Several months ago, when we circled up after training, Edgar spoke to
us about several different kinds of fear encountered in training:
fear of fear of falling, of being deprived of air, and of being
struck. Fear of falling he described as the least distressing for
most of us. When I first started training, it took a few months to
lose the fear of falling. I remembering how sore my ass was for those
first few lessons! But now I don't mind falling, actually, I like it
because it helps me to relax. Edgar told us the fear of falling can
be exposed even in experienced practitioners under certain
conditions. For example, I recall seeing some usually soft students
tense up while demonstrating for large crowds at big seminars. I
sometimes still hit the ground tense when my partner takes me down in
a surprising way, if he speeds up, for example. Fear of falling is
not difficult to overcome with practice. Edgar told us, "Make friends
with the floor," and that it would change our lives. I feel that
losing the fear of falling and rolling is taking an important step on
the Systema journey. It's a milestone, or at least, it is to me, for
I don't quite feel I've lost the fear of falling to the extent that I
know that I am capable. It's a leap of faith, to trust your own body
to protect itself against something very hard even when going fast..
I have met a few people who are naturally free in this way, without
any training. The fear is a conditioned response we acquire as we
grow older, and most need practice to overcome it.

As described in the Guidebook, fighting skill should not be dependent
on a given set of circumstances, but rather a skill that "cannot be
taken away while the practitioner is alive." To resist falling is to
waste energy attempting to avoid a particular circumstance--falling
down--that may be unavoidable, just as we can't always avoid getting
struck. As Edgar told us more recently, "Even the professionals get
it sometimes." Some people fear falling because it hurts to fall on
the hard floor, and if they tense up, it's even more painful. Other
people can fall without hurting themselves, but feel vulnerable on
the floor and want to avoid going there at all costs. Even if falling
is an unattractive prospect, I think it's good to keep in mind that
falling is preferable to a variety of other scenarios, getting
slashed with a knife, for example, or shot with bullets. To view
falling as a worst-case scenario could prove to be a costly mistake.

A good way to get comfortable with falling is to have your partner
push or pull you down gently, or trip or sweep you as you walk. This
is a combination of going down on your own terms and being forced to
fall. You can also start on the ground and have your partner push or
pull or twist one of your limbs so that you must roll. Another good
exercise for getting comfortable with the floor is to have the
instructor clap their hands periodically as the class walks around,
and at each clap the students should fall or roll. It's good to
practice all kinds of rolls, forwards, backwards, and side-to-side.
Practice rolling to cover ground and rolling in tight quarters, and
rolling side-to-side staying as flat as possible (by "threading" one
leg through the other in kind of a "4" shape before swiveling your
hips to roll over.) Also practice rolling from kneeling and cross-
legged positions, and with your hands clasped behind your back, and
rolling from side-to-side with hands behind your back, too (you sink
down on one knee first, then push that leg backwards and sort of
lower yourself down on one shoulder first). Spend some time just
laying on the floor and getting friendly with it. You can use the
floor as a passive stretching partner just by wiggling around and
moving instinctually. Feel the vibe of the floor, and roll around on
it like a lazy cat.

Martin Wheeler is amazingly light on his feet, and his demonstrations
are always awe-insipiring. He dives toward the ground as if it is a
pool of water. We always joke that Martin can actually fly. He told
me he loves being on the ground so much that he goes there gladly.
Watching Martin, you can see the clear relationship between a
willingness to go to the ground and fighting skill. For it's not just
the ground, but the broader concept of "changing levels," and the
ground just another level. You can also see how free Martin is in his
movements, and it's such a joy to watch. Although he would probably
say it is just plenty of hard work, I think Martin is a rare talent
and there are few like him in the world. But anyone can learn to
learn to meet the floor softly with a little practice.

I fear being deprived of air the most of the three fears. We practice
this in every class, doing 10 reps of each of the four exercises
without breath, lately on the exhale, though we used to do it on the
exhale. After doing the initial 20 reps, I'm usually out-of-breath.
Edgar gives us a minute or so to restore our breathing, but I find
myself still panting, and then I panic when I hold my breath. If I
get to class a few minutes late, I do a lot better with the no-breath
reps, and I just wish I could restore my breathing a little more
quickly. I used to have an easier time with it. I can't think of any
other skill that has deteriorated since I began to train. Then again,
it could be the heat of the summertime. I think it was a little
easier for me to hold my breath in the winter.

