Most
people don’t know it, but there is a Budo Law of Conservation
of Movement. Budo is conservative at its heart. We want to conserve
movement, conserve energy, conserve time. The Budo Law of
Conservation of Movement is:
One
movement to do a hundred things, not a hundred movements that
accomplish the same thing.
Why
learn a hundred ways to do something when one will do the job? There
are a number of different ways to cut with a sword, but I don’t
know any classical art that teaches more than one of them. The same
with sticks. There are lots of ways to swing a stick, but I don’t
know of any martial art that teaches more than one (to the Shinto
Muso Ryu people who are raising your hands to object, all those
different strikes utilize the same body mechanics. There’s really
only one strike and one thrust in Shinto Muso Ryu).
Each
koryu has its own way of doing things, and a real student of the
ryuha imprints that way into their mind, their muscles and their
bones. This is true whether you’re doing Shinto Muso Ryu, Katori
Shinto Ryu, Kashima Shinryu, Sekiguchi Ryu, or any other koryu. You
won’t find classical systems with an overabundance of techniques or
principles to master. Each ryuhatakes
a few basic concepts and teaches you to apply them to a variety of
situations. Again, look at Shinto Muso Ryu. It’s commonly taught
that there are four strikes in SMR, but all of them are
variations on the same strike. That’s it. One strike. Add one way
to thrust and one trap and you have it.
Each
ryuha has one way of doing things. Shinto Muso Ryu and its fuzoku
ryu incorporate
jo, tachi, kodachi, jutte, tanjo, and kusarigama. That’s a
wide variety of weapons, yet the principles and movement are the
same. The student isn’t learning six discrete weapons. She is
learning to apply one set of principles to a variety of weapons. Once
the principles of movement, spacing and timing are internalized, it
doesn’t matter what she picks up. She’ll apply the principles she
learned on the jo the first time she picks up a tachi. Working with
the tachi deepens the understanding developed while training with the
jo. By the time she picks up a tanjo or a jutte, the teacher doesn’t
have to teach her how to hold the weapons or how to swing them. She
already knows the principles. She just needs a little practice to get
used to the specific spacing and timing required by the new weapon,
along with the specific patterns of movement that make up the kata.
By the time she’s practiced with all of the weapons, she can pick
up just about anything and intuitively understand how to use it
applying the principles of Shinto Muso Ryu.
At
that point the techniques just happen. The student has soaked herself
in the principles of the arts. There isn’t any thought. To
move in a manner other than that of Shinto Muso Ryu would require
concentration because by that point the Shinto Muso Ryu principles
have been absorbed so deeply that they have become part of her
natural movements and responses.
The
same thing can be found in any effective koryu. There will only be a
few active principles that have to be mastered to apply to every
scenario imagined by the founders and their successors. A friend of
mine does a sogo budo with a strong jujutsu element. They use a
different technique for cutting with a sword; a tighter motion done
closer to the body than I’m accustomed to. My first thought when I
saw it was that they were giving up some of the potential range of
the blade-- a reasonable comment on their sword work. They
don’t take advantage of every centimeter of reach that the blade
has to offer, but this isn’t necessarily a weakness.
Cutting
while using a tighter motion may not be considered a weakness
because the sogo budo group doesn’t just do sword work, or even
just weapons work. They also do a lot of jujutsu. In their
jujutsu they use the same principle for throwing and joint locking
that they use for cutting with a sword. They are conserving the
number of motions and principles they have to learn. They have just
one movement that is applied in their weapons work and their empty
hand techniques. No time wasted learning different principles for
weapons and another for jujutsu. One and done.
Training
time is precious, even for people who are training full time. Their
training time is valuable, and they need to get the most out of it.
The highest return in training is to have a few principles you apply
to everything, instead of many different discrete techniques that can
be applied to the same thing. It takes thousands of hours of training
to master any budo. Where is the good sense and efficiency in
increasing the time it takes to master your training by having
different principles for different activities and multiplying
required training time as you add discrete principles and skills?
