The Future Is In Your Hands
We are doing kokyunage (momentum throw) in class. The general principle of kokyunage is to lead our partner into a fall by redirecting the momentum of his attack. When done right, it is very swift and effortless.
A student is having a lot of trouble with it. I go over to check on him and find that he has been holding his arms up really stiffly. "Your partner is attached to your hands. If you hold your hands up like this, how does he roll off? It is not like your partner does not want to go, but you have to make it possible." I guess understanding the idea rationally is one thing while doing it is another. No matter how I coach him, the student would not drop his hands at the end of his move. Meanwhile, he continues to be perplexed by why his partner remains standing right in front of him at the end of his move . . .
We switch to another kokyunage. The form is different, but the idea is the same. You keep your partner moving until he has gone too far in the new direction you give him.
This time, another student is experiencing tremendous difficulties. Somehow, his partner keeps stumbling away from him. At first glance, I thought it was because his partner was a beginner. Often times, beginners who have not learnt how to tumble would stumble away as a way of preserving themselves. But then, I watch again, and I realize the issue stems from the nage (the thrower).
The nage is very eager to throw his partner. As such, he leans over and overextends himself. His hands are so far away from his torso that he can barely control them. His partner is holding onto his wrists, trying to follow the direction he gives. Given the nage himself has long lost control over his hands, how can his hands control where his partner goes? His partner following those hands end up drifting further and further away from him.
When I figure out what is going on, I cannot help laughing out loud. Again and again, I witness people trying too hard to make something happen. The irony is that, the harder they try, the faster and the more readily do things fall apart. In both cases, the nage is trying super hard to maintain control. Their eagerness to seek control is exactly what makes them lose control.
There is a analogy that I use often to demonstrate the point:
If there is a big pile of gold sand and you are allowed to take as much as you can with only one hand, what would you do?
If you approach eagerly and clasp with a tight grip, when you open your hand, you may find only a few grains of gold sand.
What would I do? I would scoop the sand up with a flat, relaxed palm and a calm mind.
A student is having a lot of trouble with it. I go over to check on him and find that he has been holding his arms up really stiffly. "Your partner is attached to your hands. If you hold your hands up like this, how does he roll off? It is not like your partner does not want to go, but you have to make it possible." I guess understanding the idea rationally is one thing while doing it is another. No matter how I coach him, the student would not drop his hands at the end of his move. Meanwhile, he continues to be perplexed by why his partner remains standing right in front of him at the end of his move . . .
We switch to another kokyunage. The form is different, but the idea is the same. You keep your partner moving until he has gone too far in the new direction you give him.
This time, another student is experiencing tremendous difficulties. Somehow, his partner keeps stumbling away from him. At first glance, I thought it was because his partner was a beginner. Often times, beginners who have not learnt how to tumble would stumble away as a way of preserving themselves. But then, I watch again, and I realize the issue stems from the nage (the thrower).
The nage is very eager to throw his partner. As such, he leans over and overextends himself. His hands are so far away from his torso that he can barely control them. His partner is holding onto his wrists, trying to follow the direction he gives. Given the nage himself has long lost control over his hands, how can his hands control where his partner goes? His partner following those hands end up drifting further and further away from him.
When I figure out what is going on, I cannot help laughing out loud. Again and again, I witness people trying too hard to make something happen. The irony is that, the harder they try, the faster and the more readily do things fall apart. In both cases, the nage is trying super hard to maintain control. Their eagerness to seek control is exactly what makes them lose control.
There is a analogy that I use often to demonstrate the point:
If there is a big pile of gold sand and you are allowed to take as much as you can with only one hand, what would you do?
If you approach eagerly and clasp with a tight grip, when you open your hand, you may find only a few grains of gold sand.
What would I do? I would scoop the sand up with a flat, relaxed palm and a calm mind.
Comments
Post a Comment