with one blow. It’s a maxim to keep in mind when one is training in his martial art, to strive to have the ability to end a fight with one strike. But real-life encounters may not end with one strike; there could be need for second, third, or a countless number of strikes.
Although an opponent may desist after the first heavy blow, when he realizes that he also risks life and limb in your fight, this may not always be the case. When engaged in a fight, some people will flee and some people will fight. This is called the fight or flight response.
Sometimes, by our own aggressiveness to scare off an attacker, we push him to a point where he feels he has to fight. Which is why it is always better to avoid a fight, than it is to be in one. But this does not mean to avoid a fight when it's already coming your way. If a fight comes for you, welcome it with open arms and send it on its way home, bleeding and broken if need be.
The idea should be to stop a fight before it happens. Better yet, to win a fight before it happens.
Unless you plan on suicide, it is never a good idea to fight from a weak position. When engaged, you should never be lured to fight from a weak position. But what this weak position is depends on you. On your resources, your skills, your weapons, your training. Fight the way you know how to fight. And take any real advantage that presents itself. For practitioners of certain martial arts, they avoid being cornered or backed up against a wall. This is a weak position for them. For some traditional eskrimadors, however, this would not be as desperate a situation. This way, they don’t have to guard their backs and can even use the walls behind or surrounding them to their advantage.
I'm not saying that eskrimadors welcome this scenario. No one would want to be cornered or backed up against a wall. But for an eskrima practitioner, it is much better to be cornered than to be surrounded.
Know yourself and know your enemy, and in a hundred battles you will never know defeat. That’s Sun Tzu. And what he says also applies to eskrima.
The legendary Japanese warrior Miyamoto Musashi, called a sword-saint because of his skill in swordfighting, once said his art was the art of fighting without fighting. This was echoed by Bruce Lee in the movie Enter the Dragon, when he sent Parsons adrift on a boat.
The same principle should be echoed by all eskrimadors. We should take our skill to a level where a fight need not take place, not out of cowardice but because it has already been won even before it is fought.
The Japanese have a saying, “Ichi geki hissatsu.” It means to finish one’s enemy with one strike; to kill with one blow. It’s a maxim to keep in mind when one is training in his martial art, to strive to have the ability to end a fight with one strike. But real-life encounters may not end with one strike; there could be need for second, third, or a countless number of strikes.
Although an opponent may desist after the first heavy blow, when he realizes that he also risks life and limb in your fight, this may not always be the case. When engaged in a fight, some people will flee and some people will fight. This is called the fight or flight response.
Sometimes, by our own aggressiveness to scare off an attacker, we push him to a point where he feels he has to fight. Which is why it is always better to avoid a fight, than it is to be in one. But this does not mean to avoid a fight when it's already coming your way. If a fight comes for you, welcome it with open arms and send it on its way home, bleeding and broken if need be.
The idea should be to stop a fight before it happens. Better yet, to win a fight before it happens.
Unless you plan on suicide, it is never a good idea to fight from a weak position. When engaged, you should never be lured to fight from a weak position. But what this weak position is depends on you. On your resources, your skills, your weapons, your training. Fight the way you know how to fight. And take any real advantage that presents itself. For practitioners of certain martial arts, they avoid being cornered or backed up against a wall. This is a weak position for them. For some traditional eskrimadors, however, this would not be as desperate a situation. This way, they don’t have to guard their backs and can even use the walls behind or surrounding them to their advantage.
I'm not saying that eskrimadors welcome this scenario. No one would want to be cornered or backed up against a wall. But for an eskrima practitioner, it is much better to be cornered than to be surrounded.
Know yourself and know your enemy, and in a hundred battles you will never know defeat. That’s Sun Tzu. And what he says also applies to eskrima.
The legendary Japanese warrior Miyamoto Musashi, called a sword-saint because of his skill in swordfighting, once said his art was the art of fighting without fighting. This was echoed by Bruce Lee in the movie Enter the Dragon, when he sent Parsons adrift on a boat.
