Happy Holidays!

Wish everyone a wonderful holidays with family and friends and a happy, healthy, and prosperous new year! I'll get back to posting again soon.

Kata: Heart of the Art

Renshi Simon Keegan

The following article was submitted by Renshi Simon Keegan. He has published many articles on the martial arts and I consider him a very dedicated martial artist and a friend. Enjoy!

When I began Karate, I viewed kata simply as a performance art within the martial art. I saw no practical function to it other than to attain gymnastic ability. Now however I view kata as a vital and practical core of the martial arts.

But in explaining the importance of Karate Kata I would first like to correct a few misconceptions concerning traditional Karate - many of which were misconceptions that I held.

Most people who claim to do "traditional Karate" are actually studying an art that only dates back to about 1924.

It would be rather like a boxer claiming to study "traditional prize fighting" or an Olympic fencer claiming to study classical swordsmanship.

If you study Shotokan, Wado Ryu or Taekwondo, you are not studying a "battlefield" art or an art older than 100 years old. You are studying an art created in Japan (or Korea in the case of Taekwondo) that was loosely based on Okinawan Karate.

When Gichin Funakoshi began to formalise what became known as Shotokan he discarded many of the conventions of Okinawan Karate and adopted certain Japanese ways.

He adopted the Judogi, the Dan-I grading system and formalised kata, kihon and kumite according to the requirements of modern Budo.

Kumite adopted the Ippon principle seen in Judo and Kendo of "one hit one kill."

Kihon consisted of taking moves out of kata and practicing them in their most basic application - as a block, kick or strike.

Kata were largely practised as a form of calisthetics - to gain perfection of form, speed, endurance, posture and timing.

Kumite became a kind of protype kickboxing and kata became a performance art.

When a Karateka wanted to practice self defence without being bound by the rules of kumite, they would practice a kind of kumite called "ippon kumite" whereby you would defend against an attack with a fairly finite finishing move such as a throw and strike.

When Karate was marketed internationally it was sold as the elite percussive (striking) fighting art. Unlike boxing, kicks were allowed. In kata, one could show other techniques like elbows and knees and in kihon one could break bits of wood with a single chop.

For many you were either a kumite fighter or a kata performer. If you didn't have the speed and aggression to fight, you could always concentrate on your kata and win trophies for that instead.

When I was a child my dad first shared some techniques with me that he had learnt from his boyhood Jujutsu (and later Karate) it was simply what amounted to "dirty fighting" - no kata, no stylised moves. He taught me to punch and throw a sneaky elbow in with the same arm - a good elbow strike will slice open somebody's eyebrow. He also taught me a very important principle that I have never bettered in 20 odd years since - always hit them first, and give them a good kicking when they're down. "Never kick a man when he's down" did not apply in 1950s Liverpool when my dad was first taught.

There was a very good Karatedo school near to where I lived. I had friends who trained there, but I did not fancy it because I perceived the emphasis on kata to be weak and unrealistic.

When I joined a formal Karate club as a teenager, I was attracted by my sensei's emphasis on fighting.

We did lots of sparring, both semi-contact and full contact. We also grappled on the ground and did lots of self defence. Although there were other aspects to the training myself and my peers prided ourselves on being able to "handle" ourselves.

My friend was training in a traditional Goju Ryu club and all he ever seemed to do was kata, and predictably when we sparred with him he didn't have the skills we had.

Kata seemed to be a necessary evil to us. We fought all lesson and then for the last 15 minutes, did some kata. Maybe it was a Japanese thing, take the rough with the smooth. I certainly never found much value in it.

Remember that in the early 1990s nobody I knew had the internet so if you wanted to read up on kata you had to buy a book, and my local town wasn't exactly cosmopolitan when it came to specialist cultural arts!

Granted, some of the kata - particularly Bassai Dai - looked dynamic when the black belts did them, but our kata like the first three Taikyoku forms seemed like an exercise in being obsessed with Gedan Barai - a move we never did in sparring.

In about 1996 I found an old book on Ed Parker's Kenpo Karate. The book was from the 1960s I would guess and emphasised Karate's Chinese - rather than Japanese - origins. It showed Chinese weaponry but also showed a two man drill featuring many of the moves I knew from kata but done in close quarters.

It inspired me to look beyond Japanese Karate's 1920s birth and look at how the Okinawans and Chinese practiced their forms.

Then I asked Sensei about the meaning of the moves in kata and very mysteriously he said: "A block is a strike and a block is a throw."

It started to fit together. Maybe I needed to forget about the long range techniques that we used in Karate sparring and concentrate on the self defence moves I had learnt. Sensei had taught us lots of Judo throws, Aikido locks and so on. Maybe it was these moves that were within the kata.

I was also studying the Yang Style Long form in Tai Chi and once again I saw techniques that were open to interpretation. Some of them were fairly obviously punches - but what about "Fair Lady Works Shuttles", "Needle at Sea Bottom" and "Carry Tiger to Mountain" - it was almost as if the person designing the forms wanted us to choose our own applications.

Around 2001, I met an instructor who introduced me to what he called TNT - the TNT stood for "techniques not taught" namely the nasty breaking, ripping and pressure point techniques found within kata. He also re-aquainted me with the idea of two-man flow drills.

So I came to realise that Kata was not just a dance or a pointless tradition - or a classical mess as Bruce Lee called it.

As I trained and graded in Shotokan, Jujutsu, Tai Chi and Goju Ryu I realised kata was a database of techniques. Every throw I could find in Judo, I found in a Karate kata. Every lock, throw, twist and crank in Aikido is in a Karate kata.

My real syllabus was not the A4 booklet in my kitbag my real syllabus was kata.

I began to catalogue every single technique in every single kata I knew and came up with a variation of realistic bunkai based on real "street" attacks.

As a previous blog summed up, Kata is a mneumonic (memory aid) to act as a database of techniques already learnt.

In other words, the old practitioners learnt a technique (say a wrist lock) and then when they learnt the kata, they recognised the movement and were able to understand the kata based on a lesson already imparted.

For people who would say "kata is useless in a fight" I would say "skipping is useless in a boxing match - so why do boxers do it?"

In "traditional" (post 1920) Karate, you have over a dozen forms (kata) per style - Shotokan has upwards of 25 kata and Goju Ryu has about 14.

