Three Battles

My study of the concept of Sanchin has gone deeper and deeper recently as I seek to understand and probe the depths that my Sensei Bill Harris, spent a lifetime swimming in. Though many claim the title, there are very few true masters these days. I doubt there have ever been very many. I’d wager that most real masters of the martial arts were men like Sensei Harris—men who never sought the spotlight, who quietly spent decades practicing their art. Men of exceptional character and integrity. They may have taught a class here or there, but mostly they taught deeply to a chosen few over the years: those who simply wouldn’t quit, or those who kept coming back. I was one of those who kept returning to the well. I saw and felt things I could not replicate—things most people would not believe. There are men who can do amazing things. Sensei Bill Harris is one of those men. When I was at my competitive peak, training and competing in disciplines such as Judo, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and kickboxing, I “touched hands” with Sensei Harris… and I could not touch him. He always seemed to be several moves ahead of me. I was younger, faster, stronger, and actively competing, yet this “old man” could simply “take my lunch money,” as they say. It took me well over a decade to return to the well this time. It also took me that long to begin understanding what he was doing. Honestly, it took that long for me to mature enough as a martial artist to truly appreciate the traditional arts again. I once heard Guro Dan Inosanto say, “Sometimes we return to old arts with new eyes.” That’s wisdom. Which brings me to Sanchin—the Three Battles—and what exactly Sensei Harris was doing that I could not. The Three Battles are often described as Mind, Body, and Spirit. The battle is bringing those three things into unity of purpose and action. If one is wise, this concept transcends martial arts entirely—but that is another discussion.

Mind. Body. Spirit. There is a lifetime of study in those three words. And I am beginning to see that this is exactly what Sanchin is. The legends say that Kanbun Uechi spent three years doing nothing but Sanchin, and that his earliest students did much the same. It is commonly said that “All is in Sanchin” and that “Sanchin is worth a lifetime of study.” Could that really be true? It is—once you realize that Sanchin is not merely a sequence of techniques or a few steps performed in an uncomfortable stance. It is a concept. It is a method of teaching things that sometimes transcend words. It is a way of fighting the Three Battles. The Uechi-Ryu approach to Sanchin is unlike that of other systems. Stance. Rooting. Stepping. Posture. Structure. Breathing. Gaze. Focus. Knowing where to be hard and where to be soft. Intentions. Each of these demands great concentration and mental discipline. Yet focus too much on any one of them, and the others begin to suffer. So the battle is endless. Sensei Harris always emphasized breathing whenever I practiced with him, perhaps because I rarely did it correctly. He taught breathing as an up-and-down motion rather than simply in and out. At the time, I did not understand why he was so insistent. Now I think I do. Why are all of these seemingly little things such enormous things in Uechi-Ryu Sanchin? There’s your lifetime of study. From my own experience, Sensei Harris was always several steps ahead of me. I recently told him that his ability to read me—my intentions before I even acted—was uncanny. His defense, which was always an offense, was usually already in motion before I had even begun my attack. He would strike as I inhaled, or between breaths. Looking back, his timing seems almost supernatural, especially when one considers that he never “sparred.” He was not a fighter in the sporting sense. He was a finisher. Nevertheless, his ability to read intention was undeniably real and profoundly physical. Even more remarkable was the fact that he trained almost entirely alone, in his garage or backyard. To me, that defied reason. So where did that ability come from? Sanchin. A lifetime devoted to Sanchin. Sensei Harris’s Sanchin is his own. He owns it in the same way I imagine Kanbun Uechi owned his. So what is it about Sanchin that allowed Sensei Harris to read my intentions with such clarity? How could he perceive a pupil dilating, a nostril flaring, or a chest beginning to inhale—tiny cues that were nearly imperceptible? What had decades upon decades of Sanchin training cultivated within him? I believe it was, first and foremost, a profound knowledge of self. A mind, body, and spirit brought into such unity and awareness that he had mastered the ability to read his own thoughts, intentions, and movements before they fully emerged. How can one truly read another until one has first learned to read oneself?

Perhaps… All is in Sanchin.