Of all the memorable scenes in "The Karate Kid", the crane kick stands out as one of the most lasting. In fact, it is often seen on movie covers and posters:

Something about the aesthetic beauty and exotic power of this technique has stuck in people's minds. Yet, many are left to wonder - is the crane kick real? Is it truly a part of karate, or borrowed from kung fu? Most of all...when Mr. Miyagi states "if do right, no can defense", is it possible that the crane kick is an unstoppably advanced technique?

This kind of question was submitted to me, and in response I have created this video exploring the nature of the crane in Okinawan karate, demonstrating some crane technique, and exploring whether or not there is any truth behind Mr. Miyagi's bold claims.

I hope that helps add some perspective on the matter of crane techniques in the world of karate!

If you have any trouble with the video, click here to watch.

 In some ways, that’s good. It means that the form has been learned and you no longer need to pause, scratch your head, and try desperately to remember what comes next. Unfortunately, that same momentum can carry you away and cause you to miss some of the finer details of kata execution.

 One aspect that is frequently overlooked is…looking. Often, when individuals perform a kata, they become transfixed on what their hands and feet are doing. They snap blocks, fire punches, and move crisply. However, throughout the entire performance, their head stays laser straight, looking ahead at all times.

 That sounds like a good thing, right? You would want to be looking in front of you if that’s where the bad guy is. The problem occurs in the directional changes.

 If we move our entire body without looking where we are going first, we’ve made a conceptual error. Although the kata dictates we go one way or the other, we need to visualize a real opponent in that place. As such, a real opponent can be unpredictable. We can’t simply shift and block and magically know where the attack is coming from and at what distance. We have to LOOK first. Once we spot the enemy, we can then act in accordance with kata.

 Often looking means turning our head slightly and shifting our eyes to the new opponent. We do this before committing to a stance or response, as is advisable in a real confrontation. Therefore, during training, we can take an entire pattern and make sure our eyes and head are moving before technique execution.

 Of course, as with any good rule of thumb, there are exceptions.

 Even though kata tends to turn in many directions, such movements do not necessarily mean a new opponent is arriving. Sometimes it can indicate that you, the defender, have trapped your opponent and are throwing them. Your body movement is then an ample method for creating that throw. If this is the case, you wouldn’t need to be looking all around – you’ll want to focus on the opponent at hand and execute the throw to maximum efficiency. After that, you can either strike the grounded opponent again or move on.

 The important factor here is knowing which method of visualization you are employing. If you are keeping your eyes straight ahead during a turn, is it because you are maximizing a throw? If not, and you intend to address a new opponent, would you be wiser to take a peek first?

If you live in one house long enough, you become accustomed to that place's personality. Creeks, cracks, and groans become almost imperceptible parts of your daily life. However, when you move somewhere new, each sound is noteworthy to your consciousness. In a familiar home noises that are commonplace are easily distinguished from those that are abnormal. At a new place the differentiation is less defined.

Almost every individual has, at one time or another, heard an unusual noise that has set them on edge. Something sudden and concerning. During those stressful times there is initial surprise or dismay as the noise develops, followed by stillness, quiet, and listening, ultimately concluded by a decision (investigate/escape/act) or lack of decision (freeze/ignore).

I'd like to explore one method you can use to optimize your readiness to make a decision and perform to the best of your ability when that moment arrives.

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In my new laundry room there is a large access panel into the ceiling. When we first arrived the hatch was open so we knew it led up to the "attic" of the building. We also noticed that in order to maintain heat and security the hatch was quite thick (about 2-3 inches of hollow metal) and heavy.

Why it was open we didn't know nor did we think much of it. We simply raised it back up until it latched shut. A few days later I was working alone in my office when I heard a deep thud from the laundry room and the rattling of springs. I felt the vibration of the action through the walls and knew immediately that something unusual had happened.

I thought about the hatch. I was worried about it's connection to the rest of the building, it's comfortable human size, and the fact that it had been opened before. I grabbed the nearest implement handy that I was proficient with (a metal pen) and peaked outside the office. Unfortunately, the laundry room door was shut.

I waited, completely quiet, to detect any follow-up rustling (continued activity would be a strong indication of something alive in the room).

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It was at this pivotal time that I used a technique that you can use as well in tense moments.

When suddenly stressed the body's Amygdala begins to enter survival mode, and in doing so desires to lock the body into inaction. It's primitive responses of fear, stillness, and hiding have preserved human life for thousands of years and has stuck with us ever since.