The same principle should be echoed by all eskrimadors. We should take our skill to a level where a fight need not take place, not out of cowardice but because it has already been won even before it is fought.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Bunal Bol-anon Precepts
None of what follows is new or original. They are things learned in the process of my learning self-defense:
The quickest distance between two points is not a straight line but the line of least resistance. The line of least resistance may at times be a straight line and at other times may not be.
There are two ends to a stick, and three parts that you can strike with. Feel free to use all three.
Never give up your weapon’s advantages. If you have a gun, maintain distance. If you have a knife, make the most of the blade and the point.
When striking, don’t just stop at one.
Strike at your enemy, not the weapon.
Destroy your enemy’s means of offense.
In defense, the first move should never be yours but the first hit should be.
In offense, strike hard, strike fast, and as many times as you can.
A strike can come from anywhere. Be able to block from anywhere.
When defending, always be ready for more than just one: strike, kick, knife, stick, or attacker.
Try to end the fight quickly. The longer you fight, the more tired you become.
A fight ends when your enemy can no longer hit back by any means or will not.
Not all fights have to happen.
Practice with focus and fullness.
Awareness is your best armor.
Practicing with cooperative attacking is not practice for self-defense. The intent, the energy, and the movements must be the same as possible.
If in a fight with several people, always mind who or what’s behind you; with those at a distance, look out for stones; with those close in, watch out for knives.
If not with your body, practice with your mind.
The quickest distance between two points is not a straight line but the line of least resistance. The line of least resistance may at times be a straight line and at other times may not be.
There are two ends to a stick, and three parts that you can strike with. Feel free to use all three.
Never give up your weapon’s advantages. If you have a gun, maintain distance. If you have a knife, make the most of the blade and the point.
When striking, don’t just stop at one.
Strike at your enemy, not the weapon.
Destroy your enemy’s means of offense.
In defense, the first move should never be yours but the first hit should be.
In offense, strike hard, strike fast, and as many times as you can.
A strike can come from anywhere. Be able to block from anywhere.
When defending, always be ready for more than just one: strike, kick, knife, stick, or attacker.
Try to end the fight quickly. The longer you fight, the more tired you become.
A fight ends when your enemy can no longer hit back by any means or will not.
Not all fights have to happen.
Practice with focus and fullness.
Awareness is your best armor.
Practicing with cooperative attacking is not practice for self-defense. The intent, the energy, and the movements must be the same as possible.
If in a fight with several people, always mind who or what’s behind you; with those at a distance, look out for stones; with those close in, watch out for knives.
If not with your body, practice with your mind.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
What is Traditional Eskrima?
Traditional eskrima has no formal system of instruction. Although everyone begins with the basics, you learn whatever your teacher decides to teach or remembers on that day or instant and from observing you: what you can do, what you need to improve, and what you need to learn.
There are no fixed movements or groupings. There are patterns of movement, one may even call them "drills," that graduate into spontaneous free-style sparring so that you learn to observe, take the initiative, and move as you fight. When you become proficient, it’s anything goes.
There are no dojos. You train in open grounds and on whatever terrain but always you train in hiding.
There are no uniforms. You train in the clothes you usually wear.
There are no katas. There are free-flowing shadow-fighting exercises that one must always execute with commitment and focus. The right attitude is fundamental to good eskrima.
There are no ranks or certificates. Only those who do not know, those who are learning, and those who do know. Sadly, there are also those who forget.
There is no master or grandmaster. There is only the teacher and the pupil. There is none of the elaborate rituals observed in dojos and other training halls. There is only the respect that the pupil must always have for his teacher.
There is no doctrine or dogma written down in traditional eskrima. What works is what’s right. This is the principal reason why eskrima adopts a variety of weapons, even those that originate from other nations, and appropriates them whenever possible.
To become good in eskrima, one trains. Constantly. So that he never forgets, so that his movements are fluid, so that he always has the proper attitude. And creatively. So that he is always aware and acts and reacts with an alive and ready mind.
Then there are the traditional training methods. Each of these is intended to teach good habits or to develop strength, stamina, or skill. They also help check or improve one's level of skill and oftentimes are a means of providing a training partner when none is available.
