Author: Ashe Higgs

Introduction 

I sat down with Byron Jacobs, author of “Dragon Body, Tiger Spirit” and a budding master of Xingyiquan (形意拳), a traditional Chinese martial art. Xingyiquan, often translated as “Form and Intent Boxing,” is a potent Chinese martial art characterized by its linear movements, explosive power, and harmonious blend of mind and body. Rooted in ancient Chinese philosophy and warfare strategies, it emphasizes the unity of internal energy (Qi 气) and external techniques, offering practitioners a deep, holistic approach to self-defense and personal development.

From his first judo lessons at the age of six to the bustling streets of Beijing, Byron’s journey is a story of passion, tradition, and evolution.

He spoke of brick-floored training grounds, the chill of cold water on tired muscles, and the delicate balance between athleticism and the profound cultural depths of traditional Chinese martial arts.

The tension between the age-old practices and the modern competitive sporting world was evident in his voice, yet his respect for tradition never wavered.

Our conversation wove through the political landscapes, touching on the resilience of martial artists during China’s Cultural Revolution. As he discussed his book, it became clear that it was more than just a publication; it was a bridge connecting the ancient wisdom of the Old Masters to contemporary enthusiasts.

By the end, I realized Byron Jacobs is more than a martial artist. He’s a historian, a storyteller, and a beacon for those seeking to understand the heart of Chinese martial arts and the people behind them.

Byron Jacobs’ Martial Arts Journey

“Martial arts, in general, has been something that I was kind of crazy about since I was a kid,” he began, crediting Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris movies as early inspirations. With a lineage of karate black belts in his family, the martial arts bug bit him early. But it was Bruce Lee‘s iconic moves that he yearned to emulate. Starting with judo at six, he remarked, “I think Judo is a good base for young kids, especially at that age when they’re not so conscious in terms of using their logical brain, but they’re very conscious with their physical bodies.”

Byron’s journey took a turn towards Chinese martial arts in his teens, where he was introduced to Wushu and a little-known, eclectic family system. His passion for Chinese culture was evident as he shared his experience attending a Chinese High School in his native land of South Africa. The allure of Jet Li’s “Once Upon a Time in China” further fueled his fascination, leading him to competitive Wushu. 

Byron was pivotal in establishing the national representative Federation for Chinese martial arts in South Africa. After retiring as a competitor, his understanding and expertise led him to roles as an international certified judge and a technical representative.

Di Guoyong

However, having always had one foot in practical, combat-oriented martial arts, Byron began questioning the alignment of the sport of Wushu with traditional practices. “Why am I flipping three times and landing like this and destroying my knees?” he pondered. His quest for authenticity led him to Xingyiquan, a traditional Chinese martial art, and to Di Guoyong, a teacher he found to be “clear and concise.” Byron’s respect for his teacher was palpable as he spoke of their 15-year journey together.

The conversation took a critical turn as Byron touched upon the political landscape of sport Wushu. “I don’t want to sound too negative about sport Wushu and competitive Wushu. But there’s no other way to put it: the more you refine your knowledge in the traditional side of things, the more you see the problems [with sport Wushu], right, and in hindsight, I had the deluded idea that I could make an impact and try to change the direction of sport to pull it back to a more sane middle ground. And honestly, I did make some headway, but the political side of things just… you can’t deal with it,” he lamented. 

Shanxi Ren Clan Seven Star Mantis

Diving deeper into Byron’s martial journey, I probed about his foundational training. “Well, at that point, when I was staying in the school, he taught two main systems,” Byron began, shedding light on a lesser-known Mantis system. “It’s called Shanxi Mantis as opposed to Shangdong mantis,” he clarified. This unique system, a blend of soft mantis with Xingyi concepts and a touch of Tai Chi, intrigued me. “Shanxi Ren Clan Seven Star Mantis,” he named it, emphasizing its distinctiveness from the commonly known Seven-Star system.

But it wasn’t just the art that captivated me; it was Byron’s dedication. “I used to train on brick floors,” he recalled, painting a vivid picture of his rigorous training regime. The rawness of his experience was palpable as he described the lack of equipment and the toll it took on his body. “We had no equipment, and I used to do some of those crazy things that you see you have to do for Wushu, but I was young and stupid. So I destroyed my body thinking that I could just… I mean, you can’t do that stuff on equipment without destroying your body. So you can imagine what I did to myself over those years on brick floors.”

His spartan living conditions mirrored his training’s intensity. “I was sleeping in the storeroom,” he shared, drawing parallels to scenes from a Shaolin Temple movie. The absence of luxuries like hot water didn’t deter him. “I used to wash myself every night out of a big bucket with cold water,” he added, emphasizing the character-building nature of his journey.

“A little ‘Chiku (吃苦)?’,” I remarked, using the Chinese term that translates to ‘eating bitterness’ or enduring hardship, a concept deeply ingrained in kung fu training. I nodded in admiration.

“Exactly,” Byron affirmed.

Love of The Game: Byron’s Martial Arts Odyssey

As our conversation flowed, I delved into Byron’s motivations for heading to the mainland. “I had wanted to pursue a little bit more of the professional side of Chinese Wushu,” Byron shared, revealing his aspirations to train in the very heart of the discipline. He spoke of his annual trips to Shi Cha Hai (什刹海体育学校) in Beijing, where the legendary Jet Li once trained, and his endeavors to join one of the professional teams.

Yet, as with many journeys, Byron’s path took unexpected turns. “After they changed the rules… that’s when I was like, yeah, no, no, thanks. This is pointless now,” he remarked, highlighting the evolving landscape of sport Wushu. His initial immersion in the “old school” Wushu, which had a more traditional essence, contrasted sharply with the newer, more commercialized version and its emphasis on set difficulties for different elements, similar to gymnastics.

Curious, I probed further, “Did you have any long-term plan… or did you do it just purely for the love of the sport?” Byron’s response was candid, “I never had a plan… I just wanted to practice; I just want to do it.”

He expressed his bemusement to those who entered martial arts with the primary goal of teaching. “Martial arts should live inside you and develop inside you first before you can give it to somebody else,” he opined. Nodding in agreement, I reflected on the reality many face in the West. “Even professional fighters (usually) die broke,” I pointed out, emphasizing the importance of pursuing martial arts for passion rather than profit.

Sport Wushu Vs Traditional Kung Fu

Byron’s journey through martial arts is one of passion, discipline, and self-discovery. As we delved deeper into his experiences, the contrast between movie-inspired dreams and the gritty reality of martial arts became evident. “You took your initial inspiration from Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris… then you very quickly got into some real stuff,” I remarked, highlighting the transition from cinematic allure to genuine combat.

Byron’s response was enlightening. “I’d always been more practically minded,” he began, emphasizing his focus on the combat essence of martial arts. Even while practicing the sport of Wushu, Byron’s approach was rooted in functionality. “Where should my hand be for defense?” he’d often ponder, ensuring every move had a practical purpose.

However, Byron also highlighted the stark divide between traditional martial arts and the official sport Wushu movement. “Traditional martial arts after the Cultural Revolution… became a thing that is completely separate to the official sports movement,” he explained. This disconnect is still evident today, with traditional practitioners often expressing disdain for sport Wushu, viewing it as a cartoonish, circus-inspired pantomime of their cherished arts.