To counteract these effects, I do something very simple - I shift my weight to the balls of my feet. I also adopt a very slight raising and lowering of the body weight. Essentially a bounce, but slow and deliberate and almost imperceptible.

Shifting the weight to the balls of the feet sends a subconscious signal to the body that you are about to take action. The body relinquishes some of it's physical lockdown. Not only that, but the emotional state begins to change from one of fear and "what-if" to one of readiness and action, be it fight or flight. The slight bouncing promotes a continuation of blood flow and energy flow.

As martial artists, we conduct a large amount of our training on the balls of our feet. As we move, slide, spar, and defend ourselves we often need that mobility. The physical connection of that ball-of-foot stance puts us back in touch with our training and helps reconnect to that mindset. Training is of no value if we are too busy getting lost in our own heads and allowing the primitive parts of our brain to lock us into inaction. "The lizard brain" can be both helpful and harmful, so we must also develop small habits which can best circumvent those reactions which are least valuable.

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I spent a moment worrying about all the ways a person could slide into the apartment with weapons, tools, and bad intentions. My muscles were tense. As soon as I shifted to the balls of my feet and utilized the slight bouncing I immediately returned to my training. I felt ready and collected and even thankful that I was the only resident in the apartment. I was also fortunate enough to have my metal pen right nearby. I knew where the intruder would be and he wouldn't know where I was, which means he'd have to be faster than me inside of a 1-2 step radius. Even if he had a gun I like my odds at that range with the element of surprise.

I continued to wait and listen patiently until I was convinced that either no one was in the room...or that they had settled in and were folding laundry. I carefully investigated further and found nothing of consequence accept a faulty hatch door which had fallen open once again.

* * *

I'm sure I didn't respond perfectly, but that's ok. I was able to overcome my body's natural reflexes that hinder decision making and quick movement during times of need. Yes, lots of training was a big part of it. But the body has very subtle psychology and energy that can be manipulated.

Keep this technique in mind the next time you find yourself in a tense situation, be it home invasion or otherwise. It might just help during the inevitable creeping of an amygdala hijack.

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The zanshin of a good kendo match is always very high. It is a fine balance between keeping energies and emotions perfectly in check while still transmitting full spirit into your opponent in the hopes of intimidating or disrupting him/her.

However, even with all of that going on, the real core fundamental that every great kendo player requires, the engine that powers each thunder clap movement, is Okuri Ashi.

When first learning kendo one of my biggest problems was that I had already been a karate and kobudo student for about a decade. That means certain stancing and body movements were very ingrained into me. This was compounded by the fact that I had studied karate in my formative years and thus had it as part of my developed "self".

As opposed to karate where most stances are optimally used to involve the whole body (especially the hips) in a variety of techniques and to weight the body down when appropriate, most of kendo's footwork is light and crisp.  Shizen tai is a very popular term in kendo and means "natural body". Okuri ashi takes a shizen tai upright body and manipulates the footwork to allow for extremely quick forward and backward movement with minimal "dead spaces" in between each movement.

The execution of Okuri Ashi is as such:

The feet start about shoulder width apart, the ball of the left foot lining up across from the right heel. The right foot moves first, sliding forward about a half pace. The left foot then slides up to meet it, the heel lifting just a bit off the floor. Exactly how much lift you are instructed to get during this movement will vary from school to school.

Okuri ashi can be used with smooth, half pace strides to cover distance or it can be abbreviated to possess extremely short motions (while still maintaining that sliding characteristic). The benefit of moving like this is that your weight is underside almost at all times. This allows you to make quick directional changes and leap into attacks at the moment you feel them appear.

When Okuri ashi is done in multiple successions, it takes on a slight hopping quality even though the body and feet never leave the ground. To understand what  I mean, observe this video of a basic drill known as Kirikaeshi:

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You might take note that when moving forward the lead right foot moves first, and when moving backward the rear left foot moves first. During Okuri ashi they do not switch.

It can take years to make this motion feel natural, but it's worth the effort. Okuri ashi has a lot to teach about keeping body weight centered and available for explosive movement. Give it a shot sometime, and don't worry if you feel a bit awkward at first.

Check out some manipulations that you can use against both long and short range weapons:
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You'll notice in the video that I emphasize the dual functionality of both lethal attacks and non-lethal controls. The length of the weapon would have kept kobudoka (especially peacekeepers) far away from the dangerous hands and weapons of troublemakers while allowing them to increase control and damage according to their need.

