I was watching a promo video the other day sent to me by a friend. The video highlighted a weekend workshop with Russian Systema instructors, centered around firearms and hostile situations.
Although I enjoyed watching the video (and equally LOVE that kind of training myself) I was left wondering why someone would do that type of training. The seminar focused heavily on situations where you are armed and facing attacker's who try to strike and grapple you, or you are faced with an attacker firing on you. In all those situations, you have to first move for cover/positioning, then draw and return fire. They practiced firing from a variety of positions and circumstances, even putting themselves in a kind of pushup position, with right hand raised and firing pistol, while the instructor repeatedly kicks them in the stomach/ribs!
In all those situations, I kept thinking of the average person. The average person does not carry firearms. The average person is not bent on closing and taking out their attacker in those encounters. The average person just wants to escape danger, using whatever tools they have at their disposal. This includes just duck, cover and run.
It's those above the average person who take things to the next level. This includes having the awareness to look out for the welfare of others. It's this base instinct that causes some to pursue occupations like military, law enforcement and security. However, it's also the base instinct for those who would sacrifice themselves to save others, and swallow their fear to actually go after the attackers.
Even with all that, most people do not carry firearms. So, unless you are in occupations or situations where you are armed, it would make more sense to train as you would be on any normal day. Everyday items like cell phones, pens, briefcases, laptops, ID cards, etc all become effective tools to either enable escape, protection or elimination of threat.
With that said, however, the internal aspect plays the primary role, regardless of the role the person plays. Building a fighting spirit in the person will allow them to draw their resilience without the controlling force of fear. No matter the skills and weapons, if fear disables the person (like a deer in headlights), then they are as good as dead. So, no matter the training, it has to start with the internal drive of the person.
I find myself taking that into account when I consider how most people train in martial arts. Most people train once or less per week, avoid seminars or go once in a great while, and limit their training to what they do in the dojo. These people are not warriors, or even martial artists in the greater sense, but are martial enthusiasts or hobbyists. They put training last on their list of agenda items. It takes up their calendar as just another appointment, another thing on their already packed plate.
These people may have skills above the average person. But, I fear they may fall into the general catagory when real danger presents itself. They don't have the warrior spirit inside because their budo training isn't a part of everything they do. Since their budo training plays such a little part of their lives, it plays a little part of who they are.
You can never learn a technique for every situation. Nor can you train all day, every day, in fighting techniques. What you can do, however, is to integrate your training into the everyday life you live. Pay attention to how your body moves, how balance plays it's role, and how situations happen around you. Notice how your breathing works. Be aware of when you let your awareness drop. I'm not speaking of being paranoid, but just aware. Know where your tactical spaces are at all times. Notice the mannerisms of people around you.
At the same time, learn to control stress, emotion and distracting thoughts. You need to return to a "Zero State" at all times.
Just doing this alone isn't enough. But, again, nothing works without a proper inside. So, this is something which affects everything you do, regardless if you are at work, at home, at the movies, or in the dojo. Then, when the poop hits the fan, even in the most dire of circumstances, you will just do what is natural to you.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Basics...
I was reading the latest blog entry by Shihan Doug Wilson, where he wrote about the latest Daikomyosai event in Japan. Daikomyosai (aka DKMS) is our annual Bujinkan shindig, where members from all over the world converge in Japan to train 3 days with Soke.
Typically, the DKMS training was in the Budokan in Ueno. But, this year it was held in a beautiful park common to us Bujinkaneers. This park is thick with trees and has an obstacle/edurance course on both dry land and over a man made pond.
Anyway, people who attended are writing about how the training was really on fundamental things and combat strategy. This year's theme was Togakure Ryu, which is tied to Japan's Feudal Period history as those people who operated behind the scenes; a kind of "Spec Ops" tradition. As part of that tradition, knowing how to get in and get out of possible hostile areas was a major part of the training. Gathering information was a valuable tool in the wars and these guys had to be good at it.
According to those who were there for this year's DKMS, training was challenging. The ground was damp (even muddy in some areas), uneven and scattered with trees and shrubs. They threw each other to the dirt ground, slammed into trees, threw dirt, and many other "real combat" things which are impossible in the sanitized environment of a martial arts dojo. It was a "real world" experience.
This made me respect the emphasis on kihon, or fundamentals. With so many kata, or techniques, that make up the 9 traditions of the Bujinkan "umbrella", I am thankful that we really don't have much that make up our fundamentals. Yet, those fundamentals are universally applicable and exist in all the traditions.
I have always taught in my classes that the most important attribute for a warrior is the ability to adapt to any situation. I have found that if you approach training simply and become adaptive with it, your ability to survive a real situation increases much more than if you learned hundreds of kata - prearranged, repeated combinations of skill sets.
Our Bujinkan Budo Taijutsu has two elements of training which make up the bulk of the fundamentals. The first are solo movements called Sanshin no Kata, which are a series of five solo kata. These are designed to develop proper movement. The second are called Kihon Happo, or eight fundamental laws/principles.
These are further broken down into two sections. The first, called Koshi Sanpo, are comprised of three methods of striking (or how to keep tactical space open). The second are called Torite Goho, or five hand/arm escape methods. These are methods of grappling, once that tactical space is collapsed.
The combination of integration (Sanshin no Kata) and application (Kihon Happo) are at the root of all our training, whether armed or unarmed, against weapons, or against multiple opponents. These techniques are all simplistic on the surface, yet hold countless layers of development and efficiency. It is through a peeling of the layers that we learn to adapt them to whatever the situation holds.
It is my belief that this is a correct method of training and one which is overlooked by so many who rush on to the next kata, the next idea, and the next theme. They miss the lessons which are lying just underneath the stuff they already know.
For the next week or so, we'll be going back to basics. I plan to do drills, target shield striking, jumping, rolling, and so on. It's going to be a very physical time, but one that shouldn't be put off for too long.
So, let's get going!
Typically, the DKMS training was in the Budokan in Ueno. But, this year it was held in a beautiful park common to us Bujinkaneers. This park is thick with trees and has an obstacle/edurance course on both dry land and over a man made pond.
Anyway, people who attended are writing about how the training was really on fundamental things and combat strategy. This year's theme was Togakure Ryu, which is tied to Japan's Feudal Period history as those people who operated behind the scenes; a kind of "Spec Ops" tradition. As part of that tradition, knowing how to get in and get out of possible hostile areas was a major part of the training. Gathering information was a valuable tool in the wars and these guys had to be good at it.
According to those who were there for this year's DKMS, training was challenging. The ground was damp (even muddy in some areas), uneven and scattered with trees and shrubs. They threw each other to the dirt ground, slammed into trees, threw dirt, and many other "real combat" things which are impossible in the sanitized environment of a martial arts dojo. It was a "real world" experience.
This made me respect the emphasis on kihon, or fundamentals. With so many kata, or techniques, that make up the 9 traditions of the Bujinkan "umbrella", I am thankful that we really don't have much that make up our fundamentals. Yet, those fundamentals are universally applicable and exist in all the traditions.
I have always taught in my classes that the most important attribute for a warrior is the ability to adapt to any situation. I have found that if you approach training simply and become adaptive with it, your ability to survive a real situation increases much more than if you learned hundreds of kata - prearranged, repeated combinations of skill sets.
Our Bujinkan Budo Taijutsu has two elements of training which make up the bulk of the fundamentals. The first are solo movements called Sanshin no Kata, which are a series of five solo kata. These are designed to develop proper movement. The second are called Kihon Happo, or eight fundamental laws/principles.
These are further broken down into two sections. The first, called Koshi Sanpo, are comprised of three methods of striking (or how to keep tactical space open). The second are called Torite Goho, or five hand/arm escape methods. These are methods of grappling, once that tactical space is collapsed.
The combination of integration (Sanshin no Kata) and application (Kihon Happo) are at the root of all our training, whether armed or unarmed, against weapons, or against multiple opponents. These techniques are all simplistic on the surface, yet hold countless layers of development and efficiency. It is through a peeling of the layers that we learn to adapt them to whatever the situation holds.
It is my belief that this is a correct method of training and one which is overlooked by so many who rush on to the next kata, the next idea, and the next theme. They miss the lessons which are lying just underneath the stuff they already know.
For the next week or so, we'll be going back to basics. I plan to do drills, target shield striking, jumping, rolling, and so on. It's going to be a very physical time, but one that shouldn't be put off for too long.
So, let's get going!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
On being a "Master"...
A recent post on Shihan Doug Wilson's blog reminded me of something discussed at a recent seminar by Shihan Jack Hoban.
You can read Doug's post at http://henka.wordpress.com/2008/11/24/master-who.
At the seminar, Jack said at his seminar and in conversation. He spoke about budo having no beginning and no end and, if something has no beginning and no end, then there is really no real measurement, no rank, no "mastership". What is the goal? What are we trying to achieve? What is it that we "think" we're learning or gaining? Is it something, or really nothing. Or, is it simply a process, an experience, which shapes who we are as individual human beings?
We all begin budo training in our lives at a particular point. Some people take a while to "get it", some people "get it" right away, some never do and some come into it already "getting it". Yet, the art itself has already existed, being timeless. It's like a constant flowing river with no start or end, since any start or end would cause the river to stop - in other words, it has to be endless to be continuous. We just hop in wherever we are along it's path.
He talked about how, no matter the rank in the room, we really were all the same. If there was an end to achieve, then we could measure how much budo we "get". But since there isn't, we can't. The only measurement we have is in how far we have come since our own individual beginning. This is a purely personal thing, which cannot possibly be compared from one person to another, but only in regards to the individual.
This is why, no matter the rank of the person, we are all students first. There really is no "master", there is no "teacher/student" line. Simply put, we all are on our own personal path, as a student, never able to "master" anything because our path is never subordinate to us. Quite actually, we are the subordinate, we are the servant, of it. It is our "master". Because we are humble in knowing our place, we become students and the real learning happens. This is where humility becomes our yoroi (armor).
To "master" something means to take ownership of what we know, to hold on to it as some kind of tangible thing. Yet, we are admonished by Soke to "gambatte" (keep going/training). This means we must always keep moving forward, not to hold on to anything, but to just keep moving. We are not to sit back on what we've done and learned up to this point. We must always keep looking ahead. Jack spoke of things he learned in his early years and having thought he knew it, yet learned later that he really didn't understand at all. So, how many people think they "know" something now, but will eventually discover they didn't understand it? Does this ever end? Even Soke himself talks about constantly discovering new levels in his own understanding, that his teacher (Takamatsu Soke) is teaching him from the grave. Is there ever a time when we can safely say we "know" anything? Is there ever a time we can capture the river, yet still keep it flowing fresh and vibrant?
