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!
Friday, August 19, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Getting to Black
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.
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.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
What makes a good martial art?
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.
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?
Friday, April 1, 2011
Effective Sword Arts
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?
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?
Monday, March 28, 2011
Training while injured
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.
All that said, I really look forward to having a healthy knee again.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Budo and injuries
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?
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?
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Why the fascination with Zen Buddhism and Budo?
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?
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?
Friday, October 1, 2010
Kashima Gasshuku
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Practice
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.
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.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Mindful practice
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.
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.
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