It
makes no sense for a ryuha to have different principles for different
activities or weapons. It would be a tremendous waste of time, and
few people have the time to develop more than one body. If you have
not absorbed the set of principles so deeply that they’ve stained
your bones you’ll never express those principles under pressure.
You’ll always do what has stained your bones.
Koryu
training, real koryu, is about absorbing the principles of the art
into your body and mind so that they color the core of your being. A
key to how koryu do this is by reducing the essence of the art to a
few powerful principles that can be applied to any situation. No
unnecessary movements or ideas.
One
movement to do a hundred things.
Special thanks to Deborah Klens-Bigman Ph.D. for her editorial support and contributions.
I
was asked recently how much I think koryu budo has changed over the
generations. After staring at my drink for a while, I answered “I
think it has changed a lot, and not much at all.” This goes
for most koryu that were founded during the Tokugawa Era (1604-1868).
They had a relatively stable world in which to grow and develop, so
radical change wasn’t required.
Why
would I think that a 400 year old martial art has changed a lot and
not much at all? I think they would change a lot in that successive
generations would add to the arts. In Shinto Muso Ryu, for example,
various fuzoku
ryu(affiliated
arts) were attached to the system, and new kata were created. From an
art that started with just staff and sword, it grew to encompass
jutte and torinawa
jutsu(apprehending
and binding), kusarigama, and most recently walking stick. That’s a
lot of additions.
So
the original arts didn’t change much, they just had more and more
stuff grafted onto the original trunk. And if people are really
learning a particular art, it won’t change much. Why is that? Koryu
bugei students are taught using the pedagogy of kata. In sports there
is always room for change. A new way to do the high jump didn’t
make it stop being high jump. A new ski jumping form didn’t
mean it wasn’t ski jumping anymore. These can easily be changed
because they are defined by the activity and not how the activity is
done.
However,
classical martial arts systems, koryu
bugei,
are defined by their principles as much as their techniques. If you
change the principles, you’re doing something different. Not that
this didn’t happen - there were so many ryuha(schools)
during the Tokugawa Era because senior practitioners had new ideas
and wanted to develop them. Generally they didn’t change the
school they were in; they created a new school instead. The ryuhathat
lasted centuries were the ones whose principles survived the pressure
testing of time and application. Not competition, but application in
combative situations. Shinto Muso Ryu was practiced by samurai whose
function was public security and safety. Other arts were susceptible
to being used in fights and duels as well as to put down peasant
revolts and otherwise maintain order.
Ryuha
survived
the centuries because their teaching methodology was remarkably well
suited to teaching physical principles and skills, consistently,
generation after generation. The fundamental teaching pedagogy was,
and is, the two person kata. (Solo iai kata are the exception that
demonstrates the rule. Working with live blades is too dangerous for
partner practice, but systems with iai nearly always also include
paired kenjutsu kata as well). In the classical arts, one partner
wins the encounter, shitachi,
and the other loses the encounter laid out in the kata, the
uchitachi.Unlike
a sporting encounter where the more experienced player is expected to
win, in classical kata training, the more experienced person is
expected to take the losing side. The uchitachi’sjob
is to guide the junior, the shitachi,
so they learn how to do the techniques embedded in the kata without
leaving any openings.
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Those
who think that kata training is just repeating rote movements have
never done proper kata training. For example, in weapons kata, If
shitachidoes
the kata incorrectly and leaves an opening, uchitachiis
quite likely to seize the opening and put their weapon in it. This
can be a harsh way of correction, but it’s an effective one.
These lessons are rarely forgotten. Kata are only meant to be done to
their completion when they are done correctly. I know if I leave an
opening for my teacher, he will show me that opening in the simplest,
most direct way available. He will counter my attack. You might think
my teacher is breaking the kata. He isn’t. I’m the one who broke
the kata by leaving the opening. He simply went with the new
situation that I created by leaving the opening.
