The 20-Year Man

There's a story told in tai chi circles of a student who went to a tai chi master and asked how long it would take him to master the art. "Ten years," said the master. "Then I will study twice as hard as your best student so I can master the art faster," said the student. "In that case," said the master, "It will take you twenty years."

Everybody wants the ultimate fighting move. The one that not only takes out opponents of every size, but also impresses members of the opposite sex.

So many people sign up for martial arts training wanting to learn as many fighting techniques as possible in the fastest time possible. "Give me more forms." "Teach me the next technique." Most commercial schools indulge this want by promoting students as soon as they can mimic the necessary movements.

I'm not going to criticize the practice here; commercial schools have to make money to stay in business, and to make money they have to retain students. It's a cruel reality of the free market system. But students need to be aware of this fact: you may have the movements memorized, but real understanding of what you just learned can take months and even years to achieve. The more you practice and study, the faster you will achieve understanding.

The tai chi story is both a warning about impatience and a parable about real mastery of an art. Hurry through the techniques to get to the next one, and you'll have to double back and relearn the techniques to understand them properly. Dedicate yourself to understanding an art from the beginning, and you will probably progress much more slowly than the average. But you will insist upon gaining a deeper understanding of the skills you learned, and twenty years won't seem nearly enough.

So how does that work? You practice as hard as you can but it still takes twice as long to master the art? The key is practice with intent.

Zen and the art of baseball

A common question in the martial arts world among students is "How many forms do you know?" Mostly, beginners ask this. Intermediate students might ask, "How many techniques have you learned?"

Just remember before answering, that quality is always better than quantity. I think baseball is a near-perfect analogy to this.

There isn't much to baseball on the surface. You throw the ball, you hit the ball, you catch the ball. That's it.

Of course, if you're a fan of the game, you know there's much more to it than what's on the surface. You throw the ball -- what pitch do you deliver? You hit the ball -- there's a dozen adjustments to make depending on the pitch you think will be thrown, and the pitch that is actually thrown. You catch the ball -- distance and timing are everything.

Baseball players spend years, even decades, perfecting the techniques needed in their main playing positions. Hitting, catching, or throwing. And most are known for particular specialties: a fast baserunner. A home-run slugger. A tricky changeup.

Nobody makes fun of a professional pitcher who has three good pitching techniques. So there's no need to compare how many forms one student has over another, or how many techniques one knows.

I remember early on in my studies, a fellow student who had a habit of bragging about his soccer skills, pestering instructors for more techniques, and hitting hard and uncontrolled in body conditioning and sparring. One day he complained loudly about having to do a block-punch combination yet again. "What is this, a karate class? We should be learning more complicated techniques," he said ... or something to that effect (his grammar was as good as his soccer skills). Well the instructor said "go" while he was whining, and next thing he knew, his partner's fist was sailing toward his nose. Later on, talking through the bloodstained bandanna someone lent him, it was clear he hadn't gotten the message. "I could've blocked that better with a mantis technique."

The message here is, practice each technique with full concentration and intent, no matter how simplistic it seems. They are in the curriculum to teach you important basic principles that apply across the board at every skill level.

You throw the ball, you hit the ball, you catch the ball.