But in old Toshu Jutsu (Karate Jutsu) as in the styles of Quan Fa that preceded it, each style only had one form. Remember Gichin Funakoshi saying that for nine years he only learnt Naihanchi (Tekki) - Choki Motobu seemed to favour the same form and rarely practiced any other.

In Tai Chi (Taiji Quan) there was the Yang family. And each member of the Yang family practiced the same form. Yang Lu Chan practiced his form one way, and Yang Ban Hou practiced it another. Nowadays we call this form the "108 step" but back then it didn't need a name. It was just the Yang family "Quan" - it was their style, their form, their syllabus and their way of keeping healthy.

Similarly in Fujian, you may have learned Tiger Quan, Crane Quan, Lion Quan etc and the idea of style and form were one and the same.

Eventually Fujian (particularly the vaunted Kojo Dojo) came to be a melting pot and drop-in centre for martial artists and practitioners of different STYLES learned each others' forms.

Think of it like this, in Tai Chi, a Yang master could have learned a Wu style form. But he would not be a master of Wu style, just a practitioner of one aspect of the style - namely the form.

Karate masters like Funakoshi and Mabuni took a hotchpotch of forms from different styles and attempted to make them into one style, respectively Shoto Ryu and Shito Ryu. But the idea of one style having 27 forms is a pretty modern one.

This is why I treat each kata group as a separate style.

That means learning each form and its capabilities to the nth degree.

So when we learn the Pinan kata (Heian 1-5) we first learn the form, then examine the bunkai, the oyo and the variations. Can we find throws within it? Can we find locks, what about vital points strikes. Will the technique work on the ground? Can we apply the defence in the heat of the moment? Does it usual natural responses and body mechanics?

Does the kata have the potential to be performed with a weapon? In my school we practice Heian Shodan with Sai, Heian Nidan and Sandan with Nunchaku, Heian Yondan with Tonfa and Dip Dao and Heian Godan with Rokushaku Bo.

Remember Karate began as the original "No-Holds-Barred" mixed martial art.

The art began to take shape in the 16th and 17th century when old Okinawan wrestling (Tegumi) was combined with old Siamese boxing (Muay Boran) a combination known in Okinawa as Ti'gwa.

In the 1700s, Chinese Kung Fu began to greatly influence the fighting methods and it became known as Toshu Jutsu (or Toshukuken or Tode Jutsu) meaning "Chinese hand skills."

The great pioneer in the 1800s was Sokon Matsumura. He combined his Okinawan training with Chinese Shaolin Kung Fu, Japanese Bujutsu (he was a master of Jigen Ryu and trained in Satsuma) and also trained under a Vietnamese master.

Matsumura soaked up every martial art he could and refined it into his Shuri Te system.

With an eclectic mix of Okinawan, Japanese, Chinese, Thai and Vietnamese boxing, in the 1800s Toshu Jutsu was also exposed to the west - from Danish sailors on board trawlers to Commodore Perry's marines.

By the late 1800s, Matsumura's art was a truly effective "mixed martial art."

When each style (Quan) and kata (Quan) were as one, the Jutsu (science) was in the passing on of three areas - the ability to defend in a violent situation, the ability to develop efficient technique and the ability to impart these skills through drills and practice.

I teach according to these three sciences. The Science of Violence (SOT), the Science of Technique (SOT) and the Science of Learning (SOL).

We will first examine the elements of the SOV.

SOV1. Attacking range

There are only a finite number of distances from which an assailant can launch an attack. The opponent may be at “long range”, so far away from us that the only way he could hit us is with a projectile or firearm attack or medium long range where maybe they could attack us with a hand-held weapon. The next distance is “kicking range” where the only way he could reach us is with a kicking attack. So we know that if the opponent is five foot away we don’t have to worry about throws! Then we have “punching range”, typically the type of distance between two boxers. Here the opponent can reach us with a kick or a punch. The next range is “close range”. We are too close for the opponent to kick but he can still punch with hooks, he can also use knees and elbows and can clinch. This is the range favoured in MMA when one man has the other pinned up against the cage and “dirty boxing” commences.

The next range is the full clinch. We don’t really need to worry about kicks or punches as much as but the main threats are throws and trips. Finally we have the groundwork range, with both opponents grappling or pounding on the floor. So there we have it: just seven fighting ranges. The real skill is twofold, firstly we must learn to defend against appropriate attacks at appropriate ranges. The second skill is mixing and matching the fighting ranges. For example you are on the floor and the opponent is stood.

SOV2. Habitual Attacks

To explain the nature of habitual attacks I can do no better than to refer to the pioneering research of Hanshi Patrick McCarthy. The principle of the Habitual Acts of Physical Violence (HAPVs) is that violent attacks are not random they are habitual. McCarthy Sensei cites 36 main attacks. These include punches, kicks, grabs, trips, locks, distractions and posturing.

They key to understanding the Science of Violence is combining knowledge of habitual attacks with the appropriate attacking range and ensuring no range is neglected.

SOT1. Understanding the syllabus

Many martial arts schools use a syllabus as a means only to assist in grading revision or as a curriculum outline. A truly successful syllabus should of course include all the elements necessary for a student to pass a grading but it should also ensure that the student is learning the skills at the appropriate stage of their development. At academic school we are taught the ABCs, then we are taught how to form words, then sentences, the joined-up writing, then prose and poetry and so on. A martial arts syllabus should not teach the poetry of the art before the ABCs. A good martial arts system should emphasise both quantity and quality. By quantity I do not mean learning a thousand kata. By quantity I mean a full complement of techniques. Strikes, locks, throws, hold-downs, reversals, escapes and perhaps some weapons training. But quality should also be paramount. Not just to make the student look “pretty” enough to pass a grading or tough enough to score an Ippon, but in order that their techniques are performed with efficacy.

SOT2. Understanding Defence

Just as there are only four fighting ranges and a habitual set of attacks there are also a finite number of ways we can defend against a technique. In fact there are four* We can

1) Block the attack. To obstruct it before it becomes effective

2) Parry the attack, redirect it or blend with it

3) Avoid the attack, duck, weave, or run away

4) We cause pain to the attacker which makes him voluntarily (or involuntarily!) cease the attack. Once we understand there are a finite number of ranges, each of which only cater to a finite number of attacks and each of these can only be defended in a finite number of ways, we start to realise that martial arts are a very precise science.

*The four defences: I must give credit to Hanshi Terry Wingrove for teaching me this principle.

