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Guy frequently keeps this blog updated with thoughts, challenges, interviews and more!

Author: Guy Windsor

“The beginning of wisdom is calling things by their right name” – Confucius.

In this post I will demonstrate beyond all reasonable doubt that every wonder of the modern age is attributable to the systematizing of knowledge, pioneered by Fiore dei Liberi. Yes, really.

I have recently returned from a very rewarding trip to Australia, teaching seminars in Sydney for the Stoccata School of Defence, and in Melbourne for the SCA and the Melbourne Swordplay Guild. On one of the rest-days, my kind and gracious host Scott Nimmo took me to the Melbourne Museum, which was a delight, as you can see.

Spiders

(Scott also took these pictures, reproduced here with permission.)
When not running away from spiders, I had my eyes wide open, and came upon this extraordinary exhibit.

The Ordering of Things

Why extraordinary, you ask? Because it is so Fiore. Really. Let me explain.

This display lays out the standard taxonomy of the Kingdom Animalia. 2,500 years ago, give or take, Aristotle divided the living world into Plants and Animals; in the 18th century Carl Linnaeus added minerals to make his famous taxonomy (hence the first question in the game 20 Questions: animal, vegetable or mineral?), and invented the genus-species double-barrelled Latin naming convention still used today. From these first steps, the modern system has developed. For those not familiar with it, or who have forgotten it from their schooldays, it goes: Life, Domain, Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species. The great advantage of this system is that the classifications can be made based on the natural, visible, characteristics of the organism. (These days, scientists are moving towards a system based on DNA analysis, which is no doubt spiffy and super-accurate, but won’t make any sense to the average 8 year-old, or be any damn use to someone who has no access to a DNA sequencing lab. But I digress.)
Anyhow, this display explains the Linnaean classification system by taking a specific butterfly (the one on the left, a Cairns Birdwing, ornithoptera priamus) and placing it in its Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus and Species, working from the most general to the most, well, specific.

  1. It starts with the Kingdom, Animalia (animals), defined as: “Animals are organisms that lack cell walls and eat other organisms.” And you can see six examples, all from different Phyla.
  2. Next up, the Phylum, Arthropoda (arthropods): Arthropods are animals with an external skeleton, a segmented body and jointed legs.
  3. Then Class, Insecta (insects): insects are arthropods with three body parts, six legs and a pair of antennae.
  4. Then Order: Lepidoptera (butterflies): butterflies and moths are insects with two pairs of wings with overlapping scales.
  5. Then Family: Papilionidae (swallowtails): swallowtails are butterflies that have a spur on their forelegs that they use to clean their antennae.
  6. Then Genus: Ornithoptera (birdwings): birdwings are a type of Swallowtail butterfly. The males have a dense row of elongate hairs on their hindwings.
  7. And finally, species (ornithoptera priamus), the Cairns Birdwing butterfly has a unique combination of colour markings.

And there’s a picture of the esteemed Linnaeus. This is the best representation of this system that I have ever seen.
So far, so very systematic, and this sort of classification is thought of as being the beginnings of a truly scientific approach. But so what?

Here’s the point. Swordsmanship instructors have been using this kind of systematic thought for centuries before the scientists got in on the act!

The earliest scientist to classify plants according to their inherent natural characteristics rather than their (human-imposed) names or uses is generally reckoned to be Andrea Cesalpino, in his 1583 publication De Plantis. (He was Italian, of course. Until, well, the rise of the British Empire, all progress in human affairs had an Italian root. Overlooking a brief century or so in the middle when the French got a look-in. I may be overstating the case slightly.) But swordsmen have been classifying the natural phenomenon of combat since long before Mr Cesalpino.
I.33, the oldest combat manual we have, from about 1320, begins with the immortal lines: “fencing is the ordering of blows” and then proceeds to show seven guards. The rest of the manual is organised according to the starting guard position of the defender. Pretty systematic.

Fiore is next, from a tad before 1410. And oh my, what a feat of systematic classification. Taking the ordering of the Getty manuscript as our base, and “the ordering of blows” as our theme, we have:

  • 20 plays of abrazare: blows made with the empty hand, or wrestling grips. Preceded by four unarmed guards and ending with two plays of the dagger against the bastoncello, introducing:
  • 76 plays of the dagger. This begins with 5 “grips”, two with the dagger and three without, then four blows of the dagger (all thrusts; straight down, forehand, backhand, and from below), then four types of other action (disarm, break arms, locks and throws), then the 76 plays, organised into the plays of nine masters, each showing a different cover, depending on circumstances. (See here for an amusing summary. Note that 2 and 7 are for use in armour only.)
  • Then defences of the dagger against the sword, in which you must distinguish between cuts and thrusts. And defending against a cut only, you must distinguish between being able to enter on the inside or the outside, which depends on what exactly happens when the attack meets the parry. Then defences of the sword against the dagger: if your point is up, strike down; if it is down, you can strike up or down.
  • Then sword against sword: the master of the sword in one hand and the 11 plays that follow, in which you must not only distinguish between cut (plays 1-7 and 10) and thrust (plays 8 and 9) but also the presence of armour (play 11), and what line is open: in the first play, you enter on the inside, in the second, you have beaten the attack wide and can strike on the outside.
  • Then there are 6 ways of holding the sword, leading us into the seven blows: which are six cuts (forehand and backhand from above, below, and across) and the thrust, which is divided into 5 types: forehand and backhand from above and below, and up the middle. Note that Fiore makes an explicit distinction in some cuts whether it is done with the true or false edge.
  • Then the twelve guards of the sword in two hands, as if they were created by the blows that you make (top tip: they are).
  • Then the 20 plays of the zogho largo, and the 23 plays of the zogho stretto; the plays are divided up according to what exactly is going on when the blades meet, just as we saw with the defence of the dagger against the cut, and indeed the plays of the sword in one hand.

(This is getting rather complicated: it would take a book to explain it all. Wait a second, I wrote one, and you can pre-order it here!)
And so the treatise goes on, with the plays of the sword in armour, with axe, spear, mounted, etc.
Sticking with the idea of classification for a moment, let’s take a look at the whole system, which as the title of the Pisani Dossi manuscript makes clear, deals with combat on foot and on horseback, with armour and without, with sword, dagger, axe or spear.
So let’s take one sword blow, and define it according to the following criteria: On foot or Mounted; in Armour or Without; the Weapon; Guard or Blow; Cut or Thrust; (if cut) True edge or False Edge; Forehand or Backhand; Descending, Rising, or Horizontal.

  1. On foot or Mounted: on foot.
  2. In armour or without: without
  3. Weapon: sword (spada)
  4. Guard or blow: blow (colpo)
  5. Cut or thrust: cut (taglio)
  6. True edge or false edge: false (falso)
  7. Forehand or backhand: backhand (roverso)
  8. Descending, rising or horizontal: horizontal (mezano)

So this blow is a false edge horizontal backhand cut: roverso mezano.
Fiore is not alone in this; all swordsmanship authors worthy of the name, from here on classify their blows properly. Perhaps the most famous example is Viggiani’s tree of blows, from Lo Schermo, 1575:

ViggianiTree

As you can see, Viggiani orders the blows similarly: by cut or thrust; if cut, with true edge or false; then by backhand and forehand; then by the line of the blow. So to find the equivalent of Fiore’s roverso mezano, we start by going up the trunk, take the left branch (taglio col filo, cuts with the edge), then the right (falso), then keep right (roverso), then first left (tondo). And finally, the botanists got in on the act some 8 years later. Welcome to the classification party!

Pedantry compels me to point out here that this classification system is not as absolute as that for living beings; a single type of blow can exist with several, even all, weapons, unlike a living species which can only be in one Class, Phylum, etc. But the purpose of Art is to order the natural world into systems so that they can be studied and taught (or as Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi would have it: bring order to consciousness); and to this end, I trumpet this thought loud from every rooftop in the kingdom: truly systematic thought began with the oldest Art of all: the martial. (Ancient cave-painted men? All armed with spears and bows. Don’t tell me they only hunted with them. Thus, weapons before painting: arts martial before arts decorative.)

And thus the study of swordsmanship, as a branch of philosophy, can and should be credited with the birth of science as we know it. And Fiore was the first swordsman that we know of to lay out his Art in a truly systematic way. So: we put a man on the moon? Thanks, Fiore. Heart transplants? Much obliged, maestro Fiore. Computers, aeroplanes and Internet porn? Whose your daddy? Feee fucking ORE!!

Greetings! You may be thinking about pre-ordering my new longsword book through the Indiegogo campaign. In case you're wondering what the book contains, you can see the table of contents on the campaign page. Here is an example of one of the dozens of drills, with its accompanying photos.

The Exchange of Thrusts:

Fiore’s instruction is to step out of the way and pass across the line, and with your point high and your hands low, cross his sword and strike him in the face or chest (this is the ninth play of the second master of  zogho largo).

  1. Wait in tutta porta di ferro, attacker in the same guard.
  2. Attacker thrusts to your stomach;
  3. Pick up your point and cross his sword (middle to middle, edge to flat), hands stay low;
  4. Step your front (left) foot out of the way (to the left— this pushes his point further away from you);
  5. And pass across (so, diagonally left), thrusting to his face (no need to lift your hands: keep them low!)

Do this in one smooth motion: it feels like a simple strike that happens to collect his attack. But beware— it is critically important to make sure of your cover before passing in. Otherwise you eat steel.

The drill continues with what to do if you miss your strike.