Anyway, I found this interesting. As I trained in the room with so many people, most of whom were dan grade, many of whom 5th dan and above, I found myself seeing each person as just another student on their own path. A shodan is on a different path than another shodan - their ranks are not the same because it represents something different for each of them. I saw people at all levels of taijutsu, of personality, of physical stature and of beliefs (one guy talked about having to behead goats for a recent religious ceremony!). Yet, we all came together under the flag of peace, of warrior friends, to put aside our differences and just train together as students, so that we may grow a little more in our own budo path. There were no "masters", believe me!
Yet, I see many claiming such things and often wonder, as Doug did in his blog and as Jack wondered at the seminar, "master" of what?
For me, I'm focused on just staying on the river and enjoying the journey to nowhere.
You can read Doug's post at http://henka.wordpress.com/2008/11/24/master-who.
At the seminar, Jack said at his seminar and in conversation. He spoke about budo having no beginning and no end and, if something has no beginning and no end, then there is really no real measurement, no rank, no "mastership". What is the goal? What are we trying to achieve? What is it that we "think" we're learning or gaining? Is it something, or really nothing. Or, is it simply a process, an experience, which shapes who we are as individual human beings?
We all begin budo training in our lives at a particular point. Some people take a while to "get it", some people "get it" right away, some never do and some come into it already "getting it". Yet, the art itself has already existed, being timeless. It's like a constant flowing river with no start or end, since any start or end would cause the river to stop - in other words, it has to be endless to be continuous. We just hop in wherever we are along it's path.
He talked about how, no matter the rank in the room, we really were all the same. If there was an end to achieve, then we could measure how much budo we "get". But since there isn't, we can't. The only measurement we have is in how far we have come since our own individual beginning. This is a purely personal thing, which cannot possibly be compared from one person to another, but only in regards to the individual.
This is why, no matter the rank of the person, we are all students first. There really is no "master", there is no "teacher/student" line. Simply put, we all are on our own personal path, as a student, never able to "master" anything because our path is never subordinate to us. Quite actually, we are the subordinate, we are the servant, of it. It is our "master". Because we are humble in knowing our place, we become students and the real learning happens. This is where humility becomes our yoroi (armor).
To "master" something means to take ownership of what we know, to hold on to it as some kind of tangible thing. Yet, we are admonished by Soke to "gambatte" (keep going/training). This means we must always keep moving forward, not to hold on to anything, but to just keep moving. We are not to sit back on what we've done and learned up to this point. We must always keep looking ahead. Jack spoke of things he learned in his early years and having thought he knew it, yet learned later that he really didn't understand at all. So, how many people think they "know" something now, but will eventually discover they didn't understand it? Does this ever end? Even Soke himself talks about constantly discovering new levels in his own understanding, that his teacher (Takamatsu Soke) is teaching him from the grave. Is there ever a time when we can safely say we "know" anything? Is there ever a time we can capture the river, yet still keep it flowing fresh and vibrant?
Anyway, I found this interesting. As I trained in the room with so many people, most of whom were dan grade, many of whom 5th dan and above, I found myself seeing each person as just another student on their own path. A shodan is on a different path than another shodan - their ranks are not the same because it represents something different for each of them. I saw people at all levels of taijutsu, of personality, of physical stature and of beliefs (one guy talked about having to behead goats for a recent religious ceremony!). Yet, we all came together under the flag of peace, of warrior friends, to put aside our differences and just train together as students, so that we may grow a little more in our own budo path. There were no "masters", believe me!
Yet, I see many claiming such things and often wonder, as Doug did in his blog and as Jack wondered at the seminar, "master" of what?
For me, I'm focused on just staying on the river and enjoying the journey to nowhere.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Another great seminar!
On Saturday, I attended a wonderful seminar taught by Gojudan (15th degree black belt) Jack Hoban. Just as all of Jack's seminars, it was absolutely wonderful! The location was a new dojo sharing a building with a karate school. The room was packed! Yet, the closeness was great to be able to spend time with Jack as he went around the room helping, guiding and sharing his great stories.
We spent considerable time just doing "basics". I say "basics" in quotes simply because there really are no basics, per se. Once you start peeling the layers, there are countless levels of detail, efficiency and tactics to make "basics" not so "basic" anymore. This is exactly what the seminar was like, much to my pleasure.
We started by looking at some rolling concepts. Since our Soke's theme this year has been Togakure Ryu, we looked at that influence in techniques and strategy. This year also has been the Year of the Rat in asian astrology, so the feeling this year has been indicitive of a rat - an efficient survivalist, being able to sense and avoid danger, and having an intuition to always find the escape route.
In Togakure Ryu techniques, especially in the beginning levels, the emphasis is to evade and escape, using strategies and tools made for that purpose. So, in the seminar we practiced rolling as a means of escape and avoiding danger.
We also looked at three basic kamae, or postures. The first, Ichi no Kamae (aka Ichimonji no Kamae), involved standing in an "on guard" posture and he went into detail about the importance of the lead hand in "shaping/conrolling the space". He did similar things with the other two kamae, which were Hicho no Kamae and Jumonji no Kamae. In Hicho no Kamae, he talked about the importance of not collapsing the space when drawing the lead leg back.
In fact, this concept of not collapsing the space was an important element in all his demonstrations. He showed the Sanshin no Kata as a method to practice this concept. For instance, in Chi no Kata, the tendency is to pull the lead hand back before the rear hand comes forward. This causes the mai ai or distance between you and your target to collapse, inviting an attack. The same was true for the other Sanshin kata, such as Sui no Kata, Ka no Kata, etc.
He also spoke about doing Jodan and Gedan Uke (blocking) without collapsing the space, which was a different approach than many basic ways I've seen of doing those techniques. It made total sense from a tactical point of view and was something I noted for my own teachings and training.
We didn't do much in the way of weapons. But, we did look at some sword work, in particular how to create an opening to draw in an attack. When you and an opponent are both in Seigan no Kamae (a kind of "on guard" posture, where the tip of the sword points at the opponent's heart), there is no space to enter. By shifting "off line", but keeping your sword "on line", you cause them to follow your body with their sword tip. This creates a suki, or opening, to lunge your sword forward. They can't bring their sword back fast enough because they are out of kamae. This was one such example he taught.
The whole seminar lasted for over 7 hours, with a break for lunch. Even the break was nice. Many of us went to a small Italian deli nearby. I had a great panini sandwich and sat outside by myself. Towards the end of my meal, both Jack and Dale Seago (good friend and 15th dan) came and sat at my table. We chatted for a while until it was time to go back. You just can't beat good fellowship time, even with all the great physical training.
After the seminar was over, Jack and many others went to go have dinner and fellowship at a local Mex restaraunt. Unfortunately, I needed to get back home, so I wasn't able to go with them. I'm sure the night was filled with good food, drink and "Jack tales".
I am very happy to have attended the seminar. It was a much-needed recharge to my budo!
We spent considerable time just doing "basics". I say "basics" in quotes simply because there really are no basics, per se. Once you start peeling the layers, there are countless levels of detail, efficiency and tactics to make "basics" not so "basic" anymore. This is exactly what the seminar was like, much to my pleasure.
We started by looking at some rolling concepts. Since our Soke's theme this year has been Togakure Ryu, we looked at that influence in techniques and strategy. This year also has been the Year of the Rat in asian astrology, so the feeling this year has been indicitive of a rat - an efficient survivalist, being able to sense and avoid danger, and having an intuition to always find the escape route.
In Togakure Ryu techniques, especially in the beginning levels, the emphasis is to evade and escape, using strategies and tools made for that purpose. So, in the seminar we practiced rolling as a means of escape and avoiding danger.
We also looked at three basic kamae, or postures. The first, Ichi no Kamae (aka Ichimonji no Kamae), involved standing in an "on guard" posture and he went into detail about the importance of the lead hand in "shaping/conrolling the space". He did similar things with the other two kamae, which were Hicho no Kamae and Jumonji no Kamae. In Hicho no Kamae, he talked about the importance of not collapsing the space when drawing the lead leg back.
In fact, this concept of not collapsing the space was an important element in all his demonstrations. He showed the Sanshin no Kata as a method to practice this concept. For instance, in Chi no Kata, the tendency is to pull the lead hand back before the rear hand comes forward. This causes the mai ai or distance between you and your target to collapse, inviting an attack. The same was true for the other Sanshin kata, such as Sui no Kata, Ka no Kata, etc.
He also spoke about doing Jodan and Gedan Uke (blocking) without collapsing the space, which was a different approach than many basic ways I've seen of doing those techniques. It made total sense from a tactical point of view and was something I noted for my own teachings and training.
We didn't do much in the way of weapons. But, we did look at some sword work, in particular how to create an opening to draw in an attack. When you and an opponent are both in Seigan no Kamae (a kind of "on guard" posture, where the tip of the sword points at the opponent's heart), there is no space to enter. By shifting "off line", but keeping your sword "on line", you cause them to follow your body with their sword tip. This creates a suki, or opening, to lunge your sword forward. They can't bring their sword back fast enough because they are out of kamae. This was one such example he taught.
The whole seminar lasted for over 7 hours, with a break for lunch. Even the break was nice. Many of us went to a small Italian deli nearby. I had a great panini sandwich and sat outside by myself. Towards the end of my meal, both Jack and Dale Seago (good friend and 15th dan) came and sat at my table. We chatted for a while until it was time to go back. You just can't beat good fellowship time, even with all the great physical training.
After the seminar was over, Jack and many others went to go have dinner and fellowship at a local Mex restaraunt. Unfortunately, I needed to get back home, so I wasn't able to go with them. I'm sure the night was filled with good food, drink and "Jack tales".
I am very happy to have attended the seminar. It was a much-needed recharge to my budo!
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Kurai Dori, Gambatte and Sutemi
I have been thinking much these days regarding my own budo path and struggles. At this moment, I will confess that my own attention has been off balance - I have been much more of a teacher than a student. This is shameful on my own part as a budoka and something I have been dreadfully aware of for quite some time. This is not due to my own laziness or lack of ambition as it is more of a choice of priorities in the limited time I have available to me.
I have friends who are great teachers and who have great dojos to train in. I can certainly get out there and train with them every week. But, each class they hold ends up falling on a day or night which is already booked with family events, work events or even my own Intel class (which is only on Tuesdays).
Then, there is the financial consideration. Some of these schools charge rates which would tap into resources used for family time, which is something needed even more.
So, I just keep going in training with my Intel group. I stay on task with what I have been taught and work on things which I feel need to be tackled. I am looking forward to a big seminar next month right here in Granite Bay with Gojudan (15th degree black belt) Jack Hoban and his yearly review of what he learned from our Soke's current teachings.
But, there are opportunities to train more with those I respect and hold keys to my budo growth, if I can find the time/space/finances to train with them.