SOT3. Understanding Technique

Did you ever show a technique from your style to an advanced martial artist from another style who, despite never having seen that particular technique before still managed to do the technique better than you? This is because after reaching a certain level of skill, how the technique seems to manifest itself is unimportant. What matters are principles common to all techniques in all arts, from archery to Sumo.

The Five Major Principles of Martial Arts

1) Relax. There is no technique that is better as a result of being tense, locked-up and rigid

2) Breathe. Breathing is emphasised in arts like archery, Tai Chi and Iaido. But is also important in more external arts. Learn to breath fully, naturally and move in time with your breath

3) Use the waist and/or hips. All movement must originate from the midsection. A baseball hitter would not dream of moving the bat using only his arms.

4) Two directions. This is the most abstract of the concepts. Every technique make use of two directions or more. When we punch we not only move one hand forward, we move the other back. When we block we do so diagonally. When we apply a wrist lock the wrist is moved backwards and to the side. When we cut with a sword we come down in a chopping action but also arc inwards in a cutting action.

5) Train slowly. Learn to practice each technique at Tai Chi speed to ensure perfect attention to detail. Also, as the defender you can afford to move slower than the attacker. If he is punching you in the face his fist has to travel two feet in distance, whereas your face only has to move a few inches to avoid it. So why try to move at the same speed as the attacker.

*The five principles: I must give credit to Renshi Reiner Parsons for teaching me this lesson.

Other common principles in martial arts

1) When you are studying for self defence, remember there are no rules (and not like in MMA where there are no rules apart from about 30 exceptions!). There are few techniques that are not improved by first distracting the opponent. Spit in his eyes, flick him in the groin, throw your coffee in his face, rake your car keys across his eyes, throw a handful of coins in his face. You only need to buy yourself a fraction of a second.

2) Kiai. Whether you view a Kiai as a war-cry, a harmony of energy or a way of expelling all the air from your stomach, this under-rated technique will pay off

3) Keep good stature. This means keeping the elbows and shoulders down, the spine straight and the hips relaxed.

4) Keep techniques finite. A reverse hook kick to the shoulder blade may score a point in the Dojo but can you rely on it to end a confrontation? If you can’t use a technique that guarantees the opponent is knocked out, use a technique that at least puts him on his backside.

All of these principles are contained within Kata.

SOL1. Making it work for you

Once we begin to understand the Science of Violence and the Science of Technique we need to learn how exactly we can learn these techniques so well and so thoroughly that they become instinctive. It is great to be able to perform a technique well in the Dojo (and even better to perform it well in a competition or grading) but what is the use if you cannot perform it when it really matters, on the street?

And so we practice the individual techniques (Kihon) applying the principles of technique to them. Then we work with a partner (Kumite) and he attacks us (the Science of Violence) and depending on his range and his attack, we use a technique to defend against it, then we get in our retaliation.

This is our ABC: Avoid, Block, Counter.

Now we need to practice the technique by drilling it. We can use shadowboxing, Kata, flowdrills or simple repetition. We practice, practice, practice and then practice some more. Eventually it doesn’t matter from which angle the attack comes because our defence is so well drilled it seems to spring from nowhere.

But now we have learn the technique and drilled it, we need to somehow simulate the state of mind and environment we might find outside. The opponent is angry, fast, coming at us powerfully and violently. Can we still pull the trick out of the bag? For this we use sparring. Kickboxing style, Judo style and MMA style.

SOL2. Managing your mindset

When your first practice a technique your state of mind is Kime, full focus and concentration on the task in hand. Learning the technique, examining it and getting it right.

The next state of mind is Zanshin. Awareness of surroundings, awareness of the opponent’s actions.

The final state of mind is Mushin (no mind). The ability to perform the technique without thinking about the opponent’s attack or your defences.

SOL3. Have faith in your system

I believe that the men who created the Kata that we practice knew what they were doing. I believe they understood violence, technique and learning and so encrypted all the necessary techniques into our Kata. There are lovely Aikido-style moves in Heian Shodan, wonderful grappling techniques in Heian Sandan and so great throws in Bassai Dai. And if ever you get attacked in a confined space, you’ll truly value Tekki Shodan….

Practice the techniques and then try to find them in the Kata you already know. Karate kata are a wealth of self defence techniques.

Instead of saying "Karate is limited because it has no throws, so I'm studying Judo as well," why not find the throws in Karate?

Kata is an important aspect of Toshu Jutsu, but not when taught as a dance. Kata must be taught as a living, breathing fighting system.

Simon Keegan, 4th Dan Renshi

Hakuda Kempo Toshu Jutsu

Chief Instructor: Bushinkai Academy of Martial Arts

Director: United Kingdom Budo Federation

Chairman: The Empire Martial Arts Association

Web: www.bushinkai.org.uk

Email: kaicho@runbox.com

"What's the most important thing in karate?"

“What’s the most important thing in karate?”

“Distance!”

“Why distance?”

“I have told you too much already.”

This was an exchange between a low ranking black belt and a respected master, as reported in Stan Schmidt’s book, Spirit of the Empty Hand. If I remember right, the story is fictional but based on Shihan Schmidt’s actual experiences during his many trips to train at JKA headquarters in Japan. (For those who don’t know him, Shihan Schmidt is a hugely respected Shotokan karateka. During its peak, his skill and knowledge made him the highest ranking non-Japanese within the large, very powerful organization.)

I read Spirit of the Empty Hand soon after its release in 1984. Like the black belt in the story, I wanted to know the answer. Why did the speaker feel that distance was so important? I gave it a great deal of thought and a lot of trial and error over the years in an attempt to discover the full importance of distance to both combat and competition.

I don’t know if distance is the most important factor in karate. I’ve generally felt that having a good eye and the speed to deliver an effective technique or counter at the most opportune time would get my vote. But the ability to properly control distance can be critical in certain situations – where it is controllable – especially if an average competitive fighter hopes to defeat a faster or superior one.

In the 70s or early 80s, I taught many-time World and Olympic Shot Put Champion, Brian Oldfield. He was a huge guy, blindingly fast, extremely powerful, surely one of the greatest athletes of all time. A mutual friend sent him to me because he was thinking of going into full contact kickboxing. I’ll likely do a separate post or two on Brian, who had an extraordinary life and shared with me many fascinating incidents – including breaking the handcuffs whenever the police tried to arrest him for brawling. But one of the things he did at one point was fight an exhibition match with Mohammed Ali at Madison Square Garden, when Ali was still at his peak. Brian told me that during their match Ali did this thing where he slowly bent his knees and compressed his body, giving the illusion that he was moving away, out of range. Then, he would lash out with a jab and pop Brian in the face.

