The Budo Bum

What is Budo?

2012-01-11T17:43:00.000-08:00

I wrote this in response to a question on an email list about "What is Budo?" and thought it was worth putting out for more public comment.

Shinto Muso Ryu, Shinto Hatakage Ryu, Judo, and Aikido all sharecombative function and technique as their core practices. This gets them lumped together as “bugei” (literally “martial arts”) or “bujutsu” (martial skill). “Do” or “michi” both written 道 is a much more involved idea. While bugei / bujutsu can refer to just the techniques and skills practiced, anything with the “do” 道 suffix implies a class of not just technical activity, but also a means of polishing and developing the whole self and one’s way of dealing not just with the literal techniques of combat, but with how we approach every action and non-action throughout the day. This is both an elevation of martial activity to philosophical/spiritual and a spreading it out by making it apply to everything thing we do from putting on our shoes to sitting in a chair to drinking tea. Anything that can be done mindfully should be impacted.
To me, the first thing that is required for something to be budo is that it must be effective at a technical level. If it’s not effective for what it is trying to teach at the most basic level, it can never hope to reach level of a michi. If you’re not practicing to be martially effective, you’re certainly not doing budo. Any michi has to
be grounded in reality. It’s clear how ways such as sado (Way of Tea) and kado (Way of Flowers) are grounded in reality. You are making, serving and appreciating tea, or you are arranging and appreciating
flowers. I haven’t figured out a way to fake either one of those. Budo unfortunately is rather dangerous to practice, so it easy to deceive yourself about what you are doing. I do Kodokan Judo, hopefully as budo, but it is very easy to do it as nothing more than a sport by forgetting or ignoring the parts that aren’t comfortable to do or aren’t allowed in the sporting context. In iaido, since it is a solo practice, it is easy to drift away from the martial aspects of the practice and let it become just a series of beautiful movements.
With jodo, if you and your partner are not serious, and don’t practice with strong intent, it too can become a pretty, choreographed dance sequence. Budo requires that the intent, practice, and practicality.
Effectiveness is only a necessary component of budo though. Just because something is effective doesn’t make it a form of budo. Krav Maga is extremely effective, but I’ve never heard anyone argue that it
is budo. For something to be budo, it has to have the broader application to all aspects of life, and not be limited in its practice to combative situations. It needs to have a philosophical bent to it that allows this broader application. It must be bujutsu, but it must have an additional facet that is informed by the threads of Taoism, Confucianism and 1000 years of Japanese thought on the issue of individual development through the mindful practice of mundane activities. This is the tough part, and I suspect there is a PhD dissertation in there somewhere. I’m not talking about religion, but a concept of what it means to be human and how to perfect one’s self. The practices that effective at a technical level for a narrowly defined practical activity have to applicable beyond that, to all aspects of life. There is in Japanese thought the idea that by developing the body to do practical things perfectly, the mind will be developed as well. This is why people revere masters of flower arranging, tea ceremony, and calligraphy. Through polishing a practical skill, they are polishing their whole being, and when they display outer mastery of a skill, it is seen as confirmation of their
inner development. I’m not sure it always works, but that’s the idea. The tales of simple people who have achieved true understanding of the Tao through perfection of a common task abound. The tale of Cook Ting is a great example. He has mastered the art of cooking and through that gained insight into the nature of the universe.
If your art can be do that, and be effective, then it might be a form of budo.

Practice

2011-12-10T19:12:00.001-08:00

I have a couple of students who started recently, and teaching them has me focused on fundamentals even more than I usually am. I often say "All I'm going to do is teach you to walk and to breath." Having new students reminds me that this is very true. We are working on fundamentals of posture, how to move, when to inhale and exhale.

Practice seems to focus on the simplest, most common activities. Lately we're spending a lot of time working on breathing in a sensible way for what we are doing, standing and moving properly. Practice is like that, even when I'm working on the "advanced" stuff. Practicing the advanced stuff mostly seems to consist of making sure I'm breathing properly, standing in a relaxed, stable manner, and moving well from my hips without messing up my breathing or my posture. Practice is always practice.

Iaido and Jodo are both kata based arts. The number of kata is very limited. You learn the basic patterns and then you continue practicing them. After a few years you've "learned" all the kata in the system. That is to say, you've learned the pattern of movements that make up the kata. But learning the kata isn't what practice is all about. Practice is doing the kata, studying it, learning to apply those basic concepts of proper breathing and posture to make the movements stronger, more solid, more unstoppable. Every time I do a kata I see things that can be improved. That's just the stuff I become aware of as I practice the kata. True horror awaits me every time I see a video tape of myself. Then I'm left with a grocery list of things to address.

Practice is going about the business of addressing those issues. It's about never being satisfied with where you are, but always trying to move yourself forward. There is always something to practice. Breathing seems like such a simple thing. Even babies do it, right? But breathing properly and fully is difficult. I think I've gotten pretty good at breathing properly and fully, at least when I'm not moving. The trick I'm working on now is breathing properly, fully, and at the right moment for each movement. It's amazing how easy it is to get engrossed in the action of a kata and forget to breath until it's over. I'm still practicing breathing.

And as for walking, I don't have nearly enough time to talk about practicing walking. That's really complicated. I keep practicing it though.

Art, Martial Art, and Life

2011-10-12T13:19:00.000-07:00

I'm a martial artist. I train in several different budo. What does it mean to be a martial artist? For me it means that I'm constantly training to become myself. Not that I'm training strikes or cuts or throws or joint locks, but myself. I'm polishing who I am and how I interact with the world around me, and how I am connected to the world. It is training in the art of life.

I'm working on how to move in everyday life. The iaido kata I train aren't really about how I move with a sword. They are about how I move in the world. It's about how I get out of my car and how I move down the hallway. Most importantly, it's about what sort of face and posture I present to people I deal with. In iai, we spend a lot of time focused perfecting our movement. It's very similar to dance in that there are limited number of fundamentals that we drill and drill and drill. We drill until proper movement has become ingrained in our bodies so that we express it with every movement in or out of the dojo. A dancer is graceful on and off the stage, and a martial artist should be too.

In judo and jodo and other arts that emphasize paired practice, the focus shifts from perfect movement, thought this is still critical, to perfect timing and spacing. This is where the art of living in the world is practiced. In the dojo it's all about moving in time and space to be in the right place to dominate and control an opponent. Outside the dojo life is about moving in time and space to be in the right place at the right time for whatever is happening in our lives. The awareness and understanding of when and how people will move that we cultivate in the dojo is something that should be drawn on all the time. Moving through a crowd, dealing with a customer, a coworker, a boss, or a friend, what we can read from their body, and what we can accomplish by maintaining the relaxed, ready state we train for in the dojo makes budo relevant to every encounter, even ones we don't know we've had.

Washing a hakama

2011-08-19T09:59:00.000-07:00

This isn't a discussion of great techniques, or esoteric thoughts on budo wisdom, but in the day-to-day life of martial artist, it can be important. What's the best way to wash your hakama? This is the method I use.

