On Generalists versus Specialists

A conversation at shinkage practice recently got me thinking.  The short version is that any time you pick up a new thing, you come with baggage, both good and bad, and especially early on, putting that baggage away and dealing with the material that is presented can be a challenge.  The specific context was a rapier fighter and montantera trying shinkage and visibly switching what she was doing to Figueyredo's Rule 6 mid-movement, which ruined her footwork, but another example was the deep refusal of the blade in Eisshin-ryu's vertical cuts, which shinkage doesn't do.  Obviously, Eisshin-ryu is more closely related to shinkage than Figueyredo's montante rules, but falling back on a previous body of knowledge can both aid and hinder understanding the art as presented.

This leads to a broader problem, at least for me, that of generalists versus specialists.  I started shinkage with an advantage in certain areas; I know how to practice a specific skill or movement deliberately and don't have to be taught how to do homework, for instance (how to find time for it is, of course, another story).  Picking up body mechanics is easier.  I understand that the purpose of gashiuchi or the specifics of defending the forearm are to establish and maintain an overbind, that all else being equal, an overbind is preferable to an underbind, and once bound, to use blade feel to control the engagement, and I understand that without being taught it specifically.

However, in others, that's a problem - seeing Fiore in most plays does very little to help pick up the appropriate mindset, and I have historically been much more willing to stick my oar in than an entry-level student of any Japanese martial art is supposed to do.  That last is made worse by the fact that I don't consider myself an entry-level student, because I have a fairly broad background and my theoretical grounding is, if not impeccable, then, without false modesty, at least very good.  I know enough to impress people who don't know as much, but with people who know more on each of those fields, I feel a bit like a fraud.

The problem is that the general counts for very little in a specialized setting.  I practice, by my last count, between three and eight different styles of swordsmanship depending on how you count them - "bad destreza" and "bad Bolognese," for instance, or just "bad rapier?" The exact count is irrelevant, the relevant factor is that spreading practice time over that many skills leads to a very, very broad knowledge, but the specific styles receive far less attention than I think any one of them deserves.  Fighting is a conversation, and speaking the opponent's language is a vital part of communicating in that fight; if your opponent is more fluent than you are, then the conversation is often unsatisfying and feels incomplete.

As an example, there was an SCA event recently where I fought for five minutes or so at greatsword; I have been fighting for about eight years, five years as a serious student, and my opponent for about two and a half, perhaps three.  I have had many more opportunities to become fluent, but that fight went on with neither of us able to get our point across effectively.  Greatsword offers the most opportunities to bring what I know to bear, between montante, shinkage, and Fiore.  I know for certain I've had more structured, detailed instruction, and done my best to be attentive; why, then, would I take five minutes to carry on that conversation? I could say any number of things - nerves, brain fog, lack of helm time recently, shoulder injury, what-have-you, but they feel insufficient.

The answer is because I am a generalist, and my opponent a specialist.  A specialist, especially a purebred specialist like most of the folks I do shinkage with, will achieve proficiency in their field much sooner, and will very likely outpace me in that field for pretty much our entire active careers.  That is a very frustrating experience, because the fact that you are good at another field means precisely nothing on the field you're currently on.  Even worse, comparing proficiency on another field, even so far as referring back to things that link to what you are currently studying, leads to the question "if I am good at that, why am I bad at this?" That is a poisonous question.

So how do you deal with that question? I have no idea, to be honest.  On my best days, I do it by forgetting Fiore, or by realizing that nagashi won't work if you haven't practiced it in fifty pounds of armor using a borrowed sword, or by remembering that the shortest distance is a line, not a curve, and putting my thoughts in that line rather than the loops they usually follow.  On my worst days, I spend days replaying something I did badly, because I know better than that, so why did I not do better?

The closest answer I have to all of this is to forget everything, including what everyone has taught you, all the baggage, everything, and just solve what's put in front of you at that very moment with the tools you have.