Learning to kiai... the hard way!

Sensei Brown named his new group Ken-Ju-Bo-Ai and began offering classes at Pacific Judo Academy.

I was one of the first 12 to join. I was not just the only white belt but also the only teenager. The other 11 were grown men and black belts in judo and jujitsu. Most were either current or former judo competitors. And one of the group, Joe Molo, was a defensive tactics instructor for the San Francisco Police Department.

The first thing I learned was how to kiai. Now, people learn most things via one of three methods – reflection, instruction, or experience. The latter – experience – is generally the most memorable but also the most painful. And that was the method by which I learned to kiai. In my very first class, everyone knocked the wind out of me at least once.

Not only did I learn how to kiai in the process, but also how to keep fighting until I could regain my breath. If I hadn’t learned this skill quickly, I would have had far more than my breathing to worry about because no one ever stopped until told to do so. And Sensei Brown had announced at the start of our first class that he wanted to see blood at every workout… and he did… as well as broken legs, arms, toes, fingers, jaws, and collar bones. A fair amount of it was mine.

Sensei Brown focused much of our training on perfecting ways to attack four vital areas – the groin, solar plexus, throat, and eyes. We practiced attacking each of these in a variety of ways and from all angles, over and over until we could find them even in the dim light of nighttime streets.

We began each workout with a lot of body conditioning and toughening drills, especially our stomachs. In one drill, we practiced punching each other in the gut. In another, we would lie down on the mat side by side, our belts lined up with that of the person next to us. The first in line would get up and run across everyone’s stomachs, then lie down at the opposite end. The second person would repeat the process, then the third. But as this continued, people would pick up speed. Soon, feet were not always on target and would step on your groin, neck, or face.

Whenever someone got promoted, he had to stand in horse stance (kiba dachi), with his hands tucked into his belt behind his back. Everyone would line up and punch him one time in the gut, as hard as they could.

Laughing or joking around was forbidden. The only time we were allowed to laugh was when someone fell. Then, everyone would run over and laugh as they kicked the downed person relatively hard as he tried to get to his feet. This was done to teach us the price of going down in a fight and make us always struggle to stay on our feet.

To become an assistant instructor, I had to stand in a low horse stance with my thighs parallel to the floor and my arms out straight in front of me, level with my shoulders. I had to stay in that position, without moving, for thirty minutes. It was an extremely difficult task physically. But it was perhaps even more difficult mentally and spiritually – our spirits that part of us that keeps us going when every other part wants to quit.

It was a great learning tool, enabling me to better know myself and my level of inner strength. And it contributed towards the development of one of the most critical of martial qualities, self discipline. My mind learned through this and other drills and experiences to dominate my body.

A lack of self discipline is the great destroyer of our goals and dreams. Our bodies are born weak. And either our minds control our bodies, or our bodies control our minds. If our minds can’t dominate our weak, pleasure seeking bodies, they will always fail us when things get tough, robbing us of the achievement of any difficult goal we set for ourselves, cheating us of ever achieving success.

To stay in a low kiba dachi, I learned to make subtle adjustments in the muscles holding me up, relaxing one muscle a bit and tightening another to compensate, giving the first some rest before calling it back into service.

But most important, I also learned to keep my mind occupied on other things so it couldn’t dwell on the overwhelming pain and fatigue. I used rudimentary mental disassociation drills, which I would later research and refine, to get through this and many other difficult tasks in my years in karate.

I have a bit more to add about Sensei Brown, including the Hawaiian practice of “pinging”, that when coupled with a unique way to form a fist, allowed us to hit with all our force in a single knuckle, as with a ball peen hammer. I’ll also reveal important lessons I learned for personal security that are still of service to me almost 50 years later.

Thanks for reading the humble ramblings of an old man.