The first question is, is the hakama cotton or tetron or polyester?
If it's cotton, only wash it in cold water. I only wash mine in cold water and mine is tetron, but it's really important if it's cotton.

To wash the hakama, fold it neatly like you are putting it away, roll up the himo and put rubber bands on them to hold them, and then put the whole package in a delicates bag. Wash it in the delicates bag in cold water. This will help maintain the pleates so they are easy to find when you take it out of the washer.

Hang it up to drip dry. Press in the pleats with your fingers while it is still wet, and clip the bottom of each pleat with a clothes pin to help keep the pleats neat.

After it dries, fold it neatly.

If you have a tetron hakama, you probably won't need to iron it more than once or twice a year to keep the pleats looking nice. If you have a cotton hakama, this makes the post-washing ironing process MUCH easier, because the pleats don't vanish in the washing machine.

Happy laundry day!

Getting to Black

2011-08-03T10:55:00.000-07:00

I ran across the old chestnut about various belt colors from white to black resulting from a white belt that gradually gets dirtier and dirtier over time on a discussion board recently. There are a couple of problems with this story, the biggest one being that it has no basis in fact.

Let's start with the fact that the traditional, white dogi tied with a belt isn't really traditional clothing for budo training in Japan. Traditionally hakama were worn for budo practice. There is no belt visible on the outside of hakama. The hakama is tied over the top of the obi. The modern training dogi was invented by Jigoro Kano, the founder of Judo, over a period of years at the end of the 19th century. It's based on classical Japanese underwear! In other words, it's not really traditional.

Kano Sensei also invented the modern rank system using "dan" ranks instead of the tradition teaching licenses that are issued by schools that predate the creation of Kodokan Judo. As Kodokan Judo grew into a nationally practiced martial art, he wanted a visible means of telling the difference between beginners and students who had the basics, and so they used white belts for beginners and black belts for experienced students. Originally there were also only 3 dan ranks, not the 10 that are now used.

As for the belt getting dirty over time, that ignores one great feature of Japanese culture. The Japanese are fanatically clean as whole, and the idea of letting a piece of your training uniform get so dirty and nasty that it turned black is ridiculous. No teacher would have let a student train with a belt like that, and no other student would have wanted to train with someone wearing anything close to that dirty. Students take pride in their uniforms and are expected to make sure they are clean for every practice. That includes the belt.

So, given the above, can we please put that dirty, smelly, obnoxious old story about dirty belts to rest? Please.

What makes a good martial art?

2011-07-07T12:40:00.000-07:00

So, what do you think makes a good martial art? And how do you judge?

A lot of people try to compare which martial art is better by comparing the very best practitioners each art has produced. This ends up being an argument over whether Bruce Lee could beat Ueshiba Morihei or something equally silly and pointless. When your comparison involves people of great talent, what you end up comparing is the relative talents, not the martial arts. I think it may be impossible to compare martial arts in a general sense.

Each martial art is created and practised with a different set of assumptions about timing, spacing, what weapons are being carried and what kind of attacks will be launched. You can compare the effectiveness of a martial art in a particular scenario, but there are so many potential scenarios that all you are left with is that a particular art is better suited to any one scenario than another. It still doesn't give you a clear base for comparison, unless you're convinced that potential scenarios come in a very limited set. Is your scenario based on a confrontation in a bar, a bouncer at a nightclub, a police encounter on the street, a prison guard dealing with inmates, a soldier on the battlefield? Different skills will be demanded for each of these. And unless you work in a field where confrontation is part of the job description, the odds are good you won't need combat skills in your day-to-day living.

For me, it comes down to what the art offers me. Does it enhance some set of combat skills? Does the art address more than just the technique aspect of combat? Do the skills taught have some chance of being relevant for something in your life (not a fantasy of conflict, but what you're really liable to encounter)?
Are the skills learned applicable to anything besides actual combat?

So tell me, what makes a good martial art for you?

Effective Sword Arts

2011-04-01T08:35:00.000-07:00

Someone asked me about finding effective Japanese sword arts, because they had heard some have been watered down. I haven't answered them because I'm still trying to figure out what it means for a sword art to be "effective" in the 21st century. We don't fight with swords anymore, and even if we wanted to, there are far more effective weapons these days. So what does it mean for a Japanese sword art to be effective?

I'm afraid someone may be expecting too much from their idea of practice. For me, an effective art is one that teaches the fundamentals of how to handle and use the weapon, and spends a lot of time teaching the concepts of maai and seme and sen. Fancy techniques or "real" fighting scenarios aren't part of my practice.

"Real" martial arts are pretty well stripped down to the basics. Not watered down, but stripped down, as in anything extra or not absolutely necessary has removed. Weapons combat doesn't leave a lot of room for fancy, even archaic weapons like swords. But beyond that, when I think of effective martial arts, I think about how effective the practice is for refining myself and my understanding, not how effective it will make me in a Saturday night fight. Training goes on every day. If you're smart and just a little bit lucky, you'll never be in a fight. So which is more important, those effective sword techniques, or effective training?

Training while injured

2011-03-28T09:02:00.000-07:00

My knee is healing slowly, and I'm getting an education in the value of different kinds of training. I still can't quite get into seiza, but I am pleasantly surprised to find that I can get into tatehiza. I've been too a couple of iai seminars in the last few weeks, and I'm learning things about standing etiquette that hadn't really sunk in when I didn't have to use it. Regular practice is good, and it is very interesting having to work out new kinks in seiza kata by doing them standing. So much remains the same, breathing and posture are fundamental and some of the simple benefits I carry with every minute I'm not in the dojo. But the foot work is just a little bit different standing, and that has been a lovely puzzle.

All that said, I really look forward to having a healthy knee again.

Budo and injuries

2011-01-05T20:05:00.000-08:00

So, the Tuesday before Christmas, I went to Judo and had a great practice for the first 88 minutes of the 90 minute practice. Then I proceeded to bend my right knee 45 degrees to the right while failing to throw my partner. I discovered that my knee does not like being bent in that direction. In the aftermath, I am having to put into practice some lessons I've picked up over the years of budo training.

The first is RICE. We've all heard it. When injured Rest, Ice, Compress and Elevate the injury. It's easy to do all of these right away, when the injury is still agonizing and the knee in question looks more like a grapefruit than a joint. It gets tougher to follow through with the prescribed treatment as the injury improves though. This is where other budo lessons come into play.

The second is LISTEN TO SENSEI. You might not realize it, but in Japan, doctors are addressed as "Sensei" just like teachers. Just as we learn to trust sensei's greater experience and knowledge in the dojo, we have to trust the doctor's greater experience and knowledge about the injury. Actually do what the sensei is telling you to do about your injury, don't just listen and ignore the parts that you find inconvenient. Sensei would not approve.

PATIENCE is the next lesson, and this one is tough. It takes years of training to advance in the martial arts, so you'd think we'd be pretty patient about rehabilitating an injury. Amazingly, I've known a lot of martial artists who's sole focus is getting back to training as soon as possible. What this really means is not "As soon as possible without risking re-injuring or permanently injuring yourself" but rather, "get back to training as soon as I can stand the pain, because I'm too tough for the consequences." I'm a little too familiar with this approach, having been a strong advocate of such stupidity when I was in college. Fortunately, I had teachers who would sit on me to keep me from going out on the mat for judo until after my ribs had finished healing. All that patience we learn as we work to polish our techniques over the years comes in handy while waiting a few weeks for an injury to heal.