In our budo, there is a term called "Kurai Dori", which literally means to "take position". But, the meaning of "dori" can also be to "seize" or "assume". Either way, it is an action, an overt act. But, consider the meaning of "dori". To "take" is different than to "create" something. Therefore, what exactly are you "taking"? If you move into a fighting position, for instance, what are you "taking" that position from?
My understanding of Kurai Dori is that it has much more to do with becoming the missing puzzle piece in the whole picture. You become the shape needed for the space. In combat, this can have many applications and purposes, all of which are designed around one concept - to adapt. However, Kurai Dori can also be to assume a space which limits or prevents the shape of the attacker in fitting properly, thus taking away or reducing the effects of their action. All techniques require both tori and uke to be at precise positioning and angling at just the right timing in order to work properly. The more any of those deviate from that plan, the less effective the technique becomes. Moving in Kurai Dori is to always "take a position" which deviates from what the attacker (or any threat) needs to be successful in their efforts.
Another regular term used in the Bujinkan is "gambatte", which basically means to "keep going". Normally this is meant as an admonition to just stick to training, be vigilant and never give up. But, "gambatte" also means something very basic, very vital and at the root of Soke's budo. It means to never stop moving, to "keep going" in your technique, to always be adjusting, shifting, positioning, adapting to whatever is happening or not happening, to keep your intent and purpose clear, to not get hung up on anything and to just live (as an action) life. This is important to training as well as combat. True Kurai Dori is Gambatte. It is always moving, always shifting, always adapting, always expressing and always on course.
This ties into something I've been meditating on all week, a concept called "Sutemi". This term is often interpreted to mean "suicide techniques", but actually is more about intent than techniques. It has to do with "letting go" of fear, doubt, hope, anything and just going for broke, acting as if you have nothing to lose - because you aren't holding anything in the first place.
An example of Sutemi is, while being thrown by your attacker, you "let go" of being thrown and continue to attack as your body flies overhead. Another example is when one's back is against the wall, with no retreat, and they have to fight their way out. It's what makes someone put themselves in the path of the bullet in order to save another. Or, maybe it involves that ferocity that comes from a bear protecting her cub.
Sutemi also has an ura, or reverse side. Knowing how a person can do incredible things when they feel there's no way out or their life is in imminent, unavoidable danger, it becomes important for you to not allow your opponent to feel that. They should be given a choice, a perceived way out. They need to feel like they have a chance. Give them a bait to trap themselves, but don't let the trapped mouse become a raging tiger! Eventually, in the right timing, their defeat will come, like the cat who plays with the mouse until the right time to finish it happens.
What this has to do with my current struggles in my budo training is still a subject for more meditation, but I do find the timing of these things appearing before me very interesting. I know I must "gambatte" in order to not stagnate my budo. However, I also know during these times I can lose my position, so I need to focus on "Kurai Dori" to adapt to what my challenges and opportunities are and to be patient with the timing. Lastly, I need to "let go" and have "Sutemi" to get past those internal things which prevent me from training as much as I should. I need to remind myself that I must lose or let go of seeing myself as either teacher or student and just train. Defining myself by any role means I will strive to operate as that role, when in fact I am many roles at the same time - sempai/kohai (senior/junior) and sensei/deshi (teacher/student).
As long as I Gambatte in true Kurai Dori, with the zero of Sutemi, then I am truly walking a budo path.
Easier said than done, eh?
I have friends who are great teachers and who have great dojos to train in. I can certainly get out there and train with them every week. But, each class they hold ends up falling on a day or night which is already booked with family events, work events or even my own Intel class (which is only on Tuesdays).
Then, there is the financial consideration. Some of these schools charge rates which would tap into resources used for family time, which is something needed even more.
So, I just keep going in training with my Intel group. I stay on task with what I have been taught and work on things which I feel need to be tackled. I am looking forward to a big seminar next month right here in Granite Bay with Gojudan (15th degree black belt) Jack Hoban and his yearly review of what he learned from our Soke's current teachings.
But, there are opportunities to train more with those I respect and hold keys to my budo growth, if I can find the time/space/finances to train with them.
In our budo, there is a term called "Kurai Dori", which literally means to "take position". But, the meaning of "dori" can also be to "seize" or "assume". Either way, it is an action, an overt act. But, consider the meaning of "dori". To "take" is different than to "create" something. Therefore, what exactly are you "taking"? If you move into a fighting position, for instance, what are you "taking" that position from?
My understanding of Kurai Dori is that it has much more to do with becoming the missing puzzle piece in the whole picture. You become the shape needed for the space. In combat, this can have many applications and purposes, all of which are designed around one concept - to adapt. However, Kurai Dori can also be to assume a space which limits or prevents the shape of the attacker in fitting properly, thus taking away or reducing the effects of their action. All techniques require both tori and uke to be at precise positioning and angling at just the right timing in order to work properly. The more any of those deviate from that plan, the less effective the technique becomes. Moving in Kurai Dori is to always "take a position" which deviates from what the attacker (or any threat) needs to be successful in their efforts.
Another regular term used in the Bujinkan is "gambatte", which basically means to "keep going". Normally this is meant as an admonition to just stick to training, be vigilant and never give up. But, "gambatte" also means something very basic, very vital and at the root of Soke's budo. It means to never stop moving, to "keep going" in your technique, to always be adjusting, shifting, positioning, adapting to whatever is happening or not happening, to keep your intent and purpose clear, to not get hung up on anything and to just live (as an action) life. This is important to training as well as combat. True Kurai Dori is Gambatte. It is always moving, always shifting, always adapting, always expressing and always on course.
This ties into something I've been meditating on all week, a concept called "Sutemi". This term is often interpreted to mean "suicide techniques", but actually is more about intent than techniques. It has to do with "letting go" of fear, doubt, hope, anything and just going for broke, acting as if you have nothing to lose - because you aren't holding anything in the first place.
An example of Sutemi is, while being thrown by your attacker, you "let go" of being thrown and continue to attack as your body flies overhead. Another example is when one's back is against the wall, with no retreat, and they have to fight their way out. It's what makes someone put themselves in the path of the bullet in order to save another. Or, maybe it involves that ferocity that comes from a bear protecting her cub.
Sutemi also has an ura, or reverse side. Knowing how a person can do incredible things when they feel there's no way out or their life is in imminent, unavoidable danger, it becomes important for you to not allow your opponent to feel that. They should be given a choice, a perceived way out. They need to feel like they have a chance. Give them a bait to trap themselves, but don't let the trapped mouse become a raging tiger! Eventually, in the right timing, their defeat will come, like the cat who plays with the mouse until the right time to finish it happens.
What this has to do with my current struggles in my budo training is still a subject for more meditation, but I do find the timing of these things appearing before me very interesting. I know I must "gambatte" in order to not stagnate my budo. However, I also know during these times I can lose my position, so I need to focus on "Kurai Dori" to adapt to what my challenges and opportunities are and to be patient with the timing. Lastly, I need to "let go" and have "Sutemi" to get past those internal things which prevent me from training as much as I should. I need to remind myself that I must lose or let go of seeing myself as either teacher or student and just train. Defining myself by any role means I will strive to operate as that role, when in fact I am many roles at the same time - sempai/kohai (senior/junior) and sensei/deshi (teacher/student).
As long as I Gambatte in true Kurai Dori, with the zero of Sutemi, then I am truly walking a budo path.
Easier said than done, eh?
Sunday, October 19, 2008
What I'm up to...
Hi friends! Well, I still haven't finished documenting my Japan trip and it's been, what, over a year? I have all my notes, but just can't find the right words to properly put it all down in a digestible, reader-friendly format. Oh well, maybe someday soon I'll just throw it up on my blog and let you guys decipher it.
For the last couple weeks, I've had a couple women take interest in the class! This is big because women don't usually come in. I think this happens for a few reasons:
1. We are not a "workout" class - most of the women at Intel seem to only be interested in working out. Since there is a free karate class, a yoga class and other such venues which would serve that goal better, they go elsewhere.
2. We are all guys - believe it or not, I have found that most women are not comfortable training in a group made up of guys. Considering the nature of the class (i.e. combat training), I can see how this is intimidating.
3. Most of the guys are black belt ranked - even with a newer green belt and an "unbelted" gent in class most nights, the rest are all at shodan. This could intimidate a new person (male or female) into thinking they would be dragging down the training. They don't understand that we operate on a sempai/kohai (senior/junior) structure, where the senior ranks take care of the lesser ranks. So, actually, they would be training personally with someone who can help them.
All these factors are things which I am trying to overcome. Even with those inhibitors, I still have had two women come in. One also took her free class to try out the training and is committed to coming back this week. The other sat in and watched a class and is scheduled to come in this week for her free "test drive" of the training. From her attitude and emails to me, I think she will also commit to the group.
This is a huge plus to the dynamic of the training.
My guys need this. They need women in the class. They need the unique perspective and attributes they bring to the class. They need to be hit and thrown by women and not be too intimidated to hit or throw women. Real life presents dangers in all forms. A real attacker could very likely be a woman. I think it is dangerous to assume attackers are always men, always criminals and always untrained fighters. Real attackers could be any type of person, at any moment, with any skill level, and motivated by any number of reasons (even ones which lack any basis in reality!).
It is my hope that these two women will not only bring this lesson to the class, but to also provide the motivation for other women to also step onto the mat with us.
This week, we're going to look at a technique called Muso Dori, which is basically an extended armbar, or elbow lock. It ends with taking someone down to the ground on their front. The technique involves using the control of the arm and putting them on their front as a means to prevent them from drawing a sword. Thus, it has been loosely interpreted as "Warrior Pair Take", which means that both swords are controlled (samurai normally wore two swords) through the taking of one arm and pinning them on their front.
However, this technique can also be used in many ways, such as to lock the elbow upward, outward, downward, and using the body (or any object) to provide the leverage on the elbow. Many techniques use this concept and are called by different names. The term "dori" means to "break" or render useless, which can also be the intent of this technique on a basic level. However, it is important to understand that "breaking" and "rendering useless" do not always mean the same thing.
This leads me to the concept of "Life Giving Sword". A sword master was approached by his senior student, who took out his sword and stuck it in a stream. A leaf floating down the stream was cut in two by the blade as it went by. The student told his master, "see, master, how skilled I am with the sword!".
The master took out his own sword and stuck it into the stream. Another leaf came floating down and, once it reached the blade, gently turned and floated around it without being cut. The master turned to his student and said, "you see, to be a true master is to use your sword to give life, not take life."