Finally, there is the Zen aspect of eskrima. When your teacher lets you go because, after having learned what must be mastered, everything else that you have to learn you must learn on your own. Otherwise, you can only be a copy of your teacher.
There are no fixed movements or groupings. There are patterns of movement, one may even call them "drills," that graduate into spontaneous free-style sparring so that you learn to observe, take the initiative, and move as you fight. When you become proficient, it’s anything goes.
There are no dojos. You train in open grounds and on whatever terrain but always you train in hiding.
There are no uniforms. You train in the clothes you usually wear.
There are no katas. There are free-flowing shadow-fighting exercises that one must always execute with commitment and focus. The right attitude is fundamental to good eskrima.
There are no ranks or certificates. Only those who do not know, those who are learning, and those who do know. Sadly, there are also those who forget.
There is no master or grandmaster. There is only the teacher and the pupil. There is none of the elaborate rituals observed in dojos and other training halls. There is only the respect that the pupil must always have for his teacher.
There is no doctrine or dogma written down in traditional eskrima. What works is what’s right. This is the principal reason why eskrima adopts a variety of weapons, even those that originate from other nations, and appropriates them whenever possible.
To become good in eskrima, one trains. Constantly. So that he never forgets, so that his movements are fluid, so that he always has the proper attitude. And creatively. So that he is always aware and acts and reacts with an alive and ready mind.
Then there are the traditional training methods. Each of these is intended to teach good habits or to develop strength, stamina, or skill. They also help check or improve one's level of skill and oftentimes are a means of providing a training partner when none is available.
Finally, there is the Zen aspect of eskrima. When your teacher lets you go because, after having learned what must be mastered, everything else that you have to learn you must learn on your own. Otherwise, you can only be a copy of your teacher.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Breaking the Rules
It strikes me that if one studied the rules on what are considered illegal blows in all sporting competitions of a combative nature, from boxing, karate, MMA, muay thai, tae kwon do, judo, and what have you, one would have a pretty good idea of what to do if you were ever in a real fight. And to give this article coherence, I will enumerate exactly what you can do to violate these rules, starting with targets from the head and downwards, and other things that you can do to defend yourself when you’re unarmed. Let's start from the top:
Grab the hair and pull down hard and fast. Once he’s down, kick and pound with every ounce of strength you have.
Poke or gouge out his eyes.
Clap hard on one or both ears or grab one or both of his ears and tear them off his head.
Grab the lower lip and pull down hard to tear it off.
Strike hard at the throat or strangle him.
Strike hard at his clavicle and break it.
Twist or break his shoulder or elbow joint.
Grab a finger and break it. Any finger, or fingers, will do.
To break a stranglehold, seize the pinkie finger and, if need be, break.
Hit him in the groin, or in Visayan, the pus-on. Visualize a circle three inches in diameter with a center two inches below the navel, aim for that spot, and punch two or three inches through it.
Kick him in the balls.
Kick, twist or break his knee.
Strike at his shin but aim to break it.
If he's in your face and less than a hand away, butt him with your head.
Strike with the elbows and the knees.
Bite any part of your opponent that you can.
Kick your opponent when he’s down. Kick his ribs and break them in. Stomp on his face or chest or back or hip or groin. Kick hard at any joint: elbow, knee, shoulder, hip. But don’t let him grab your foot.
Much of what I've enumerated above is brutal, considering that this is a post about breaking the rules. Done singly, some of them may not be enough to stop an attacker. But if you're brutally violent enough, you may just put an end to an attack. Of course, you will also have to face and be responsible for any subsequent lawsuit for any resulting injury, disfigurement, or death. Which is why the skills of a practiced eskrimador are lethal and should only be exercised in self-defense. Ideally, at the least.
Grab the hair and pull down hard and fast. Once he’s down, kick and pound with every ounce of strength you have.
Poke or gouge out his eyes.
Clap hard on one or both ears or grab one or both of his ears and tear them off his head.
Grab the lower lip and pull down hard to tear it off.