Healing injuries need to be rehabbed in the right ways. The basic stretching and strengthening exercises are boring. Really boring. They can make kihon practice look fascinating (which it should be, but that's another post). Be persistent in doing the stretches to keep the muscles loose and healthy. Do them just like the therapist says. Do any exercises too.

But have some DISCRETION. Just because a little stretching and exercise are good for rehabbing an injury, it doesn't follow that a lot of stretching and exercise are better. Listen to your body and do the the exercises that are recommended, but don't overdo them. I know this is tough for a martial artist. Martial artists love to overdo training because it is the macho thing to do. That's part of why we learn so much about being injured. Have the good sense to balance any recommended rehab exercises with lots of rest.

TAKE IT SLOW when you start back. This is more patience, but it's worth repeating. You aren't going to master your art next week, so don't push your body to do things next week that it isn't ready for. Patience, discretion and listening to what your body tells you will carry you a long way without injuring you.

These are all lessons we're supposed to absorb from budo practice. Are you ready to prove that you've grown and developed these parts of yourself in addition to polishing your uchi mata?

Why the fascination with Zen Buddhism and Budo?

2010-11-17T06:21:00.000-08:00

I am frequently told, by people who don't practice Zen Buddhism, that there is a special relationship between Zen and Budo. The more I look at it, the less sense this makes, because I can't find any particular characteristic of Zen Buddhism that is not present in other branches of Buddhism. Can someone please tell me what is unique about Zen Buddhism that would indicate it has a special relationship with Budo?

The goals of Zen Buddhism and all the other branches of Buddhism are ultimately the same, that's why they are all forms of Buddhism. The tools they use to get there are different, but they all strive for compassion, mindfulness and an escape from the cycle of rebirth. Zen uses primarily seated meditation, other forms of Buddhism meditate on mandala, or chant sutras, or use a combination of all of these techniques. With all the forms of Buddhism that have been practiced across Japan, what makes people think that only one branch of Buddhism had significant impact on something as organic and disorganized as Budo?

Kashima Gasshuku

2010-10-01T16:47:00.000-07:00

I had a wonderful 3 days of training in Shinto Muso Ryu at the gasshuku held by Kaminoda Tsunemori Sensei at the Kashima Shinbuden Dojo in Kashima, Japan. The Shinbuden is a public dojo in Kashima near the Kashima Shrine. It is one of the major shrines in Japan related to the martial arts. The shrine and the Shinbuden are beautiful.

Kaminoda Sensei covered a lot of ground in the 3 days I was at the gasshuku. The training itself was wonderful, and continued for 3 days after I had to leave. The highlight of the gasshuku is always a Hono Enbu held at the dojo on the grounds of Kashima Shrine. Everyone participates, and we get to see excellent demonstrations by Kaminoda Sensei and his top students. This year was no exception.

There were demonstrations of Shinto Ryu Kenjutsu, Isshin Ryu Kusarigama, Ikkaku Ryu Jutte, and Uchida Ryu Tanjo, in addition to many, many demonstrations of Shinto Muso Ryu. This isn’t very interesting to anyone who wasn’t there, but it was really cool to be there.

After the enbu, we paid a visit to the grave of Tsukahara Bokuden, one of the great founders of kenjutsu in Japan. He is remembered as the founder of Kashima Shinto Ryu and a brilliant swordsman. It’s always kind of amazing to that we can connect this way with such a legendary figure.

The training which surrounded the enbu was wonderful. With many shihan available to give instruction, and with a deep pool of senior students to practice with, the training was wonderful. Everyone was doing the same kata together, but each training partner brought individual differences in size and strength, reach and height, timing and maai. All together they made a wonderful stew of training.

Practice

2010-09-14T19:15:00.000-07:00

Practice. This is the single most important attribute for becoming good at budo. It doesn’t matter how talented you are. It doesn’t matter how nature gifted you with strength and speed. Without regular, ongoing practice, you won’t be good. Period.

This means getting out and practicing regularly, whether you have a partner or not. It means studying your art. Martial arts are learned through the conscious repetition of fundamentals. It takes a lot of dedication to repeat fundamental drills over and over again, but that’s where progress is made. Deep in the fundamentals.

There is a basic technique in Shinto Muso Ryu called Hikiotoshi Uchi. I may be a slow learner, but I keep learning new things about the technique. I also unlearn things about it very fast. I keep practicing it and discovering new things about the technique, but if I go for a while without practicing for some reason (most likely work), then my technique gets weak and sloppy. Without regular practice, I’m no good. No one is.

This should be obvious, but it doesn’t seem to be. A lot of people have a vision of being a great martial artist. The truth is, being a martial artist is mostly the potentially boring repetition of basic exercises on a regular schedule. I say “potentially boring” because one of the keys to maintaining that regular schedule is to always be looking deeper into your technique to see what needs to be improved. This involves doing a lot of repetitions of basic techniques, which can get boring fast if you only think about it as repeating the basic techniques.

If you are really learning and improving, you should never repeat the same technique. On the theory that no one is ever perfect, each repetition has to be an attempt at perfect technique, and hopefully, every repetition is better than the previous one in some way. I wish mine were like this. Instead the quality of techniques goes up and down on a day to day basis, so I have to aim for general improvement over time, so that what was good last week will qualify as poor next year. Thankfully, there is always room for improvement. Even my teachers keep practicing, although they are so much further up them mountain than I am that I can’t see what they are working on.

This is why bujutsu practice is budo. We are always working on polishing our techniques, and in the process, we should be polishing ourselves as well. We keep practicing, and we keep aiming at perfection, even if we know we’ll never hit it. Hopefully, with a little practice, tomorrow I’ll be a little closer to the target than I was today.

Mindful practice

2010-09-06T18:16:00.000-07:00

Kata practice in koryu is tough. Even knowing exactly what your partner will do doesn’t make it easy. Unfortunately, you don’t know precisely when or how fast or how hard or how committed your partner will be when they do the next technique in the kata. Working with a good partner who controls and varies their speed, timing strength and commitment are what bring the two-man kata of koryu bugei alive. A great deal is said about mushin, or “no-mind” as a goal in the martial arts. In order to bring kata alive as above, I think mindful training is critical.

Mushin has been described well by better martial artists and writers then I. It’s a mental state that is a goal of training. What I don’t think I’ve seen enough of is a discussion of the mental state during training. It’s good to know that the goal of training is to achieve the lofty state of mushin, but with what sort of mental state, with what mind-set should we approach training? Most of us, myself included, need more mind in our training, not less.