Of course, this is a bad retelling of this story. But, it illustrates the concept of how it is not mastery to take a technique to it's violent conclusion, but to achieve the same goal (peace) without having to, or being dependent on, injuring or even killing your attacker. All techniques have a "zero point", a point where they are at your mercy, their power being nullified, their balance taken, their structure broken, and they haven't yet been thrown, hit, stabbed, or otherwise physically decimated. At that moment, you have a choice - life or death. You can take them or leave them.
If you decide to take them, you also have a choice. You can keep them at that "zero point", where they can't do anything but fall. You don't beat them - they give up. You don't throw them, they just fall. You don't hit them, they just run into your weapons. You don't destroy them, they implode themselves.
You don't actually "do" anything. That's being "zero".
Anyway, off to finish making dinner...
For the last couple weeks, I've had a couple women take interest in the class! This is big because women don't usually come in. I think this happens for a few reasons:
1. We are not a "workout" class - most of the women at Intel seem to only be interested in working out. Since there is a free karate class, a yoga class and other such venues which would serve that goal better, they go elsewhere.
2. We are all guys - believe it or not, I have found that most women are not comfortable training in a group made up of guys. Considering the nature of the class (i.e. combat training), I can see how this is intimidating.
3. Most of the guys are black belt ranked - even with a newer green belt and an "unbelted" gent in class most nights, the rest are all at shodan. This could intimidate a new person (male or female) into thinking they would be dragging down the training. They don't understand that we operate on a sempai/kohai (senior/junior) structure, where the senior ranks take care of the lesser ranks. So, actually, they would be training personally with someone who can help them.
All these factors are things which I am trying to overcome. Even with those inhibitors, I still have had two women come in. One also took her free class to try out the training and is committed to coming back this week. The other sat in and watched a class and is scheduled to come in this week for her free "test drive" of the training. From her attitude and emails to me, I think she will also commit to the group.
This is a huge plus to the dynamic of the training.
My guys need this. They need women in the class. They need the unique perspective and attributes they bring to the class. They need to be hit and thrown by women and not be too intimidated to hit or throw women. Real life presents dangers in all forms. A real attacker could very likely be a woman. I think it is dangerous to assume attackers are always men, always criminals and always untrained fighters. Real attackers could be any type of person, at any moment, with any skill level, and motivated by any number of reasons (even ones which lack any basis in reality!).
It is my hope that these two women will not only bring this lesson to the class, but to also provide the motivation for other women to also step onto the mat with us.
This week, we're going to look at a technique called Muso Dori, which is basically an extended armbar, or elbow lock. It ends with taking someone down to the ground on their front. The technique involves using the control of the arm and putting them on their front as a means to prevent them from drawing a sword. Thus, it has been loosely interpreted as "Warrior Pair Take", which means that both swords are controlled (samurai normally wore two swords) through the taking of one arm and pinning them on their front.
However, this technique can also be used in many ways, such as to lock the elbow upward, outward, downward, and using the body (or any object) to provide the leverage on the elbow. Many techniques use this concept and are called by different names. The term "dori" means to "break" or render useless, which can also be the intent of this technique on a basic level. However, it is important to understand that "breaking" and "rendering useless" do not always mean the same thing.
This leads me to the concept of "Life Giving Sword". A sword master was approached by his senior student, who took out his sword and stuck it in a stream. A leaf floating down the stream was cut in two by the blade as it went by. The student told his master, "see, master, how skilled I am with the sword!".
The master took out his own sword and stuck it into the stream. Another leaf came floating down and, once it reached the blade, gently turned and floated around it without being cut. The master turned to his student and said, "you see, to be a true master is to use your sword to give life, not take life."
Of course, this is a bad retelling of this story. But, it illustrates the concept of how it is not mastery to take a technique to it's violent conclusion, but to achieve the same goal (peace) without having to, or being dependent on, injuring or even killing your attacker. All techniques have a "zero point", a point where they are at your mercy, their power being nullified, their balance taken, their structure broken, and they haven't yet been thrown, hit, stabbed, or otherwise physically decimated. At that moment, you have a choice - life or death. You can take them or leave them.
If you decide to take them, you also have a choice. You can keep them at that "zero point", where they can't do anything but fall. You don't beat them - they give up. You don't throw them, they just fall. You don't hit them, they just run into your weapons. You don't destroy them, they implode themselves.
You don't actually "do" anything. That's being "zero".
Anyway, off to finish making dinner...
Sunday, October 5, 2008
On technical knowledge, curriculums, etc...
Long time Bujinkan student/teacher and Japan resident, Paul Masse, has a very good blog. A recent post by him has touched on my own thoughts in regards to technical knowledge vs taijutsu efficiency. In particular, I've been wrestling with the need for any kind of ranking curriculum.
First, the post: http://web.mac. com/phmasse/ martial_profile/ Blog/Entries/ 2008/9/18_ reflections_ on_Name_and_ form.html
What's important to notice from it is the part about how Soke couldn't remember the name of the technique (Musha Dori), but knew what he wanted to do. It was the senior students who knew the name, but struggled in moving with the efficiency and accuracy in which Soke moved. In similar thoughts, Soke has always said to forget the techniques, or throw away the technique. Yet, to forget, one must first know. To throw away, one must first obtain.
Paul wrote that he sees himself as having "the head of a chicken", where a chicken forgets in three steps. Boy, I can certainly relate! I've never been good at memorizing kata, yet I seem to pick up the movements and have evolved into the level of taijutsu I have - which apparently has been good enough to be granted Shidoshi status by Soke and the Shihan senior teachers who know me. Even so, I still find myself spending hours during the week studying the same material, books, videos and various internet sources, looking for the right technical information to match what my heart tells me to work on in the next Intel class. My heart needs little direction, yet my head needs direction, reminders, clarification to what my insides tell me is the right taijutsu skills to practice this week.
So, in looking at my current project of making a kyu to shodan curriculum guide, I am constantly troubled. In every class we hold, I find myself driven by things which are not based on any curriculum guide. As I ran classes focused around 9th kyu, 8th kyu, and 7th kyu material, I leave feeling like I had not really done anything to express my own budo drive. I felt like I just spent a couple hours on nothing more than shallow techniques, like playing with math equations without context and application to anything real. Yet, spending time on simple basics was appreciated by those in class and the improvements in technical skill certainly benefited.
However, with only one class per week on our schedule, spending our time on this sort of training will eventually stagnate the evolution of any "feeling" in our taijutsu. Also, with 9 kyu levels of material, it would surely take half a year to cover it all. What about the new people who missed the first kyu levels covered? Are they going to have to now wait until we come back around again?
This is why I truly detest using a curriculum guide for each kyu rank. Soke commented once that a basic technique like Omote Gyaku is going to be done differently depending on what level the person is. A shodan will do it very different from a 9th kyu. So, the same technique, no matter what it is, can be a test of the student's level of growth. So, I'm left with the concept that it isn't how much you know, but rather at what level you can execute what you do know. Again, I am reminded of the simplicity of the 5 kata of the Sanshin and the 8 kata of the Kihon Happo. Thirteen techniques, which are the base of our Bujinkan taijutsu, and the starting point for endless possibilities.
Yet, we have 9 ryuha with levels of kata, weapons, principles and movement strategies. Literally hundreds of techniques make up the totality of the densho kata.
That's where the 3 books of the Tenchijin Ryaku no Maki comes in, an attempt at bringing together key points in most of the Bujinkan ryuha in one digestible source. But, again, nothing is divided by level of skill or rank of the budoka. Rather, it is divided by principles, concepts and strategies. Another source of technical knowledge.
Something which is being repeated by Soke, Japanese Shihan, and other top shidoshi is the idea that we each are responsible for our own training. That means that this critical balance of technical knowledge and taijutsu skill is purely our own responsibility. As a shidoshi teacher, this releases me from being a teacher in the literal concept. Instead, I am only responsible for providing the right "feeling", to create an experience, and to be a source to help understand it. I am not responsible to spoon feed anything, or accept responsibility for how someone chooses to learn this art - even if their choices are not productive.
All I can do is "gambatte", to "keep going", in my own direction, my own path, and provide the experiences, the inspiration, for others to do the same in their own path. At the same time, I also need to grow, to follow those ahead of me who provide the same direction, inspiration and experiences.
So, what am I to do with ranking material? My current thoughts is to still have the information available for those who want it, but not to focus my teaching on it. Those who want to know something will find their answers, whether through me, another's class, or even independent research. Either way, it is them who make the conscious effort to know. As far as promotions, I am still convinced, as my friend and teacher Dale Seago also believes, that promotions are personal "mile markers" based on the overall training of the budoka - not controlled by the amount of knowledge, but the level of skill one performs their knowledge. As he puts it in his website's FAQ, it's more of a "field promotion", typical to how it is/was done in any other military unit during times of war.
And, in the challenges of daily life in regards to "budo to life" application, we are always at war - war with our own selves, with our daily challenges, with others we struggle to deal with, etc. The body may be at peace, but wars rage in our hearts and minds on a daily basis, sometimes great, sometimes small. The lessons of our budo training should never be limited to our bodies, just as our own budo knowledge should never be limited to our own heads. We must express our budo not just on the mat, but in every aspect of our lives. This is what it means to give life to our budo, to not just limit it to a collection of kata and other technical skill sets. My feeling is that one's true measurement of their budo is not in how well they can perform a kata, but how fully their budo has enhanced their lives. Peace from combat is not enough. Peace in life is farther reaching and at the true root of budo.
You can't learn that from any book, any kata, any video, any website. Only through correct experience can this be realized.
Anyway, these are my current thoughts. Enjoy Paul's post and I also recommend reading the other posts on his blog. He truly is someone who has captured the "feeling" of Soke's budo.
First, the post: http://web.mac. com/phmasse/ martial_profile/ Blog/Entries/ 2008/9/18_ reflections_ on_Name_and_ form.html
What's important to notice from it is the part about how Soke couldn't remember the name of the technique (Musha Dori), but knew what he wanted to do. It was the senior students who knew the name, but struggled in moving with the efficiency and accuracy in which Soke moved. In similar thoughts, Soke has always said to forget the techniques, or throw away the technique. Yet, to forget, one must first know. To throw away, one must first obtain.
Paul wrote that he sees himself as having "the head of a chicken", where a chicken forgets in three steps. Boy, I can certainly relate! I've never been good at memorizing kata, yet I seem to pick up the movements and have evolved into the level of taijutsu I have - which apparently has been good enough to be granted Shidoshi status by Soke and the Shihan senior teachers who know me. Even so, I still find myself spending hours during the week studying the same material, books, videos and various internet sources, looking for the right technical information to match what my heart tells me to work on in the next Intel class. My heart needs little direction, yet my head needs direction, reminders, clarification to what my insides tell me is the right taijutsu skills to practice this week.