This gave me some food for thought relative to the subject at hand. The more I watched top fighters (especially after I became one of the national coaches and traveled extensively for international competition), the more I found that the very best in the world were masters at controlling distance, often using types of optical illusions and misdirection to their advantage. (When I competed myself in the late 60s and early 70s, I didn’t always fight smartly. I relied on speed, timing, fearlessness/stupidity, and a handful of basic techniques.)

The smartest fighters make their opponents think they’re safe, that they can’t reach them, when they can. And, they make their opponents think they (their opponents) can reach them, when they can’t. In the latter case, their opponents’ techniques will fall just short, leaving them open to counterattack.

I’ll talk more about this in my next post. Take care and thanks for your readership. (I’ve already had a few articles submitted by other instructors and will be posting more of those as well.

Mnemonic Devices

I asked senior dans and long-time students of the martial arts to submit material that I would post in my blog. (I will continue to post my own material at the same rate as I have been doing.) The following article was submitted by Master Mark Kline, a 7^th dan in Kyusho Jitsu. He has produced many DVDs and taught workshops and seminars around the world on the subject of Kyusho and kata application. You can find his products on www.kyusho.com. The following is Master Kline's article:

From Wikepedia:

A mnemonic device (pronounced /nɨˈmɒnɨk/[1]) is a mind memory and/or learning aid. Commonly, mnemonics are verbal—such as a very short poem or a special word used to help a person remember something—but may be visual, kinesthetic or auditory. Mnemonics rely on associations between easy-to-remember constructs which can be related back to the data that is to be remembered. This is based on the principle that the human mind much more easily remembers spatial, personal, surprising, sexual, humorous or otherwise meaningful information than arbitrary sequences.

The word mnemonic is derived from the Ancient Greek word μνημονικός mnēmonikós ("of memory") and is related to Mnemosyne ("remembrance"), the name of the goddess of memory in Greek mythology. Both of these words refer back to μνῆμα mnḗma ("remembrance").[2] Mnemonics in antiquity were most often considered in the context of what is today known as the Art of Memory.

A martial arts system is a collection of techniques and/or rituals put together in a unique way. There are many systems with many rituals…some new, some very old. The reference to old refers to the origins of system, not to the current training methods, which very well may be new. Professor Wally Jay was a big advocate of cross training. This was something that he had spoken to Bruce Lee about even during their first meeting in 1962.

Systems that teach Kata are teaching a form of mnemonic device. Each Kata can be seen as a type of cross training as one may focus the majority of its techniques on striking, while another may focus on the grappling (Tuite) aspects.

Since we know the basic original intent of Kata (attacking the body’s weak areas, Kyusho Points, soft targets, etc), the movements are open to the interpretation of the practitioner. Much like a blank canvas can be turned into a work of art. Michelangelo did not create beautiful statues from a piece of marble. He felt that there was an existing work of art within each stone and it was his job to clear away the debris covering it.

I view Kata this way. In my opinion, which is supported by many, the secrets lie within the movements and it takes a lifetime of study to really appreciate what these ancient movements represent. I look at the movements today in my 40’s much differently than I did in my 20’s. As we evolve personally, spiritually and physically, so do mnemonic devices such as Kata or any similar training method.  Boxers use shadow boxing, baseball players go through their batting motions, throwing motions, fielding motions, etc. Basketball players hone their shooting motions both with and without a ball. Much of game preparation for football players is practiced first without an opponent or opposing practice squad.

Take a moment to try the following, but you must do each of these as if you were really doing it:

-      Type your name on a computer…in the air…make sure you do not misspell!

-       Put on your karate / training uniform…if you wear a belt…make sure that you tie it properly.

-      Pour yourself a glass of (insert favorite beverage here)

-      Put on a winter coat and make sure that you zip or button it properly

-      Put on a button down shirt and let’s not get the buttons crossed up.

So…what have we just done? We have just done different types of “Kata.” You can call them the “typing Kata”, the “clothing Kata”, the “drinking Kata”…whatever you want, but they are all ways to remember how to do something…a mnemonic device.

Is it necessary that one practice Kata, the formal exercises of many systems to be a good martial artist, or proficient in protecting oneself? No. Not at all! Regardless of the style you practice, came from, etc. you practice some kind of Kata (formal exercise of your particular system). Do you practice “Shadow Boxing?” or can you train when you do not have a partner? If the answer is yes, then you are practicing a form of Kata that could be unique to you and/or your style or system. Any time that you practice alone, you are using a mnemonic device created by someone else, or making one up on the spot.

The beauty of Kata is that you do not even have to practice them, but may want to because, with proper direction, they contain many techniques and answers to questions that you may have or not yet have. Professor Wally Jay would ask me, “What move in a Kata is this?” He was always practicing the wrist exercises that he created (Mnemonic Devices) wherever he was. Professor Remy Presas was the same…always thinking, always moving. Leon Jay learned Kata Naihanchi to help him tie in Small Circle Jujitsu with Kyusho.

In closing, Kata is not the be all end all. It is a mnemonic device that has stood the test of time through the efforts of many who truly understand what they were for. As a long time proponent of Kata and their various training methods, I am still just a beginner, scratching the surface of this beautiful art form.

“When are you going to be promoted to 10th degree?” – Part IV



Hanshi George Anderson (right) and me at my dojo.



Hanshi George Anderson’s rise to prominence was due to several factors. He was very smart, extremely knowledgeable about karatedo and a broad range of subjects, and worked tirelessly. But he also had an astute understanding of the political forces at work within the karate world and how to work within that system to achieve great things. (He was probably the person most responsible for getting karate into the Pan Am Games.)

In the old days, most in the martial arts kept secret what they knew or had learned within their art or system. But that changed as the AAU, then the USAKF, brought together a large number of senior Japanese/Okinawan martial artists (a veritable who’s who in traditional karate). This opened the door to a huge sharing of information, giving members a tremendous opportunity to learn previously close-kept secrets from top instructors in all areas of karate.

Hanshi Anderson was responsible for a good deal of this. He convinced top Japanese and Okinawan instructors, the cream of the crop, to take high level positions within the organization and to share their great knowledge. These men, who had previously kept their teachings strictly to members of their own styles or organizations, now worked side-by-side with heads of other styles and organizations, even with people who had long been their sworn enemies.