Strike hard at the throat or strangle him.
Strike hard at his clavicle and break it.
Twist or break his shoulder or elbow joint.
Grab a finger and break it. Any finger, or fingers, will do.
To break a stranglehold, seize the pinkie finger and, if need be, break.
Hit him in the groin, or in Visayan, the pus-on. Visualize a circle three inches in diameter with a center two inches below the navel, aim for that spot, and punch two or three inches through it.
Kick him in the balls.
Kick, twist or break his knee.
Strike at his shin but aim to break it.
If he's in your face and less than a hand away, butt him with your head.
Strike with the elbows and the knees.
Bite any part of your opponent that you can.
Kick your opponent when he’s down. Kick his ribs and break them in. Stomp on his face or chest or back or hip or groin. Kick hard at any joint: elbow, knee, shoulder, hip. But don’t let him grab your foot.
Much of what I've enumerated above is brutal, considering that this is a post about breaking the rules. Done singly, some of them may not be enough to stop an attacker. But if you're brutally violent enough, you may just put an end to an attack. Of course, you will also have to face and be responsible for any subsequent lawsuit for any resulting injury, disfigurement, or death. Which is why the skills of a practiced eskrimador are lethal and should only be exercised in self-defense. Ideally, at the least.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Kicking in Eskrima
Eskrima is not known for its kicking techniques. Yes, it employs kicks, mostly low, but the bulk of its techniques concern the hands and not the legs. The kicks are usually simple low roundhouse or frontal kicks, knee strikes, and a solid side kick or back kick to round things up. And, as a rule, you only kick when you can land it.
In eskrima, the legs are primarily used for balance and movement, not direct attacks. And especially not for feints. But this does not mean that you are forbidden from kicking in eskrima. You take any advantage when it presents itself. Perhaps the only rule is that your kicks should never compromise balance or defense.
As a fighting tool, the leg is much stronger and longer than the arm. Usually, it is the part of your body closest to your opponent and, conversely, your opponent’s leg is your nearest target. But in the instant you kick, you open yourself up to counterattack and all the weight of your body must be borne by one leg. For that one instant, no matter how quick you are, you are in a vulnerable position. Further, it is true that the higher you kick the less power your kick has. It is also far easier to train the hands to attack and defend than it is to train the feet.
An attempt to kick is always betrayed by the feet moving first. And any feint to kick when you really intend to punch leaves you unbalanced to deliver an effective, penetrating punch. Extensive kicking without the necessary warm-up, improper kicking, and even miscalculations in the moment and distance of one’s kicks could result in injuries to the ankle, the knee, or the hip and, sometimes, to bone fracture. You can only hope that such injuries are not permanent or recur when least desirable.
To effectively use kicks in a fight, you need to be very flexible and in top physical condition. You have to be powerful, precise, very quick, and always balanced, even on one foot. The typical eskrima practitioner does not have to be as in shape yet he can still be an effective fighter because he does not exhaust himself by chasing after the opponent but conserves his energy by waiting until contact is made and then, at that moment, engages the opponent.
The traditional eskrimador does not fight as an athlete. His martial art is not a sport; it is self-defense. And when an eskrimador fights, he keeps to his strengths and exploits his opponent’s weaknesses.
This is not to say that the eskrimador need not be fit. In fact, he will find that his effectiveness as a fighter, training, and the quality of his techniques will improve greatly the healthier he is.
But then, because it does not have a formal system of techniques, the practice of traditional eskrima often, in reality, becomes a matter of personal choice. Which is why many practitioners will usually have their own idiosyncrasies in movement, rhythm, and technique even if they were taught by the same master.
Ultimately, the question of developing kicking proficiency in eskrima is best left for the practitioner to decide.
In eskrima, the legs are primarily used for balance and movement, not direct attacks. And especially not for feints. But this does not mean that you are forbidden from kicking in eskrima. You take any advantage when it presents itself. Perhaps the only rule is that your kicks should never compromise balance or defense.