So, in looking at my current project of making a kyu to shodan curriculum guide, I am constantly troubled. In every class we hold, I find myself driven by things which are not based on any curriculum guide. As I ran classes focused around 9th kyu, 8th kyu, and 7th kyu material, I leave feeling like I had not really done anything to express my own budo drive. I felt like I just spent a couple hours on nothing more than shallow techniques, like playing with math equations without context and application to anything real. Yet, spending time on simple basics was appreciated by those in class and the improvements in technical skill certainly benefited.
However, with only one class per week on our schedule, spending our time on this sort of training will eventually stagnate the evolution of any "feeling" in our taijutsu. Also, with 9 kyu levels of material, it would surely take half a year to cover it all. What about the new people who missed the first kyu levels covered? Are they going to have to now wait until we come back around again?
This is why I truly detest using a curriculum guide for each kyu rank. Soke commented once that a basic technique like Omote Gyaku is going to be done differently depending on what level the person is. A shodan will do it very different from a 9th kyu. So, the same technique, no matter what it is, can be a test of the student's level of growth. So, I'm left with the concept that it isn't how much you know, but rather at what level you can execute what you do know. Again, I am reminded of the simplicity of the 5 kata of the Sanshin and the 8 kata of the Kihon Happo. Thirteen techniques, which are the base of our Bujinkan taijutsu, and the starting point for endless possibilities.
Yet, we have 9 ryuha with levels of kata, weapons, principles and movement strategies. Literally hundreds of techniques make up the totality of the densho kata.
That's where the 3 books of the Tenchijin Ryaku no Maki comes in, an attempt at bringing together key points in most of the Bujinkan ryuha in one digestible source. But, again, nothing is divided by level of skill or rank of the budoka. Rather, it is divided by principles, concepts and strategies. Another source of technical knowledge.
Something which is being repeated by Soke, Japanese Shihan, and other top shidoshi is the idea that we each are responsible for our own training. That means that this critical balance of technical knowledge and taijutsu skill is purely our own responsibility. As a shidoshi teacher, this releases me from being a teacher in the literal concept. Instead, I am only responsible for providing the right "feeling", to create an experience, and to be a source to help understand it. I am not responsible to spoon feed anything, or accept responsibility for how someone chooses to learn this art - even if their choices are not productive.
All I can do is "gambatte", to "keep going", in my own direction, my own path, and provide the experiences, the inspiration, for others to do the same in their own path. At the same time, I also need to grow, to follow those ahead of me who provide the same direction, inspiration and experiences.
So, what am I to do with ranking material? My current thoughts is to still have the information available for those who want it, but not to focus my teaching on it. Those who want to know something will find their answers, whether through me, another's class, or even independent research. Either way, it is them who make the conscious effort to know. As far as promotions, I am still convinced, as my friend and teacher Dale Seago also believes, that promotions are personal "mile markers" based on the overall training of the budoka - not controlled by the amount of knowledge, but the level of skill one performs their knowledge. As he puts it in his website's FAQ, it's more of a "field promotion", typical to how it is/was done in any other military unit during times of war.
And, in the challenges of daily life in regards to "budo to life" application, we are always at war - war with our own selves, with our daily challenges, with others we struggle to deal with, etc. The body may be at peace, but wars rage in our hearts and minds on a daily basis, sometimes great, sometimes small. The lessons of our budo training should never be limited to our bodies, just as our own budo knowledge should never be limited to our own heads. We must express our budo not just on the mat, but in every aspect of our lives. This is what it means to give life to our budo, to not just limit it to a collection of kata and other technical skill sets. My feeling is that one's true measurement of their budo is not in how well they can perform a kata, but how fully their budo has enhanced their lives. Peace from combat is not enough. Peace in life is farther reaching and at the true root of budo.
You can't learn that from any book, any kata, any video, any website. Only through correct experience can this be realized.
Anyway, these are my current thoughts. Enjoy Paul's post and I also recommend reading the other posts on his blog. He truly is someone who has captured the "feeling" of Soke's budo.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
The path continues...
Yeah, I know. You've been checking back with no new posts by me being written. In frustration, you've contemplated deleting my blog from your favorites. Yet, you keep checking back.
Well, here it is - a new post!
I have been VERY busy and haven't had time to keep this updated. It has been over a year since having gone to Japan and I'm already feeling like I've missed so much. Yet, even with such a distance from that trip, I can still "feel" what I experienced. I was watching, of all things, a remake of a Godzilla flick the other day. They showed scenes set in a small town in Japan and suddenly all the things I experienced while living in that small Noda city came flooding back to me. I really felt as if it was only yesterday since I was there! Japan truly is a remarkable place and the people amazing.
My Intel classes have been going regularly since coming back. I've felt a real compulsion to focus on the fundamentals. Over the last few months, I ran an intense series of classes focusing heavily on conditioning, bag striking and drills. Now, I am focused on technical simplicity and precision in the fundamental areas of our Sanshin no Kata and Kihon Happo, which are the center pieces of Bujinkan training.
I've had some new people come and go. I had a long time regular suddenly stop coming, saying he had other things going on and was getting his training from a friend of mine outside of Intel. I'm ok with that, since I have always endorsed people taking charge of their training and to get out and learn from others.
Lately, I've had a drop in new people coming in. This has been primarily due to the drop in new employees Intel has been hiring. The other reason has to do with a karate class which shares the facility on alternate nights. The karate class is a free class, whereas I charge a small fee. However, since most people there seem to be looking for fitness and conditioning, a free class certainly appeals to them more than mine. Again, that's ok. I'd rather have a handful of serious budo students instead of a large group of people who are really only there to get in shape. Those people don't last, nor do they have the commitment to give the training the proper respect it deserves. They are not budo students. They are hobbyists.
I am excited to see so many of my fellow Bujinkan shidoshi making the trip to Japan this year. In fact, one of my friends is there right now! I am jealous, of course. But, I'm also excited for them. I only hope I can get with them when they return and pick their brains on what they were taught. Of course, I also hope some of that "feeling" they get from training with Soke and the Japanese Shihans will rub off on me.
It's like a drug addiction. Once you've experienced "the feeling", you find yourself craving more.
Anyway, this week we're going to work on Musha Dori from the Kihon Torite Kata. This is a same-side arm wrapping elbow/shoulder leverage which is designed to dislocate the shoulder. At minimum, it's a great technique to use to control the spine and balance of the attacker. From there, many possibilities exist.
I have a new person coming in to try out the training - a 25 yr old female! I would love to have her as part of the class. They guys there need to experience training with women more. I hope she is satisfied enough to decide to commit to the class. We'll see...
Stay tuned for more...
Well, here it is - a new post!
I have been VERY busy and haven't had time to keep this updated. It has been over a year since having gone to Japan and I'm already feeling like I've missed so much. Yet, even with such a distance from that trip, I can still "feel" what I experienced. I was watching, of all things, a remake of a Godzilla flick the other day. They showed scenes set in a small town in Japan and suddenly all the things I experienced while living in that small Noda city came flooding back to me. I really felt as if it was only yesterday since I was there! Japan truly is a remarkable place and the people amazing.
My Intel classes have been going regularly since coming back. I've felt a real compulsion to focus on the fundamentals. Over the last few months, I ran an intense series of classes focusing heavily on conditioning, bag striking and drills. Now, I am focused on technical simplicity and precision in the fundamental areas of our Sanshin no Kata and Kihon Happo, which are the center pieces of Bujinkan training.
I've had some new people come and go. I had a long time regular suddenly stop coming, saying he had other things going on and was getting his training from a friend of mine outside of Intel. I'm ok with that, since I have always endorsed people taking charge of their training and to get out and learn from others.
Lately, I've had a drop in new people coming in. This has been primarily due to the drop in new employees Intel has been hiring. The other reason has to do with a karate class which shares the facility on alternate nights. The karate class is a free class, whereas I charge a small fee. However, since most people there seem to be looking for fitness and conditioning, a free class certainly appeals to them more than mine. Again, that's ok. I'd rather have a handful of serious budo students instead of a large group of people who are really only there to get in shape. Those people don't last, nor do they have the commitment to give the training the proper respect it deserves. They are not budo students. They are hobbyists.
I am excited to see so many of my fellow Bujinkan shidoshi making the trip to Japan this year. In fact, one of my friends is there right now! I am jealous, of course. But, I'm also excited for them. I only hope I can get with them when they return and pick their brains on what they were taught. Of course, I also hope some of that "feeling" they get from training with Soke and the Japanese Shihans will rub off on me.
It's like a drug addiction. Once you've experienced "the feeling", you find yourself craving more.
Anyway, this week we're going to work on Musha Dori from the Kihon Torite Kata. This is a same-side arm wrapping elbow/shoulder leverage which is designed to dislocate the shoulder. At minimum, it's a great technique to use to control the spine and balance of the attacker. From there, many possibilities exist.
I have a new person coming in to try out the training - a 25 yr old female! I would love to have her as part of the class. They guys there need to experience training with women more. I hope she is satisfied enough to decide to commit to the class. We'll see...
Stay tuned for more...
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Sanshin
I know, I know - it's been a while...
Lately I've been giving great thought to the concept of Sanshin ("three hearts"). This term is fundamental to understanding Bujinkan Budo Taijutsu, in the sense that it is part of the foundational training. At it's most basic level, this is taught as a set of five techniques, first learned as solo movements using the entire body in specific ways.
The Sanshin no Kata, as it is commonly called, has also been known as Gogyo no Kata (Gogyo meaning "five elements"). This is because each kata is named after an element. The elements are earth ("Chi no Kata"), water ("Sui no Kata"), fire ("Ka no Kata"), wind ("Fu no Kata") and void or nothingness ("Ku no Kata"). Unfortunately, many misconceptions had been made about these elements in the early days of this material being taught in the West. But, according to Japanese history, these elements were actually an old form of numbering, as in "first", "second", etc. They have nothing to do with anything mystical or elemental in nature.
The Sanshin forms are an old method of teaching concepts such as timing, distancing and angling. At a base level, they represent methods to develop good body mechanics, control of balance, use of space and angles and other such fundamentals. They are not limited to unarmed, solo techniques, either. As one progresses, other levels to the Sanshin become available.
Lately, I have been inspired to teach the Sanshin no Kata more deeply, more thoroughly, in my Intel classes. Practicing these have also been a major focus for my own solo training. The movements are so incredibly multi-layered that I cannot help but repeat them over and over, constantly aware of subtle shifts in movement and balance.
Last night, in my Intel class, we worked on the first of these Sanshin no Kata techniques - Chi no Kata. In all the Sanshin no Kata, they all start from Shizen no Kamae, which is a natural standing position. Then, the person moves back into a posture called Shoshin no Kamae, a kind of "on guard" position where the lead hand is extended forwards and the rear hand at the hip. The body then moves forward, with the arms swinging in a natural pendulum swing until both rear foot and hand are projected forwards. The forward moving hand ends in a three fingered fist called Sanshitanken.
