Scott Connor Stick Seminar - Saturday, October 1st, 2005

There weren't many people in attendance for either day, only about 15 of us, which surprised me. There were actually more people at the weekday classes that Scott taught. Because of the small group, or maybe it's just Scott's teaching style, he spent more time instructing us individually than addressing us as a group. This was of course to our advantage as students, but even so, I wish more people had shown up.

After introductions, Scott started off by telling us that no matter what else we did, remember to breathe. He said he didn't care if we fell clumsily, so long as we remembered to breathe. He also reminded us to let the breath lead the movement, saying that otherwise, we'd tire quickly. He said that breathing when you already need the oxygen is like drinking when you are already thirsty. I have to admit that I never drink unless I'm thirsty, but I understand his analogy. If I'm not thirsty, I might sip from a glass of water here and there, drinking maybe just one glass during the day. But if it's a hot day and I've just been training for a few hours and sweating a lot, I have to resist the temptation to drink an entire glass all at once. Even so, I don't think the water analogy is necessarily the best one, because I can drink an entire glass of water at once, and quench my thirst (although it's not healthy to do so.) And even if I could not drink, I could get by for a few days without water. However, my lungs can only take in so much air with each breath, and if I can't keep up with my body's demand, that's when I start to pant, and then it's already too late, because the demand for air exceeds my ability to supply it.

We started off lying on the floor, rolling around and stretching freely, a nice relaxing way to loosen up a bit. Then we did the breathing/tensing exercise which is familiar to most Systema students. Scott led us through inhaling while tensing different parts of the body, exhaling while relaxing: the arms, legs, shoulders, stomach, hips, etc. Scott told us that one of the hardest parts to isolate is the back. I could not seem to tense my back without also tensing my stomach. He also had us inhale and tense just the right and left sides of the body, and inhale and tense in a wave from head to feet, and feet to head, and release in the opposite direction. Afterwards, he asked us to feel our pulse in certain areas of the body, starting with the neck, the wrist, also in the knee and ankle. I remember that I could not feel my pulse in my ankles, probably because there is always tension there, and I crack both ankles quite a bit to restore poor alignment.

Scott asked us to stand up slowly with breathing, first sitting up, bending one leg, going on one knee, and finally rising up. Then everyone took a stick, a longer one, maybe about 3' 1/2" to 4' (we also worked with shorter sticks throughout the weekend, which were about 2' 1/2" – 3'). I think these are actually staffs such as used in CMAs but I'm not sure. Scott asked us to hold the stick above our heads and run around the room, inhaling once with each step, exhaling once with another step. This is also a familiar exercise to most Systema students. I have to confess I'm terribly lazy when it comes to running. Sure, I can run to catch the subway or to cross at a yellow light, but when it comes to just running around it circles, I run as slowly as I possibly can while still "running". I always stay on the outside of the circle and let everyone else run by me, and I'm afraid that sometimes I lapse into a rather fast walk.

We continued running and breathing, working up to 12 steps on the inhale, 12 on the exhale. Even though I was running slowly, when I got up to 6, I began to struggle to make the breath last for all those steps. Perhaps if I was running a bit faster, it might have been easier to make one breath last on the other hand, I probably would have been exerting myself more and trying to take in more air. Scott warned us not to take in too much air on the first step, otherwise, we'd run out before getting to the last step. There's a lot to be learned with this seemingly simple exercise. Scott told us that he can get up to 35 steps, something to ponder since a small fraction of that, just 6, seemed to be quite challenging for me. Periodically he asked us to change the position of the stick, holding it in front of us, arms straight, I think also behind the head, and in different ways.