We need more mindfulness in our training. By this I don’t mean we need to be thinking about all the nuances and possibilities of what we are doing while we are doing it. That’s what the beer session after keiko is for. What I’m talking about is more like the zanshin that one is supposed to show at the end of kata, after the action is concluded but before the kata is officially over. In iaido, we’re always watching to make sure students don’t drop their focus after the last cut, and just saunter through the chiburi, noto, and return to the starting point. This remaining focused on the situation at hand, without letting outside thoughts or distractions move your focus is the mindfulness I’m looking for throughout practice.

It’s a lot easier to grab a students attention in jodo practice and keep them mindful through a whole kata than it is in iaido. All you have to do is change up the timing a little bit when their attention wanders and nearly hit them. Some students, like me, are stubborn about being stupid, and we actually get hit. That surprise when the senior partner comes through your defenses because you were giving him less than 100% of your attention is usually enough to keep you focused until the end of practice. The trick is to have this focus from the start of practice and to not lose it.

When I think of mindfulness, it’s not that one is full of their own mind, but rather one’s mind is full of one thing. That one thing is whatever you’re doing. In koryu bugei training, that one thing is almost always a kata. Focusing on a kata, filling your mind only with the immediate action of the kata is a lot tougher than you would think. Especially considering that the sadistic old men I train with seem to like nothing better than whacking you if your attention wanders and leaves an opening for them. With that kind of motivation, it should be easy to practice mindfully. For some reason, even with the threat of yet another whacking, it’s still difficult to stay focused on just the immediate instant.

One of the dangers of kata practice is that it can become rote. After all, everybody involved knows what’s going to happen next, and after that, and after that until the end of the kata. How much attention does it require to dance through the steps of the kata when everyone knows what those steps are? It doesn’t take much attention at all to dance through the steps of a kata. It can be done while planning dinner and a corporate takeover. To do it right though requires nothing less than your whole mind.

If your partner is good, you can’t have even one corner of your mind off thinking about dinner plans. There is a reason that in koryu bugei the senior partner is always on the losing side. That’s the teaching side. The senior’s job is to control the speed, timing, intensity and other variables of the kata so junior can learn as much as possible and stretch themselves to new levels. When the senior is good, they don’t leave any room for the junior to be anything but mindful.

Mindfulness is another one of those things in any way that can be carried out of practice and into life. The tea ceremony folks are probably the best at bringing mindfulness to ordinary life, because their training is focused on an ordinary activity. They have to learn mindfulness without the threat of getting hit with a big wooden stick. In budo practice, if we are lucky, we have the advantage and disadvantage of training with someone who will hit us if we aren’t mindful. This is useful because it can teach good focus very quickly. I’ve noticed though, that this focus can be very particular, showing up only when someone is liable to be hit, and absent the rest of the time.

Mindfulness shouldn’t require the threat of getting hit to achieve. One of the goals of training is to be able to discipline the mind to mindfulness at any time, regardless of the activity, the location, or the presence of a partner with a big stick. Watch any good budoka, and they show mindfulness from the moment they start in the dojo, not from the moment kata starts. Being mindful throughout practice at the dojo should be practice for being mindful all the time. Great budoka exude this focus all the time, inside and outside the dojo.

Mindfulness is not something that is just for the dojo. It is a skill, a way of approaching things and focusing on one activity that should extend from the dojo into everything we do. Mindfulness is one of the practices, one of the benefits of any way that should permeate our lives. My cooking is better when I’m mindful of what I’m doing in the kitchen. And I know it’s useful in the dojo when that little, old man with the stick tries to whack me.

Mushin, well, that’s a goal I’m still aiming at. Mindfulness is something I can work on right now.

Techniques and Arts

2010-08-26T10:06:00.000-07:00

At practice last night, while we were doing iaido, there were some no-gi grappling guys using another piece of the dojo for their practice. Being a judoka, I’ve rolled around with them a little bit, and they are good at what they do. They study individual techniques for take-downs and submissions, and they can apply them in sparring quite well.

They are always talking about which techniques are the hottest, and trying to find the ultimate killer technique. There doesn’t seem to be any discussion of ideas or principles that might bind together groups of techniques, or whole strategies of movement. Watching their training, I’m always looking for the threads that tie their techniques together. Most often, I don’t see any effort to connect the various threads of their training into a few fundamental principles.

This is one of the basic things that differentiate an art form, a way, from a collection of skills. Someone can be a great technician without understanding the principles from which the individual techniques are derived, but without a grasp of the foundations on which the techniques are built, you can never go beyond the level of a technician. You are stuck with collecting techniques. A lot of what I see in the MMA and no-gi grappling fighters are technique collectors, without anything more going on.

An art, a way, has to be something more than a collection of techniques. It has to have some fundamental principles that are expressed through the techniques, but not limited to the techniques. An art, a way, must be more than just a collection of techniques, no matter how cool or effective they are individually. Judo is the easiest example of an art because its fundamental principles were so clearly stated by the founder, Jigoro Kano. The two principles are “Jita Kyoei” (Mutual benefit and welfare) and “Seiryoku Zenyo” (Maximum efficiency, minimum effort). Those are very clear. They are not simple, nor are they easy, but all the techniques of Judo point towards them and practicing the techniques can lead you to an understanding of the principles.

I say “can” because not everyone who practices an art, even for a lifetime, will understand the principles. To reach the level of principles requires a lot of work on them beyond just mastering the techniques of the art. The techniques are just techniques. They are a means to learning the principles, but they aren’t the principles. It’s very easy to get caught up with the beauty and power of the techniques and never go any further in the learning. Studying the techniques of an art does not grant automatic understanding of the principles. Even mastering the techniques of an art does not guarantee that someone will master the principles.

I’ve known very powerful judoka who had no interest in Judo beyond what takes place on the mat. They have studied the techniques of Judo for years, decades, without ever developing the least interest in how the principles of Judo might be applied to something other than competition. To me, they have missed the real beauty of the art, but they are quite satisfied with being technicians. On the other hand, I have met people who diligently practiced the techniques without ever achieving a high level of technical skill, but who were able to grasp the principles of the art and apply them expertly in whatever they were doing.

In order to make something an art, a way, we have to practice it with the idea that there is more to it than just a collection of techniques. We have to pursue the underlying principles and how we might apply them in ways beyond the techniques. This is true no matter what art we are practicing, whether it is Judo or Tea Ceremony or Flower Arranging or any of the dozens of other arts out there. Without conscious search for the principles and a will to apply them to the world, all we have are collections of techniques.

2010-08-17T11:15:00.000-07:00

I fear I'm getting old. I went to judo last night, and was disappointed that all we did were techniques and randori, but no kata practice. Lately I find kata practice more interesting even than randori. Randori is still fun, but I'm getting a lot more out of the careful exploration of attack and counter-attack, spacing and defense that make up the kata in Kodokan Judo. It may just be me, but I find that when I do a lot of randori, I have fun, but I don't progress. When I do kata, whether they are the official kata of Kodokan Judo, or unofficial kata presented as training exercises, I learn something and my judo grows.

Lately I've been working on Nage No Kata and the Kodokan Goshinjutsu. Both are fun, and both teach me something about working at various distances that I can't get from randori. It's especially good when my partner progresses to the level of being able to really attack. Then I have to stretch my skills to keep up with the strength and speed that he can put into the kata.