What's important to note is the natural swing of the arms and legs during this movement. However, before any of this can happen, there is a fundamentally critical lesson in the movement from the standing Shizen no Kamae into the Shoshin no Kamae. Because moving from one to the other involves pulling the right leg back into a kind of bladed posture (left foot and knee pointing straight at the opponent), most people will shift their weight and knee in a prepatory movement.
This is dangerous.
To do this correctly, the move has to be done in a singular move, along a singular line, so that it contains no prepatory movements. The center line of the body leans over the line of the left (lead) leg, then the right (rear) leg moves back to a position where the ankle is in line with the heel of the front leg. This makes the body flat, along a singular line. This is difficult to do and requires practice. But, if done correctly, the body is off the attack line of the opponent, presenting a narrow target, and the rear hand is hidden in the posture.
As the rear hand is brought back in preparation for the forward swing/strike, the opponent cannot see it. As you move forward, you shift your weight forward along your balance line, over your front knee. Then, the pendulum action occurrs in a very narrow line, so that both the step and strike are hard to detect. This is a precise use of angles which afford maximum efficiency and little effort.
The Sanshin no Kata contain many such hidden lessons. The next kata will hold similar concepts which I am excited to undertake and present to my class.
Lately I've been giving great thought to the concept of Sanshin ("three hearts"). This term is fundamental to understanding Bujinkan Budo Taijutsu, in the sense that it is part of the foundational training. At it's most basic level, this is taught as a set of five techniques, first learned as solo movements using the entire body in specific ways.
The Sanshin no Kata, as it is commonly called, has also been known as Gogyo no Kata (Gogyo meaning "five elements"). This is because each kata is named after an element. The elements are earth ("Chi no Kata"), water ("Sui no Kata"), fire ("Ka no Kata"), wind ("Fu no Kata") and void or nothingness ("Ku no Kata"). Unfortunately, many misconceptions had been made about these elements in the early days of this material being taught in the West. But, according to Japanese history, these elements were actually an old form of numbering, as in "first", "second", etc. They have nothing to do with anything mystical or elemental in nature.
The Sanshin forms are an old method of teaching concepts such as timing, distancing and angling. At a base level, they represent methods to develop good body mechanics, control of balance, use of space and angles and other such fundamentals. They are not limited to unarmed, solo techniques, either. As one progresses, other levels to the Sanshin become available.
Lately, I have been inspired to teach the Sanshin no Kata more deeply, more thoroughly, in my Intel classes. Practicing these have also been a major focus for my own solo training. The movements are so incredibly multi-layered that I cannot help but repeat them over and over, constantly aware of subtle shifts in movement and balance.
Last night, in my Intel class, we worked on the first of these Sanshin no Kata techniques - Chi no Kata. In all the Sanshin no Kata, they all start from Shizen no Kamae, which is a natural standing position. Then, the person moves back into a posture called Shoshin no Kamae, a kind of "on guard" position where the lead hand is extended forwards and the rear hand at the hip. The body then moves forward, with the arms swinging in a natural pendulum swing until both rear foot and hand are projected forwards. The forward moving hand ends in a three fingered fist called Sanshitanken.
What's important to note is the natural swing of the arms and legs during this movement. However, before any of this can happen, there is a fundamentally critical lesson in the movement from the standing Shizen no Kamae into the Shoshin no Kamae. Because moving from one to the other involves pulling the right leg back into a kind of bladed posture (left foot and knee pointing straight at the opponent), most people will shift their weight and knee in a prepatory movement.
This is dangerous.
To do this correctly, the move has to be done in a singular move, along a singular line, so that it contains no prepatory movements. The center line of the body leans over the line of the left (lead) leg, then the right (rear) leg moves back to a position where the ankle is in line with the heel of the front leg. This makes the body flat, along a singular line. This is difficult to do and requires practice. But, if done correctly, the body is off the attack line of the opponent, presenting a narrow target, and the rear hand is hidden in the posture.
As the rear hand is brought back in preparation for the forward swing/strike, the opponent cannot see it. As you move forward, you shift your weight forward along your balance line, over your front knee. Then, the pendulum action occurrs in a very narrow line, so that both the step and strike are hard to detect. This is a precise use of angles which afford maximum efficiency and little effort.
The Sanshin no Kata contain many such hidden lessons. The next kata will hold similar concepts which I am excited to undertake and present to my class.
Friday, June 13, 2008
A new starting line...
My godan test was a wierd thing. I still haven't quite come to grips with it since and it's been over a year! I swear I didn't move, yet I was not hit. I don't think Mr. Legare (the Shihan who administered the test) is a bad aim, but I *swear* I didn't move!
For those of you who don't know what the godan test is, it involves sitting in a kneeling position in front of either Soke or a 15th dan Shihan who Soke designates (with Soke present). Soke or the Shihan stands behind the testee and, while projecting a killing attitude (i.e. "sakki"), make a sharp downward strike with a training sword to the top of the head of the one being tested.
The person being tested either senses the attack and evades the strike or gets hit on the head - hard. Some guys have gotten hit so hard that the training sword bent down the front of them and left welts on their face. One guy had the sword bend all the way over their head and the tip of the sword leave a nasty mark on his abdomen!
When good friend and teacher, Shihan (15th dan) Dale Seago, heard I was going to Japan, he told me I would be taking the test. "That is not an option", were his words to me. So, I knew I would be tested. He had written the administrator for Soke's Hombu Dojo and told him he wanted me to be tested. I had no choice and couldn't hide from it.
Anyway, I sat there in readiness with everybody looking at me. I closed my eyes and just took an attitude of "no thought". I felt myself fall over to the right and knew it was wrong, so I caught myself and sat back up. I was right - the swing had not come yet.
I centered myself and waited. And waited. Legare Shihan pressed the sword into the top of my head in preparation, then let up the pressure to take the striking posture (upraised over his head). I could still feel the pressure on my head and wondered if that was important.
And, again I waited. And waited. And waited...
Suddenly, I felt myself sort of lean to the right again - slowly. I didn't fight it this time, but I didn't feel like I moved much at all. Suddenly, there was a wierd silence. I opened my eyes and everybody was looking at Soke, who was sitting off to my left on the side of the mat.
I couldn't tell you if I had fell over, moved places or whatever. It is a blur to try and remember. But, I do remember there was some conversation between Soke and Legare Shihan, then I heard Soke say "OK, GOOD!".
I looked around and asked if I passed and people all were telling me I did. Like an idiot, I said "I did?" Some people chuckled. Legare Shihan tapped me on the shoulder and said "yes, good job" and shook my hand. I was surprised and didn't really understand what had just happened. I got up and was met with countless handshakes, contratulations, hugs and warm comments from everybody in the room. It really was all a blur, a mix of thoughts, feelings, and emotions.
I still don't know exactly what had happened. I didn't do no fancy roll, like so many others I've seen perform. I didn't experience no burst of energy blasting me out of the way, like I've heard others say they felt.
I felt absolutely nothing. I felt myself do absolutely nothing (or very little anyway). Yet, I wasn't hit and was told "OK". I don't know.
Well, that's the magic of the godan test. It isn't like any other test, where you demonstrate technical proficiency. In fact, it isn't even about evading a downward sword strike from behind. Believe me, if Soke or the designated Shihan wanted to hit someone from behind - they'd hit them.
No, it isn't about anything like that. Instead, it's about a relationship, a connection to something much deeper. It's about whether or not you "get it" when it comes to Soke's budo. It's about being ready to move beyond the technical, the kata, the techniques, and touch the essence behind it all. It's not a test you pass, it's a matter of Soke passing you. As one buyu described, "it's a nod of approval".
I see my godan ranking as a gift; a recognition of how I have developed as a budoka (budo student). I'm not saying I "get it" when it comes to Soke's budo. But, apparently I have a certain "something" which connects me to his budo. It's enough for me to get "the nod" and be a 5th dan (i.e. godan) and entrusted with teaching this art to others as a Shidoshi. I really don't need to know why, just that people I have deep respect for have given it to me.
But, more importantly, I feel it is a responsibility, a new yoke, that I must bear. I am not at a resting place. Rather, I find myself just beginning a new journey, a whole new challenge. All my training up to this point was designed to just bring me to this new starting line, the entrance to the rugged mountain path, the skills to enable me to take this new adventure.
I can't sit and enjoy my new ranking. I need to DO something with it. I need to DO something with myself. I need to be more a student now than I have ever been. With it, I am also obligated to help others get to where I am. That's the Shidoshi part. But, that has to come second. Otherwise, I stagnate. My own budo will die. And, I will be disrespecting "the nod" given to me by Soke, Shihan Legare and Shihan Seago.
Now, what am I going to work on next Tuesday...
For those of you who don't know what the godan test is, it involves sitting in a kneeling position in front of either Soke or a 15th dan Shihan who Soke designates (with Soke present). Soke or the Shihan stands behind the testee and, while projecting a killing attitude (i.e. "sakki"), make a sharp downward strike with a training sword to the top of the head of the one being tested.
The person being tested either senses the attack and evades the strike or gets hit on the head - hard. Some guys have gotten hit so hard that the training sword bent down the front of them and left welts on their face. One guy had the sword bend all the way over their head and the tip of the sword leave a nasty mark on his abdomen!
When good friend and teacher, Shihan (15th dan) Dale Seago, heard I was going to Japan, he told me I would be taking the test. "That is not an option", were his words to me. So, I knew I would be tested. He had written the administrator for Soke's Hombu Dojo and told him he wanted me to be tested. I had no choice and couldn't hide from it.
Anyway, I sat there in readiness with everybody looking at me. I closed my eyes and just took an attitude of "no thought". I felt myself fall over to the right and knew it was wrong, so I caught myself and sat back up. I was right - the swing had not come yet.
I centered myself and waited. And waited. Legare Shihan pressed the sword into the top of my head in preparation, then let up the pressure to take the striking posture (upraised over his head). I could still feel the pressure on my head and wondered if that was important.
And, again I waited. And waited. And waited...
Suddenly, I felt myself sort of lean to the right again - slowly. I didn't fight it this time, but I didn't feel like I moved much at all. Suddenly, there was a wierd silence. I opened my eyes and everybody was looking at Soke, who was sitting off to my left on the side of the mat.
I couldn't tell you if I had fell over, moved places or whatever. It is a blur to try and remember. But, I do remember there was some conversation between Soke and Legare Shihan, then I heard Soke say "OK, GOOD!".