After that, we sat down side by side with our partners, and did an exercise which I've done before, but still don't understand. Each person holds one end of the stick across the body, and you both pull it. I remember Vlad asking us to do this at the June seminar, and I also wondered about it then. I sat next to my mom and I'm obviously stronger than her…I mean, she asks me to open jars for her. So when she pulled the stick, I didn't want to pull back, otherwise, I'd simply take the stick away from her. On the other hand, I didn't want to just let her take the stick from me, as that did not seem to accomplish much, either. I tried to find some middle ground but I ended up just kind of passing the stick back and forth. We did the same exercise lying down, with the stick in front of us, also side by side, with the stick between us. Just as I was thinking that I must be doing something wrong, because surely passing a stick back and forth is kind of silly, Scott told us it was a great exercise for the tendons! I guess I need to try this one again.

Then we each took a stick and did some solo exercises, placing the stick behind the arms, turning over on the floor from back to stomach, and stomach to back. Scott asked us to place the stick behind our knees and roll backwards while keeping the stick there. I found this impossible because I can't roll backwards very well; I usually have to fling my legs over my head. I don't think anyone found this easy except my mom, who did this with ease. We also did pushups with the stick behind the head, arms draped over, very difficult. I have in my notes that we did some partnered pushups holding the stick, but I can't recall what these were. Maybe we both held one end of the stick in front of us vertically, resting it on the floor, but I'm just hazarding a guess. We also sat on the ground, legs straight, holding the stick perpendicular to the ground between our legs, and tried to lift up off the ground, holding onto the stick. Scott did this quite easily, but I couldn't get much daylight between my butt and the ground. He asked us to try it with the stick on one side, which was a lot easier, and with the stick behind us, which I found much harder.

Next, one person pressed themselves against a wall, face to the wall (actually, large square columns, but for all practical purposes, we use these as walls at Fighthouse.) The other person pressed the point of the stick into the body, and the person against the wall had to slide it off. You can do this by rounding the body, if the stick is against your back, making the surface of your back rounded by curling your shoulders forward and sort of rotating the hips to slip it off. I asked my mom to press the stick more in the middle, because it's a bit more challenging to find a way to slide it off when it's in the center of the body. We also pressed the stick into the arms and legs, and all areas, and also turned around to do the same facing forward. Facing forward, you have to open your chest to slide the stick off, and rotate your shoulder or your hip to slip it off so it doesn't get caught.

Then we just hit each other lightly with the stick, across the muscular areas, not too hard, but not too softly, either. It's challenging to know how hard to hit your partner, because you can't know how it feels to someone else. Going too hard is not good, as Scott reminded us; we're training to help each other, not to inflict damage. Yet hitting too softly is not going to help your partner at all. I found trial and error the best way to figure out how to strike my partner with the stick, asking after the first few hits if I should go softer or harder. I find with these sorts of exercises, most people err on the side of caution, and I can barely feel their hits. It's like when we strike each other during the slow count exercises; very few of my classmates hit me with enough conviction for me to even notice what they are doing. It could also be that some men do not like to hit women, but a Systema strike is not the same as a one given in anger, and once students realize this, they overcome the natural aversion to hitting even women.

We then worked on passing the stick from one side of the body to the other while our partners held it level at the neck, arm, hip, ankle, and finally with the tip touching the floor. The latter is the most difficult, because you still have to stay straight and not curl up or break your form. All those squats and duckwalking are good practice for changing levels.

Then we swung the sticks at each other, the one person avoiding by rotating around, going underneath, passing it, etc. Scott showed us how you can make a pyramid with your arms to let the stick slide off it, or even just use one arm to do the same. This isn't blocking, in fact, the stick is an excellent means to demonstrate how dangerous it can be to block. You are still moving even as you arms form the pyramid, the stick slides off one way while your body moves the other way.

Scott asked us to form groups with one person in the middle, eyes closed, swinging the stick, while the rest of us on the outside avoided it. This is a familiar exercise to Systema students, but the swinging person's closed eyes lent it a different flavor. In reality, it should not have been any different, the swinging action was the same, and Systema teachers swing the stick just as consistently with their eyes open. But I have to admit I was afraid to enter the circle, because the person in the middle is sometimes a bit too enthusiastic about such things. And the circle was tightly-knit; there was no room to move away. Scott told us to move before the stick arrived in our personal space; otherwise, it would be too late. So I entered in and began to move away, bumping into the others in my efforts to stay close to the center and behind the person swinging the stick, feeling sort of ridiculous. Finally someone explained that I could just move under or over the stick while remaining more or less in place. I'm not sure why I couldn't see this from observing, but once I approached the exercise in that way, it was of course much easier.