What many members didn’t know was there were groups within groups. Basic information, including kihon, kata, tactics, and strategies, was taught to everyone. Higher level information was available to those at the middle dan grades and up. But the highest levels of knowledge were reserved for the senior-most group, the “Inner Circle”, as Hanshi Anderson called it. At that time, you had to be at 7^th dan or higher to be considered for inclusion within this group. (Now, I think that has been raised to 8^th dan.) Rank, however, wasn’t the only requirement. Very few of the Sokes, Hanshis, Shihans, Grandmasters, etc. that are now everywhere would have made the cut. It was by invitation only. And to be invited, you also had to be of sufficient proven quality. Unlike the case with the other two groups, most of the information transmitted within the Inner Circle occurred verbally over dinner or at private parties.

Many years ago, I had long-time friend, who was a high ranking, highly respected instructor and head of a major organization. He’s, unfortunately, no longer with us. We spoke one of the last times we were together about the subject of rank. He asked me if I knew the rank of his senior deshi. I assumed the man must have been at least 6^th or 7^th dan. He had been training and following this sensei for over 50 years. He was also very knowledgeable and highly skilled. When I told him I didn’t actually know, he told me that the deshi was 3^rd dan, and said it proudly. My friend was far more knowledgeable than I will ever be. So it wasn’t my place to question this. But after my friend died, he hadn’t positioned anyone to take his place and, to my knowledge, the organization has essentially ceased to exist, or exists as a mere shadow of its former stature.

The feeling among the Inner Circle was as follows: If your own instructor and organization seems not to have reason to respect your knowledge and skill, then why should anyone else, as your own seniors surely know you far better. An organization must create legitimate seniors. And they must also be positioned properly so, should something happen to the head of a dojo or organization, the school or organization will have a better chance of surviving and making available its founder’s lifetime of knowledge to future generations.

My approach to education has always been to prepare myself in as broad a manner as possible, ensuring a maximum number of options would be open to me in the future. This meant preparing myself physically, mentally, educationally, socially, financially, ethically, and morally to better ensure no doors would be closed to me, pretty much regardless of what I wanted to pursue. Relative to the subject of this post, it meant making sure I attained sufficient rank and stature to have doors opened to me but without going too far beyond what might possibly be a realistic rank for someone with my experience, years in the arts, and accomplishments.

Just some food for thought. Take from it whatever, if anything, might be useful to you and disregard the rest. Thanks for your readership.

Hanshi George Anderson

Hanshi George Anderson

A few days ago, November 25, would have been Hanshi George Anderson’s birthday. He died on August 6, 2009. I was fortunate to have had Hanshi Anderson as a friend and mentor for many years.

Hanshi Anderson held many significant positions within karate. He was President of the USA Karate Federation (USAKF), which was then the national governing body (NGB) for karate in this country. Each Olympic sport has an NGB – whether it’s track, gymnastics, curling, skiing, or one of the martial arts. These are designated by the US Olympic Committee as the official voice of that sport’s participation in international competition. When another country requests the United States send karate athletes to participate in an event, it is the designated NGB that trains, selects, and fields the athletes who will be sent to represent this country. At that time, our NGB was the USAKF. In addition, Hanshi Anderson was also President of the Pan American Union of Karatedo Organizations (PUKO), the organization recognized by the International Olympic Committee (IOC) as the official governing body for karate competition within this hemisphere. In addition, he was also 1^st Vice President of the World Union of Karate Organizations (WUKO), which had been designated by the IOC as the official world governing body for karate. (WUKO was later renamed World Karate Federation, or WKF.)

I held several positions within the USAKF (Coach, National Coaching Staff; Co-chair, National Coaches Education Committee; Director, Media Relations Committee, etc.) as well as with PUKO. I was issued 7^th Dan certificates from USAKF, PUKO, and WUKO.

Hanshi Anderson and I traveled many times together to many parts of the world. I learned a huge amount from him. And learning with him was always a very active activity. He didn’t just talk and you listen and learn. He liked to ask questions and challenge you. He also was able to get people, even life-long enemies in karate, to work together for the common good, to share information with others and fight to get karate into the Olympics. He was a perfect model of Rough Rider/U.S. President Teddy Roosevelt’s admonition to “Speak softly but carry a big stick.” Sometimes he achieved success through diplomacy and sometimes threat of the stick.

On one trip, we stayed at 2^nd home owned by the head of karate there. The first night, Hanshi Anderson and I ate alone. His wife brought us plates. On it was an almost black sausage and another that was gray and smelled fishy. I looked down at my plate, not sure what it was. Neither looked appetizing to me. I asked Hanshi if he knew what it was. He said it was fish sausage and blood sausage. Not being a lover of fish or fan of eating blood, I asked him if he was going to eat it, hoping he had an exit strategy I hadn’t thought of. He took a big bite of the blood sausage and said “When I’m traveling abroad, I eat whatever they set in front of me, even sheep eyes.”

Another time, he and I took the USA Karate Team to Costa Rica for their Olympic Sports Festival. I was the designated head coach for the U.S. team. When a national team was invited to compete by a host nation, the visiting team generally paid their own travel expenses and the host country paid all in-country expenses – rooms, meals, transportation, etc.

We were picked up at the airport by the host group, headed by an attorney who was the designated national chairman and country rep under PUKO and WUKO. It seemed to take a long time for them to get us registered at our hotel in downtown San Jose, across from the government building. But it was eventually worked out and we were shown to our rooms. As was usual, everyone shared a room, even Hanshi Anderson and I, to keep expenses down.

One of my students, Ron Vick, won his division and was named Outstanding Competitor. The team competition went well too. We placed higher (2^nd or 3^rd) than I feared we would, considering we had problems fielding a team. We ended up with three black belts and two green belts. We beat some teams made up of all seasoned black belts. So I was pretty proud of them. (Perhaps, I’ll talk sometime about the tactics and strategy I used to prepare green belts to hold their own against black belts.) We met some great people in Costa Rica. A party was held after the competition. While there, a group of senior local karateka approached Hanshi Anderson and I, wanting to talk to us privately.

They told us that the host group hadn’t paid our housing expenses. They (the people we were talking with) had had to pay it to save face for their country. They said the head of the host group (let’s call him Mr. X) told them “They can pay for their own rooms. They’re rich gringos.”