The images below are uncropped, and at much lower resolution for browsing convenience. Most of the costs of publishing the book are in layout, which will be beautiful!

Jukka (on left) waits for Joni’s thrust
Jukka (on left) waits for Joni’s thrust

 

Joni attacks;
Joni attacks;

 

Jukka parries,
Jukka parries,

 

while stepping off the line;
while stepping off the line;

 

and strikes, passing across while thrusting into Joni’s face.
and strikes, passing across while thrusting into Joni’s face.
while stepping off the line;
while stepping off the line;

 

and strikes, passing across while thrusting into Joni’s face.
and strikes, passing across while thrusting into Joni’s face.

I am learning modern Italian. It's about time too I hear you cry. And rightly so.

So I have changed the name of this blog from Ragion de Spada, which is how Vadi spelled it in his 1480s manuscript, to Ragion della Spada, which is still odd usage to the modern eye, but there is only so much violence  I can do to Vadi before I'd cry. Violence with Vadi, now that doesn't make me cry at all…

I am about to go down to Australia to swing swords about, so I hope to see my Antipodean readers down there; I have a post that will go up automatically while I'm down there, but I'll probably be quiet after that until I get back.

No need to heave that sigh of relief quite so loudly.

Ciao bambini!

 

 

 

Training blunt, stick, stopwatch, pair drills sharp, mask, pair drils sharp, test-cutting and solo drills sharp
Training blunt, stick, stopwatch, pair drills sharp, mask, pair drils sharp, test-cutting and solo drills sharp

I am often asked for equipment recommendations, and people seem to be interested in the sort of equipment professionals use. So this is the first of a series of blog posts about the tools I use at work. As I spend most of my time teaching Fiore's Art of Arms, let's start there. In the photo you can see four longswords, a mask, a stopwatch, and a stick.

The longsword on the left is an Arms and Armor fechterspiele, which is my most-used sword. Light, very durable, handles beautifully. I've been using it now for about 8 years, have replaced the handle leather once or twice, and it's still going strong. Note the rapier blunt on the point.

Then the stick. It is a really useful teaching tool, that I use for “the stick game”:

Once the static forms of the footwork are comfortable, it is a good idea to develop your ability to apply it unconsciously. In practice, I introduce this kind of playful exercise before most students have mastered the static forms, then point out that the steps they just did naturally were the same as the ones they were learning as as static drill. Feel free to do likewise. For this we have several exercises, my favorite of which is the stick game. Played in pairs, it looks like this:

  • One player (A) has a stick, the other (B) doesn’t. B stands on guard;
  • A gently swings the stick at him;
  • B steps as necessary to avoid the stick and get behind A, tapping him on the back;
  • A moves away, and strikes again.You can also add penalties for getting hit, such as 3 push-ups.

Played in class, one student or the teacher has the stick, and charges about trying to tap people, who have to get out of the way and touch his back. This works best if everyone is obliged (on pain of push-ups) to keep moving (we usually start with everyone practicing the step and three passes drill before bringing out the stick), and the stick wielder is careful to only hit people who are making mistakes, like flinching or losing their guard positions. With a bit of practice, this is a good workout for everyone, and teaches the most important lesson of footwork: Footwork is how you get to the right place at the right time to strike safely. 

(Quote is from my book The Medieval Longsword)

I also use the stick for non-verbal correction. No, not savage beatings: when a student knows what they need to fix, but don't know when to fix it, a tap on the relevant body part is sufficient to let them know, and does not interfere by engaging their language centres.

The stopwatch is brilliant for telling the truth; it cannot lie. We use it for the Syllabus Form Applications Drill, the Stability Drill, and for all sorts of conditioning, such as; how many push-ups can you do in 60 seconds? or worse: can you do one push up that lasts for 60 seconds? in each direction? None of my students fear the stick. I think most tremble at the sight of the stopwatch.

The mask is from Terry Tindill, with the optional-but-you-must-buy-it-it-makes-all-the-difference suspension system. It also has a removable back plate. These are the absolute best solution for unarmoured longsword training that money can buy. Light, but very good protection. You only have one head (I assume), so look after it! I get hit in the head a lot at work; when coaching a student, if they get the thing we are training right enough, they strike. It's my job to keep them working in the zone where they are struggling, but succeeding, to get it right. So I might get a couple of hundred hits to the head in a single lesson. This explains much, I hear you say: Yes, not least why I think these masks are well worth the price!

The pair-drill sharps are both from Angus Trim, and they are reasonably priced and easy to maintain (these are not the Christian Fletcher pimped-up versions!), so while they work just fine as test-cutting weapons or similar, I have tasked these two for pair-drills work. This means that they get badly beaten up and have to be sharpened often, and reground every now and then. Yes folks, sharps wear out. For more on pair drills with sharps, see my guest post on CFAA: Why you should train with sharp swords, and how to go about it without killing anyone.