As a fighting tool, the leg is much stronger and longer than the arm. Usually, it is the part of your body closest to your opponent and, conversely, your opponent’s leg is your nearest target. But in the instant you kick, you open yourself up to counterattack and all the weight of your body must be borne by one leg. For that one instant, no matter how quick you are, you are in a vulnerable position. Further, it is true that the higher you kick the less power your kick has. It is also far easier to train the hands to attack and defend than it is to train the feet.
An attempt to kick is always betrayed by the feet moving first. And any feint to kick when you really intend to punch leaves you unbalanced to deliver an effective, penetrating punch. Extensive kicking without the necessary warm-up, improper kicking, and even miscalculations in the moment and distance of one’s kicks could result in injuries to the ankle, the knee, or the hip and, sometimes, to bone fracture. You can only hope that such injuries are not permanent or recur when least desirable.
To effectively use kicks in a fight, you need to be very flexible and in top physical condition. You have to be powerful, precise, very quick, and always balanced, even on one foot. The typical eskrima practitioner does not have to be as in shape yet he can still be an effective fighter because he does not exhaust himself by chasing after the opponent but conserves his energy by waiting until contact is made and then, at that moment, engages the opponent.
The traditional eskrimador does not fight as an athlete. His martial art is not a sport; it is self-defense. And when an eskrimador fights, he keeps to his strengths and exploits his opponent’s weaknesses.
This is not to say that the eskrimador need not be fit. In fact, he will find that his effectiveness as a fighter, training, and the quality of his techniques will improve greatly the healthier he is.
But then, because it does not have a formal system of techniques, the practice of traditional eskrima often, in reality, becomes a matter of personal choice. Which is why many practitioners will usually have their own idiosyncrasies in movement, rhythm, and technique even if they were taught by the same master.
Ultimately, the question of developing kicking proficiency in eskrima is best left for the practitioner to decide.
Monday, March 1, 2010
So you want to learn eskrima?
Learning eskrima seems to be trendy these days. It’s been featured in too many movies (the Jason Bourne films, 300, The Book of Eli, Hunted, and even Bruce Lee’s classic Enter the Dragon) that it cannot help but be. And in the Philippines, especially with the approval of RA 9850 on December 11, 2009, making eskrima/arnis, also known as FMA, as the national sport and the national martial art, it will hopefully grow to be more so in its country of native practice.
As a martial art, eskrima is quite simple. Any practitioner may expect to be competent in the art within a month of daily training and instruction. For a natural athlete, it may even take just a few days (but then there are also those people who may have only a passing interest and not the mindset to be an eskrimador; there’s no hope for such as these). What will take time is the development of a proper attitude, readiness and restraint, full focus in a fight, and gaining a masterful understanding of eskrima’s underlying principles of movement.
But there are some realities that you must prepare for if it is your wish to learn this art. As soon as you begin training with the rattan stick, there will be blisters and, soon, calluses on your palms. When you begin sinawali drills or groupings there may be bruises wherever there is skin. There will be sharp raps on the knuckles and the back of the hand that take days or weeks for the pain to fade (depending on how hard you were struck), and a few contusions on the head. If you have a careless training partner, you can add joint dislocations, bone fracture, concussions, or internal hemorrhaging to the possible injuries. These are the consequences that may accompany learning eskrima, so it is understandable if, right now, you are asking yourself, “What can I do to avoid these injuries?”
The only answer is for you to train well. It is not for you to avoid injuries but to prevent them from ever happening. The teaching principle of most traditional eskrimadors is that the pupil learns by doing. This should, however, be further qualified into “The pupil learns by doing well.” Don’t rush into sinawali drills when you can’t even properly angle your strikes.
Of course, you may wear gloves to protect your palm and your knuckles but then you will never grow accustomed to the feel of the stick in your bare hand. And at the first instance of extensive stick use, your palms would then blister, unless you’re using padded sticks or nerf bats.
For beginners, a long stick helps reduce the possibility of knuckle strikes, along with proper striking positions, especially in styles where sinawali drills are basic to the system. It is also advisable to use one-inch thick sticks, as thin sticks are more likely to blister your palms.