Well, the next night, the host group took Hanshi Anderson and I to a restaurant for dinner to celebrate our birthdays. (Hanshi Anderson’s and mine were three days apart.) Mr. X and his wife and daughter were seated across the table from Hanshi and I. He kept trying flatter Hanshi, obviously wanting to finesse a high level position for himself in PUKO or WUKO. The wait staff kept bringing drinks of guaro, their national drink, and a long list of toasts were made. As the night wore on, Hanshi’s eyes narrowed and he locked them onto Mr. X. I knew Hanshi well enough to know what was coming. “I know you think we’re just a bunch of rich gringos,” Hanshi said, loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. Mr. X’s eyes flared in fear. “A lot of uneducated people think that. But there are no kings in America. We got rid of them a long time ago. None of us are rich lawyers (like Mr. X) or government fat cats (like the rest of those at the table). We’re just regular, hard-working martial artists.” It got very quiet.

Mr. X must have realized his desire to be named anything higher than ring-boy was heading rapidly south. As his aides (two of the high ranking government guys) drove us back to our hotel, I noticed we weren’t going the right way. When questioned, they told us they were taking us to a “special hotel,” where there were many beautiful women. Hanshi thanked them but said we didn’t have time for that type of thing. He was expecting a call from someone involved in trying to get karate in the Olympics and needed to get back to our room. Reluctantly, they dropped us off at our hotel.

He was a smart, tough guy, mentally and physically. Just being with him and watching how he did things was hugely educational. My life would have been significantly lessened had I not had the great fortune to know and spend so much time around him.

“When are you going to be promoted to 10th degree?” – Part III



My primary instructor, Soke Tak Kubota (right),
actor and karateka James Caan (center), and me.

 I’ve been talking about my many reasons for not wanting to be promoted to 10^th dan, while so many seem obsessed with it. As I said, these are just my reasons for making this choice. Others are welcome to their own reasons for accepting or even seeking it. Let me add just a bit more to my personal choice before turning to a few legitimate reasons for working to earn a high dan grade.

The most respected world karate organizations, IMHO, all impose minimum time-in-grade (TIG) and age requirements for each dan promotion. I’ll just list the standard requirements for promotion beyond 5^th dan. (Before this, minimum TIG is generally a number of years equal to the number of the dan grade one is trying to reach – 2 years for 2^nd dan, 3 years for 3^rd dan, etc.) For 6^th dan, an applicant must be at least 35 years old and been at 5^th dan for at least 5 years. For 7^th dan, an applicant must be at least 42 years old and been at 6^th dan for at least 6 years. For 8^th dan, an applicant must be at least 50 years old and been at 7^th dan for at least 8 years. For 9^th dan, an applicant must be at least 60 years old and been at 8^th dan for at least 9 years. And for 10^th dan, an applicant must be at least 70 years old and been at 9^th dan for at least 10 years. I’ll turn 69 this year. So I’m not there yet.

Also, the above is unaffected by the standard excuses we often hear. “I moved up faster than everyone else because I trained 12 hours per day, 7 days per week for a full year,” “I trained directly under Grandmaster Fred and learned secrets he’s shared with no one else but me,” or whatever. TIG and age requirements are minimums, meaning there can only be longer amounts of time, never lesser (with only one exception that I can think of).

The sole exception to the above is when someone has not tested in many years and reached minimum age. If, for example, a person was at 6^th dan for 20 years, was 60 years old, and had never tested for 7^th dan before, although he had obviously acquired great knowledge and skill. Such a person might be promoted to 7^th dan and allowed to test for 8^th dan in just another year or two.

If you add up all of the minimum TIG for promotion from 2^nd through 10^th dan, it’s a significant number of years – 54 years minimum. Anyone who moves upwards too slowly, or starts too late, will never make it legitimately to the upper dans. This is something students, instructors, and heads of organizations need to be aware.

I’m most certainly not suggesting people be moved up faster than they are qualified to do so. What I’m suggesting, rather, is that everyone needs to know what is required for promotion to their next grades. Then, it’s up to the student to keep focused on doing whatever is necessary to achieve it – work harder, work smarter, compete if necessary, gain officiating or coaching certification, travel to wherever additional information and skill can be acquired, train in supportive arts, read and view whatever they can buy or find that will expand and deepen their knowledge, and so on. For some, this will also mean honing their moral and ethical characters to help them become better people, someone their instructors or organizational heads would want to see move into leadership positions.

Let me cut this off for now. I’ll try, as promised, to present next time some positive, non-ego gratifying reasons for setting ones sights on reaching higher dans.

“When are you going to be promoted to 10th degree?” – Part II

Let me clear up something I said in my last post. The views I expressed were only meant to apply to myself. Others have a different view about what 10^th dan represents. I don’t question most who wear the highest of ranks. Red flags for me are generally those who gave it to themselves (or received it from their own students); were vastly underage for such rank (in all reputable organizations and systems I am aware, one must be at least in their mid to late 60s); had insufficient time in grade; changed instructors for each new rank (we all know how that deal works – “Your instructor doesn’t think your worthy. But if you leave him and train with me, I’ll promote you”. Part of the reason I have written on this specific subject is because I have been offered promotion to 10^th dan by some and wanted to explain my position on the matter); or clearly possessed skill and knowledge far below the minimum needed for such a lofty rank.

As I mentioned last time, I see 10^th dan as recognition that one has reached perfection in a given art or style, meaning there is no or little room left for improvement. Perhaps I’m missing something. If so, please feel free to enlighten me. My mind is always open to correction. In fact, I’ve always encouraged it. It is often our enemies more than our friends who help us the most. Friends seldom tell us where we go wrong, not wanting to hurt our feelings. Enemies have no such qualms and, as such, or often more helpful in this regard.

I’ve always preferred to keep vistas open in front of me, unknowns just around the next corner in need of discovery, curiosities capable of motivating me to continue working and moving forward. When I don’t have them, I’ll often create them for myself. I want to always have some unknown secret just around the next bend to discover. One of the things that attracted me to the martial arts and kept me working for over 55 years is the many facets to our arts – kihon, kata, bunkai, kobudo, kumite, history, philosophy, and so on. Tenth degree represents to me the pinnacle, the end of the road, and I am a long way from that destination and always will be.

As I said, this is just my position. I have no question with others, who have put in the time and achieved the skill and knowledge levels to reach 10^th dan. God bless them.