The
kata that last are robust. They have to be done certain ways or
openings are left and the student gets whacked. Quickly the student
learns to spot their own openings and close them. The kata don’t
change much because they can’t be changed much. They are structured
in very particular ways for good reasons. If you deviate from the
form you create openings that allow counter attacks to succeed. Just
doing the kata is its own test. If you do it correctly it will work.
If you deviate from the principles that are embedded in the kata you
will find your situation changes from victor to vanquished in an
instant.
As
an incorrigibly American student, I can’t seem to stop myself from
experimenting with the kata I’m taught. I always seem to think that
I’ll somehow learn something new from experimenting. I do learn
things. I learn how not to do the kata. I play around with the timing
or the spacing or something on my own, and then my experimenting
surfaces in the dojo and Sensei nails me, then yells “Who taught
you that!!!” Happens every time.
Since
the kata serve as their own form of checking and correction, they are
exceedingly durable. I don’t doubt that the kata of Shinto
Muso Ryu or Shinkage Ryu or Ono-ha Itto-ryu swordsmanship are close
enough to the way they were done 400 years ago that a modern student
who found themselves 400 years in the past could walk into one those
dojo and participate without difficulty. Kata are that stable.
This
stability can also be seen at the various enbuheld
around Japan. Lineages that split as far back as the 17th century and
had no contact with each other for hundreds of years until recent
times can now be seen and compared in modern enbukai. Besides the
main line of Shinkage Ryu taught by the Yagyu Family, there are
numerous other lines that were founded by their students over the
centuries. When you watch and compare them, it becomes clear that
they haven’t drifted far from each other. The same goes for the
various lines of Yagyu Shingan Ryu, and other arts that have lasted
through centuries.
The
kata that comprise the core of any koryu
bugeiare
stable and solid. Upstart students like me are always trying “what
if” experiments and getting clobbered because our “what if”
just isn’t effective. Even when we no longer have a culture of
duels and taryu
shiai(inter
ryuha matches) we still have students who want to prove they are
smarter than 400 years of experience. These students cheerfully
challenge how kata are done and the sensei is always ready to show
them that their new idea doesn’t work as well as the one that’s
been passed down to them.
This
helps keep the kata alive even when we don’t have duels and
challenge matches. However, just because the kata are stable doesn’t
mean that they are fossilized and frozen in time. Different teachers
will place more or less emphasis on particular aspects of the kata.
Even the same teacher, over decades of practice, will place different
emphasis on different aspects of the kata. This leads to students
saying things like “But last time you said do it this way.” The
teacher isn’t changing the kata. They are exploring different
aspects of the kata. The teachers know where the limits of each kata
are, and they don’t exceed those limits.
This
stability means that bugei
ryuhacan
travel through time and across cultures with their principles and
their form essentially unchanged. Kata practice allows students to
make mistakes and see why their ideas are mistaken. The students
learn the techniques and principles through a small set of kata. The
kata don’t need to be changed. In fact, they can’t be changed
without losing the ability to teach the principles of the art. The
stability of the teaching method means that the ryuhachange
very little over time. Ryuha may acquire new kata and new weapons,
but their essence remains the same.
Grateful appreciation to Deborah Klens-Bigman, Ph.D. for editing what was a scary mess.
Whatever else it does, budo teaches how to move with good structure, develops an understanding of theeffective ranges of movement andhow to optimally use time.Budo is also concerned with making practitioners not just better fighters, but better people. If a practice is doing all of these four things, it’s probably budo.
Those four essentials haven’t changed since some bushi in pre-Tokugawa Japan first started putting together budo curricula. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, those essentials have to be there. Whether it is unarmed jujutsu, kenjutsu, kyudo or intercontinental ballistic missile warfare, you’re going to need to understand the structure involved, and how the weapons involved function in both time and space. And you can be darn sure I want anyone involved in handling intercontinental ballistic missiles to constantly seek to be a better person. If you have power, and that’s what martial training gives you, then you should work on being a better person. Even with as limited a budo form as judo, no one should develop those skills without also learning to be a good person. There are enough dangerous jerks in the world already.