It's in the kata that I can see and really feel the sense of yawara and the seiryoku zenyo. Too often in randori I find myself substituting muscle for technique. In the kata I feel more like I am focused on the essence of Judo.

jutsu vs. do?

2010-08-11T10:06:00.000-07:00

I see a lot of writing that suggests that arts whose names end in "jutsu" are in some fundamental way different from arts whose names end in "do." I have a hard time finding this significant difference. I want to look at the whole concept of "michi" (do) or "way" in English, and see if there really is a fundamental difference between jutsu and do, or if that is a false dichotomy.

bjj

2010-03-11T13:05:00.000-08:00

After judo practice last night, I got to work out with a new bjj/MMA teacher who is coming to the dojo. It was an interesting experience. The language was different, but the techniques were familiar. I'm used to learning techniques based on applying a small set of fundamental principles to a variety of situations and problems. For the bjj there didn't seem to be unifying principles, but every technique was broken down into minute steps that were easy to follow. It was great fun to be a pure student, just keeping my mouth shut and learning what he had to offer.

Ways

2009-10-24T10:34:00.001-07:00

People argue a lot about whether some art is a "jutsu" or a "do." They miss a simple fact. In Japanese culture, there is a way to do everything. There is a proper way for everything to be done. Not just those things that have been codified as arts with names. There is, for example, a proper way to wring out a towel.
"Huh? You've got to be kidding." I can hear people thinking. There really is. The idea is to find the best way to do something. All the arts we study and practice, judo, sado, kado, iaido and on and on, are little ways. They are supposed to point us at the big Way of life. But it's not just the named arts. Everything has a way. The unspoken lesson of Japanese culture is that there is a way for everything we do, every day. Even simple things like how to hold a pen, pencil or brush, or how we hold and drink our tea, or how we wring out a towel.
The ancient idea is that if the outer ways are correct, the heart and mind will also be correct. Unfortunately, I've known too many elegant and polished scoundrels to believe this to be true. I do believe that we can approach everything we do with the idea that there is a way hidden within it. A friend of mine taught me about the way of standing. She worked with me and taught me how to stand. Her way was much better than what I had been doing, and had the benefit of making my back feel better. I wish she was closer because I'm sure she could teach me a lot about the way of walking.
All of these little ways should give us clues about the way of living. None of the little ways is complete in itself, but they all point a finger at how to approach the rest of life, the physical, the mental and the emotional.

Training Direction

2009-08-24T06:36:00.000-07:00

We go to the dojo and train. Ok, so what does that get us? We will show improvement in return for making the choice and effort to go practice. This can only be a good thing. As an American, anything that gets me up and active has to be counted an improvement. Going to the dojo to train means getting some kind of instruction in your art and being able to practice it. That’s good, but relying on the teacher to provide all of the direction in your training makes for weak, inefficient training and slow progress.

If we pick some fundamental aspect of our art to work on, whether it is entering, or timing, or posture, or movement, we can refine that aspect of the art while practicing whatever it is our teacher is focusing on for the day. This gives training more continuity from practice to practice, and gives something to focus on any time we think about our art, whether we are in the dojo for formal practice, or just thinking about it when we're supposed to be accomplishing something at work. We can either float through our training, or we can choose what kind of martial artist we will become.

Isn’t this how we should approach the rest of our time outside the dojo as well? With an idea of the person we'd like to become, and be making effort in that direction? Some people say things like "That's just who I am. I can't change." Every day though, life changes us a little. The question is, will we passively allow life to shape us, or will we actively participate in shaping ourselves? Whether we are in the dojo, the kitchen or the workplace, we can choose what we become day by day.

2009-07-25T20:14:00.000-07:00

Kiyama-Sensei basically said to quit worrying about anything in the kata except making the cut incredibly powerful. His cuts are absolutely incredible. On the street he's a little, kindly old Japanese grandfather. At 85 years old, and maybe 5 ft tall, in a floppy hat and casual shirt, he doesn't seem powerful or unusual. He is though. I'm still working on the complete physical integration that he has, but a couple more little pieces came through for me this year. He calls it "heso powa-", literally, belly button power. He ties everything together with koshi and drives that through the blade's kissaki. It's really incredible, and it's going to take some time to get right. When I try it, I often end up tensing the wrong things, and my head will bob up and down as the unstablized powere I'm generating finds an exit through something other than the sword. I think it did it right a couple of times while I was there, but it's going to take some work to see if I've really got it.

Of course, once I get this down, then it has to be integrated into my practice without disturbing all of the other things I've worked on, like timing, spacing, pacing, movement, and other stuff I'll regret forgetting.

Budo and Old Friends

2009-07-18T22:47:00.000-07:00

I went to Japan for a week to see my friends. I did some incredible jodo with Matsuda Shihan, and judo with old friends (and we all felt old in the heat), and iaido with Kiyama Sensei. It was wonderful. Each time I get a little more. This time I understood a bit about what Kiyama Sensei is pointing me at. I'm not sure I'm looking at the moon he's pointing me to, but I think I may have stopped focusing on his finger finally. I didn't catch on the to lesson in the dojo though. It was on a Saturday morning at his house, watching old budo videos and commenting back and forth. I think I finally got what he's been trying to tell me for years. Now I just have to translate it from understanding to expression.

One Punch, One Kill

2009-06-16T08:14:00.001-07:00

I've heard karate guys talk about their art as being so "effective" that "One Punch, One Kill" is an outcome. I wonder, how effective is a tool that can only be used in lethal situations?

generalist or specialist

2009-06-14T20:33:00.000-07:00

In martial arts circles, you run into people who do only one thing, and do it incredibly well. You also run into people who try to do everything. Some of them are even pretty good. I know lots of guys who are great competitive judoka and MMA players. But they don't know anything about spacing or timing farther than they can reach. They know even less about hand held weapons. One question for people in combative disciplines has long been, "How do I train for all the different scenarios I may have to deal with?" I really haven't seen a modern answer to this question. I have my own solution, but it's not very modern.

movement

2009-05-31T09:33:00.000-07:00

I've been expecially aware of the most basic aspects of movement in my iai lately. I noticed recently that when I'm doing kata from seiza a lot, it changes how I move from any seated position. Everything is much more stable, connected and solid. It's interesting.

Then this morning, I went to the gym to practice, and I ended up in a different court than I usually practice in. This one has a very tacky, almost sticky floor. A lot of the movements that I usually practice almost as gliding movements across the floor I can't do that way in the court. My feet and knees stick and won't move if there is any contact with the floor at all. I have to disconnect myself from the floor to do anything. It's not really difficult, but it is different enough that I have to put a little awareness into it, without letting the other parts of the kata go because I'm changing this one aspect. Good practice.

2009-04-24T06:26:00.000-07:00

Only about 7 weeks overdue. Instead of considering the parts of kata, I've been trying to apply timing, spacing, commitment and other bits of it to life. It's amazing how how much negotiations can be just like a kata. Waiting for them to commit, or to leave a space for me to enter. It's strangely like doing kata. But with negotiations, I'm not supposed to destroy anyone. We're supposed to come to an agreement that all can live with. Not having a clearly defined ending makes it more difficult, but that's not bad. Application always seems to be more difficult than practice. That's why we practice.