Let me stop for now, before I get into reasons for working to achieve a high dan degree. Again, thanks for reading my humble ramblings.

“When are you going to be promoted to 10th degree?”

Since being awarded ninth dan a few years ago, I frequently get asked “When are you going to be promoted to 10^th degree?” The askers are usually surprised when I tell them my answer – “Never.” Their next question is always “Why not?” People seem to think that going to 10^th dan from 9^th would only be natural. But it’s not. They find my answer, that I don’t want to be a 10^th dan, that I’m surely too high already, to be incomprehensible.

I think most secretly believe that the reason for my decision is that I’ve lost my ambition and become too lazy to attempt to move upwards. But it has nothing to do with ambition or energy levels. There are, in fact, several very logical reasons for feeling the way I do.

My original dream was to one day reach the lofty and I still think very respectable rank of 3^rd dan. Back then, there were no 27-year-old masters or grandmasters, no 12-year-old sandans, no Ultimate Supreme Intergalactic Grandmasters, no twelfth dans or anyone even claiming to be tenth dans, that we knew of. In fact, we didn’t know anyone who was higher than 5^th dan. (We had only heard that some existed in Okinawa and in some of the old warrior arts in Japan.) Senseis Nishiyama, Oshima, Demura, and other highly respected seniors were godans for years and years. Most Shotokan greats refused to go beyond 5^th dan because that had been Funakoshi Sensei’s rank. Other Japanese stylists, out of respect for their Shotokan brothers, refused to go up either. And these were great, great martial artists.

There were no shihans, kyoshis, or hanshis. We had never even heard of these titles in the early days. Now, there are so many holding them they have become essentially meaningless. Type “shihan,” “kyoshi,” or “hanshi” into the search box on Facebook and see how many appear – hundreds, perhaps thousands. Even people in arts and styles that have no relationship whatsoever to their historical origins now sport these titles. It sometimes seems that we have more of these than we do white belts, as if the belt and title system has been flipped onto its head.

I don’t mention any of this to attack the practices or status of others. I don’t look at it as many seem to do, from the standpoint of “Well, I deserve it but most of the others surely don’t. I mean, look at his kihon or techniques. That would never work in a million years!” (Another person, of course, would look at my techniques or opinions and say the same about me, finding fault – as you always can – with something or other I or anyone else did or said.) Part of the problem, and its cause, is that the unknowing public often selects an instructor or school based on rank. They don’t know one art or style or organization from another. But they know that 10^th dan is higher than 5^th dan. (They do not even suspect that the 5^th dan may be far superior to the 10^th dan.)

There are many reasons I don’t want to be a 10^th dan. First, to me, 10^th dan has always symbolized perfection within a system. (I recognize and respect that others may have a different and equally valid view.) I am far, far from perfect. In fact, I consider it to be beyond my reach. Second, there are a number of men who are far closer to perfection in skill and/or breadth and depth of knowledge, close enough to be worthy of 10^th dan – and not just in Japan or Okinawa. (Men like Hanshis Anderson, Koeppel, and Colwell, just 3 examples, have been or were at a very high level for half a century.) How can I wear the same rank as these great men? Third, my own life-long, primary instructor, Soke Takayuki Kubota, is 10^th dan. I am not even close to his levels of skill, knowledge, and/or accomplishment. Compared to him, I should be much lower in rank. There are other reasons as well but I need to cut this off for now before it runs so long no one will ever read it.

And, as always, this is just my 2 cents.

I will discuss a bit more on this subject. And, I’ll also talk next time about one very good reason to not only set your sights on reaching a high dan rank but for assisting your students in also doing so. This is a secret revealed to me by Hanshi George Anderson many years ago. It caused me to overlook my objections to high dan rank and accept them when offered.

Old IKA group photo

Sorry for the delay in getting my next post finished and uploaded. It's a story that's taking longer to explain than I had anticipated when I began writing it. In the meantime, I'm posting a photo of the old IKA gang. I talked about George Byrd and Ron Glaubitz in my last post. They are 2nd and 3rd from the left in the second row. In the front row is Tonny Tulleners (who defeated Chuck Norris 3 out of 3 times and placed 3rd in kumite at the first WUKO world championships in Tokyo in 1970), Okuyama San of Canada, Soke Kubota, and Ben Otake, who trained many great fighters both here and in Puerto Rico. (One of Ben's students was Manny San, who is pictured at the left end of the 2nd row. He tied for 3rd in kata at the '75 world championships - Sensei Nishiyam's ITKF event in LA.) There's a bunch of other great guys and karateka in the photo. I'm at the right end of the 2nd row. I don't know the year this was taken.

George Byrd – one of our little known greats

Ron Glaubitz holds IKA flag. George Byrd is to the right. David Vaughn is
between them. George and David both made the 1972 U.S. team.

I promised some of his family members a while back that I would talk a bit about what I knew about George Byrd.

I first met George when he was a purple belt (6^th Kyu), training with fellow International Karate Association (IKA) black belt, Ron Glaubitz. I think Ron brought George to Ralph Castro’s old California Karate Championships in San Francisco. I later learned from someone that George, by profession, was a master lens grinder. He worked at labs that turned out prescription eye glasses.

George, even back then, was a tough fighter. I don’t remember how he did that day. But Ron ended up fighting great kenpo stylist Steve Saunders in the finals. Steve scored with a couple of hard punches to Ron’s face, which Ron never even attempted to block. I joked with Ron afterwards about him possibly working a bit harder on his face defense. He said his defense was perfect. He blocked everything Steve threw. I joked that he might not want to use his eye in the future to block his head. Eyes weren’t really designed for that purpose. I found out that Ron had been hit hard in the head during an exchange in an earlier match. He couldn’t see out of his left eye when he entered the ring to fight Saunders. He had fought with a concussion. But that was the kind of guy Ron was.

At some point, Ron opened a dojo in Mexico and George went with him, at least for a while. I was told that Ron, soon after his arrival in Mexico, went around to the other schools in town and invited the instructors to close their schools or train with him. Or they could have a private lesson on the spot. (I’m not sure if it was true or just someone’s fanciful image of Ron.)

George and Ron stopped for lunch one day at a taco shop. Ron bought a couple of tacos. Then, George went to the window to order. The clerk told him to beat it, they didn’t serve “N-words” there. George reached in through the window, grabbed the racist clerk’s lapels, and pulled him out through the opening. The two fought. George foot swept the guy and slammed him into the gutter. While he was working him over, Ron handed out business cards to those in the crowd that had quickly gathered to watch. He told them “I can teach you to fight like my student here.”

