Words matter. But do they matter as much as action in the karate dojo? Not really.
You can talk a great game, wax philosophically for an hour, or explain a concept in exacting, accurate detail. But if you cannot translate all those words into action, it doesn’t mean much.
That’s one reason a lot of talking isn’t necessary in training. You can learn something intellectually, but if you do not karada de oboeru — “learn with your body” — you’re still critically unschooled.
That said, to ignore words is to miss a critical entry into some areas of karate that need to be studied and understood. Trying to explain the transmission of power is among the most challenging of tasks for the karate teacher.
The Transmission of Power in Karate
It’s interesting that in typical Japanese dojos, little explanation is given to transmitting power. The Japanese equivalents of “hit” and “strike” are most commonly used.
This might reflect the importance of bladed weapons in Japan’s martial culture. A Japanese sword cuts on contact. There isn’t much need to describe finer details.
(Note, however, that in the Chinese fighting arts, where there’s a strong emphasis on strategies that involve using the body instead of a weapon, terms to describe the application of different kinds of power are numerous. Strikes in the Chinese arts can be described approximately using words like “pounding,” “disrupting,” and “exploding.”)
Okinawan karate, an amalgamation of Japanese and Chinese sources merged with native roots, seems to fall somewhere in the middle. There are terms in Uchinaaguchi, the Okinawan language, that distinguish methods of transmitting power.
What is revealing is that there are no satisfactory Japanese equivalents. When we come across something of this nature, it’s a good idea to examine it closely for what it might reveal.
Atifa: A Unique Okinawan Concept
Atifa is an Okinawan word that refers to transmitting energy in a specific way. Pushing a door open is not an example of atifa. Jerking up a window is. Atifa carries the connotation of “shocking” or, more accurately, “pulsing.”
Punching a heavy bag is not atifa. Place your palm on the bag, then relax the muscles in your arm until you’re using just enough energy for the palm to stay connected to the bag.
Put your feeling down into your hips. Try to tighten the muscles there, then let that quick tightening travel all the way up your side and into your arm. Don’t push. Try to just give a shudder or a pulse. You’ll make the bag move, though it will probably be just a twitch. That movement is an expression of atifa.
There are, of course, colorful stories of martial arts masters who can, with some mysterious touch, cause shockwaves to be transmitted that will disrupt blood flow or the heart’s beating or work some other magical damage.
Perhaps these skills really exist, but I’ve never seen them.
Atifa, however, while it’s subtle and does require a lot of training, is not in this realm. Think of it this way: There’s the steady, continuous force exerted in turning a jar’s lid. There’s also the brisk, relatively light force exerted on a tight lid when you rap it with the back of a knife blade to loosen it. Atifa is that latter kind of energy application.
Not magic, just physics.
The Role of Relaxation in Atifa
There’s a reason — forgive the simplicity here — you can make a whip crack more easily than you can a stick. The flexibility of the whip allows it to travel fast enough to make the noise. Another word for flexibility here is “relaxation.”
Atifa requires relaxation.
It’s easy to talk about relaxation when there’s no real danger, no sense of urgency. Under the extremes of violence, though, we all know that “freezing,” or tightening one’s muscles, is a response that’s difficult to overcome. The path toward mastering atifa lies in dedicated, continuous training.
Training the Atifa Technique
One practice that will give you an idea of how atifa works is using the makiwara.
Some old Okinawan karateka insisted the makiwara was essential for learning to strike with atifa; they maintained that the notion of using the padded post just to learn to strike with more muscular power was a perversion of the instrument and a misinterpretation by the Japanese that occurred after karate was transplanted to the mainland.
Stand closer to the striking post than you would when making a reverse punch. Bend your arm so your fist is at the height of the pad and about a foot away from it. Now open your hand, shake your wrist and relax. Strike slowly, concentrating on keeping your hand relaxed. Make a fist just before contact is made.
It’s important not to use power here. If your timing is off and you hit with any strength at all, a loose fist is a sure way to injure yourself.
Your goal isn’t to make a stronger punch — not yet. It’s to make a more relaxed strike, one in which no tension is applied until the instant of contact. When you can reliably hit the makiwara this way, increase the distance of your strike.
The best way to do this is to lightly swing your hand up and hit at a rising angle, instead of cocking your fist at your hip as you would in normal training.
This kind of striking, while it takes time to develop, is more natural once you get a feel for it. Watch high-level karateka in sparring: Their arms are loose, relaxed. Beginners, on the other hand, make tight fists and keep them awkwardly held against their sides, as if they are doing a basic punching exercise in the dojo.
Less-experienced karateka confuse those basics with what karate is all about. It’s tantamount to playing the scales when you want to perform in a concert. Learning to strike with atifa is certainly on the upper end of training in terms of complexity. It must be a goal of the serious karateka, however.
Dave Lowry has written Karate Way since 1986. For more information about his articles and books, search his name in the search box.