As for the matter of careless partners, this is one of the reasons why traditional eskrima teaching is limited to one teacher and one pupil.
Padayon, Bunal Bol-anon!
As a martial art, eskrima is quite simple. Any practitioner may expect to be competent in the art within a month of daily training and instruction. For a natural athlete, it may even take just a few days (but then there are also those people who may have only a passing interest and not the mindset to be an eskrimador; there’s no hope for such as these). What will take time is the development of a proper attitude, readiness and restraint, full focus in a fight, and gaining a masterful understanding of eskrima’s underlying principles of movement.
But there are some realities that you must prepare for if it is your wish to learn this art. As soon as you begin training with the rattan stick, there will be blisters and, soon, calluses on your palms. When you begin sinawali drills or groupings there may be bruises wherever there is skin. There will be sharp raps on the knuckles and the back of the hand that take days or weeks for the pain to fade (depending on how hard you were struck), and a few contusions on the head. If you have a careless training partner, you can add joint dislocations, bone fracture, concussions, or internal hemorrhaging to the possible injuries. These are the consequences that may accompany learning eskrima, so it is understandable if, right now, you are asking yourself, “What can I do to avoid these injuries?”
The only answer is for you to train well. It is not for you to avoid injuries but to prevent them from ever happening. The teaching principle of most traditional eskrimadors is that the pupil learns by doing. This should, however, be further qualified into “The pupil learns by doing well.” Don’t rush into sinawali drills when you can’t even properly angle your strikes.
Of course, you may wear gloves to protect your palm and your knuckles but then you will never grow accustomed to the feel of the stick in your bare hand. And at the first instance of extensive stick use, your palms would then blister, unless you’re using padded sticks or nerf bats.
For beginners, a long stick helps reduce the possibility of knuckle strikes, along with proper striking positions, especially in styles where sinawali drills are basic to the system. It is also advisable to use one-inch thick sticks, as thin sticks are more likely to blister your palms.
As for the matter of careless partners, this is one of the reasons why traditional eskrima teaching is limited to one teacher and one pupil.
Padayon, Bunal Bol-anon!
Bunal Bol-anon
In any culture there is always a system of martial arts. These are manifest in weapon and empty hand forms. And the movements are often as simple as a punch or a parry or sometimes as elaborate as a jumping turning crescent kick. Often, training and education in these arts are necessary to sustain a culture and are integral to national identity. Even tribal cultures have them, although perhaps unnamed and not as standardized as the more prominent martial arts.
In China, we have the many varied fighting styles that the rest of the world knows mostly by the Chinese word for skill, “kung-fu.” In mainland Japan, we have jiujitsu, judo, iaido, and other arts that constitute the way of the warrior. From Okinawa, we have karate. From India, we have kalaripayattu. From most of the western countries, we have wrestling, boxing, and fencing, although these have been much watered down from their original practice, in consideration of sportsmanship and the practitioner’s safety. Then, there’s the more modern field of shooting with firearms. These are but some of the disciplines that truly fall within the scope of the martial arts.
In the Philippines, we have Eskrima. The name itself is not indigenously Filipino but is a vernacularization of the Spanish word “esgrima”, which refers to the sport of fencing or the art of swordsmanship. The art is also known as arnis or kali, the former being from another Spanish word, “arnes.” The origin of the latter term, however, is a subject of some controversy and a reading of Dr. Ned Nepangue’s essay The Origins of Eskrima (available online) may be enlightening for some. Of recent coinage is the acronym FMA, or Filipino Martial Arts; which is less contentious and attempts to be all-inclusive.
Eskrima training and lineage has been well documented in the islands of Cebu and Negros. In some lineages, formal and group instruction have arisen out of need. In the neighboring province of Bohol, however, there is almost nothing to indicate the province’s long-standing heritage of renowned eskrimadors.