Finally, my JT Pälikkö longsword of DOOM. This thing of beauty, this poem in steel, is his idea of a joke. Yes chaps, a witty remark. Prepare to roll on the floor laughing. It is a medieval style longsword, based on an original in the Wallace Collection: but it has a pattern welded blade like a Viking sword! hahahahahahaha! See! Funniest thing you ever heard, right? Five bars of layered and twisted steel, the outer two of which form the cutting edges and come together at the point. This sword cuts like a lightsaber, and is one scary beast to handle.  For further examples of JT's sense of humour, see The Sword of Windsor.

Close-ups of the blade. Image from http://www.kp-art.fi/jt/index_eng.html
Close-ups of the blade. Image from http://www.kp-art.fi/jt/index_eng.html

Next up in this series: either freeplay kit, or rapier training tools. What would you like to see?

Ilpo defends himself from a kick in the nuts!
Ilpo defends himself from a kick in the nuts!

For years now the question I've been asked the most is “when is your next longsword book coming out?” And now the answer to that is in your hands. I have launched a campaign on Indiegogo to raise funds for layout and printing; and the moment we hit the target, layout work will begin.

I can't do this without you, so, if you like my work, let me know by buying my book!

You can click on the widget on the right, or click here.

Thank you!

 

Gentleman's Guide to Duelling

This book is a modern edition of the 1595 work of Honour and Honourable Quarrels, a guide to the ethics of duelling, by the famous Elizabethan fencing master, Vincentio Saviolo. Let’s cut to the chase. If you are interested in the history of violence, duelling, or moral philosophy, buy this book.

Jared Kirby, the editor, has added thirty pages or so of useful and interesting front-matter, including a detailed argument for the likely location of Saviolo’s school in London, some background on the import of Italian fencing into England in the late 16th century, and as much biographical detail about Saviolo as scholarship has yet uncovered. Kirby also gives all the contemporary references to Saviolo, with complete quotations, in the appendices. To give a flavour of the level of Kirby’s commitment to accuracy: on page seven there is what is now my favourite footnote of any book: “There are no author, editor or publisher/printer details for Alfabetto Citta. The only way to get access is to go to the state archives of Padua and talk to the curator.”

Saviolo’s book is a comprehensive expression of his views on the duel, a critically important issue for Elizabethan gentlemen (and indeed, gentlemen of any era). It comprises eight chapters in about 140 pages, and covers everything from the initial insult, giving the lie, the issue as it regards different ranks in society (lords, knights etc.), choices of weapons, etc. And it concludes with the fantastic “The Nobility of Women” in which he robustly asserts that women are in all respects (culture, intellect, nobility etc.) the equals of men. A must-read for any gender-studies course!

I was initially horrified to read that Kirby intended to modernise the language of the original, and I completely disagree with his assertion that “The natural ability to read and understand sixteenth-century English is a rare gift” (p. xvii): being able to read any language is not a natural ability, or a gift, it’s a learned skill like any other. But his modernisation has been done with a gentle touch, such that reading it I scarcely noticed the changes, and they may save readers lacking the skill referred to earlier the bother of looking up some words or puzzling over some obscure locutions.

There are some interesting additions to the book. Kirby has inserted 16 illustrations, mostly 19th-century drawings, which at times add useful insight, but occasionally come across as complete non-sequiturs. Nothing that detracts from the text, I just wonder at the thinking behind their inclusion (and the lack of source citations in some cases).

In conclusion then, some odd editorial decisions aside, Saviolo’s book is vital reading for anyone interested in the history of the duel and the duelling code, and Kirby’s additional material adds depth of interest. So, as I said above, buy this book!

Disclosure: Jared Kirby and I have been friends for twenty years now, and have fenced together many times, stayed in each others’ homes, etc. In short, friends enough that if I didn’t like his book I’d say so to his face!

Class on Monday (in March 2014) was all about how the seniors should approach the new sword handling drill, the Farfalle di Ferro, the Butterfly of Iron. As this is a pretty important topic, especially for the chaps in the branches, we videoed the class. The footage here was preceded by the usual 10 minutes of breathing exercises and a few minutes of the Syllabus Form done solo, then (because there were difficulties with it that we fixed last week) the Syllabus Form Applications Drill. Then by way of introduction, we did the Farfalle di Ferro in its basic form.

[Update, Dec. 2021] Over the 8 years since I created the Farfalle, it has become quite popular, and many folk have lost sight of where it comes from: some even think it's directly from some historical source! Let me set the record straight: I invented it from scratch, with the help of some senior students in March 2013, as you can see from this video:

So that's the Farfalle- what's it for?

This 20 minute video is basically unedited footage of the Applications class.

