Early Influence and Poor Eyesight
As a kid, growing up watching the TV show “Kung Fu”, I was entranced by the character of blind Master Po (portrayed by Keye Luke). All the other kids worshipped Caine and wanted to emulate him. Not me. Master Po was my guy. He got all the best lines: “Listen for the color of the sky.” How cool is that? In fact, I suspect it was watching Master Po that sparked my interest in Buddhist and Taoist philosophy.
But wait, there’s more! He was an unstoppable force of martial arts. Even though he was blind, Po could fend off any attack. Nothing got past him.
It was not so much that I actually wanted to be blind. Rather, I wanted to achieve Master Po’s level of perception and control, his ability to overcome a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. That’s what I wanted.
Many years of study of Buddhist and Daoist thought followed my childhood infatuation with Master Po. Yet, it was not until I took up the study of the martial art of Jeet Kune Do (JKD) that I found myself getting a little bit closer (at least in terms of martial art) to Master Po.
Along about sixth-grade, my eyesight took a decided turn for the worse. I had always been known for my sharp eyes and suddenly I could not make out people’s faces. My eyesight would continue to get worse until it reached the point where I have clear vision only to the distance of about six inches. So, I am (thankfully) not blind like Master Po, but, yeah, I am pretty nearsighted.
The Glasses Come Off
Prior to getting into JKD, I had not done much sparring. With a few notable exceptions, most of my martial arts training had been no contact, “dry-land swimming” as Bruce Lee called it. This allowed me to keep my glasses on, though it was not the most realistic way to train. As most of you know, JKD is pretty heavy on sparring. Sparring with poor eyesight like mine is a bit problematic. Besides, as schoolyard conflicts taught me, guys always try to slap your glasses off first.
In the beginning, I was pretty apprehensive about sparring without being able to see clearly. Was I just going to get pummeled? I kind of did.
I was too worried about, and fixated on trying to discern, what my opponent’s hands and feet were doing. Due to my blurred vision, I was having trouble detecting when a hand or foot began to move. Thus, I was always a day late and a dollar short, as the saying goes. As a result, I was taking hits.
Needless to say, this was a frustrating situation.
Still, I stuck with it. I kept reminding myself not to think but to feel. I slowly began to realize that the point was not to see an opponent’s hand or foot as it began to move. No, the goal was to get a feel for what the opponent intended before any obvious motion had been made.
It was at this point when my poor vision became an asset.
A Different Way of Seeing
Because of my poor eyesight, it was nearly impossible for me to concentrate on an opponent’s hands and feet. In fact, I literally could not focus on anything! And that opened the door to a new level in my martial art.
I began moving beyond seeing my opponent as a hand or foot and seeing them more as a whole. A blurred whole, to be sure, but a single entity with a single motivation.
This is where things get a bit contradictory, because in turning my attention away from the hands and feet my poor eyesight made me aware of the less obvious movements that occur before the hand or foot commits to a strike or kick. In seeing less, I was beginning to see more.
Given the way we humans are constructed, before we can kick or strike, quite a bit needs to happen. Sometimes this is pretty obvious, like a karateka “chambering” for a side kick. But even before that occurs, there subtle changes in weight distribution and hip and shoulder position that often go unnoticed.
So, somewhat ironically, sparring without my glasses caused me to become more aware of the pre-strike and pre-kick movements. The reason for this is the aforementioned fact that I had started to see my opponent as a whole. When wearing my glasses, I was focusing on the feet and hands to exclusion of all else. By seeing my opponent as a whole, I started picking up on bodily changes that occur prior to an attack that I had failed to notice before and to discern my opponents’ habits.
Practical Application
Let’s look at a couple of examples:
One fellow I have sparred with several times tends to go for the high hammer fist. His giveaway on this is that he pulls his shoulders up to his ears long before his fist moves. If I was a fist watcher, I would have missed this give away. But now, I am coming in with my counter punch before he even moves his fist!
Another sparring partner, when feeling pressed, will incline his upper body slightly to his left then jerk his right shoulder forward and down. He does this in an attempt to set up a back kick as a way to get himself out of a jam. But as soon as I see his upper body begin to tilt, I throw a low right hook and he essentially slams his body into my fist.
In both of these cases, I picked up on an opponent’s habit which allowed me to short-circuit their intentions. Yet, as one gets better at viewing one’s opponents as a whole, even more subtle clues become apparent.
A fighter must maintain balance and structure. To do so, every motion must be countered in some way. To get an idea of this. Watch yourself in a mirror while walking. A lot more is going on than just your feet moving! Without these movements and counter movements, we would collapse like a wet noodle.
Similarly, whenever a fighter punches or kicks, actions take place far removed from the feet and fists as the body makes counter motions to maintain balance and structure. When a fighter becomes attuned to these counter motions, they begin to realize that a slight adjustment of a shoulder may indicate an impending kick; a shift of the hips, a coming strike.
Fine Tuning
Some martial artists become so attuned to this that they seem to be able to read minds. A good example of this is someone I trained with years ago. As a drill, we would stand facing each other with our right arms extended, wrists lightly touching (think the O’Hara scene in “Enter the Dragon”). Sometimes, we would even close our eyes. At any time, either of us could attempt an attack.
Punch, kick, right, left, no matter what I tried, he was always there with a block. This guy was so attuned to the subtlety of the mechanics of the human body that I could never get past his defense. From the slightest motion of my wrist, he could tell whence my attack was coming. In time, I got to where I could get a general idea of what was coming but never developed the near mind reading level of discernment that my former partner had.
Conclusion
So, maybe I am not blind like Master Po, but in the final analysis my poor eyesight did prove an advantage in that it forced me to take a more wholistic view of my opponent and see beyond the obvious. And seeing my opponent more completely made me a more complete martial artist.
- Warrior to Sage - June 27, 2023
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