Look at the requirements for keppan in the old systems of koryu bugei. They include injunctions against bad behavior and exhortations to students to behave not just correctly, but wisely. I know people who proudly proclaim that they don’t do budo; that they are focused on real fighting technique, “bujutsu” they say. THEY don’t water their training down with that budo nonsense of individual development!. I can’t count the people who have ridiculed budo as being some sort of ineffective, watered-down nonsense because it aspires to teach not just how to fight, but how to live.
There is a popular impression that focusing on developing the heart as well as the technique suddenly came into vogue after the fall of the Tokugawa Shogunate (1604-1868); that Kano Jigoro not only developed Kodokan Judo to be useful in public education but that he invented the idea of martial arts training as a form of moral and spiritual training. I have read and heard people ridicule Ueshiba Morihei as being nutty for his emphasis on Aikido as a means of achieving world peace.
In fact, martial ryuha in Japan have been mixing technical training with personal development for as long as there have been ryuha. Karl Friday, in his great volume Legacies Of The Sword(1997), introduces the physical, psychological and spiritual training of Kashima Shinryu. The system dates to the mid-1500s and included aspects of all these areas of training from its origin.
Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu dates from the 1400s and it too includes spiritual development within its curriculum. This can come as a surprise to people who would denigrate any martial art that teaches personal or spiritual development as being weaker than one that focuses on powerful technique alone. As an art that traces its origin to divine inspiration, there should be no surprise that it includes practices and teachings intended to improve not just the fighting spirit of the student, but their not-fighting spirit as well.
Katayama Hoki Ryu has a completely different lineage. Thanks to the work of Yuji Wada, Costantino Brandozzi, and Rennis Buchner many of the early writings of Katayama Hoki Ryu are now accessible. Katayama Hoki Ryu is a kenjutsu and iai system dating from the late 1500s. Originating in the war-filled Muromachi period, if any art should be focused solely on technique, this is one. Instead, the headmasters of Katayama Ryu wrote volumes about the mental and spiritual aspects of their art.
It should be clear that focusing on mental and spiritual development isn’t anything new in Japanese martial traditions. It’s been going on since the earliest days of of organized bugei training. The people who try to extract the techniques from all the rest and say what they are doing is somehow a “purer” form of bujutsu have, in my opinion, missed the whole point of the traditional ryuha.
From the earliest traditions in Japan, bugei ryuha 武芸流派 (martial arts school) teachers understood that just learning how to fight was not enough. Creating strong fighters is great, but if they lack the wisdom and maturity to know when and when not to fight, they pose a greater danger to society than any benefit they can bring. To teach a student was to take on responsibility for how your student behaved. If your student went out and injured or killed someone, the authorities would likely end up asking you some pointed questions. Even if your student was fully justified in their actions, there would be an investigation. If the investigation found that the justification was lacking, punishments in old Japan were brutal.
Whether you call it character development, or spiritual training, or just making mature adults, budo practice in Japan has contained a healthy dose of mental discipline since long before it was generally known as budo. There are many ways of training students for this kind of development. Various bugei arts include chants, mantras and meditation practices borrowed from Shinto and Buddhist traditions. It’s not just Ueshiba Morihei who was talking about world peace and enlightenment. The idea that individuals can achieve self-perfection through study is a core concept of Neo-Confucian thought and can be found in the teachings and writings for many koryu bugei dating as far back as the 15th century.
In Japan, the philosophers of the samurai class took the Neo-Confucian ideal and expanded the subjects to be studied to become a “profound person” or 君子 (kunshi in Japanese, junzi in Chinese) to include the martial arts. They went so far as to coin the phrase 文武両道 (bunbu ryoudou) or roughly “Scholarly arts and martial arts are both of the Way”. Within the Confucian traditions, anyone could become a kunshi through study and sincere effort. The Japanese just expanded the circle of things that should be studied beyond those of the fine arts, morality, literature, ritual and etiquette to include what were known in the Japan during the Kamakura, Muromachi, and Tokugawa eras most commonly as 武芸 (bugei) or literally “martial arts”. The gei 芸 here is the same as in geisha 芸者, literally “an artistically accomplished person”.