Wushu vs Sanda

Amid our conversation, Byron recounted an episode from his time at the academy in South Africa. As he practiced, some newer Sanda trainees, unaware of his background in Sanda, scoffed at his Wushu techniques, doubting their combat effectiveness. Rising to the challenge, Byron invited them to spar, proving his point a bit too emphatically, leaving one with a week-long absence and another nursing a three-day headache. Despite his overwhelming victory that day, deep down, Byron admitted his aggressive response was a manifestation of his own insecurities about Wushu. He had always sensed the limitations of Wushu in real combat, and this incident was a reaction to that truth he had been trying to suppress. 

Byron, with a thoughtful expression, acknowledged the undeniable benefits of Wushu’s athletic nature, emphasizing the physical development it offers in terms of flexibility, speed, and strength. “There’s undeniable value in the athleticism Wushu brings,” he began, “but it shouldn’t be the entirety of one’s training.” He stressed the importance of a robust technical foundation regarding combat effectiveness. 

I nodded in agreement, recalling a recent conversation with Tim Cartmell. “Tim mentioned something similar,” I shared. “Regardless of the martial art style, when it comes down to actual combat, it’s fundamentally an athletic event. That athleticism, the explosiveness, the flexibility, it’s all crucial. But,” I paused for emphasis, “as I always say, strength is a supplement, not a substitute for skill.” 

The technical base remains paramount.

The Cultural Revolution & Kung Fu: A Complex Legacy

We delved into a topic that has long been a point of contention among martial arts enthusiasts: the impact of the Communist and Cultural Revolutions on Chinese martial arts on the mainland. 

It’s a subject that often evokes strong emotions and polarized opinions, with some arguing that these political upheavals decimated traditional martial arts. In contrast, others believe they had little to no effect.

Martial Arts in Revolutionary China

Byron shed light on the often misunderstood impact of these political upheavals on martial arts. “When somebody wants to say that the Cultural Revolution wiped out all Chinese martial arts in the mainland, that’s… a very simplistic and somewhat ignorant understanding,” he remarked. While the Cultural Revolution did bring about challenges, it didn’t erase the deep-rooted martial arts traditions. Many practitioners, especially in rural areas, continued their training in secret.

He shared a personal story about his teacher’s mentors, Zhao Zhong and Li Ziming, who had contrasting experiences during these times. Zhao Zhong faced persecution due to his political affiliations, while Li Ziming, thanks to his connections, was left relatively unscathed. “Li Ziming was practicing in the 60s… during the chaotic height of the Cultural Revolution. He never stopped training,” Byron revealed. 

A Tale of Two Chinas

Such stories underscore the dichotomy of life in mainland China, simultaneously the “Wild West,” as Byron put it, within a dystopian, totalitarian state.

Byron also touched upon the post-revolutionary era, highlighting the gradual shift in public perception of martial arts. “In the sense of the public’s perception, it’s changed tremendously since then,” he noted. The government, recognizing the cultural value of martial arts, began to use it as a tool for Chinese “soft power,” attracting tourists dollars and a rising sense of nationalism. This shift, however, has its own set of implications, which only time will reveal.

One particularly evocative story Byron shared was the first public baishi ceremony after the Cultural Revolution. 

“Baishi” (拜师) is a traditional Chinese ceremony where a student formally becomes a disciple of a martial arts master. In Chinese martial arts culture, the baishi ritual signifies a deep commitment between the teacher and student, establishing a bond akin to a parent-child relationship. This ceremony underscores the student’s dedication to the art and the master’s responsibility to impart knowledge. It’s a revered tradition, marking a significant milestone in a martial artist’s journey.

Despite the uncertainties and potential risks, Li Ziming and his disciples, including Byron’s teacher, proceeded with the ceremony. “They did it. It was publicly known. And nothing happened, thankfully,” Byron said. This event marked a turning point, signaling a return to some semblance of normalcy.

Drawing a parallel with basketball in America, Byron concluded, “Chinese martial arts in China is so widespread, and for the majority of people training at the parks, it’s just a hobby and a bit of fun exercise. But if you look deep enough, you’ll find people that are very skilled, very serious, carrying a tradition and knowledge on from before those times.” 

Enter The Dragon Body, Tiger Spirit

Deciphering the Classics of Xingyiquan

I could have spent all day talking with Byron. His passion for the subject was palpable as he discussed his book, “Dragon Body, Tiger’s Spirit,” which seeks to illuminate the classics of Xingyiquan for a modern audience.

“The main part of the book is the classics,” Byron began, emphasizing the extensive nature of the Xingyiquan corpus. He mentioned various texts, such as the “Three Sections,” “Four Extremities,” and “Yuefei’s Nine Essentials Treatises,” which are universally recognized within the Xingyiquan community.

Byron’s approach to translating these classics is unique. “The essence of my translation is not to be a direct translation but to get the meaning and translate that so you understand what they’re trying to tell you,” he explained.

Dragon Body, Tiger Spirit on Amazon

This method ensures that readers grasp the deeper insights of the texts rather than getting lost in direct and often confusing, more literal translations.

A particular point of interest was the Neigong Sijing (內功四经), a text from the Song family. “The Neigong Sijing is in the book, although… it only came into the public purview about 100 years ago,” Byron shared. This text, rich in Chinese medical and philosophical theory, is not exclusively tied to Xingyiquan. Its origins remain shrouded in mystery, and its relevance to martial practice is debated.

The Power of Notetaking

In the midst of our conversation, I posed a question to Byron, seeking to understand the driving force behind his book. “What’s your purpose for writing the book? What do you hope to accomplish with it?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Byron’s response was a journey into the heart of traditional martial arts teaching. “The book initially wasn’t started as me trying to write a book,” he began, explaining that it was a culmination of his deep dive into ancient martial texts. He painted a vivid picture of his teacher, a figure from an older generation who seamlessly blended physical instruction with classical theory. “While teaching you, they recite the quanpu by heart.”  

“Quanpu” (拳谱) refers to the martial arts manuals or classics in Chinese martial arts. These written texts document the techniques, principles, philosophies, and histories of various martial arts styles. Quanpu play a significant role in the preservation and transmission of martial arts knowledge in China.

In traditional Chinese martial arts, oral transmission was the primary method of passing down knowledge from one generation to the next. However, as martial arts evolved and became more complex, there was a need to document this knowledge in a more structured and permanent form. This led to the creation of quanpu.

These manuals often include detailed illustrations of techniques, stances, and forms, accompanied by poetic verses or prose that describe the movements and their applications. The language used in quanpu is often symbolic and metaphorical, requiring interpretation and guidance from a knowledgeable teacher to fully understand and apply.

Your Pen Remembers

Bryon recalled his early days with his teacher, a meticulous learner who emphasized the importance of notetaking. “Where’s your pen and your notebook?” his teacher had asked during their first session. Byron chuckled, “I thought we were training.” But his teacher was adamant, “You won’t remember, but your pen remembers. So write that down.” This practice became a cornerstone of Byron’s learning process, resulting in piles of notebooks filled with wisdom.

Byron’s narrative took a nostalgic turn as he spoke of his teacher’s handwritten copies of the classics, a testament to a time when resources were scarce. “His teacher was illiterate,” Byron revealed, highlighting the challenges faced by the older generation. The classics, often rhyming and rhythmic in Chinese, were designed for oral transmission, catering to an illiterate audience.

I nodded in understanding, “Oral histories first.” This oral tradition, rooted in the rhythms and rhymes of the texts, was crucial for memorization, especially when many were illiterate. Byron, following his teacher’s footsteps, meticulously documented his learnings, gradually building a wealth of knowledge over the years.