The video contents are:
00.00-0.56 introduction. Making the handling drill tight and small.
00.57-2.35 basic applications of the drill: counterattack with mandritto fendente; gaining leverage control with fenestra to thrust (note groundpath in true edge, not in the flat); yielding to the parry and striking on the other side.
02.36-04.11 corrections to mistakes made in class; when not to follow the drill. General rule: “If your opponent’s point is going away from you, strike into the opening line.” Being specific about when to use the farfalle combination.
04:12-07.06: About the footwork: when winding to fenestra to thrust; and especially the footwork when striking on the other side: the meza volta. Noting Fiore’s explanation of the meza volta, groundpaths and the mechanical consequences stepping linearly instead of turning.
07.07-08.39: The same applications, applied by the attacker. Noting what happens if the parry against the fenestra thrust is a yield to the outside instead of the turn to the inside.
08.40-09.41 changing the measure; using the drill to get into close quarters. The rules: “stick your point in his face. If his sword is moving away from you, strike into the opening line. If his sword is moving towards you, put your sword in the way.”
09.42-10.52 difficulties arising from poor mechanics, especially the turn around the middle of the sword. Minimising time spent with your point moving away from the opponent.
10.53- 11.46 a basic drill to help with the turn around the middle of the blade.
11.47- 12.51: repeating the drill beginning with the roverso instead of the mandritto (i.e. start at part 2). And other variations on the basic drill.
12.52-15.19: Using part 3; the sottani blows. Variation on second drill, defender ripostes with sottano on either side. Notes re the necessary footwork to stay safe. Note re continuations if attacker parries the riposte. Note re getting away again after the riposte.
15.20-16.48: Attacker’s use of the same action, as a response to the parry. Variations depending on the defender’s actions. Use of the sottano v. the sottano.
16.49-18.02: Counter to the punta falsa as an example of turning within the turn. Making your actions smaller than your opponent’s. Note re opponent’s expectations re line of attack.
18.03-19.35: How does this work with sharps? Very nicely, thank you.

So, there you have it. Enjoy!

Beginner you are not, hmmm? image from www.freepik.com
Beginner you are not, hmmm?

Beginners are the future of any martial art. And lucky too: the best learning environment is when you are the least knowledgeable person in the room. Anyone you train with can teach you something. It is more difficult to keep learning when you are surrounded by relative beginners, and this post is about how to do it. When I moved to Finland in 2001, I was by a mile the most experienced practitioner of European swordsmanship in the country. Literally everyone I crossed longswords with knew less about them than I did. This could easily have lead to stagnation, but I managed to keep learning by:

  • Cross-training 3-4 times a week with other martial arts, one-on-one with senior instructors; basically trading classes. The potential for contaminating my interpretation was huge, but the upside was I developed a lot as a martial artist.
  • Travelling a lot to international events, paying for it by teaching classes there. I treated these trips mostly as recruitment: when I saw an instructor I thought I and my students could learn from, I hired them over to teach seminars. We average about 3 such seminars a year (in the last 9 months alone, Stefan Dieke, Paul Wagner, and Jörg Bellinghausen have all taught here).
  • Learning how to train usefully with beginners.

This post is about the last on that list. We have a beginners course starting next week, so Tuesday’s basic class focused on how the students can train effectively with the new students when they arrive. I will summarise the approach here, for students about to work with beginners, then describe the class step-by-step as a potential class plan for instructors facing this issue.

1.    Be a perfect model. The rule of beginners is this: show it to them right a thousand times, and they will eventually copy it correctly. Show it to them wrong once, and they will copy it perfectly first time. I mean no disrespect. This is just true, and I’ve never seen a beginner for whom it wasn’t. So having beginners around demands that your every action is as perfect as you can make it. No pressure then.
2.    Work at your own level. One of the things beginners have to learn eventually is the terminology of the art. So on the beginners course we do things like call out the names of the steps (accrescere, discrescere, passare, tornare, etc.) and they have to do the named step. For more experienced students in the same class this could be unimaginably tedious, but should not be: they are expected to work at their own level. So while they are all doing the same thing, some are working on remembering the terms; some working on perfecting its mechanics; and some are working through possible applications, from power generation, to avoidance, to specific plays.
3.    Use the randomiser. In pair drills, the beginner will naturally get parts of it wrong. Excellent. A genuine randomiser! The attack may be too strong, too far away, too close, in the wrong line, anything. Your job is to effortlessly and spontaneously adapt the drill to the specific conditions of the attack you get, not the one you expected. This demands 100% focus on what is happening. When it is your turn to do what they just attempted, you have to demonstrate it perfectly according to the drill, of course. Your training alternates between 100% perfect tactical choices in real time, and 100% perfect mechanics in your own time. Sounds like 100% perfect training, no?