We returned to partnered exercises, and one person swung the stick, the other had to take it away. Edgar was swinging the stick at me, and I was avoiding it, but I couldn't find the initiative to take it away. I don't know why I felt so passive about it. I looked around, and everyone else was taking their partners down enthusiastically, but the goal of the exercise seemed to elude me. Scott came over and commented that I was moving well to avoid the stick. I said, thanks, but I'm not doing anything more than that! He said that was OK, he'd rather see me moving well than accomplishing a takedown without good movement, and that everything else would fall into place. It is an excellent compliment to be told I am moving well, but I wondered why I could not act. It was a challenging exercise, of course, but one I had practiced before, so why couldn't I give it the same effort I had in the past? But of course, you can't step into the same river twice, and I'm not the same person from day-to-day either.

We also practiced a similar exercise where you have the stick, and the other person punches you, and you use the stick to lock them up and take them down. Scott showed several ways to do this, working against the punching arm, the neck, using the end of the stick to collapse the body. But again I found myself unable to act, I avoided the punch, and sometimes I lightly touched Edgar with the stick, but then I just kept giving up. I suppose I thought I was unable to do it and so my actions matched my plan to fail. I know this sounds rather odd and contradictory, because why would I want to fail? But my training journals describe things as they happened, and sometimes, training is a psychological struggle for me. Scott came over a few more times to demonstrate ways to use the stick to manipulate and control the other person, and Edgar also did so, but I think they realized that it wasn't that I lacked enough foundational information to give it a shot. It was just that for some reason, on some unconscious level, I did not want to. And so they just let me be, Edgar told me not to worry, as he often does when he can see that I starting to get discouraged.

We switched partners and one person sat on the floor, and the other stood up and attacked with the stick. The floor is usually easier for me. For some reason, being on the floor made it more apparent that I ought to respond to an attack with the stick. Also, my partner was one of the old-timers, very skilled, he doesn't train with us much anymore, but I remember how when I first started, he would take me aside and show me the ropes. He's an excellent training partner for me because he forces me to move, he doesn't cut any slack, no "do- overs" with him. If I don't move or respond, he will simply punch me in the face, not too hard, but enough to be uncomfortable. I remember he once told me, "If I keep punching you, you will move eventually!" And he's right. I found that I had more freedom to act against his attacks on the floor, and it was easy for me to follow up and ensure that he could not continue the attack. He told me that I had good improvisational skills. I think being on the floor makes it more obvious that I have escape, and I'm more alert because I'm wary of being pinned by a stronger opponent.

We practiced also using the sticks to defend against kicks, and finally against knife slashes. For the latter, we used the shorter sticks. I was partner with a Systema teacher who has been an inspiration to me. He keeps a low profile, so I've never mentioned him by name, but he appears throughout my journals. I found myself working more easily against the knife than I had against the strikes earlier. Maybe the knife is more of a psychological threat than a fist, so I respond with more conviction. Also, my partner attacked me consistently without any gap; as he rose from the floor, he was already slashing or stabbing at me. So I didn't have any time to ponder whether or not I was capable of the task. I also attacked him and Scott encouraged me to slash or stab him even after he took me down, to make sure he was truly countering the attack.

Afterwards, both of the teachers told me they were proud of me, which was definitely a huge encouragement, as earlier I had felt as if I was a poor student—not that I lack skills, because that is just a matter of time and practice, but that I wasn't giving the exercises a good effort. But by the end of the seminar, I felt much more positive about my progress as a student, and as I commented during the kroog, it does not matter to me that I only spent the last half-hour or so towards the end of the seminar working effectively against the attacks; even five minutes would have been enough for me to know that I have the potential, if my mind will allow the freedom to discover it.