Along with combat effectiveness the nunti comes with relatively heavy weight, which means it cannot be spun or swung with the same quickness as a bo. Because of that, the initial action with the nunti is critical.

A short range weapon like a knife can be brutal once the maai (distance) is closed, which is why my first movements in the video either break the hand or at least damage and numb the arm enough to render it momentarily useless. A proper initial movement with skilled control of distance and timing can allow for control in subsequent moves.

One of the most important elements of any martial art is being able to use it effectively at a moment's notice. The techniques and methods of the art must be simple enough to ingrain in muscle memory for use when adrenaline pumps and mental decision making could be costly and difficult.

With that being the case it might seem like a mistake to dig deeply into an art or to allow for creative exploration. After all, you're probably just obfuscating a technique that did what it needed to do in the first place. However, I have found that there is an important difference between simple techniques and techniques with deep simplicity.

Starting with Simplicity

Properly programming the body to maximum efficiency is a process that takes a lifetime. However, when a student first joins a school they really need to focus on the basics of how to move. It's almost like learning how to walk again. The hands move in such a way, the legs in another way, the body weight shifts here and there...half the time the end goal for each class is to not trip over yourself.

Launching into the full complexity of an art right away is neither effective nor productive.

Drills like yakusoku kumite are often valuable to teach a person what it's like to get "attacked" (even if it's under strict controls) and how to program the body to respond.

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Kata, sparring, and base level bunkai all help introduce the student to the ways in which they might defend themselves should trouble arrive.

The Fog of Complexity

As the years go by and students get exposed to the arts, they realize there might be more going on than previously suspected. Real altercations are rarely so organized as dojo drills, nor do they end as neatly as we might hope. Grappling, joint locking, pressure points, internal blending, dynamic striking, etc etc start to blip onto the radar as ways to improve overall skillset.

With so much out there it's easy to get lost completely in the fog of technique collection and creative brainstorming.

Moving from simplicity to complexity is something that often inspires trepidation and hesitation (with very legitimate cause). Nobody wants to become the armchair Sensei who can spout off 20 different vital point techniques but couldn't actually defend him/herself against Glass Joe from Punchout.

Furthermore, simple techniques with no particularly enhanced explanations still work. A kick to the groin and jab to the eyes requires very little tweaking. Why muck things up?

For me personally, deciding to jump into complexity came when I saw the depth of knowledge possessed by my instructors and how they translated it into their art. Instead of blocking an arm just to keep it from hitting me, I realized I could be activating a vital point for a devastating follow-up technique. Or I could be applying kuzushi at the same moment to off balance my attacker. Or perhaps I could be moving his centerline to make his next attack more predictable and therefore manageable, reducing (albeit never eliminating) the chaos of real combat.

Complexity invites you to explore the possibilities of human interaction.

The Depth of Simplicity

I wish I could tell you I've got everything figured out and the fog is gone, but that is woefully untrue. I keep my many limitations close in mind to make sure I don't get lazy.

However, there are certain things I have been able to bring back to simplicity through depth of study. The amazing thing is that my muscle memory has not gone away, nor has my ability utilize mushin (no mind) in unpredictable situations. Instead I have been able to better understand how to improve the simplicity of my techniques and utilize complex ideas like pressure points, tuite, etc within the same movement that would have been a simple block or punch previously.

The point of breaking down bunkai (kata applications) into minute pieces is not to impress others with your 10,000 ideas, but to get a little taste of why all those possibilities work or don't work. I have found many situations where I've said to myself "I better not do that again", which is extremely valuable to discover in the safety of a dojo environment.

With deep simplicity the body learns how to improve height, distance, angle, stance, and timing in conjunction with a continuum of strikes, grabs, and manipulations. All of that sounds complex unless you've thoroughly explored it and reapplied it to habitual acts of physical violence, such as common pushes, punches, and grabs.

All of this amounts to not needing the construction of yakusoku kumite or kata or even padded sparring when you arrive in a moment of conflict, but being able to effectively handle live situations at any range and with little warning.
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The following is a short clip taken from our IKKF Annual Training (2000) featuring Bill Hayes Sensei discussing a technique that starts out simple, but can be enhanced with depth of study and training. The technique is simple throughout but hardly the same from the beginning of the clip to the end.