I looked around and asked if I passed and people all were telling me I did. Like an idiot, I said "I did?" Some people chuckled. Legare Shihan tapped me on the shoulder and said "yes, good job" and shook my hand. I was surprised and didn't really understand what had just happened. I got up and was met with countless handshakes, contratulations, hugs and warm comments from everybody in the room. It really was all a blur, a mix of thoughts, feelings, and emotions.
I still don't know exactly what had happened. I didn't do no fancy roll, like so many others I've seen perform. I didn't experience no burst of energy blasting me out of the way, like I've heard others say they felt.
I felt absolutely nothing. I felt myself do absolutely nothing (or very little anyway). Yet, I wasn't hit and was told "OK". I don't know.
Well, that's the magic of the godan test. It isn't like any other test, where you demonstrate technical proficiency. In fact, it isn't even about evading a downward sword strike from behind. Believe me, if Soke or the designated Shihan wanted to hit someone from behind - they'd hit them.
No, it isn't about anything like that. Instead, it's about a relationship, a connection to something much deeper. It's about whether or not you "get it" when it comes to Soke's budo. It's about being ready to move beyond the technical, the kata, the techniques, and touch the essence behind it all. It's not a test you pass, it's a matter of Soke passing you. As one buyu described, "it's a nod of approval".
I see my godan ranking as a gift; a recognition of how I have developed as a budoka (budo student). I'm not saying I "get it" when it comes to Soke's budo. But, apparently I have a certain "something" which connects me to his budo. It's enough for me to get "the nod" and be a 5th dan (i.e. godan) and entrusted with teaching this art to others as a Shidoshi. I really don't need to know why, just that people I have deep respect for have given it to me.
But, more importantly, I feel it is a responsibility, a new yoke, that I must bear. I am not at a resting place. Rather, I find myself just beginning a new journey, a whole new challenge. All my training up to this point was designed to just bring me to this new starting line, the entrance to the rugged mountain path, the skills to enable me to take this new adventure.
I can't sit and enjoy my new ranking. I need to DO something with it. I need to DO something with myself. I need to be more a student now than I have ever been. With it, I am also obligated to help others get to where I am. That's the Shidoshi part. But, that has to come second. Otherwise, I stagnate. My own budo will die. And, I will be disrespecting "the nod" given to me by Soke, Shihan Legare and Shihan Seago.
Now, what am I going to work on next Tuesday...
Ugh!
Hello friends!
Oh my! I have been SO damn busy that I have not been able to post here. I still have pages of notes from my Japan trip I am wanting to share. One thing about those, however. As I was writing them during my trip, I found myself experiencing so much that I had a very challenging time putting it all down on paper. There were so many lessons, things I heard, things I saw, stuff I learned that I discovered the futility in trying to note it all down.
I ended up skipping a day of note taking and trying to make it up later - which was almost impossible. I went from one awesome experience to another. To try and go backwards and write about what had happened the day before was to miss what was happening at that moment. That wasn't something I was willing to sacrafice.
Another challenge I am having is that so much of my experiences are deeply personal. There were things I felt were personal to me and not something which should be posted on an internet blog page. In our Bujinkan arts (as with many budo arts), there's a concept called "kuden", which means "oral teachings". These are things which are on a personal level, kept between teacher and student. So much of what I experienced and learned seemed to fall into this category. If I ever talk in person with any of you, I am happy to share them with you. But, to post them on a web blog seems disrespectful, or at least devaluing of the experiences.
Most kuden, in my opinion, is never really explained well outside of a personal level anyway.
I've also been thinking about this blog and it's purpose. I've been reading some great blogs out there and gotten some good ideas. I think I am now looking at making this blog more of a collection of my thoughts, not just about my classes, but about my whole budo life.
So, please keep checking back. I promise to keep writing here. Really, I promise...
Oh my! I have been SO damn busy that I have not been able to post here. I still have pages of notes from my Japan trip I am wanting to share. One thing about those, however. As I was writing them during my trip, I found myself experiencing so much that I had a very challenging time putting it all down on paper. There were so many lessons, things I heard, things I saw, stuff I learned that I discovered the futility in trying to note it all down.
I ended up skipping a day of note taking and trying to make it up later - which was almost impossible. I went from one awesome experience to another. To try and go backwards and write about what had happened the day before was to miss what was happening at that moment. That wasn't something I was willing to sacrafice.
Another challenge I am having is that so much of my experiences are deeply personal. There were things I felt were personal to me and not something which should be posted on an internet blog page. In our Bujinkan arts (as with many budo arts), there's a concept called "kuden", which means "oral teachings". These are things which are on a personal level, kept between teacher and student. So much of what I experienced and learned seemed to fall into this category. If I ever talk in person with any of you, I am happy to share them with you. But, to post them on a web blog seems disrespectful, or at least devaluing of the experiences.
Most kuden, in my opinion, is never really explained well outside of a personal level anyway.
I've also been thinking about this blog and it's purpose. I've been reading some great blogs out there and gotten some good ideas. I think I am now looking at making this blog more of a collection of my thoughts, not just about my classes, but about my whole budo life.
So, please keep checking back. I promise to keep writing here. Really, I promise...
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Japan Trip Day 2 - Sharaishi Sensei
Monday, June 4th
Woke up at 0600 hours, feeling the effects of jetlag. I felt like it was the afternoon, not six in the morning! I walked out the front of the lobby into their little courtyard and found they had put out a pot of fresh coffee, cups and such. The coffee tasted very good. It was so quiet around there! I saw people walking around and picked up “ohio gozaimasu” (good morning). Everybody was very pleasant and calm, always quick to smile. The old man of the inn was out sweeping the front patio and his wife was busy doing her morning duties. There was a son, probably in his early 20’s, who was also doing various duties. He was short and small in frame, with long straight hair. He was very nice, with a great smile, and he kept checking the coffee pot to make sure there was plenty in it.
By 0800, I had showered, got on my dogi training uniform and was ready to hit the dojo for my first day of Japan training. I hopped on my bike and Alex showed me the way.
Sharaishi Sensei
After stopping at a convenience store for some breakfast, which consisted of cold chicken nuggets, cinnamon bread and vitamin water, Alex showed me where the Hombu (main) dojo was. He had other plans, so I waited outside the dojo while he rode off. It was only 0830 hours and I knew I was early. So, I finished my breakfast and admired the surroundings, which was simply a back road by the railroad tracks. It was nothing fancy, not what you would think the home dojo of such a revered grandmaster would be. This morning would be Sharaishi Sensei, a long time student of my Soke (grandmaster). I was very excited to meet him.
Not long after I arrived, the door to the dojo opened and a small Japanese man came out. He looked at me, smiled and, in broken English, invited me to come inside. I walked in and was amazed at the inside of the dojo. It was exactly how all those photographs depicted - small, with dark wood walls covered in a multitude of training weapons, artifacts, pictures and such. The sea foam green tatami mats covered the entire training area. The room had the smell of old school martial arts training. It wasn’t the sanitized, air conditioned, brightly lit dojo environment commonly found in so many schools back home. It just felt good to be standing in that room.
The Japanese man introduced himself as Sharaishi and warmly welcomed me to come in and sit with him. He was in his dogi uniform and had several pieces of Japanese armor laying out on the wood floor in front of the tatami covered training area. He was making repairs to the pieces and lacing them onto a helmet. He commented that “sensei asked Sharaishi to fix armor, so Sharaishi fix armor.” I found his use of English to be interesting. He spoke in a kind of manner that reminded me of the character Yoda from the Star Wars movies.
We sat and talked about our lives. He told me about his two children, who are now grown. He said he was over sixty years old, which stunned me when compared to how youthful and healthy he appeared. He said he retired as an engineer, but now does consulting work for the same firm.
He asked many questions about me, my background, how long I had been training and so on. He was very interested in my law enforcement and military background and inquired as to why I didn’t stay in those occupations. When I told him how I gave up that life to be more involved in raising my family, he complimented me and said that was a very important decision.
People started arriving a little before 0900 hours. They filtered in, removed their shoes, and began changing into their dogi and tabi. Then, they scattered around to different parts of the training area to stretch, roll about, and have quiet conversations.
Sharaishi sensei stopped working on the armor, putting the pieces in a back room. He put on his black obi belt, welcomed everybody and jumped right into some techniques. There was no warm up, no usual rolling around beforehand.
He used me as uke quite often. I really enjoyed being his “attacker” and feeling the grace and power of his technique.
At about 0930 hours, he stopped us and had us do the standard Bujinkan bowing in. We all lined up facing the front wall, which was adorned with training weapons, pictures and artifacts. Atop this wall was a long shelf which displayed many different symbolic relics. This was the shamiza, the shrine, of the dojo. Sharaishi sensei led the bow in and hand clap ritual. Then, he turned and bowed to us. We bowed in return and the class formally began.
This year, the Bujinkan theme was from the Kukishinden school of jutaijutsu, or grappling. The emphasis was moving as if you and your attacker were in armor. Shariaishi sensei showed us his version of the first technique, called Seion, which involved you and your partner in a mutual lapel and arm grab called Kumi Uchi. What he emphasized was the raising of the uke’s elbows to bring his balance up, then a right kick to their left knee. As they react to the kick to their knee, you step out with your right foot and step in behind their knee with your left foot. Then, you step out with the right again and place your left foot in front of their right foot. Finally, you drop on your right knee and throw them. In a sense, you are walking around the base of your uke, while breaking their support balance so that, in the end, they topple over you with little effort.
Sharaishi sensei said some wonder things. Some quotes were, “not hit - shock with touch” and “best balance, best opportunity”. He also spoke at great length about the power of smiling. He said a smile relaxes you and gives your opponent nothing. Then, when you attack, they are shocked. But, even then, still smile.
He taught us his version of the basic technique called Omote Gyaku from our Kihon Happo. He showed a version I had never seen before, but perfectly illustrated the many things he had been teaching us. It involved more use of the space around the uke, instead of focusing on the body of the uke. In the end, the balance in the uke was completely taken and they fell or were thrown very easily.
Overall, this first class was a great introduction to what was going to come in the days ahead. I left there feeling I was in the right place at the right time. I had not met Soke or any of the other shihan yet, but I felt their presence already.
I had no idea how much more the experience of being there was going to impact me.
Woke up at 0600 hours, feeling the effects of jetlag. I felt like it was the afternoon, not six in the morning! I walked out the front of the lobby into their little courtyard and found they had put out a pot of fresh coffee, cups and such. The coffee tasted very good. It was so quiet around there! I saw people walking around and picked up “ohio gozaimasu” (good morning). Everybody was very pleasant and calm, always quick to smile. The old man of the inn was out sweeping the front patio and his wife was busy doing her morning duties. There was a son, probably in his early 20’s, who was also doing various duties. He was short and small in frame, with long straight hair. He was very nice, with a great smile, and he kept checking the coffee pot to make sure there was plenty in it.