You should also note the following:
•    The attack is never “wrong”: you get hit only if you fail to defend.
•    Your correction of the attack will be much more convincing if it comes after the attack has failed, than if you just got hit.
•    Coach by modelling, not explaining. Beginners are not stupid, they are just not-yet-skilled. They need opportunities to practise, not a lecture.
•    This kind of training demands 100% focus on the specifics of the attack that you get, not the one you expect.
•    When training with beginners, you have an opportunity to go deep, making a few actions better. But you have less chance to go wide, using a broader range of actions (because this will bewilder the already overwhelmed beginner). When paired with more experienced students, you could take the chance to go wide if it doesn’t conflict with the overall class goals.

So relish the influx of new perfection-demanding random action generators, and relish the fact that in a decade or two, they may well be vastly better at this than you are now. But they will always remember and be grateful for the help you gave them when they were starting out. You may be helping to train the next Bruce Lee, or Aldo Nadi, or even Fiore dei Liberi.

If you find this useful, please share it with your friends!

***
The Class:
We began by setting the goal of the class: to teach the students present how to train usefully with the beginners. Usefully for the beginners too, but specifically usefully for themselves. I explained briefly the three principles above, and then we applied them. This class followed the normal structure: warm-up, footwork/mechanics, dagger, longsword handling, longsword pair drills.

Warm-up
I had the students warm themselves up, structuring the 12 or so minutes according to their own current needs. For some this was the first time they had done that. This got them into the right state of mind: using familiar structures and content, but customising them to their own needs.

Footwork
We then did the basic footwork terminology drill: I called out the names of the steps and turns and they have to do the named action. Then I had them tell me what they should be working on during that drill. Some needed practice at remembering the terms; some were working on perfecting its mechanics; and some were working through the applications.We then did the stick exercise, so they had to use the steps spontaneously.

Dagger
We started as usual with the first play of the first master, and modelled what you should do if the attacker is either too stiff (execute the play perfectly: it works just fine), or too hesitant to strike (ignore the attack, until they learn to actually strike the mask).
18th1stmaster

We also covered the 18th play, what you should do if they are really really stiff.

This should be accompanied by a quick verbal correction, and you modelling the attack for them.

Longsword handling, solo drills
Here we distinguished between a beginners course class, and a general basic class to which beginners can attend. (In my School, all beginners are entitled and encouraged to attend all basic classes.) On the beginners course, you should stick exactly to the drill that has been set, so that the only thing the beginners see is the thing they are supposed to do. So do that thing very, very well. It’s an opportunity to work on the basics. The constraint will highlight things to practise. This lead to the following immortal line:
“All of your problems, in the salle and out of it, stem from imperfect basics.”
In normal class, students are at liberty to train the exact drill as set, or any more basic form, or any more advanced form, unless they are specifically instructed otherwise. I expect students to train at their own level.

Longsword pair drills
We had been working on the stretto form of first drill the previous week, so we took it up again. (For those not in my school: first drill begins with an attack that is parried; the stretto version begins with an attack that is counterattacked into. Let me point out here that it is not the counterattack that determines largo or stretto, it’s the nature of the crossing of the blades: for a fuller discussion and examples see the wiki.) This allowed me to point out that the “basic” version is actually mechanically more complex than the “more advanced” version. The reason for learning the first one first is that it is tactically more basic, and easier to keep in mind. First parry, then strike. Parrying and striking all in one go is harder for most people (not all) to grasp. So we then looked at these two drills as:
•    Parry against the attack (first drill, largo form)
•    Attack against the attack (first drill, stretto form)
•    Which begged the question: what happens when a parry is parried?
Which is what happens all the time with beginners learning this drill. They attack as they are supposed to, but as you start to parry, they instinctively change their motion to put their sword in the way of yours. This leads to the two swords bound together, usually near the points, and suddenly the defender’s continuation as set in the drill makes no sense.
Of course, this type of bind is shown in the treatise: the first master of the zogho largo.

1stMasterZL So we looked at the book, and executed his plays as a response to a poor attack. And then used the attack as a means to draw out the defender’s sword to where it could be bound, and practised the same actions but with different intent. The attacker could bind the sword and take advantage of the crossing generated, or the defender, perceiving the change in the attack in time, could take advantage of the fact that the attack was no longer coming towards them, and execute the plays. This made the point that the difference between beginner’s mistake and advanced technique is often more about why you do it, than it is about how.
We completed this study with the variation on first drill that leads to the third play of the master of zogho largo crossed at the middle of the swords, where his scholar grabs the blade and strikes.