The decision to transform these notes into a book was partly fueled by the need to clarify misunderstandings about classical texts in online forums and discussions. Locked into his neighborhood by the government, the plan-demic gave Byron the time to refine his notes further, leading to the eventual publication of his book.

Unlocking The Secrets of The Old Masters

Byron’s work is not just a translation; it’s an expansion and interpretation based on his evolving understanding of Xingyiquan. He acknowledges that while his book covers the generally accepted classics, it only encompasses some obscure texts. Through his translations, he noticed a pattern of repetition and expansion in the classics, indicating a generational layering of knowledge.

The quanpu, as Byron explains, were never intended for mass publication. They were personal notes, evolving instructions passed down through generations, expanding in theoretical content. This historical progression is evident in how concepts from earlier texts reappear and are elaborated in later ones.

Byron’s book, therefore, is more than a translation; it’s a testament to the living, breathing tradition of martial arts, where each generation contributes to the collective wisdom. His work underscores the importance of understanding the theoretical underpinnings of Xingyiquan, which he believes is essential for true mastery of the art.

The Relevance of Traditional Martial Arts in a Modern World

In a rapidly evolving world, the relevance of traditional martial arts in the 21st century might seem questionable or anachronistic to some. However, as I delved deeper into my conversation with Byron, it became evident that the essence of these arts goes beyond mere combat techniques.

Byron began by emphasizing the value of immersing oneself in a culture different from one’s own. “The study of a culture that’s not your own is beneficial to anybody,” he stated. This broadens horizons, offering a fresh perspective and a critical lens to view both the studied culture and one’s own. Through his book and the study of the classics, Byron highlighted how traditional Chinese martial arts offer a rich cultural experience, providing insights into Chinese philosophy and way of life.

But Can You Fight With It?

But what about the martial aspect? Byron was clear: “If you’re doing a martial art with no combat value, you’re not doing a martial art.” While acknowledging the undeniable martial essence, he also pointed out that traditional martial arts encompass more than just combat techniques. “We do Xingyiquan, we have big spears, we have swords… So you might ask yourself, why do that? Well, because it’s fun,” he remarked. The skills acquired from practicing with weapons, though not directly applicable in today’s world, can be transferred to other areas of life, including barehanded martial arts.

Byron also touched upon the importance of tradition. In a world where traditions are rapidly fading, he believes in their significance and the value they bring to individuals and societies. “Traditions are important. And continuing traditions are important,” he asserted. Handing down traditions not only enriches one’s life but also the lives of future generations.

Physical benefits aside, Byron emphasized the spiritual and psychological aspects of martial arts. Practices like Xingyiquan and Baguazhang focus on introspection and psychological development. “You’re directly working on psychological aspects, which I think are very important and very beneficial to your own development,” he concluded.

Bridging Cultures Through Martial Arts

Byron and I delved into the complexities of so-called “cultural appropriation,” especially in martial arts. “What the hell is cultural appropriation?” Byron exclaimed. He argued that culture is learned, not inherited. “If you’ve put in the time to learn that culture, then that culture is technically yours,” he said. This perspective resonated with me. Having dedicated two decades to Chinese martial arts, I’ve often grappled with my place in this ancient tradition as a “gweilo” (鬼佬, i.e., foreigner). Yet, as Byron pointed out, “If you’re learning Chinese martial arts, and it’s become part of your soul, that culture is yours, irrespective of the skin on your body.”

Byron’s words struck a chord. He emphasized that no one owns culture. Instead of gatekeeping, we should celebrate the exchange and sharing of traditions. This sentiment echoed my earlier thoughts on the depth and richness of Chinese martial arts. The intricate body of work offers profound insights into understanding oneself, both physically and mentally. 

Our conversation then circled back to preserving tradition in an increasingly digital world. As automation and technology advance, there’s a widening gap between age-old traditions and contemporary life. “The more people in general we have that are trying to keep alive some of these traditions as much as they can, probably for the better,” I mused.

In essence, our dialogue underscored the universality of martial arts. Beyond physical techniques, they serve as a bridge between cultures, fostering understanding and appreciation. In a world that often feels fragmented, traditions like these can help weave the threads of connection.

Conclusion

Byron Jacobs’ journey through martial arts and his dedication to preserving the essence of traditional Chinese martial arts in the modern world is nothing short of inspiring. 

His passion for Xingyiquan was palpable. “I find the overwhelming spirit and intent that you develop when you’re doing Xingyi to be something that is… Maybe it’s a bit addictive,” he mused. While he cherished his Bagua practice, Xingyi held a special place in his heart and daily routine.

Byron’s insights offered a window into the intricate world of martial arts, where choices aren’t just about techniques but resonate with personal journeys, philosophies, and life lessons. His deep understanding and respect for the culture, history, and philosophy behind the art is evident in his book, “Dragon Body, Tiger Spirit.” Through his work, he serves as a bridge connecting the wisdom of the Old Masters with contemporary enthusiasts, shedding light on the profound depths of Chinese martial arts. For those intrigued by Chinese martial arts, “Dragon Body, Tiger’s Spirit” promises a deep and enlightening journey.

Byron is not just a martial artist; he is a historian, a storyteller, and a beacon for those seeking to understand the heart of martial arts. His commitment to authenticity, his relentless pursuit of knowledge, and his unwavering love for the art make him a true embodiment of a living master.

Connect With Byron

For those looking to delve deeper into the martial arts wisdom of Byron Jacobs, you can connect with him through various platforms. Explore his insights and teachings on his YouTube Channel, Mushin Martial Culture. To learn more about his philosophy and access a broader spectrum of content, visit his website. Byron’s book “Dragon Body, Tiger Spirit” is available for purchase on Amazon.

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About the Author

Ashe Higgs, I Liq Chuan Master Instructor & L2 Nutrition Coach

Ashe is a highly skilled martial arts instructor and certified nutrition coach with over two decades of experience in the field. He holds a Master Instructor certification in I Liq Chuan under Sam FS Chin, making him one of only several individuals worldwide to hold the title. He has taught classes and workshops worldwide and is passionate about helping others achieve their fitness and wellness goals.

With a background in full-contact fighting and a Level 2 certification from Precision Nutrition in nutrition coaching, Ashe is a well-rounded expert in the fields of martial arts. In addition to his expertise, he has a wealth of experience in teaching and mentoring others. He has a natural ability to connect with his students and inspire them to reach their full potential.

Read more about Ashe here…

Introduction To Funker Tactical

Bridging Tactical Concepts with Martial Arts

Dive into an enlightening dialogue between myself and Paulo Rubio, the prodigious expert in the Filipino Martial Art of Pekiti Tirsia Kali. Currently operating out of Toronto, Canada, Paulo’s journey in martial arts began when he was merely 14 years old. Today, he is the genius behind the YouTube sensation Funker Tactical, a channel that has magnetized over a million subscribers.

Beyond his digital success, Paulo’s recent years have been deeply engrossed in Filipino Martial Arts, especially the nuanced knife and single-stick combat techniques. Through his vast experiences, Paulo endeavors to create a harmonious blend of tactical concepts with Modern Combat Systems, age-old martial arts, and the dynamic world of combat sports.

How did a 14-year-old’s curiosity evolve into a profound understanding of the intricate Filipino Martial Art of Pekiti Tirsia Kali? What drives Paulo Rubio to bridge the gap between traditional martial arts and modern combat systems? And with over a million subscribers on his YouTube channel, what secrets does Paulo share about the dedication and discipline martial arts demand?