(available here - http://fileserver.uechi-ryu.com/videos/hayes.wmv)

One of the guest instructors at our training was a gentleman named Miguel Ibarra. Ibarra Sensei studies and teaches aikijujutsu and has a dojo based out of Bronx, New York. Ibarra Sensei has been a probation officer in The Bronx for decades (now retired) and has what you might call 'real world experience'. Let's put it this way, if your interest is in street effective and tested methods, Ibarra Sensei is your guy.

That being the case, I asked him what he thought was more valuable during his time on the New York streets, striking or grappling. His answer was essentially as follows:

For a police or probation officer, grappling is a much much more valuable tool. You have to remember - when a cop strikes someone, the immediate reaction of everyone around (including the suspect) is to cry abuse and try to sue. That is not to downplay the seriousness and reality of police brutality, but perpetrators who are struck tend to believe they are innocent victims.

The recent video of a Seattle Police Officer was of particular interest in the conversation, which you can view here:

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This officer was in a dangerous situation, being grabbed at by two irate women and surrounded by individuals who were looming in a threatening manner. it was within the cop's legal right to strike the woman who accosted him. Yet, as we can see, this video has become an internet hot topic and has sparked controversy. If the officer had been able to handle the situation without striking, there would be no news at all from this arrest.

Ibarra Sensei's aikijujutsu (known for grappling and joint-locking) is swift, direct, and punishing. It has to be for his purposes. He explained that since law enforcement officers need to avoid striking whenever possible in order to prevent lawsuits and scandal, they need to have an excellent ability to use the force of physics and joint manipulation to gain compliance. He also noted the unreliability of pain compliance when dealing with an adrenaline pumped, drunk, or high assailant who would like nothing better than to stomp your face.

Interestingly, when the conversation shifted to civilian self defense, Ibarra Sensei had a much more accepting view of striking. The continuum of force for civilian-to-civilian is much more even than that of cop-to-civilian. Therefore, for a citizen, a threat of being struck can be responded to with a strike.

To learn more about the various use-of-force continuums, please visit this page for police, and this page for civilian martial artists.

Unfortunately, if you defend yourself at all during violent situations, our litigious society might still come knocking at your door. That's why it is good to actively de-escalate a situation and make sure bystanders see you trying (if you are lucky enough to get the chance).

Most experienced instructors I have encountered tend toward the mindset of "defend yourself first, worry about the legalities second". If in the heat of the moment you can stay within the continuum, that's optimal...but don't get yourself killed trying to play nice.

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One time Hayes Sensei was training with his instructor Eizo Shimabukuro on the kata Passai. This kata is known for its power generation and its sweeping motions that feel for the opponent and almost reach out to him/her.

After training, Shimabukuro mentioned that this kata was like fighting at night.

The statement caught Hayes Sensei's attention who thought he had gained some valuable insight into the original impetus for the form. Brave Okinawans, he  decided, must have crept along during the night and dispatched their opponents using the passai kata! Certainly that explains the 'feeling'  and 'scanning' hand and foot work.

Some time later the topic of Passai came up again, and Hayes Sensei engaged in discussion about how the kata came from night time fighting.

At that point Shimabukuro peered into Hayes Sensei's eyes as if to see if there were any lights on.

"No, no", he said. "Not at night. Like at night."

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Many times things can be lost in translation, especially when it comes to the mysteries of kata. In this case Shimabukuro Sensei was never suggesting that Passai kata was specifically for night time fighting, or that it was born from it. Instead he was trying to express that the same sensations and abilities you would rely upon at night are summoned and utilized via training in the Passai system.

Consider this: at night, you would not be able to see well. Therefore, when you make contact with an opponent, you must maintain Muchimi, or stickiness. Once that contact is made you can instinctively know where each part of your opponent's body is. Essentially, should it be necessary, you could fight blindly.

This is an important concept to remember when considering the adrenaline dump that occurs during combat. Humans acquire tunnel vision when under extreme stress, which means you will have much less visibility (even during broad daylight) than you are used to. Therefore you have to rely on proprioception and touch response to first acquire your target and then properly eliminate him/her.

It's important to remember that kata were not created for one specific environment or circumstance. That would be far too limiting a form of practice. Instead the concepts that are contained within each kata are omni-useful and work in harmony with the concepts of other kata.

The translation for the term Passai, which is frequently stated to be "penetrating the fortress" or "extracting from the fortress", is not to be taken literally. The name may have a poetic connection to breaking down the barriers of an opponent, but it was never necessary to have an actual castle involved.