Timing and spacing in kata

2009-02-21T18:43:00.000-08:00

Kata practice is usually thought of as restricted because you know what's going to happen. In good practice, you do know the movement of the kata. What you don't know is the timing, the distance, the speed, or the power your partner will be using. Traditionally, kata practice is done with a beginner doing the winning role, and a senior practitioner taking the losing role. It's the senior's job to control the timing, speed, distances and power.
It's one thing to know what the next attack is going to be. It's another to act at the right moment, move the appropriate distance, and do it fast enough and with without moving too much or too little. The first kata in the Kendo No Kata is simple, but teaches all of these lessons. The kata is nothing more than opponents approach each other, one attacks, the other avoids the attack, then counter attacks. That's all that's required to learn though. There are several critical lessons in this kata.

The first lesson is distance. What is the distance of engagement? This is fundamental. At what point is someone close enough to be a true threat? If he's too far away to be a true threat, you don't need to act. It's a threat without teeth. How close is too close? It's different for every person, based on reach, step length, what weapon they're using and other factors. Without this one, you'll never get to the technique.

The important parts of a kata

2009-02-07T21:41:00.001-08:00

There are lots of kata around, from the kata of karate and iaido, to the very formal and seemingly fossilized two-man kata of koryu kenjutsu and jujutsu to the fairly loose kata of standard aikido practice (and yeah, most aikido practice is definitely kata). But what are the most important elements of kata.

It the techniques that everyone sees and focuses one. In katate, the kata are all about how to strike and block. In iai they are all about learning to draw quickly and with control. In koryu arts they are about learning the techniques for destoying your opponent. Or are they?

To me, the essence of kata are in how they deal with spacing, timing and the rhythm of the attack. The techniques are pretty much incidental to the primary lessons of the kata.

Musings about Kata

2009-01-18T19:38:00.001-08:00

Kata invoke some strong feelings. Many competition oriented martial artists consider kata training a waste of time. Many koryu bugei folks think competitors miss all the important lessons, and Ueshiba Morihei, the founder of aikido, proclaimed there are no kata in aikido.

What are "kata" that they generate such strong feelings and statements? They are just pre-arranged movement patterns. In budo, they are pre-arranged patterns for movement for dealing with conflict. In Japanese arts, with the exception of iaido, they are always paired practice. Since iai deals with handling a live blade, it would be tough to keep finding new partners after every mistake, this makes a certain sense. But what is being studied in these kata, and why kata instead of free sparring. After all, kata was the dominate teaching methodology for budo in Japan until the 1900s. And what was it about kata that made it strong enough to be successful against styles that emphasize randori (sparring) and in live matches for hundreds of years. It's still the dominate training method for most koryu bugei.

Kata must have something, because extremely successful systems like Yagyu Shinkage Ryu kenjutsu are all about kata. Yagyu Shinkage Ryu consists of 22 kata, through which the whole of the kenjutsu system is taught. What's going on here that an entire school of sword fighting can be boiled down to 22 forms?

What's important in a kata?

2009-01-13T21:24:00.000-08:00

I'm thinking a lot about what goes into a kata? What elements should a kata teach? What are the most fundamental parts of a kata? Every kata contains techniques. Should the kata teach the most fundamental form of a technique, or a more advanced form? What is it that makes really good kata?

Randori and Kata

2008-12-28T06:09:00.000-08:00

This is in response to a very thoughtful and excellent post by Kevin Levitt on his blog at http://www.budo-warrior.com/?p=55

I have to respectfully disagree about the necessity of randori type activity in training. People in Japan have been arguing about this for at least 400 years, but the randori folks have never achieved a noticeable advantage over the kata only folks. The kata only folks demonstrated the effectiveness of their training methodology throughout the Tokugawa era from 1600 to 1868, holding their own in challenges, fights and duels. I believe the key is that the kata system must not focus on techniques, but on higher skills such as recognizing openings, preparing feints, and dealing with surprises.

I've done both randori focused training, and kata focused for a while now. What I discovered is that my effectiveness in randori increases most dramatically when I don't do randori, but instead make kata training the center of practice. This isn't technique training, but well developed situational training where my partner controls the speed and timing of the action. To do the kata effectively, I have to learn multiple lessons about reading my partner's body set, timing, and spacing as she changes timing, spacing and speed I have to deal with.

I am always amazed at how quickly I can apply these lessons to effect in randori situations.

Randori practice on the other hand is intense and fun, the main thing I take away from most randori training is knowledge of what I'm doing that already works, and what kata need more practice. I can practice kata for a long time without doing randori. When I go back to the randori, I inevitably find myself much more effective. On the other hand, when I spend too much time doing randori, I find that my randori skills don't improve, and often they deteriorate. The chaos of randori doesn't leave enough room to focus on skill development and the desire to win can actually defeat the learning and improvement process as you shift back to relying on raw strength and speed to overcome opponents when your technique is insufficient.

Randori is fun, and it validates who has learned their lessons well, but I really don't think it is a good teaching tool. It is a great way for people to test what they have learned and find out where they need to practice.

Budo and the unflinching gaze

2008-12-26T20:18:00.000-08:00

In most Japanese classical budo, the vast majority of training is done with a partner, and in the modern budo there is generally some form of randori . Training with another person with whom you have to demonstrate the effectiveness of your technique forces you to be honest aobut your technique. Unless your training partner takes a dive for you, you have to be honest about how well you are doing a technique and what needs work.

When using a live blade in iaido, it's difficult to find sensible people who are willing to act as training partners. You have to train solo. Solo training means you don't have independent input on your technique. The most difficult thing about iaido training is that you have to look at yourself and decide if you're doing things correctly. I don't know about anyone else, but I have a nearly limitless ability to convince myself my technique is great. Without the check of a partner, I can tell myself all sorts of stories about how fine what I'm doing is. Good iaido demands that you look at yourself without flinching. I have to think about what I'm doing very carefully so I can't let little self-deceits slip in.

I have led myself down some disasterous dead ends, even when people whose opinion I should know enough to listen too have told me how wrong I was. Even looking at myself on video didn't help much. My river of training started flowing backwards for a couple of years while I listened to the lovely lies I was telling myself. It was only when I started to look at myself without consideration of how good or bad I was did I begin to fix things. I had to stop telling myself that this or that works better for me, and only ask "How close is what I am doing to ideal iaido?" When I started doing that and looking at my iai without flinching I started making progress again.

Looking at myself like this has been really hard on my ego. As much as I try to convince myself critizism from others isn't quite right, it really hits hard when it is coming from own mouth.

Kiyama Sensei called

2008-11-10T20:39:00.000-08:00

Kiyama Sensei called me early one morning last week. I'd sent him a letter about some training, and a link to pictures of a seminar I had taught. He emphatically told me to just teach folks the shoden set and drill them on that. The pictures included lots and lots and lots of pics of folks doing tameshigiri, even though that had been a little bit tacked on at the end of the day. From the ratio of tameshigiri pics to everything else, I can see how he thought we did mostly cutting that weekend. It's funny, to an American, I'd try to justify what I taught and what we did. To Sensei, I just said "Thank you for the instruction on teaching" and started thinking about reasons why he is right. I've learned to approach things differently with my teachers in Japan, in ways I have trouble applying to my relationships with Americans, even when I really want to.