In addition, the word for “morality/morals” in Japanese is written 道徳 (doutoku) with the characters for way 道 and virtue 徳. These are also the first two characters of the work known in English as the Tao Te Ching (Dao De Jing) 道徳経. Anything that talks of individual development or what is often lumped under the phrase “spiritual development” in the English-speaking world, was likely to be, and still is, included in the concept of a “Way” 道. Like The Analects of Confucius, the Tao Te Ching is concerned with what traits make the sage (聖人seijin) and the “profound/superior person” ( 君子 kunshi). Neither one was enamored of war or violence.
Neither were the Japanese of the Sengoku Jidai (Warring States Period), the period from about 1467 until the victory by Tokugawa Ieyasu at Sekigahara in 1604. This was a period of uncontrolled civil war throughout Japan. The Tao Te Jing says in Chapter 31 “Wherever a host is stationed, briars and thorns spring up.” Nearly 150 years of constant warfare had proven this to the thoughtful in Japan. The ideal of the bushi class was the profound person, the sage, as this idea was expounded Neo-Confucianism, Taoism and even in Buddhism. Hard experience had taught the Japanese to place the study of the arts of conflict on the same level as the fine arts, ethics, morality, etiquette and virtue.
Conflict can come at any moment, and the profound person is ready for it when it comes. In order to be prepared for conflict, one must understand ethics, morality, etiquette and virtue. The great thinkers going back to Confucius and Lao Tzu recognized that one who understands only war is not even good for that. Even war has limits. In every society there are actions and behaviors that are beyond acceptable. In Japan, learning appropriate action, etiquette, ritual, ethics and morality was considered essential for anyone learning bugei.
This is why ethics and etiquette, morality and individual spiritual development are so important in the classical bugei. The Japanese didn’t want people trained in violence who didn’t have the maturity, self-control and spiritual development to handle the abilities that training gives. They included things like meditation, right behaviour and spiritual development in their bugei systems from the beginning. A profound person has many characteristics we associate with someone who has a high degree of spiritual development. She has self-control, doesn’t become angry easily, has the wisdom to discern right action and to not be baited by others. She is patient, kind and discerning. She doesn’t employ violence unless it is the most appropriate option for dealing with the situation.
Far from being a watered-down version of the classical arts, budo forms contain the ethical and spiritual center that has guided classical budo in Japan since before the term “budo” came into wide use. The idea of seeking mastery of martial technique without achieving mastery over your self was anathema to the founders and teachers of old. It should be anathema to teachers and students now as well.
Tamahagane, traditional steel, is filled with impurities and requires repeated heating and hammering just to get the impurities out. Only after that can you start shaping a sword.
精神 - mind, soul, heart, spirit, intention
誠心 - sincerity
清心 - “bright, clear” & “mind”
正心 - correct mind, righteous mind
These are just some of the 14 meanings that come up when I type in “seishin” ”せいしん” into the Kenkyusha Online Dictionary. Japanese is a wonderful language. It’s possible to write the word phonetically and thereby imply any or all of the above, or sometimes meanings diametrically opposed to the above meanings. 成心 is also pronounced “seishin” but means prejudice. This can make Japanese a tricky language to say things in; profound but filled with pitfalls.
I’m thinking about seishin because I was visiting with a friend and discussing all things budo over a pint in a Dublin pub. He was wondering how to get from the mindset of destroying one’s opponents to a more wholesome attitude; one that doesn’t require destroying his opponents to achieve goals and mastery.
There are lots of different mindsets that we can take in budo. When we start though, we almost have no choice but to be concerned with winning, with dominating and destroying teki, our opponent. As a beginner in judo, I had to really focus on attacking my training partners and throwing them down. If I didn’t, I was so quickly dominated and thrown down myself that I couldn’t learn anything from the practice.