3rdplay2ZLBecause those that know might be about to angulate around the parry, or parry the riposte, while beginners might just be a bit stiff. So the attack could go one of three ways (bind the parry, proceed as in the basic form, angulate), and the defender was expected to effortlessly execute the proper response. And to think: beginners will give you all that variation, at genuinely random intervals, without even being asked to or trained! How fantastically useful is that?
We concluded the class, of course, with first drill, basic form, no variations, every action perfect. Because you have to show it to them right a thousand times…

image from http://leatherboundbindery.com
image from http://leatherboundbindery.com

The standard for selection for this list is simple: how much time have I spent thinking about, talking about, and recommending a particular book? These are my top three on that list for 2013, and so I share them with you. I am not including any sword-related books, none of the titles are in directly related to martial arts at all. Not because there weren’t any good ones, just that none of the ones I read last year for the first time changed my thinking the way these did. (See here for a list of seven great martial arts books, and here for five essential non martial arts books every martial artist should read.)

Disclaimer: I don't get paid a thing for any sales of these books, only for my own. So these recommendations are entirely without agenda.

Quiet, by Susan Cain

This is one of the few books I have read in the last ten years that taught me something I didn’t know about myself. Turns out, I’m an introvert. Which means I find too much stimulation exhausting, and have to recharge with quiet time alone. Reading this book, all sorts of things about how I organise my time, especially in class or when travelling for seminars, came into focus and made sense. I love socialising: but it is a net drain on my energy, and so must be compensated for. Teaching, especially new (to me) students, is especially tiring, and so I need to schedule extra down-time afterwards.

This book is a survival guide for introverts, and an explanation for all you extroverts out there to help you understand the introverts in your life. It’s not that we don’t like you, we just need a rest every now and then!

Debt: the first 5000 years, by David Graeber

This book is simply an essential read for anyone who wants to understand where our current economic system came from, and how debt has shaped our culture. We cannot do without debt: from our first breath we incur debts of one sort or another. Right out of the gate, David Graeber, one of the founders of Occupy Wall Street, demolishes what in hindsight is the obviously wrong idea that in early human cultures we bartered for everything. Not true: we bartered with people we didn’t know, and simply kept a record of who owed what to whom within the tribe.

This astonishing book covers the idea of debt from anthropology to modern economics, and will change the way you think about human relations altogether. It is  way too big to summarise meaningfully here, so here is a proper review, in the FT Magazine.

Bit Literacy, by Mark Hurst

I met the author of this book at my sister’s wedding in August, and as he had a book coming out a few months later (Customers Included), I promised to buy it. I liked it enough to immediately look up his other works, and found this. I got the hardback, but you can download the Kindle for free.

I’m not hugely interested in any technology invented after about 1800, but for better or worse am obliged to use a computer, and interact with email and other modern “conveniences”. This book is simply a survival guide to not drowning in all the crap. Following this guide, I a) completed stuff I was supposed to have got done up to 6 months before but hadn’t; b) got my email inbox down from about 7000 messages to 0 (that’s not a typo); and c) created a workflow that makes me much more productive with much less effort.

I truly can’t be bothered with “productivity” products. Mostly, they just add shit to the overflowing todo list in my head. And a human being should not be primarily valued by anyone, least of all themselves, by their “productivity”. We are not dairy cattle. But coupled with Mark’s amazingly useful GoodToDo todo list app, this book has, at virtually no cost, streamlined my working life enormously.

As with any book that relates to modern technology, it is already out of date in some of its specifics (at least one of his recommended software solutions is no longer available). But the method this book explains is not tied to any specific software. This is the survival guide to the internet age. And, you can read it for free!

If you like the books I recommend, you might also like the books I write, so feel free to buy those too!

 

sword-school-studioset2-56

For many of us, there is no need to even think about why we would train in the Art of Swordsmanship. It is simply an irreducible desire, like the way many people want to have kids. But we all know someone for whom our passion for the sword is inexplicable, just as we all know someone who does not want to be a parent. I thought I would write this rather difficult post so that you know why I have chosen the path of the sword, and if it resonates with you, you can direct the baffled in your life here for enlightenment.

Let us begin with a wide focus: why martial arts at all? Some have practical uses, sure: those living on meaner streets will have use for self-defence skills. But most martial arts, if they convey those skills at all, are very inefficient at it. Some martial arts, or combat sports at least, offer a career path that includes fame and riches. An Olympic gold medal, perhaps. But that is not true of ours.

I train martial arts because they can offer moments of utter transcendence. The ineffable made manifest. This is traditionally described as “beyond words” or “indescribable” but as a martial artist and a writer, that would feel like a cop-out. I will take this feeling and wrestle it down onto the page, or at least give it my best shot:

It is a moment when every atom in your body is exactly where it should be. Every step you have taken on life’s path makes sense, is part of a coherent story. The pain of every mistake is made worthwhile by the lessons they contained. There is a feeling of physical power without limit; strength without stiffness; flow without randomness; precision without pedantry; focus without blinkers; breadth and depth; massive destructive capability but utter gentleness; self-awareness without self-consciousness; force without fury; your body alive as it has never been, all fear and pain burned away in a moment of absolute clarity; certainty without dogma; an overpowering love, even for your enemies, that enables you to destroy them without degrading them. It is, for a religious person, the breath of God within you. For an atheist, a moment of attaining perfection as a human being.