For the most part, many of the avowed Boholano masters of eskrima have passed on, and those who still practice the martial art do so in secret, much like their teachers did. Many live lives of humble anonymity. I know of one who is a lawyer. I know of one who was a town mayor. I know of one who is a tricyle driver. I know of one who is an ice cream and newspaper peddler. I know of one who is a teacher. I know of one who is an NGO worker. And I suspect many who may live hidden in the hinterlands of the island.
In spite of how widespread the practice seems to be, there doesn’t seem to be an equal interest in the present generation to learn traditional eskrima. It has become so that if you want to learn eskrima in Bohol you enroll in a martial arts club, where they give you formal instruction in styles that usually originate from other provinces. It almost seems that traditional eskrima has faded into obscurity.
The objective of this blog is mainly to prove that the Boholano practice of traditional eskrima is alive and well. For others, it may not be as established or as comprehensive as some styles, but it is effective. And as for the excellence of its techniques, we are of the opinion that that is a product of a ready mind and diligent practice.
The secondary objective is to establish a network of Boholano practitioners of traditional eskrima. Strictly, this blog is not a venue for those who expect to find instruction or tips, although I’m bound to give a few. Rather, this hopes to create a fellowship of those already practicing the art as their forefathers did before them. By this, we hope to spark in the young an interest in eskrima so that they will themselves seek out their own teachers in their community and pass the art of eskrima on to future generations.
Padayon, Bunal Bol-anon!
In China, we have the many varied fighting styles that the rest of the world knows mostly by the Chinese word for skill, “kung-fu.” In mainland Japan, we have jiujitsu, judo, iaido, and other arts that constitute the way of the warrior. From Okinawa, we have karate. From India, we have kalaripayattu. From most of the western countries, we have wrestling, boxing, and fencing, although these have been much watered down from their original practice, in consideration of sportsmanship and the practitioner’s safety. Then, there’s the more modern field of shooting with firearms. These are but some of the disciplines that truly fall within the scope of the martial arts.
In the Philippines, we have Eskrima. The name itself is not indigenously Filipino but is a vernacularization of the Spanish word “esgrima”, which refers to the sport of fencing or the art of swordsmanship. The art is also known as arnis or kali, the former being from another Spanish word, “arnes.” The origin of the latter term, however, is a subject of some controversy and a reading of Dr. Ned Nepangue’s essay The Origins of Eskrima (available online) may be enlightening for some. Of recent coinage is the acronym FMA, or Filipino Martial Arts; which is less contentious and attempts to be all-inclusive.
Eskrima training and lineage has been well documented in the islands of Cebu and Negros. In some lineages, formal and group instruction have arisen out of need. In the neighboring province of Bohol, however, there is almost nothing to indicate the province’s long-standing heritage of renowned eskrimadors.
For the most part, many of the avowed Boholano masters of eskrima have passed on, and those who still practice the martial art do so in secret, much like their teachers did. Many live lives of humble anonymity. I know of one who is a lawyer. I know of one who was a town mayor. I know of one who is a tricyle driver. I know of one who is an ice cream and newspaper peddler. I know of one who is a teacher. I know of one who is an NGO worker. And I suspect many who may live hidden in the hinterlands of the island.
In spite of how widespread the practice seems to be, there doesn’t seem to be an equal interest in the present generation to learn traditional eskrima. It has become so that if you want to learn eskrima in Bohol you enroll in a martial arts club, where they give you formal instruction in styles that usually originate from other provinces. It almost seems that traditional eskrima has faded into obscurity.
The objective of this blog is mainly to prove that the Boholano practice of traditional eskrima is alive and well. For others, it may not be as established or as comprehensive as some styles, but it is effective. And as for the excellence of its techniques, we are of the opinion that that is a product of a ready mind and diligent practice.
The secondary objective is to establish a network of Boholano practitioners of traditional eskrima. Strictly, this blog is not a venue for those who expect to find instruction or tips, although I’m bound to give a few. Rather, this hopes to create a fellowship of those already practicing the art as their forefathers did before them. By this, we hope to spark in the young an interest in eskrima so that they will themselves seek out their own teachers in their community and pass the art of eskrima on to future generations.
Padayon, Bunal Bol-anon!
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