In 1972, a tournament was held at Los Angeles City College to select the U.S. team for the WUKO World Karate Championships in Paris. It was an unusual team trials. The officials employed what they called the “Brazilian System.” Most coaches hate using a straight elimination tournament to select team members because the outcome can rest on luck in charting. If the second best fighter is paired with the best fighter in an early round, someone who should be on the team could be eliminated. (This was later rectified by requiring double-elimination. For our team selection event for the Mexico City World Karate Championships in 1990, we used triple-elimination to make sure we had the best of the best. It made for a very long day.) With the “Brazilian System” used in 1972, the five officials could decide to advance one fighter or the other to the next round, as was normal. But, if both fighters were great, they could also advance both to the next round. If both were not strong enough, they could also decide not to advance either of them. It was also the first time a “control test” was administered, to make sure competitors could properly control their techniques.

George Byrd was one of the fighters who survived the elimination process and selected to represent the U.S. at the championships. I don’t know how he did in Paris. It was a strange event, with several national teams – including the U.S. and Japanese teams – walking out because of problems in the officiating.

The original charter called for the WUKO World Karate Championships to be held every two years. This meant that the next event should have been held in 1974. But it wasn’t – and I forget why. Instead, it was held in Los Angeles in 1975. (All others would be held every two years, as originally planned.) Not just one world championships, however, were held in LA that year. Both WUKO and Sensei Nishiyama’s ITKF held their world events there within a month of each other, if I remember right.

George was selected to represent the USA at one of the championships but I don’t remember which. However, when the event rolled around, he was too injured from a fight to compete.

I lost track of him after that, although I heard rumors on occasion. All in all, I didn’t know George well but liked him. He always seemed a loner and had a hard outer shell. But, underneath, he also had a good sense of humor.

George Byrd died many years ago. I don’t know the year or the cause. I only learned of his death after the fact. We’ve lost several great IKA karateka through the years, three or four within the last year alone. George Byrd was one of those who died far too early.

Dealing With Pain – A Martial Artist’s Frequent Companion – Part X

Tom Sadowski (right) punches Kenny Kuch (left)

     Tom Sadowski was one of my great, old black belt students. He started with me as a white belt in the late 60s, I think. He was tall, quick, handsome, charismatic, and a very experienced and successful street-fighter. When he reached brown belt, I took him to LA for Soke Kubota’s IKA All Star Karate Championships. In those days, Soke still used the old system – no belt divisions, only sparring and kata. Tom beat a number of black belts but lost in the final match to take 2^nd. (He would later win the event.) In 1975, Tom was selected to the U.S. team for Sensei Nishiyama’s ITKF World Karate Championships in Los Angeles.

Tom wasn’t able to compete because of an accident that occurred just before the event. While at a pool party, he climbed onto the top of the fence to dive into the water. As he jumped, the fence collapsed and he fell onto the deck, breaking his shoulder.

A few weeks later, a friend invited him to a party at a ranch outside of Watsonville, then a rural area about 40 miles south of San Jose. Later that night, while everyone was inside drinking and talking, someone asked Tom about karate. As Tom talked, a guy let out a big laugh. “Karate’s a bunch of bullshit,” he said.

“What do you know about karate?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know anything,” he said. “But I’ve seen all these big names you talk about, Nishiyama, Kubota, and the others, and they couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag.”

Tom told him he was full of it. The guy invited Tom outside to settle the matter. Tom said he couldn’t fight until his shoulder healed, but he’d be happy to meet him anytime, anyplace when it did.

“You karate assholes are all alike,” said the guy. “You always have some excuse why you can’t fight. All you do is yak, yak, yak.”

Tom had had a bit too much to drink and knew it. But, even with a broken shoulder and a good buzz on, this was a challenge he couldn’t let go unanswered.

As they went outside, the guy said “I’ve been looking for someone as stupid as you for a long time.”

Everyone followed them outside to watch. The guy looked around and said he didn’t want to fight in front of everyone as someone might call the cops when he kicked Tom’s ass. So, they got into the guy’s pickup and drove out into the orchard, where they squared off. The guy immediately kicked Tom all his might in his broken shoulder with his booted foot. Then, he worked him over, helped him back into his pickup, dropped him back off at the party, and left.

I don’t know if Tom ever found this guy when he was sober and healed up. I know he looked for him. In his search, he learned that the guy had lived for a long time in Thailand and was reportedly a world Thai kickboxing champion. To my knowledge, this was the only fight Tom ever lost – and it wouldn’t surprise me if he later evened the score.

Although it was surely unnecessary, as Tom was a very smart guy, I discussed with him the need to keep certain information confidential and maintain a level of sobriety when among strangers.

I had been taught from the very beginning to always keep injuries and illnesses to myself, as they gave enemies an opportunity. I’m always amazed at how often I see martial artists openly discussing their injuries, illnesses, and disabilities on Facebook and other public forums. I don’t think it’s a good idea to reveal any of this or act in a manner that would allow someone to tell that you were sick or injured, if you possibly can hide it. Perhaps, when you’re well, or healed up, you can reveal it, but not during. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, such as when you break a leg or limb or tear a hamstring. But I don’t think announcing it online is a good idea. If I were going to have surgery, I might only tell my most senior student, who had to cover for me at the dojo and I knew would keep it confidential.

I can’t remember a time when I missed teaching a class, unless I physically couldn’t (perhaps I had the stomach flu) or had something contagious. I was on the floor with broken bones, fevers, or whatever. If I was sick, I doctored myself up and taught. Samurai mothers told their children, “If you cry from a little scratch, what will you do when you have to commit seppuku?” Plus, maybe it’s just an ancient practice from the days of us dinosaurs, but men in general never talked about their illnesses when I was growing up. I shook my head when I read a recent comment by a middle level black belt, who headed his own organization, discussing on Facebook his current battle with diarrhea.

David Letterman once said what he liked best about dogs is their attitudes that “If they can do it, you can watch.” We seem in a “let it all hang out” era. I heard on the news yesterday that a couple had had sex earlier in the week while skydiving and had someone follow them down to videotape it. Perhaps I’ve lived too long. This is clearly not my era.

Thanks for reading my humble ramblings.