Oh, for the tameshigir, I just told him it was an aikido dojo and they wanted to do tameshigiri for their aikido. Now I need to send him another letter with some training questions and other things that have come to mind since the last letter. The problem is that I write Japanese so slowly, and I'm embarrassed by my poor Japanese. It communicates, but it's not pretty.

What's important

2008-10-25T18:46:00.000-07:00

Martial arts, by themselves, are worthless. Any conflict art can only gains particular value by what it protects and preserves. The really wonderful thing is that most often, the skills can protect and preserve without ever being applied in a physical manner. That they are present is sometimes enough. Even when they are brought to bear, arts of conflict can be applied in ways that are not physical. Being able to apply physical conflict skills to other realms doesn't seem like a huge leap to me, but for many people who practice various forms of budo, it seems like a huge leap.

Budo and "The Way"

2008-10-19T07:07:00.000-07:00

In every system of budo in Japan, there is one, and only one, correct way of doing things. This seems arrogant, but it's not. A large subtext of Japanese culture is the simple idea that there is a best way to do something. That's not controversial. Clearly, for any activity, there is a best way to do it. To get there though, you have to decide what that way is. In each system of budo, in fact, in pretty much any group in Japan, there is an accepted best way to do things. This "best way" can be different for every group that does something similar. That's not the point. The point is that if you don't have an ideal to try and achieve, you can't advance. By having a "best way" each group, each budo, each ryu, each tea ceremony group, each flower arranging group, has an ideal they are trying to approach. With an ideal method and technique in place, they can work to polish and improve their own technique. The potential pitfall is to blind yourself to the possibility that someone else's ideal may actually better than yours for accomplishing you goal. The balance is to have an ideal and work to improve yourself so you get closer and closer to that goal, without becoming so attached to the ideal that you feel threatened by anyone who does it differently, and begin to attack or belittle them. If you do that, you betray the goal above your ideal, which is to become as good as possible. If you discover a flaw in your goal, the true Way is to improve and refine your goal, and then continue refining yourself. Sadly, most of the people I encounter are too busy proving that their way is the best, the one true way, and they never look at how much finer they could become by being open to refining their ideal technique as much as they are to refining their personal technique.

Kiyama Sensei

2008-09-21T19:05:00.001-07:00

Last summer, I visited my iaido teacher, Kiyama Hiroshi Sensei, in Japan. Kiyama Sensei is one of the last of the men who fought in World War II and he continues to actively train and teach kendo and iaido.
I'm learning Shinto Hatakage Ryu Iai Heiho from him. He is the last teacher of this small art. It's not one of the big schools that includes a huge curriculum, but it is a coherent system with plenty to teach someone who is willing to study it. Years ago Sensei wrote up his notes on Shinto Hatakage Ryu and he has given a copy of them to me. Unfortunately, the notes are in hand written Japanese, one of the most difficult mediums imaginable. He kindly went over several pages of the notes with me, helping me to understand what I was reading and making clear the characters my poor Japanese couldn't decipher.
We spent one afternoon together at an annual iaido tournament in Shiga. It's a wonderful gathering of iaidoka from all over the prefecture. The only drawback is that it's held during one of the hottest, most uncomfortable times of the year in Otsu, and the gym is an old school building with no ventilation other than opening the doors and windows and praying for a breeze. I love it though, because I get to see lots of old friends from all around the prefecture that I wouldn't get to see otherwise. We all show off our iai for each other, and who wins or loses really isn't important. Over the years I've managed a few 2nd and 3rd place finishes, but mostly I'm thrilled to be there to see and talk with everyone. It's also a great chance for instruction. All of the seventh and eighth dans walk around giving advice on weak points in your technique they have noticed. There is nothing like this chance in the US.
The embu and competition are a chance to see a variety of styles besides the omnipresent Muso Jikiden Eishin Ryu and Muso Shinden Ryu. There was also Muso Shinden Jushin Ryu, Suio Ryu and Shinto Hatakage Ryu.

Sport versus Budo

2008-09-10T19:13:00.000-07:00

I just finished a long discussion of sports judo versus Kodokan judo. I find it amazing that someone can argue that sport judo is a superior form of self defense to Kodokan judo. Sport judo trains to win in a narrowly defined arena where strikes and weapons aren't a consideration and your opponent has to hold on to you. Kodokan judo trains from a variety of combative distances, assumes that opponents may have a variety of hand held weapons, and assumes all attacks are possible. Which one sounds more like a sensible approach to combative training?

Cage fighting

2008-08-16T17:59:00.000-07:00

Last week I went to my first cage fight. It was an interesting experience. The first fights weren't really fights. They were all match-ups with first time fighters. The fighters weren't very good, but they there was nothing horrible about them. The crowd though, they were scary. They got most excited when a fighter went down and wasn't really able to defend themselves. When this would happen, the crowd would leap to their feet and start cheering as the downed fighter was pummeled until the referee stopped the fight. The crowd wasn't interested in the skill of the fighters at all. Their only interest was in seeing someone get pounded bloody and senseless. The crowd's demands for blood and destruction were genuinely frightening. Most of these people weren't there to see a fight. They were there to see someone beaten and damaged. We haven't advanced a step beyond the Romans and the coliseum.

2008-07-28T20:28:00.000-07:00

This is my teacher, Kiyama Sensei. He was the watching the enbu at the beginning of the Shiga Taikai. It was 35C (~95F) that day. I was genuinely worried he would get sick from the heat while wearing the full, formal montsuki.

Yeah, the picture is dark, but I haven't figured out how to lighten photos yet. (Chuck fixed it for me. Thanks Chuck). It is a demonstration of Muso Shinden Jushin Ryu. Yes, you've never heard of it. Yes, it is a branch of Muso Shinden Ryu. No, it is not just like MSR. It is quite different, with some unique kata of their own, and a chiburi I have never seen anywhere else.

Power scares people

2008-07-27T15:40:00.000-07:00

A lot of people are intimidated by the idea of the martial arts, some seem to be downright scared of them. I used to think that this was because the martial arts (all of them, western and eastern) deal with conflict, and conflict makes people uncomfortable. I've decided that idea was going in the right direction, but missed the target.

Martial arts frighten people because they're about power. Personal, physical power. People are also scared of knives and guns, but at least a knife or a gun can be taken away from someone and then they are the same as everyone else. Martial arts skills can't be surrendered at the desk when you check in. They can't be detected by metal detectors or chemical analysis or even the new back-scatter radiation scanners. You can't take them away from the artist. That scares a lot of people. The idea that a person can have this power that can't be seen or detected or surrendered is frightening to many people. I've had bosses and co-workers treat me very differently from everyone else around, and the only reason I can come up with is the martial arts.