There are many ideas about states of mind. Fudoshin and mushin are great to talk about, but how on earth does one get from being a beginner who is just trying to not get crushed to becoming, first, somewhat technically proficient, and then all the way to a point where you are relaxed and acting without prior intent, just moving in harmony with the situation as it develops?
The koryu bugei seem to offer the most time-tested path to these special mental states. The journey is not exciting. Like most practices undertaken to develop the mind/spirit, a lot of effort has to be put into just keeping up the practice. It’s not generally exciting, especially in the early stages and late stages.
Japanese has long used the phrase seishin tanren to talk about the real nature of training, budo training in particular. “”Tanren” is 鍛錬 and means “forging”. Forging is not exciting work, whether it is making swords or martial artists. In Japan it means repeatedly hammering and folding the steel for the blade until all the impurities have been beaten out of it.
The Japanese equate budo training with this kind of forging. Seishin tanren or “spiritual forging” is a good way to describe koryu budo training. It can be harsh, repetitive and boring, but if you don’t drive out the impurities first, the final product will break easily.
Koryu budo training is built around kata practice rather than sparring. Sparring is fun and exciting, but it doesn’t build the skills or the mind in the ways necessary for spiritual training. Look at how a boxer or an Olympic judoka or an MMA fighter trains. They mostly train kata as well. Oh, I know they don’t call what they do “kata,” but that’s what training drills are. Kata are training drills, pattern practice for techniques, skills and mindset.
You can’t effectively spar until you’ve attained a certain level of technical and mental skill, and that is nearly impossible to get from sparring alone. There has to be a reason that paired kata training remained the dominant training methodology in koryu budo from the 16th through the 19th centuries. The reason is that paired training drills, pattern practice, kata, or whatever you want to call them, are the best effective way of mastering physical technique and developing a quality mental state.
Beginners are overwhelmed by all the details of learning a new art. The best they can do is pick a couple of points and focus on them. As a beginner, one has to focus intently just to approximate what a journeyman practitioner does without thinking. This is the first step on the path to the mental states of mushin and fudoshin. It’s only when a beginner has advanced far enough that they don’t have to focus on each step of a given movement that they can begin working on the rest of the staircase.
Partnered kata practice gives a student a controlled environment in which to to experiment and develop. The teacher can adjust the intensity of the regimen to the student’s technical level so they get the most from training. Early on this might mean walking through the kata slowly and without any pressure. As the student becomes proficient at performing the outer shape of the kata, the teacher can increase the pressure, go faster, attack more strongly, and then add new kata that emphasize different lessons about timing, spacing or technical application.
Over thousands of repetitions the student polishes her fundamental techniques and learns to move without focusing on the details of movement. Now the teacher can begin to vary not just the intensity but also the timing of the kata. One potential danger of partnered kata training is that it may become nothing more than a choreographed dance wherein you know how and when your partner will move or attack. This can lead to empty forms and stagnating mental development. The teacher’s responsibility is to continuously manipulate the timing and spacing so no two repetitions of the kata are identical. It is at this point that mental development really begins for the student.
At first a student reaching this level may try to anticipate her partner’s movement. She knows what her partner is supposed to do next in the kata, and she responds to what her partner is supposed to do. The thing about training in koryu budo is that your partner is teaching you, and koryu budo teachers can be harsh. If my student anticipates my action and moves first, I’m going to attack the opening she gives me rather than do what the kata says I should. One of the lessons of budo is to act in accord with that is suitable for the situation, not just do what the script calls for. If she anticipates my movement, she’s already left the kata and I’m free to attack however I wish.
This is when students really start developing their minds, forging their seishin. It’s also when I, as a student, was most likely to come home from practice with whacked knuckles and bruised wrists. At this stage, I was still thinking about when to move and how fast to move. This meant I was often moving too late to get out of the way of the attack. When you’re late, sometimes sensei will let the strike land so you learn how vulnerable you are.