An Unconventional Path to Filipino Martial Arts

“I’ve taken a somewhat strange path,” Paulo began, his words painting a picture of a spirit gripped by the intricate art of combat yet never tethered to a single doctrine or guru. His journey, devoid of regularly scheduled classes or allegiance to one system, was a testament to his belief in a Socratic, artistic, and explorative approach to learning martial arts. “Pekiti Tirsia is my base. It’s what I found to resonate with me,” he shared, revealing a connection beyond mere physical practice.

Paulo’s path was carved by traveling, seeking wisdom from various masters, and engaging in as many fights as possible – a trial by fire, as he put it. His learning was not confined to the theoretical or the traditional; it was raw, real, and forged in the crucible of actual combat, albeit in a controlled environment. “As I travel the world, I get in as many fights as I can, and stick fighting and knife fighting,” he explained, his journey punctuated by encounters with various forms and masters, from Kalisi to Illustrisimo.

Yet, his approach to teaching and learning was not haphazard. It was, in fact, deeply rooted in respect for tradition and a keen understanding of the commonalities that bind various martial arts forms together. Paulo’s method involved identifying and weaving these common threads into coherent, applicable knowledge that could be adapted and personalized to each student’s unique background and skills. “I take the Filipino Martial Arts principles and concepts, and I teach it in a way that respects tradition, for sure, but also in a way that is specialized to the student,” he elucidated.

Humility & Exploration

His words echoed a philosophy that was both humble and profound. Paulo does not see himself as a master but as a perpetual student, always learning and evolving. His journey was not just about the tradition of martial arts but also a practical and philosophical exploration that sought to bridge tactical concepts and modern combat systems with traditional martial arts and combat sports.

As our conversation unfolded, it became evident that Paulo Rubio’s journey was not merely a personal quest for mastery but a broader mission to explore, understand, and share the boundless depths of martial arts. His story, documented meticulously through videos and shared with the world, was not just his own but a reflection of the infinite, complex, and beautifully chaotic world of martial arts.

Bridging the Gap: Integrating Tactical and Traditional Martial Arts

The Intersection of Tactical Training and Martial Arts

Paulo’s entry into the tactical world was not through conventional military or law enforcement service routes but through a serendipitous connection and a genuine desire to help a friend.

“There was a friend of mine; his name is Chris,” Paulo began, his words painting a poignant picture of a combat veteran returning from Afghanistan, grappling with the unseen wounds of war. With his storytelling, filming, and editing skills, Paulo sought to help Chris find purpose and community by sharing his story. “Let’s meet up, tell your story, and share it with others. And see if, you know, there’s a community we can build around this,” he recalled of their initial endeavors.

This act of friendship and storytelling unexpectedly propelled Paulo into a world populated by soldiers, combat veterans, and law enforcement officers. His ability to resonate with the tactical community through his storytelling found him navigating through environments and learning from subject matter experts many seldom encounter. “I just found myself in a lot of crazy environments, learning from a variety of different experts,” he shared.

Paulo’s journey into the tactical realm is deeply intertwined with ethical considerations and respect for operational and individual security.

“I have stacks of hard drives of unreleased material, just because some of the units that I’ve filmed training with the subject matter experts that I found, I can’t post it up for OpSec, or personal security reasons, or it’s just not ethically right to publish it,” he explained.

The Philosophical and Practical Aspects of Pekiti Tirsia Kali

Embracing the Chaos: The Philosophy and Principles of Pekiti Tirsia Kali

“Pekiti Tirsia is very heavy on distance management, fueled by really aggressive footwork,” he began, painting a picture of a system that is not only physically demanding but also technically and tactically profound. It’s a system that doesn’t seek to control chaos but rather curates it, acknowledging the myriad ways conflict can unfold. “There’s a million ways that two knives can clash. Two swords can clash,” he mused, hinting at the boundless complexity and the inherent unpredictability of the martial art.

Pekiti Tirsia Kali, as Paulo described, is not merely a martial art but a comprehensive system that has found its place in the training regimes of the force recon Marines, intertwining traditional martial arts concepts with modern combative applications. “It’s a super community,” he noted. He emphasized a collective as committed to pressure testing and evolution as respecting tradition and engaging in the blurred lines between hard sparring and fighting in the mutual pursuit of operational success.

The Pekiti Tirsia Tactical Association, to which Paulo belongs, was founded by Tuhon Jared Wihongi, a SWAT operator and a figure who has seamlessly woven together traditional and modern combative elements. “He has found a way to delineate but also integrate traditional concepts with a modern combatives program,” Paulo shared, revealing respect for a man who has distilled various martial arts forms into the TRICOM system, a defensive tactics and force integration system that encompasses elements of wrestling, jujitsu, boxing, Muay Thai, and, of course, Pekiti Tirsia Kali.

Dance of The Blade: Pekiti Tirsia in the Heart of the Philippines

I asked Paulo about how Filipino culture influenced Pekiti Tirsia and why Filipino culture consistently emphasized the importance of the blade in their traditional martial arts when other arts, like traditional jujitsu, abandoned the premise of armed attackers over time.

Paulo began to weave a narrative that bridged the martial art with the rich, tumultuous history of the Philippines. “We were a conquered nation multiple times over,” he began, echoing the resilience and resistance permeating the archipelago’s history. The blade, ever-present in Filipino martial arts, is not merely a weapon but a symbol of a persistent insurgency against colonization and a practical tool in the agrarian and sometimes lawless landscapes of rural areas. “There’s agriculture, and some places don’t have a police force,” Paulo noted, hinting at a Wild West mentality where mutual respect is forged from the understanding that everyone is potentially armed.

Pekiti Tirsia Kali, deeply rooted in this bladed culture, is also informed by the tribal nature of Filipino society. The martial art doesn’t merely prepare one to face a single opponent but assumes a scenario where multiple armed adversaries are the norm. “Our footwork and trajectory changes,” Paulo explained, “really comes from this founding philosophy that we’re not just fighting one person. We’re fighting multiple opponents, and they’re all armed.”

Nature or Nurture?

As our conversation meandered through the dense metaphorical jungles of the Philippines, I pondered the influence of the physical environment on the martial art. Paulo acknowledged the validity of this, citing the adaptability of Pekiti Tirsia Kali to various environments, from the narrow streets of Manila to the muddy, sandy terrains of the jungle. Yet, he emphasized a universality in its concepts – mobility, and adaptability – and a belief in its applicability in any environment.

Pekiti Tirsia Kali, as Paulo eloquently put it, is “the art of the living past in modern times.” It’s a martial art that honors its roots while pulsating vibrantly in the present; adaptable, and capable of being learned proficiently in a relatively short time. “Give me four weeks, and I’ll get you proficient and fighting in it,” Paulo declared, underscoring a belief in the martial art’s practicality, its immediate applicability, and its enduring relevance in a world that, much like the art itself, continues to evolve and adapt.

Filipino Combat Systems: An Introduction to An Ancient Art For Modern Times on Amazon

The Stick and the Sword: Nuances of Filipino Martial Arts

Paulo and I delved into a topic that has sparked many a heated debate in the Filipino martial arts community: the stick versus the sword. “Yes. And no,” Paulo began, addressing my query about whether the stick is merely a stand-in for training with a live blade. He elucidated that while the rattan stick can be a placeholder for the sword or machete in specific contexts, it also holds its own identity in stick fighting. “In one moment, I’m like, Okay, I’m stick fighting because that’s super primal and awesome. So I’m just stick fighting. And then I’ll take a moment on the next clash. And I’d be like, I’m going to respect this as a placeholder for the blade,” he shared, revealing the fluidity he navigates between perceiving the stick as a weapon in its own right and as a surrogate for the blade.