And I can, in theory at least, get that feeling every time I pick up a sword. In practice, I've been there a dozen times. And a lesser version of it, a breath or a hint of it, almost daily.

It is, of course, an illusion. Even in that moment of grace, you are not perfect, or invulnerable. And this is where the discipline of a serious art saves you from the wishy-washy hippy shit of some other “spiritual paths”. It is so easy to slip, to believe your own hype, and simply essential that the moment you do so, reality comes crashing in like a sword to the head. The rigour of a true martial art contains at its heart a continual examining of your skills. This can come in all sorts of forms: I tend to use pressure drills and freeplay, but the critical component is the existence of an objective external test: “Does this work?”,  with a clear yes/no feedback mechanism in place. In many ways, the books from which we draw our art are that mechanism: the benchmark against which you measure the correctness of what you do. This academic aspect is I think unique to historical martial arts, and it requires that we are able to articulate in reasoned argument why we do anything a particular way. This adds a mental dimension, a way of thinking clearly and logically, making arguments supported by evidence, that is the antithesis of the “feel that energy, man” hippy shit I refer to above.

There is also the question of morality. The moral dimension to swordsmanship comes from the lethal nature of the art. It is, originally, for killing people. Some systems emphasise self-defence, but the knightly arts were for professional warriors. You kill people because that’s your job. Much like a modern soldier, who must only distinguish between legal and illegal orders. If the order is legal, and obeying it means killing people, well, that’s what they train for. I’m not suggesting that any part of that is easy, especially distinguishing legal orders from illegal ones, but at base, it is simple. Do, or do not. But for us, training exists in an artificial space that allows us to deeply examine the morality of the martial arts. (I’ve written elsewhere about training as a holo-deck for the philosophy of ethics.)We are training a killing art, so we must ask ourselves this question: in what circumstances, if any, is it acceptable to take life? This is why I have no interest in non-lethal arts. They simply lack this moral aspect. Especially combat sports, where your opponent has chosen to compete with you in a fair fight, and so long as you both follow the rules, there is no question of right or wrong at all.

Bodily health is also an issue. We have no choice but to live in this carcass until it stops working. There is just no way round the fact that you either figure out how yours works, and get the best out of it (it is a stunningly fabulous machine) or you ignore it until it fails.  I don’t train to stay healthy— I stay healthy so I can train. All of my students know that I put maintenance and conditioning at the heart of our training, and I spend about 90% of my own training time, and about 40% of my teaching time, working on mechanics. Most of my students come to me a bit broken in the beginning. Poor posture, bad wrists, a dodgy knee, excessive weight, whatever. We work together to develop good habits, mostly by paying attention to posture, breathing, and joint strength training, and of course, diet. This has a way of both preparing the student for the physical training, and of keeping them grounded when the magic starts to happen. For many students, the sword has hooked them out of physical lassitude and ill-health and into a more active, healthier life. It is certainly part of the core mission of the School. Our the training is healthy— our one golden rule is everyone must finish class healthier than they started it. And because we are interested in process, not outcome, it is literally irrelevant how fit a student is when they start. Only the attitude they bring to training matters.

(And this is another reason why I am not interested in combat sports. They have a pretty high threshold for physical fitness, which means that you have to start quite fit (and young!) if you wish to get really good at them. There is a genetic lottery (every sport has an ideal body type) and luck plays a huge part too. Read Bounce, by Matthew Syed, for more on this. Combat sports also have a very high risk of injury. So the students who need hooking off the couch and into a healthy life are barred from admission. The ones who need it least are the only ones who can have it.)

So why the sword? All of these spiritual, mental, moral and physical benefits can be accomplished with other weapons, or with no weapons at all. There is no good reason, though I could rationalise it at length. We could talk about flow states, ala Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi: swordsmanship practice is most certainly a way to bring “order to consciousness” (as opposed to entropic chaos). We could talk about the social aspect, how good it is to find, coming to the salle, that you are not the only sword-obsessed loony out there. But fundamentally, some people are just drawn to the magic of steel. It resonates in them. Many students remember the first time they heard the clash of blade on blade, and how their heart leapt.

I train because I feel it. Oh Lord, I feel it in my very bones. But how I train is utterly rational. Together, the martial and academic truth-testing keep me from flying away with the fairies. The physical training keeps my body strong and agile. The mental training keeps my mind clear and focussed. The moral aspect leads me to consider the meaning and value of every part of my life.

So when someone asks you “Why practice Swordsmanship?”, perhaps the best answer is “how the hell do you manage without it?”

So, that's my reason. What's yours?

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