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?

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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.