The kata hasn’t changed, but the timing and intensity have. As the student gets more comfortable with the mechanics of the kata, she learns to watch and not move until the right moment, neither too early nor too late. Students who want to dominate and control everything in order to crush their opponent are eager to move and easily drawn into moving before it is safe to do so. Students who are thinking too much will wait to long and get whacked. Through forging, hammering and folding, through countless repetitions of the kata, the teacher drives out excess thought that gets in the way of quick, clean movement. The tendency to anticipate your partner, thereby creating gaping openings, is slowly forced to the surface of the mind until it is sloughed off like slag being hammered out of piece of tamahagane steel.
In my case, I was so prepared to defend against an attack that I knew was coming that I was often incapable of waiting until it actually happened.Alternatively, whenever I became too anxious to move, like a spring that was overloaded with tension, my teachers would hesitate a moment and draw me into moving. It’s the teacher’s job to provide learning experiences, to change the timing just a little, or maybe a lot. As I learned to quiet my mind and stopped trying to outguess my partner, I learned to see what teki was really doing.
The student keeps up the repetitions, working the impurities out of her mind. One day it will happen. She’s doing a kata at a high intensity level without thinking about it, without reacting. She’ll be calm and relaxed and act in accord with her partner’s speed and timing. It will be beautiful. The next repetition will be disastrous. She will consciously try to duplicate the previous kata and utterly fail. My experience was much the same..
Fudoshin and mushin are states of mind that involve getting out of your own way. The irony in this is that if you are trying to get your mind out of the situation, your mind is already actively in it. Mushin is all about just being there and not forcing your conceptions on the situation. But - If actively trying to quiet your mind is guaranteed to not get you where you want to be, how do you get there?
You could try breathing through your eyelids.
In Bull Durham, Annie tells LaLoosh to “breath through your eyelids.” It’s a great tactic. He’s been overthinking everything he does, and as a result can’t pitch well. His mind is wound up and in the way. He can’t do anything right. By distracting his mind with the impossible, Annie frees the skills he’s acquired to act smoothly and naturally. With koryu budo, we don’t tell students to breathe through their eyelids. We forge their minds in the furnace of paired kata practice (and if you don’t think paired kata practice is a furnace, let me introduce you to a couple of people).
Good teachers and training partners gradually turn up the heat. When a student starts, she is busy worrying about the mechanics of the kata. Over time, the teacher pushes a little more and a little more until she’s not worrying about the mechanics. Now perhaps she’s worrying about not getting hit. With enough hammering in the right places at the right moments, fear of getting hit is also driven out of her mind.
Over time, the repetition and gradually increasing intensity levels hammer out other mental impurities. Too much intention is a common stumbling block.Having an attitude that you are going to dominate and destroy your partner is problematic, whether you are doing kata or sparring. It creates unnecessary intent, which is a stumbling block on the path to mushin. With enough practice, enough forging, the student will no longer need to convince herself that she will dominate and control. She becomes confident that she can handle what’s out there, and doesn’t need intent. Now she’s ready to just relax and take whatever her partner has to throw at her, without any particular intent.
Now she’ll begin to touch mushin and fudoshin. It will be a rare thing at first, a happy accident that can’t be repeated intentionally. With more practice, this student will learn to let go of intentions and expectations. She’ll be able to take a breath in and let her worries, fears and mental noise go out with the exhalation. Mushin will happen more often now and the worries, fears and mental noise will grow weaker and quieter, until they are almost gone.
At this point she’s not a student anymore. She’s a senior helping other students travel the path. I doubt anyone ever reaches a perfect state where they maintain fudoshin and mushin 100% of the time, but the great teachers get so close that the rest of us never notice the lapses. Seishin tanren is all about forging the mind. It’s not a quick or easy process. Just as forging a sword requires hundreds of repetitions through the process of heating and hammering to get rid of the impurities found in tamahagane steel, and then further heating and hammering to shape the blade, the raw ore of a student is heated and hammered in the furnace of kata practice until mental impurities have been forged out of her and she is a calm, relaxed budoka. Seishin tanren is simple. It’s definitely not easy.