I've been doing martial arts for so long now that I have difficulty remembering what it's like to not do them. I keep trying to imagine how non-martial artists view me, but it's difficulty. The only ways I can imagine it is to think about how I react to someone who carries a visible weapon like a bowie knife or a pistol. It's rather unnerving to imagine that people who know I do martial arts think about me the same way. Do I scare people? Or better, are people scared of me?

Wanted

2008-06-28T07:10:00.000-07:00

I saw "Wanted" at the theatre last night. It's a nice movie action movie about a guy who's recruited into a secret society of assassins. This poor cubicle dweller is plucked out of a wholly unpleasant life and dropped into intensive training as assassin. Believe it or not, the only thing that bothered me was the idea that this guy could master fine combat skills in a few weeks.

It takes a least a year to go from raw talent to world class, if you have the talent to begin with. We all talk about how it takes years to master a martial art. I don’t think that’s true. George Foreman walked into a boxing gym in 1967 and year later was good enough to be considered for the Olympics. 18 months after he walked into that gym he was good enough to win the gold medal at the ’68 Olympics. 18 months from raw talent to gold medal. So much for the idea that it has to take years or even decades to master a martial art.

For those of us who don’t start with the necessary raw talent, I’m pretty sure we can train for decades and never reach that pinnacle.

Does that mean we shouldn’t do it?

To not make the effort is to eternally be less than we can be, to walk through life as a shadow of our potential. The vast majority of people I meet go through life as shadows. Whether we remain shadows because we are afraid, or lazy, or we believe there is nothing more to be aspired to than TV on weeknights and beer and movies on the weekends, or for some other reason, the shadows I meet every day terrify me. The idea that I could end up living like that scares me far worse than dying.

I have the potential to do a lot of things. What scares me is that I could make excuses to not avoid them. Like a lot of people I know, I have done things that the shadows consider amazing, though why they are amazed I can’t fathom. I’ve traveled to Asia and spent years living in a country whose language I didn’t speak when I arrived, learned the language, found masters of the arts I was interested in, became their students, and learned as much as I could. For those who have done something similar, it’s no big deal. The idea that I find amazing is to not do something similar. To drift through a series of soul-suffocating jobs in the place where I was born and never know anything else. To do so little with my potential, that’s amazing to me.

Now that I realize how little time it takes to get really good (since it is clear that I don’t have that world class potential I have to settle for being really good) at just about anything, the excuses for not trying seem even weaker than they were before. I just have to choose a path and start down it. I’ll get there.

Guelph

2008-05-23T18:17:00.000-07:00

I went to Guelph last week for the Spring Seminar. Namidome Sensei was back, along with the two Eto Sensei and Eto Sensei. Namidome Sensei is the senior Shinto Muso Ryu teacher in Fukaoka, and the Eto Sensei's are a mother and daughter who are both 7th dan in Jodo and Iaido. They've all been to the Guelph several times. I got train with Kim Taylor for much of Saturday. Sensei kept us hoping until I was thoroughly exhausted. At one point I left my hand hanging on Shamen and Kim whacked it quite definitively with the bokuto. The pain was bad, but the embarrassment from leaving my hand there to get hit was worse. By the end of practice on Saturday, Kim and I were both punchy with exhaustion.

On Sunday I trained with Ward, who was testing for his yondan on Monday. Kim very diplomatically arranged for me to be able to test on Sunday, since I couldn't stay for the testing on Victoria day. Best of all, the tape I put on the blister that burst on Saturday stayed in place until after the test was over.

It's interesting how arts get pushed in different directions based on things that are really tangental to the original goals and intents of the arts. Judo and Kendo are each bent by the competition that was started as way to for people to test their combative skills. Now the competition has nearly completely displaced the practice of combative skills, though there are still people striving to maintain the combative focus. Iaido was added to the Kendo Federation to push kendoka to learn how to use a real sword to try to balance the effect on skills of competing with bamboo shinai. Now though, the pursuit of rank in the Kendo Federation, iaido is being pushed towards very light, gentle, dance-like movements without a great deal of intensity. Jodo has only been part of the Kendo Federation for a little while, so it's tough to see a trend there yet. The changes aren't necessarily evil. Nothing can stay the same forever. The trick is to keep the valuable core and principles while evolving to fit a new social and historical background.

Clining to pain

2008-05-11T15:18:00.000-07:00

I've been watching something in and out of the dojo. People will cling to a way of doing things, or way of seeing things that hurts them and holds them back. In judo the guys learn to be stiff and push their way around the dojo. When we try to get them to learn subtlety, they resist. Advancing beyond the stage they've reached requires working on things they don't do well. They don't want to let go of what they have to grasp something of greater value. It's easier to keep going at a low level of mediocrity. Learning seems to require so much more effort than maintaining their current level that they don't want to risk the effort.

I see this outside the dojo nearly every day. People cling to anger or ways of looking at the world, regardless of the pain it causes them. If you suggest they change a little, they tell you "I can't change." What's sad is that we all change a little bit everyday. None of us are fossilized and unchanging. Life changes us a little each day. What these folks are really saying is "I have no control over how I change and develop." They choose to let life shape them without any effort to choose how they will change. If they choose, they can develop, but this requires taking responsibility for themselves and what they become. It's easier to just role along and say "This is what I am and I can't change it." I haven't figured out what drives this. My last post was "Pain is good." These folks seem to cling to their pain out of fear of letting it go.

Pain is good

2008-05-04T10:10:00.001-07:00

I managed to get to judo twice in a 4 day period, the most judo I've done in that short a span in a while. WOW! I was sorer than after working out with the trainer at the gym. When I went again a week later, I trained even harder, but I didn't hurt as much afterwards. I guess my body is getting used to the abuse again.

Last Friday at judo was a little strange. Most of the guys there look to me for instruction. I don't mind this, since I have twice as much time on the mat as any of them, but their expectations of what to learn and my expectations of what to teach don't quite line up. The guys who have been doing judo for 5 or 6 years want to learn cool, new techniques, and I want to teach them principles that will improve the techniques they already know. They get disappointed sometimes when we practice principles. For my part, the real problem I have with teaching the techniques they don't know yet is that I've been focusing on principles for so long, that I've forgotten a lot of the secondary and tertiary level techniques and variations I used to do. I really need to get out the books and remind myself of what I used to know.

Irasshaimase!

2008-04-19T09:44:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to work out what to do with one of these things. Should be interesting.

Right now in Judo I'm trying to remind myself to attach more and rely on counters less. Counters are great as long as you are always a little faster than the attack. Unfortunately, I'm not. Gerald Lafon had some interesting descriptions of how to train for tai otoshi the other day on Judo-L that I'm playing with. Now I'm trying to figure out when to apply the technique. Timing is nearly everything.

Jodo practice has been difficult lately because I don't have a regular partner. Even without a training partner, I've managed to get all of the Omote, Chudan, Ranai, and a chunk of the Kage stuck in my head.

Iai is a challenge to not backslide without a teacher around. I've been working to keep my posture upright without being stiff, and the muscle out of my cuts. Ugh! If I don't pay attention, muscling is so easy it's scary.