Principle-Based Learning

The Transferability of Techniques in Pekiti Tirsia

Navigating the intricate world of Filipino Martial Arts (FMA), Paulo and I found ourselves entwined in a discussion about teaching and learning methodology within the art form. “I do it concurrently,” Paulo asserted when I probed whether he introduces stick techniques before transitioning a student to a knife or teaches them simultaneously. His philosophy leans heavily into principle-based learning, a method that, in his words, ensures that “as long as the lessons adhere and are congruent with those same principles,” a myriad of techniques can be introduced without overwhelming the student.

Paulo’s approach to teaching FMA is not without its critiques of the broader community. He was skeptical about the philosophy of transferability of skill prevalent in FMA, cautioning against viewing it as a “magic pill.” He elaborated, “Some people who, you know, wave sticks around in the air think that all of a sudden, they got hands, like they can throw down with hands.” His words hint at a critical perspective that challenges practitioners to not merely rely on the transference of skills from one weapon to another but fully immerse themselves in the unique demands and training methodologies each tool requires.

The conversation took a deeper dive as Paulo highlighted a potential pitfall in FMA’s approach to empty-hand techniques, critiquing the tendency to apply the same drill and technique-oriented approach used for weapons to unarmed combat. “With empty hands, I believe in a different separate approach first before we integrate that in,” he shared, emphasizing the importance of establishing a solid foundation in basic boxing before integrating more complex, FMA-specific handwork.

Unveiling the Curriculum of Pekiti Tirsia Kali

Paulo and I delved deeper into the intricate tapestry of Pekiti Tirsia Kali, exploring its curriculum and the philosophical underpinnings that guide its teachings. “It’s four fundamentals,” Paulo began, laying out a seemingly simple foundation that belies the depth and complexity of the martial arts. He emphasized the role of drills that challenge practitioners, not just physically but mentally, honing their “timing, decision making under stress,” and various attributes like “speed, power, timing, precision,” and notably, “grip strength.“

Paulo’s approach to teaching beginners in Pekiti Tirsia is refreshingly straightforward: “five strikes, all footwork models, and one or two defenses.” Yet, he cautioned against becoming too ensnared in the allure of flow drills, which, while fun, carry “a high rate of diminishing return” if they become too rote, too rehearsed, and cease to challenge the practitioner.

The conversation took a fascinating turn as we explored the documentation and transmission of Pekiti Tirsia’s curriculum. Paulo shared insights into the unique journey of Grand Tuhon Leo Gaje, the sole grand Tuhon of the system, who traveled globally, imparting teachings often tailored to his student’s strengths and capabilities. This has led to a rich, albeit somewhat fragmented, body of knowledge within the Pekiti Tirsia community, where different regions and even individual tuhons may possess specialized knowledge in various subsystems of the art.

While the system is “codified,” with commendable documentation by figures like Bill McGrath and various instructors, Paulo acknowledged the inherent challenge in fully encapsulating the totality of Pekiti Tirsia Kali. Different branches within the Pekiti Tirsia family tree have their own “interpretation and philosophies and flavor,” and practitioners may find themselves on a lifelong journey exploring just one aspect of the art.

Mysticism and Modernity

The Unseen Layers of Pekiti Tirsia Kali Training

As Paulo and I continued our dialogue, the conversation took an unexpected yet intriguing turn toward the mystical aspects embedded within Pekiti Tirsia Kali. “There are still parts of it that are rooted in mysticism,” Paulo revealed, introducing me to the concept of “oroshon’s,” described as magic spells, and “anting anting,” amulets and symbols that supposedly render warriors impervious to blade strikes. “The power of belief is compelling. It’s powerful,” he mused, acknowledging a sliver of openness to these cultural practices despite their seemingly supernatural nature.

Our discussion then then navigated back towards the physical, exploring unconventional training methods within the martial art. Paulo shared vivid images of practitioners waist-deep in the ocean, practicing lateral strikes against the water, slapping coconut trees and rocks to condition their bodies. These methods, deeply rooted in the physicality and environment of the Philippines, offered a stark contrast to the mystical elements previously discussed.

However, the conversation took a critical turn when we broached the topic of live blade training. Paulo expressed an evident skepticism towards this practice, stating, “Live blade training outside of solo training is kind of ridiculous, in my opinion.” He emphasized that when two people train with live blades, their primary objective becomes avoiding injuring their partner, which is “contrary to what we’re actually trying to do.” Our discussion highlighted a tension between traditional practices and modern sensibilities, particularly when considering the availability of modern training tools that offer realistic feedback without the inherent risks of live blade training.

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Advice For Beginners

The Pitfalls of Rank and Ego in Martial Arts

I leaned into a favorite topic that’s often overlooked but crucial for anyone venturing into martial arts: common mistakes beginners make.

“It’s that instant gratification,” Paulo said. “Wanting the next thing without mastering the basics. And rank chasing. Feeling validated by that rank, giving up your freedom to some [guru] who might not have your best interests in mind.” He emphasized the danger of external validation, suggesting that martial artists look instead outside their organization. “Maybe I practice karate, but I also test my skills with friends in a garage. My validation comes from experience, not just a rank.”

I nodded, adding, “It’s a drawback in traditional martial arts. People identify with their rank; they make it their personality, and they’re afraid of losing face.” I contrasted this with Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, where tapping out is part of the training, keeping the ego in check. “There’s no better way to stay humble than losing on a regular basis.”

Paulo agreed, pointing out the unique challenges in Filipino martial arts. “We deal with blades. People want certainties, and there’s always someone ready to offer them. Many stop sparring and stop testing themselves. They don’t adapt as they age, resting on past achievements.”

Finding Your Best Path: Proximity and Passion

Paulo’s response was both practical and insightful when asked for tips on how beginners can find the right martial art for them. “Take the martial art closest to your home,” he began, emphasizing the importance of making practice sustainable over the long term. It’s a simple yet profound point. The closer the dojo or gym, the more likely you are to stick with it, to immerse yourself in the practice, and to honestly give it a chance.

But what if you’re spoiled for choice, with a plethora of martial arts schools at your fingertips? Paulo’s advice was clear: “Take trial classes.” But more than the techniques taught or trophies on display, he stressed the significance of the community. “Really scrutinize and examine the community, the people there,” he advised. It’s the people, the camaraderie, and the shared passion that can truly make or break one’s martial arts journey.

Paulo’s words resonated with me. Too often, we place undue expectations on martial arts, hoping it will be a panacea for all our woes. Yet, at its core, martial arts is about passion, discipline, and community. “Find something that you enjoy,” Paulo urged, a sentiment I wholeheartedly echo. And if all else fails? “The short answer is jujitsu,” he quipped with a chuckle. It’s hard to argue with that.

