First Impressions

In retrospect, I have been studying pressure points and how they affect the body ever since I started learning martial arts. "Stick your knuckles in his sternum and rub up and down. Hard. He won't be able to hold onto you like this." That was one of the first lessons I ever had in self-defense. Of course then, I didn't understand that what I was doing was affecting the nervous system, sending a signal that interfered with the body's motor function, weakening the entire body. I just thought, "It hurts and he lets go. Cool."

Fast forward ten years into my martial journey and you get to the point where I first witnessed a demonstration of kyusho jitsu. This is where things get... well, they get really interesting. Kyusho jitsu, I learned, translates roughly to the art of one second fighting. That sounded fancy, so I watched. In a gymnasium full of karate guys, white pajamas and black belts as far as the eye can see, there's a tall middle-aged man standing in the center, doing karate movements and talking about what they mean. He grabs a friend of mine out of the audience (because in karate circles telling you about something usually involves hitting someone) and asks the guy to take a swing at him. Hard as he can.

Now, I think I need to share something about this friend of mine before I go any further. You know those power lifting competitions on TV? The ones where a large strong man will lift something that belongs on the ground (say, a Kia Spectra) and toss it somewhere it doesn't belong (say, a second story balcony)? Well, this friend was a former Virginia state champion. Huge. Arms like tree trunks. Bald head. Goatee. Expert martial artist. Excruciatingly polite. You know, big scary dude.

Anyway, back to my story: The middle-aged guy who is going to tell us something about karate and this kyusho stuff (by hitting somebody) asks the largest and strongest man there (and probably within several counties) to haul off and hit him. Hard as he can. Cool. What happened next happened in a fraction of a second. I saw my friend take a swing, surprisingly fast for how large he is. I saw the middle-aged man move deftly to the side. I saw the middle-aged man fling his own arm across my friend's. I saw my friend collapse to the floor.

This guy was out. Cold.

This is the point where my mind does a double take. I believe the exact thought running through my head at that moment was, "Wait, what?" The middle-aged fellow goes on talking, like the most awesome thing that had ever happened to a karate nerd such as myself was completely normal, and demonstrating other things (i.e. hitting other people), each of which results in someone getting knocked out in equally preposterous ways. Each time I watch this I remember all of my childhood fantasies of using karate to perform superhuman heroic deeds, or at least knock people in front of me out so as to not have to wait in lines, and suddenly so many of them almost appear grounded in reality. If I had seen this when I was eight, it would have been better than Christmas.

As soon as the demonstration ended and people were beginning to disperse, I ran my way through a crowd of older and more experienced karateka (that's a nifty word for "people who do karate") to introduce myself to the kyusho expert and find out exactly how he was able to do things my brain still said he shouldn't be able to do. People just don't go out when you hit them on the arm. It turned out that the middle-aged kyusho expert's name was Ron, and Ron was gracious and friendly enough to talk with me a minute. He told me that he had used pressure points, and showed me the one he had struck on my power-lifting friend's arm. He even tapped me lightly on the point, which made my knees weak and vaguely felt like being electrocuted. Then he tells me the "trick" to this point is to strike it with a scooping motion, like forming a C as you hit.

For the next year, I must have practiced that C motion on that point during every karate class, every chance I got. Nobody ever passed out, but plenty of people felt their knees buckle and a few even ended up on the floor. It would still be a couple years until I began studying kyusho jitsu formally myself, and a year after that before I was able to knock anyone out.

Looking back to that first time I ever saw kyusho, and all the years of studying pressure points, chi kung, and acupressure since, I am amazed most not by what I have seen during that and many other demonstrations, but by how that initial enthusiasm has never faded in the least. My first impression was one of wonder and excitement and I still feel that way today. I am constantly learning, and the possibilities presented by what I learn are constantly expanding.

If this blog is your first impression of these arts, it is my sincere hope that I am able to convey the same excitement and wonder, and to instill a genuine curiosity in you. A lot of what I write about may sound fantastic to the unfamiliar, and at one point I couldn't have been more skeptical myself. But my curiosity at what I had seen has led me to witness some amazing things, and to meet some of the best people I know. It has been a rewarding experience for me, one I hope we may have in common some day.