Holding the breath is an important skill. It could easily be the
difference between life and death, when being choked, or drowing, or
poisonous gases. I find it amazing that my fellow students can do ten
leg-lifts without breathing. Edgar told us he's nothing special, and
that any ordinary person can hold their breath during ten pushups.
Recently I told our kroog that I was having a lot of trouble doing
the no-breath exercises, and some people offered advice. Edgar told
me that panicking or "freaking out" as he so aptly describes it, uses
up oxygen. It's counterproductive. One of my fellow students told me
to think about something other than the lack of air, think about
doing the exercises themselves, for example. For the other exercises,
I don't count. I just keep doing them till Edgar tells us to stop (he
doesn't count out loud, except for the slow count ones). I don't like
to count because it seems to make them take longer. But for the no-
breath ones, I have to count my own, since we all do them at a
different pace. I think the counting adds to my freaking out. But I
think the biggest factor is losing my breath and not being able to
recover it in time to begin the no-breath exercise. Losing my breath
is a lesser form of panic, but it's very similar to the feeling of
holding my breath. It's hard to believe there are people who can
forsake breathing for several minutes!

Fear of being struck has been discussed quite frequently on Vlad's
forum, so I won't write about it extensively here. But like the other
two, it's a unique and personal aspect of the practitioner. I believe
our fears reveal a great deal about our personalities. Our
relationship to the floor, and by extension, other objects in the
universe, and the way we intrepret strikes, says a great deal about
individual relationships to the world at large and the other people
in it. According to the Guidebook, you don't want to eliminate fear
altogether. It serves an important purpose in fostering survival. But
physical fear, flinching, or tensing up at contact, should be
eliminated. Mental fear, which warns you of dangerous situations with
an almost subconscious signaling, should not be eliminated, according
to the Guidebook.

A lot of Systema questions seem to return to the same answer:
practice. To lose a fear of being struck, practice accepting strikes
from a skilled student or teacher. The teachers really know how to
strike a student to help him overcome this fear. They have the
sensitivity to make sure the strike is tailored to each students'
personality and degree of fear. You can always start out by having
your teacher or your partner push the strikes into your body rather
than hit you. That is good practice for both partners as the pushing
one learns how to properly position the fist and the absorbing one
learns how to move while the pressure is applied; both learn how
strikes affect the body. A good exercise for everyone, but especially
students wary of being struck, is to do your regular sets or a slow-
count exercise like a pushup, and have one more more students strike
you during the exercise. They should aim for the flat muscular parts
and take care to avoid the spine, the kidneys, and other sensitive
areas. When done with good intentions, this is like an invigorating
massage, and the student rises with a of well-being and refreshment.

Strikes should be delivered with sensitivity, and of course
precision. (If I've made this sound simple--my mistake!) Wild
haymakers, swinging fists, and flailing arms heighten the fear
response. Both partners know when the strike is well-delivered. It
makes a different sound and feels different (usually more painful) to
the recipient. But it's a different kind of pain. Wild punches can
hurt a lot, too, but in a way that seems more aggressive. They
generate a different vibe in the recipient. A Systema strike is not
delivered with hate or aggression, and I think that makes all the
difference in the world.

Sensitivity and relaxation are important when practicing striking
while sparring. Tense up, and you will quickly be bruised. Our class
has been practicing striking for the last few weeks. One thing I've
observed: we all get hit, even Edgar. And most of the students have
gotten bruised faces or split lips. This may sound scary, but the
thing to remember is that it's all done in a positive and even
cheerful way. Everyone smiles, even as they pummel you. Edgar seems
to enjoy punching me when I'm not paying attention, I always have to
be careful about that when I'm partnered with him. Although Systema
strikes can generate a great deal of pain (the phrase "cripple with
one blow" springs to mind), striking while sparring is often playful
and no-one minds getting hit. The attitude makes it quite a different
experience than boxing or point-sparring, for example.

And yet, striking does sometimes serve a more serious purpose, as
Demetry described in a recent post, sometimes a student is taken down
a notch by a well-placed strike by the teacher. I don't think it's an
exaggeration to say that Systema strikes can change personalities and
even heal the psyche. When I sprained my ankle last year, it was
quite painful. I spent a lot of time weeping and groaning in agony
and feeling sorry for myself (well, it seemed like a lot of time, it
was probably just a few weeks). I asked one of the Systema teachers
to hit me a couple of times and I swear it helped with the pain more
than all the Tylenol and red wine I'd been drinking (the latter was
the doctor's orders, no kidding!).

We train to overcome the physical fear, the panic we feel at the
prospect of pain or discomfort, the tension and resistance that come
from trying to change circumstances beyond our control. Since fear of
the unknown is among the most distressing, familiarity is a good way
to overcome fear encountered in training. My advice is to practice
diligently and with patience. Do not shy away from your fears or seek
to bury them underneath the skills at which you excel. Expose them to
yourself and others until they become commonplace. Diligent practice
will yield results. Like Eleanor Roosevelt said, "You must do the
thing you think you cannot do."


*Vsego nailuchshego* (best wishes),
Rachel