Conclusion

Paulo’s journey in the world of martial arts has been nothing short of remarkable. From a young boy’s curiosity to becoming the genius behind the YouTube sensation Funker Tactical, Paulo’s dedication to bridging traditional martial arts with modern combat systems is truly inspiring. His innovative path, filled with travels, seeking wisdom from various masters, and engaging in numerous fights, showcases his commitment to an empirical yet artistic and explorative approach to learning martial arts. Paulo’s teachings emphasize principle-based learning, ensuring techniques are introduced without overwhelming the student. His insights into the unconventional aspects of Pekiti Tirsia Kali, combined with his practical advice for beginners, offer a comprehensive and nuanced view of martial arts.

In conclusion, I am profoundly grateful to Paulo for sharing his wisdom and experiences. His dedication to the art of Pekiti Tirsia Kali and his efforts to reconcile traditional and modern tactical martial arts are commendable.

Connect With GD Funker Tactical

For those eager to delve deeper into Paulo’s world, I highly recommend visiting his website, subscribing to his YouTube channel, Funker Tactical, and following him on Instagram. Your journey into the world of martial arts will undoubtedly be enriched by his insights and teachings.

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About the Author

Ashe Higgs, I Liq Chuan Master Instructor & L2 Nutrition Coach

Ashe is a highly skilled martial arts instructor and certified nutrition coach with over two decades of experience in the field. He holds a Master Instructor certification in I Liq Chuan under Sam FS Chin, making him one of only several individuals worldwide to hold the title. He has taught classes and workshops worldwide and is passionate about helping others achieve their fitness and wellness goals.

With a background in full-contact fighting and a Level 2 certification from Precision Nutrition in nutrition coaching, Ashe is a well-rounded expert in the fields of martial arts. In addition to his expertise, he has a wealth of experience in teaching and mentoring others. He has a natural ability to connect with his students and inspire them to reach their full potential.

Read more about Ashe here…

East Meets West: A Journey To Mastery 

Tim Cartmell is a martial arts maestro with a journey that spans continents, styles, and decades. Where tradition meets modernity, Tim stands as a bridge between ancient practices and contemporary combat sports; he is a renowned martial artist and author known for his expertise in Chinese martial arts and achievements in Brazilian Jiujitsu, with several influential books to his name and numerous championships in submission grappling. From the quiet discipline of Taiwan’s traditional Kung Fu schools to the adrenaline-charged world of Brazilian Jiujitsu, Cartmell’s story is one of passion and a relentless pursuit of mastery. 

The Old Masters guarded their secrets closely, revealing them only to a chosen few, so the journey to mastery is rarely straightforward. Cartmell’s experiences offer a unique perspective on the evolution of a modern martial arts master. But how did he bridge the gap between these diverse disciplines of traditional martial arts and modern combat sports? What challenges did he face, and what drove him to embrace such varied forms of combat? And perhaps most intriguingly, what can we learn from his experiences that might reshape our own pursuit of martial arts? 

Tim Cartmell’s Humble Beginnings

“I started in a Chinese martial arts style called Kung Fu San Soo (功夫散手) when I was just a boy,” Tim began. His soft-spoken voice and mild mannerisms hide his deadly abilities. Beneath his slender frame lay a deep well of fighting expertise. The transition from San Soo to the “internal styles” of martial arts was a quest for deeper understanding; he explained, “The idea of maximizing your body power, the intent and those kinds of things… it seemed very developed in the internal styles,” an assessment I completely agree with.

There’s a certain magnetism to the old tales of martial artists who, in search of mastery, make the pilgrimage to distant lands. Tim Cartmell took me on one such odyssey. “I was getting out of college. And I decided I wanted to further my training, and I wanted to travel.” 

Tim’s inspiration drew from Robert Smith’s classic books. “I’d read Smith’s books, like ‘Masters and Methods‘ and was very interested in…going back to China to train, you know, at the source kind of thing,” he shared. Surprisingly, despite being deeply invested in martial arts, he had “never seen any of the internal styles live,” apart from a fleeting Tai Chi demo. 

Iron Sharpens Iron – Tim’s Time In Taiwan

Tim Cartmell’s experiences in Taiwan unravel like silk delicately drawn from a cocoon, interspersed with dedication and serendipitous meetings. I probed, “So, who did you primarily train with during your time in Taiwan?” Tim took a moment, memories flooding back, “I had quite a few teachers.” He began detailing his experiences, notably with Xu Hongji in Shenlong Tang Shou Dao Xingyi (神龍唐手道 形意拳). This wasn’t just any school – it was a fight school, giving Tim an immersive dive into San Da (散打) tournaments.

What Is San Da?

I often like to describe San Da as “3/4 MMA.” It ingeniously combines the rich legacy of Chinese martial arts with the modern demands of full-contact fighting. While emphasizing strikes, takedowns, and throws, it stops short of the ground-fighting element commonly found in full mixed martial arts. This unique fusion offers fighters a space where traditional Kung Fu techniques meet contemporary combat sports’ intense, fast-paced arena.

Throughout my journey in the martial arts world, I’ve had the privilege of competing in San Da tournaments throughout the US. San Da stands out as a stellar ruleset; it crafts fast-paced bouts that are exhilarating for both the fighters and spectators alike. A unique aspect of these tournaments is the “lei tai” (擂台) — a raised platform on which the combat takes place. The absence of ropes or cages introduces an additional strategic element: fighters can win not just by strikes or throws but also by pushing their opponent off the platform, adding another layer of excitement to an already thrilling contest.

He painted a vivid picture: “The training was very…there was a lot of conditioning, and then we did the traditional Xingyi.” The element of sparring stood out – they sparred in every class, constantly pushing their limits. His voice hinted at a fond nostalgia when he spoke about the school’s emphasis on sparring and competition, a combination not frequently found in traditional martial arts training.

Tim’s story turned poignant as he revealed Xu Hongji’s passing after just a few months. But, true to his commitment, Tim continued for another three years under Xu’s son, deepening his roots in the same esteemed lineage. “I’d never seen a Xingyi class or a Bagua group before I went,” he confessed, underscoring his leap into the unknown with an insatiable thirst for authentic martial arts.

As he delved further, names like Chen Zuozhen, Lin Ahlong, and Luo Dexiu rolled off his tongue, painting a vibrant picture of masters and styles that contributed to his evolution. His encounter with Dan Miller opened doors to the mainland, where he connected with famed martial artists, notably Liang Kequan. 

My eyes were drawn to an exquisite calligraphy piece adorning his backdrop. “I was gonna ask you if that calligraphy on the wall was by Liang Kequan?” I inquired. 

Tim shook his head with a soft smile, “No, this is Sun Zhijun. He was widely recognized as the greatest living Bagua master and also a master calligrapher.” Although Tim’s sessions with Sun were limited, he commissioned a piece of art from the legendary figure. “That’s my favorite poem,” Tim mused, nodding towards the artwork. 

From Kung Fu San Soo to Modern Fighting Techniques

When Tim Cartmell first stepped foot in Taiwan, he was, by all accounts, a stranger in a strange land. With no grasp of Mandarin, he was led only by his indomitable passion for martial arts. “I couldn’t speak any Chinese yet,” he admitted.

Tim’s first meeting with Xu Hongji, a revered name, bore the nostalgic essence of old-school Kung Fu movies. Tim recalled, “He told me he didn’t really teach new students anymore.” Yet, as a test of Tim’s commitment, the master invited him to join his “morning exercise” sessions at Yuan Shan. And so began Tim’s initiation.

It started with foundational exercises under another instructor, gradually transitioning into lessons directly from Xu. “One day, he said this is Pi Quan, and he showed me the first form,” Tim reminisced, a tone of gratitude evident.

Tim’s response was casual when I pressed him about the school’s emphasis on strength and conditioning. The students underwent rigorous routines, including fu hu gong (伏虎功) derived from judo. Long and grueling classes involved warm-ups, judo-derived exercises, standing postures, forms, and sparring.

Beyond Xu Hongji, Tim’s journey in Taiwan connected him with several notable martial artists. Luo Dexiu, a name I was familiar with, stood out. However, it was Chen Zhouzhen who piqued my curiosity. Tim described him as an influential figure who introduced him to Hebei Xingyiquan and an older, medium-frame version of Yang Taiji.

Venturing Into The Heartland of Kung Fu

The journey to mastery is seldom linear. Such was the story of Tim Cartmell, who took a serendipitous detour into mainland China inspired by an unplanned connection. “So I traveled there a couple of times,” he began, emphasizing that his initial ventures into China were solely exploratory.

Meeting Dan Miller, the man behind the well-researched Bagua Journal, changed everything for Tim. Miller’s search for a translator collided with Tim’s by now, linguistic prowess and interest. “Dan came and was looking for a translator,” he revealed. Their subsequent travels exposed Tim to the inner circles of China’s martial arts landscape, where traditions, skills, and legacies intertwine.

With his deep connections, Miller provided Tim access to many of the biggest names practicing traditional arts on the mainland. It was this newfound exposure that anchored Tim’s resolve. “That’s when I met the teachers and decided to go to the mainland and train,” he reflected.

While Tim’s time on the mainland wasn’t continuous, it was intense and transformative. “I’d stay for a couple of months, then go back and work and train. I did that a couple of times a year for about five years,” he detailed. The ebb and flow of his visits became a rhythm, with each return deepening his understanding and refining his skills.

Such intermittent immersions highlight the dynamic and unpredictable pathways martial arts can guide a practitioner down. Each journey, each connection, serves as a stepping stone, further embedding the spirit of the art in the practitioner.

Gracie In Action Tape: Tim’s Introduction to BJJ

If ever there was a testament to life’s serendipitous moments steering our course, it’s Tim Cartmell’s chance discovery of Brazilian Jiujitsu (BJJ) in a random bookstore. 

Flipping through an early 90s issue of Black Belt magazine, an obscure ad in the back caught Tim’s eye. “Brazilian Jiujitsu…real fights.” Curious and slightly skeptical, he bought the Gracie In Action tape depicted in the ad. The raw realness of the fights and the evident strategy behind them resonated with him. “I had a little wrestling experience…most fights end up on the ground,” Tim mused. 

His enthusiasm soon spread to an old friend, a formidable bouncer and San Soo fighter from Texas. Skeptical at first, his friend later took on the Gracie challenge, ending up in a quick, humbling submission by the legendary Rickson Gracie.

His change of heart was complete, culminating in him training rigorously in BJJ and becoming an instructor. Afterward, he told Tim, “You know, I took one look at Rickson, And I knew I was in trouble.” “But,” he said, “in my wildest dreams. I had no idea how fast I would lose.”

Back in Taiwan, Tim’s commitment to Jiujitsu only deepened. The first UFC event proved a pivotal moment. Tim recalled, “I said the skinny Brazilian kid will win, and everyone laughed.” The world soon stopped laughing as BJJ’s efficacy was showcased for all to see.

By the time he returned to California in ’94, BJJ was taking the US by storm. Tim trained under various instructors, eventually earning his black belt from Cleber Luciana. This newfound expertise led him to compete in pro submission grappling in his 40s, a challenging endeavor.

At Shen Wu Academy in LA, Tim taught Brazilian Jiujitsu and traditional Chinese arts while introducing a unique “ground proofing” program. Disheartened by the business demands, he transitioned as a coach to ACE Jiujitsu, emphasizing competition and instruction. His deep BJJ expertise, enriched by Chinese martial arts, paved the way for his MMA coaching. Since the early 2000s, Tim has been an instrumental figure at ACE Jiujitsu, molding fighters and sharing his extensive knowledge, reflecting his own path and the transformative journey of a style that reshaped global fighting perspectives.

Blending Old and New: Tim Cartmell’s Insights on Martial Arts

Diving into the vast ocean of martial arts, I was curious to understand the harmony between ancient traditions and contemporary combat sports. It wasn’t about contrasting them but a genuine inquiry rooted in open-hearted curiosity.

I turned to Tim Cartmell for insights. His deep involvement in both realms made him an ideal voice. “What can each discipline teach the other?” I asked.

Tim emphasized the adaptability of MMA. “They’ll learn anything from anyone as long as you can prove it works,” he noted, highlighting its foundational principle. This isn’t arrogance but a relentless quest for what’s practical.

However, while MMA is grounded in its practical testing against skilled opponents, traditional martial arts can sometimes lean heavily into forms, missing out on the real essence of combat.

Offering an analogy, Tim remarked, “Imagine being in a boxing gym. If all you did was jump rope and hit a heavy bag, you still can’t box.” The underlying message: mere forms without the test of combat fall short.

Yet, Tim’s perspective wasn’t about discounting traditional martial arts. Instead, he pointed out the strength and wisdom they carry. While MMA fighters are unquestionably formidable in street scenarios, the mindfulness fostered by traditional arts can provide invaluable insights, especially when external factors like the environment or potential weapons are involved.

Concluding, Tim stressed the importance of intention. Being clear about your purpose is crucial whether you’re into martial arts for defense, sport, or personal growth.

Bridging Traditional Chinese Martial Arts & BJJ

My quest for understanding how traditional Chinese martial arts mesh with modern fighting techniques led me to another poignant question for Tim Cartmell. Could years of practice in the ancient arts be an asset or perhaps an obstacle in Jiujitsu?

Tim’s response was enlightening, “Absolutely. It established a discipline.” It wasn’t just the physical form but the discipline, the mind-body unity, the consciousness of movement that Chinese martial arts instilled in him. These foundational principles didn’t need to be relearned when he ventured into Jiujitsu.

He vividly drew parallels, “What we’d call in Tai Chi as ‘freestyle pushing hands’ in English, we call it wrestling.” The sensitivity, the intuitive nature of predicting an opponent’s move, was a strength Tim had honed during his years with traditional arts. Some techniques, like the throws in Baguazhang, felt familiar, even if the ground combat was new territory.

While the principles shared between the two practices were theoretically clear, their application took time to crystallize, especially on the ground. “Several years in my jiujitsu training,” as Tim recalled.

Sparring, Tim emphasized, was the laboratory of real-world application. It’s one thing to execute a move on a compliant opponent but in a live setting? That’s the actual challenge. It was in these sparring sessions that Tim could dissect what he had learned from Chinese martial arts and adapt, refine, and test them.

He pointed out the inherent limitation of traditional styles, particularly the absence of ground fighting. Although he didn’t say so explicitly, my impression was that while Tim had internalized everything of value he could from his Kung Fu days, he had largely left them behind.

A Fusion of Martial Arts Discipline and Innovation

As our conversation continued, I felt a growing sense of desperation to find some thread of Kung Fu in the combat sports champion. “How much of what you learned from your time in Taiwan and China do you still practice regularly?” I asked.

Tim’s answer was reflective yet deep-rooted in his experiences. “The body use that I learned, certain alignments and ways to coordinate your body. That’s in everything,” he explained. It was as if the foundational principles he had embraced in China and Taiwan had seamlessly blended into his current practices.

Although traditional forms weren’t a staple in his routine, he saw value in teaching them to those still interested in the old ways. Everything, from the most complex martial sequence to a simple push-up, was a form for Tim. “It’s a Kata. You should always be paying attention to your alignment, your relationship with gravity,” he asserted. 

What Breath Work Does Tim Cartmell Practice?

“Is there any type of Qigong or even breath work you incorporate for recovery or to modulate your mental state?” I inquired, searching for insights deeper than mere physical movements.

“My breath work is incorporated into everything I do,” he began. His journey into the art of breathing started young, intertwined with yoga and the varied pranayama exercises. Yet, it was evident that while the specific exercises faded over the years, the essence remained. 

Breathe, A Life In Flow by Rickson Gracie

He reminisced about training with Rickson Gracie, a name synonymous with ju-jitsu. “Rickson is big on yogic breathing,” Cartmell mused, delving into techniques tied to the heat of competitions, about catching your breath amidst a fierce duel. “Those things, I use when I grapple,” he said, emphasizing its significance.

Through Cartmell’s words, I was reminded that in the grand dance of martial arts, it’s not just about power and form but also the subtlety of breath. It’s a rhythm, a life force, and a strategy all rolled into one.

But what struck me most was Tim’s vision of transcending styles. “If somebody can throw a hard front kick, and they kick you in the face, can you tell what style it’s from? I think not.” There was no rigid boundary between styles for him. It was about imbibing the essence of the strategy and fluidly merging them.

Drawing Lines Between Tradition & Combat

Leaning into the conversation, “With your broad training base, how would you approach teaching someone unfamiliar with martial arts?” I inquired.

Tim’s response was thoughtful, colored by the wisdom of his experience. “I have a method broken down,” he begins. “One that I teach a lot is ‘ground proofing‘ — grappling self-defense for non-grapplers.” He paints a vivid image of an integrated system he has taught to various police departments, and throughout Europe. Tim’s perspective emphasizes efficient, real-world applications for those with limited time. “If you came to me wanting just to defend yourself in a few months,” he clarifies, “there’d be no qigong (氣功) or zhan zhuang (站桩); that’d be a waste of time.”

His answer is grounded, reflecting a philosophy prioritizing immediate need over historical profundity. However, the roots are still remembered. If a student were to immerse themselves in the art, tradition would come into play. “If you wanted to learn Xingyiquan as a traditional style, we start with standing,” Tim elaborates. 

A recurrent theme emerges: goals. He believes practices like zhan zhuang might be redundant for his MMA fighters. Yet, for someone seeking health benefits, he sees value. “It depends on people’s goals and their purpose for training,” he explains. The conversation pivots to zhan zhuang, a practice Tim regards as valuable for its myriad benefits — body conditioning to mind coordination. Yet, he notes, “the very best fighters in the world have never heard of zhan zhuang.”

It’s an intriguing dichotomy — the balance between ancient art forms and modern combat requirements. As Tim so aptly concludes, what you learn and how it aids you wholly “depends on what your goal is.”

Clearing The Air On Tai Chi

Under the digital magnification of a Zoom window, I asked Tim to expand on something he’d said at a recent Tai Chi workshop in Paris in which he’d stated that the “whole idea of Tai Chi is to get someone on one foot.” Naturally, this ruffled some feathers in the Tai Chi community, and I asked Tim to say more about it.

“Obviously, there’s a lot more to Tai Chi than putting someone on one foot,” Cartmell began, addressing the comment. 

Tim Cartmell dove into Tai Chi’s multifaceted history, its transformation from a martial art to a health regimen, offering perspectives that many might find unfamiliar. 

Referring to Sun Lutang’s work, he noted that Taijiquan’s original emphasis was on its fighting techniques. Cartmell elaborated, “One of the big benefits of Tai Chi practicing Taiji is you can learn to fight very quickly because the technique base is limited and the method is very obvious or straightforward.” This sharply contrasts with the modern perception of Tai Chi, which many see as a slow-paced, health-centric exercise shrouded in mystical elements and alleged qi powers. Contrary to Tim’s viewpoint that Tai Chi is relatively straightforward, an echo chamber exists within certain circles. This group perpetuates the narrative that “real Tai Chi” is an art so complex that its depths are only truly understood by a select, anointed few. 

He also brought up Chen Weiming’s early 1930s writings, which vouched for Tai Chi’s martial prowess. However, what really caught my attention was Chen’s observation: “Everybody knows Tai Chi is a great fighting style, but very few people know it’s good for health.” 

Cartmell went on to describe the foundational strategy of Taijiquan: to ‘uproot’ the opponent. “Uprooting is to shift their weight onto one of their feet,” he articulated. This idea was crystallized when he said, “When you push them onto one foot… they have 360 [dead angles]”. Essentially, if you can strategically shift an opponent’s weight to one foot, their balance is compromised, and they can be effortlessly toppled.

He referred to the “dead angle” – a principle I remembered from his book Effortless Combat Throws. When an opponent is balanced on both feet, they have two predictable angles of vulnerability. Move them onto one foot, however, and their vulnerability becomes infinite.

Drawing the conversation to a close, he left me with a striking metaphor, comparing the approach in Tai Chi to angling a gun: “Everything before [the fajin (發勁)] is like push hands… Once you have a superior connection, you can bring them onto one foot, and then you issue your force, and the guy falls down.” The aim is precision, not brute force.

Effortless Combat Throws by Tim Cartmell

It was an enlightening moment – understanding Tai Chi not just as a graceful dance but as a strategic art of balance and force.

Conclusion

As my conversation with the renowned martial artist Tim Cartmell unfolded, it was clear that the vast world of martial arts is as much about understanding deep-rooted theories as it is about physical practice. When asked about a book recommendation, Tim instantly brought up John Danaher and Hanzo Gracie’s “Mastering Jiujitsu” – a resource-heavy on theory, crucial for understanding the heart of Brazilian Jiujitsu. But another book that repeatedly emerges in such dialogues is Jack Dempsey’s “Championship Fighting.” Though small, it’s a core guide that dives straight into the mechanics of force generation, often likened to traditional techniques. It has been a perennial favorite amongst many of the masters I’ve interviewed and a personal favorite.

He might be flying under the radar regarding self-promotion, but Tim Cartmell’s commitment to martial arts is palpable. As our conversation wrapped up, I couldn’t help but be inspired by his profound insights, hoping for a face-to-face encounter soon. It was a privilege to have such a master share his time and perspective with me.

Read More!

• Bruce Lee’s Real Fights: The True Stories Behind the Legend
• 
  The Ultimate Guide To Focus Mitts & Thai Pads For Martial Arts
• 
  Technique vs. Techniques in Martial Arts
• 
  Is Strength Training Good For Martial Arts?

About the Author

Ashe Higgs, I Liq Chuan Master Instructor & L2 Nutrition Coach

Ashe is a highly skilled martial arts instructor and certified nutrition coach with over two decades of experience in the field. He holds a Master Instructor certification in I Liq Chuan under Sam FS Chin, making him one of only several individuals worldwide to hold the title. He has taught classes and workshops worldwide and is passionate about helping others achieve their fitness and wellness goals.

With a background in full-contact fighting and a Level 2 certification from Precision Nutrition in nutrition coaching, Ashe is a well-rounded expert in the fields of martial arts. In addition to his expertise, he has a wealth of experience in teaching and mentoring others. He has a natural ability to connect with his students and inspire them to reach their full potential.

Read more about Ashe here…