By 0800, I had showered, got on my dogi training uniform and was ready to hit the dojo for my first day of Japan training. I hopped on my bike and Alex showed me the way.
Sharaishi Sensei
After stopping at a convenience store for some breakfast, which consisted of cold chicken nuggets, cinnamon bread and vitamin water, Alex showed me where the Hombu (main) dojo was. He had other plans, so I waited outside the dojo while he rode off. It was only 0830 hours and I knew I was early. So, I finished my breakfast and admired the surroundings, which was simply a back road by the railroad tracks. It was nothing fancy, not what you would think the home dojo of such a revered grandmaster would be. This morning would be Sharaishi Sensei, a long time student of my Soke (grandmaster). I was very excited to meet him.
Not long after I arrived, the door to the dojo opened and a small Japanese man came out. He looked at me, smiled and, in broken English, invited me to come inside. I walked in and was amazed at the inside of the dojo. It was exactly how all those photographs depicted - small, with dark wood walls covered in a multitude of training weapons, artifacts, pictures and such. The sea foam green tatami mats covered the entire training area. The room had the smell of old school martial arts training. It wasn’t the sanitized, air conditioned, brightly lit dojo environment commonly found in so many schools back home. It just felt good to be standing in that room.
The Japanese man introduced himself as Sharaishi and warmly welcomed me to come in and sit with him. He was in his dogi uniform and had several pieces of Japanese armor laying out on the wood floor in front of the tatami covered training area. He was making repairs to the pieces and lacing them onto a helmet. He commented that “sensei asked Sharaishi to fix armor, so Sharaishi fix armor.” I found his use of English to be interesting. He spoke in a kind of manner that reminded me of the character Yoda from the Star Wars movies.
We sat and talked about our lives. He told me about his two children, who are now grown. He said he was over sixty years old, which stunned me when compared to how youthful and healthy he appeared. He said he retired as an engineer, but now does consulting work for the same firm.
He asked many questions about me, my background, how long I had been training and so on. He was very interested in my law enforcement and military background and inquired as to why I didn’t stay in those occupations. When I told him how I gave up that life to be more involved in raising my family, he complimented me and said that was a very important decision.
People started arriving a little before 0900 hours. They filtered in, removed their shoes, and began changing into their dogi and tabi. Then, they scattered around to different parts of the training area to stretch, roll about, and have quiet conversations.
Sharaishi sensei stopped working on the armor, putting the pieces in a back room. He put on his black obi belt, welcomed everybody and jumped right into some techniques. There was no warm up, no usual rolling around beforehand.
He used me as uke quite often. I really enjoyed being his “attacker” and feeling the grace and power of his technique.
At about 0930 hours, he stopped us and had us do the standard Bujinkan bowing in. We all lined up facing the front wall, which was adorned with training weapons, pictures and artifacts. Atop this wall was a long shelf which displayed many different symbolic relics. This was the shamiza, the shrine, of the dojo. Sharaishi sensei led the bow in and hand clap ritual. Then, he turned and bowed to us. We bowed in return and the class formally began.
This year, the Bujinkan theme was from the Kukishinden school of jutaijutsu, or grappling. The emphasis was moving as if you and your attacker were in armor. Shariaishi sensei showed us his version of the first technique, called Seion, which involved you and your partner in a mutual lapel and arm grab called Kumi Uchi. What he emphasized was the raising of the uke’s elbows to bring his balance up, then a right kick to their left knee. As they react to the kick to their knee, you step out with your right foot and step in behind their knee with your left foot. Then, you step out with the right again and place your left foot in front of their right foot. Finally, you drop on your right knee and throw them. In a sense, you are walking around the base of your uke, while breaking their support balance so that, in the end, they topple over you with little effort.
Sharaishi sensei said some wonder things. Some quotes were, “not hit - shock with touch” and “best balance, best opportunity”. He also spoke at great length about the power of smiling. He said a smile relaxes you and gives your opponent nothing. Then, when you attack, they are shocked. But, even then, still smile.
He taught us his version of the basic technique called Omote Gyaku from our Kihon Happo. He showed a version I had never seen before, but perfectly illustrated the many things he had been teaching us. It involved more use of the space around the uke, instead of focusing on the body of the uke. In the end, the balance in the uke was completely taken and they fell or were thrown very easily.
Overall, this first class was a great introduction to what was going to come in the days ahead. I left there feeling I was in the right place at the right time. I had not met Soke or any of the other shihan yet, but I felt their presence already.
I had no idea how much more the experience of being there was going to impact me.
Japan Trip Day 1 - The Landing
Saturday, June 2nd
I left USA soil and landed at Narita Airport in Japan on Sunday, June 3rd, at approximately 1530hrs. Although only 11 hours later, the time shift going halfway around the world put me into the next day and I could feel the difference in my body. Jetlag was already setting in, but my adrenaline and excitement kept me going.
I got through customs quickly and found a currency exchange to change my US dollars into Japanese yen. I was told the rates were cheaper doing it in Japan after landing (instead of doing it in the US beforehand) and he was right. By 1530 hours, I had my luggage and money and was waiting for Alex and the rest of the team to arrive and escort me to our lodging.
Alex and team met me at 1800. We took several different trains, which was quite an adventure. You purchase tickets at machines similar to ATM terminals. You walk up to the gate, stick your ticket into it and, if there’s a balance left on it, it will spit out the other side for you to grab as you go through. It’s a pretty efficient system to get from train to train in a hurry and I soon discovered why. Trains ran regularly, one right after another, and they moved fast. People were running and walking hurriedly to get to each train. It was quite a time going from confined sitting and standing of the long plane flight, to running up and down stairs, from train to train.
Eventually, we arrived at the Azusa by 2000 hours, which was the inn we were staying at. This little place was a family owned establishment, consisting of two levels of rooms. The light green paint on the building made it easy to see, especially with the huge billboard sign out front which reads “Azusa”.
My room was tiny, with a single futon mattress bed, a small refrigerator, microwave, TV and table. A rear door to my room led to a washroom and bathroom that was shared by John, who had the room next to mine. If I had to share a washroom and toilet, I was glad it was with somebody I knew.
Out front are several bicycles, all made of the same style. Each had a basket on the front handlebars, too. I was told these are for us to use. So, we decided to ride to a small restaurant Alex knew about.
As we rode down the street, I noticed there was very little room on the sides of the narrow streets. Cars of all types whizzed by at unnerving closeness. Luckily, some areas had sidewalks. But, we also had to squeeze alongside cars when sidewalks weren’t available. It was no wonder they didn’t have accidents. I guess when you live in that environment, you are adapted to it.
We arrived at the restaurant, a small and simple looking establishment. None of the signs were in Romanji Kanji (English letters), only the standard kanji. Thankfully, Alex knew this place and had a basic knowledge of Japanese language. So, we walked in and sat on the floor at one of the tables in the back room. We shared the room with a group of mixed guys and girls, all appearing to be in their early 20’s. We enjoyed beer and dinner and, after several rounds, found ourselves attempting conversation with the group next to us. The girls could speak a little English, so we had a great time asking questions and making jokes. At one point, one of the guys in the group appeared agitated. I found out he was the husband to one of the girls who was talking to me and he was jealous. I tried to include him in the conversation and told them my friends and I were married. This seemed to calm down the man and, even though he was less cordial than the others, didn’t cause any trouble.
We left the restaurant and rode our bikes back to the Azusa. Considering all the beer we consumed, it was any wonder we made it back safely.
I went to my room, set out my things to make it feel more like "home", then laid my exhausted body down on the lumpy futon mattress and tried to suppress my anxiety in order to fall asleep.
I left USA soil and landed at Narita Airport in Japan on Sunday, June 3rd, at approximately 1530hrs. Although only 11 hours later, the time shift going halfway around the world put me into the next day and I could feel the difference in my body. Jetlag was already setting in, but my adrenaline and excitement kept me going.
I got through customs quickly and found a currency exchange to change my US dollars into Japanese yen. I was told the rates were cheaper doing it in Japan after landing (instead of doing it in the US beforehand) and he was right. By 1530 hours, I had my luggage and money and was waiting for Alex and the rest of the team to arrive and escort me to our lodging.
Alex and team met me at 1800. We took several different trains, which was quite an adventure. You purchase tickets at machines similar to ATM terminals. You walk up to the gate, stick your ticket into it and, if there’s a balance left on it, it will spit out the other side for you to grab as you go through. It’s a pretty efficient system to get from train to train in a hurry and I soon discovered why. Trains ran regularly, one right after another, and they moved fast. People were running and walking hurriedly to get to each train. It was quite a time going from confined sitting and standing of the long plane flight, to running up and down stairs, from train to train.
Eventually, we arrived at the Azusa by 2000 hours, which was the inn we were staying at. This little place was a family owned establishment, consisting of two levels of rooms. The light green paint on the building made it easy to see, especially with the huge billboard sign out front which reads “Azusa”.
My room was tiny, with a single futon mattress bed, a small refrigerator, microwave, TV and table. A rear door to my room led to a washroom and bathroom that was shared by John, who had the room next to mine. If I had to share a washroom and toilet, I was glad it was with somebody I knew.
Out front are several bicycles, all made of the same style. Each had a basket on the front handlebars, too. I was told these are for us to use. So, we decided to ride to a small restaurant Alex knew about.
As we rode down the street, I noticed there was very little room on the sides of the narrow streets. Cars of all types whizzed by at unnerving closeness. Luckily, some areas had sidewalks. But, we also had to squeeze alongside cars when sidewalks weren’t available. It was no wonder they didn’t have accidents. I guess when you live in that environment, you are adapted to it.
We arrived at the restaurant, a small and simple looking establishment. None of the signs were in Romanji Kanji (English letters), only the standard kanji. Thankfully, Alex knew this place and had a basic knowledge of Japanese language. So, we walked in and sat on the floor at one of the tables in the back room. We shared the room with a group of mixed guys and girls, all appearing to be in their early 20’s. We enjoyed beer and dinner and, after several rounds, found ourselves attempting conversation with the group next to us. The girls could speak a little English, so we had a great time asking questions and making jokes. At one point, one of the guys in the group appeared agitated. I found out he was the husband to one of the girls who was talking to me and he was jealous. I tried to include him in the conversation and told them my friends and I were married. This seemed to calm down the man and, even though he was less cordial than the others, didn’t cause any trouble.
We left the restaurant and rode our bikes back to the Azusa. Considering all the beer we consumed, it was any wonder we made it back safely.
I went to my room, set out my things to make it feel more like "home", then laid my exhausted body down on the lumpy futon mattress and tried to suppress my anxiety in order to fall asleep.
Let the games begin...
Hello friends! First off, let me say "THANK YOU" to all who have expressed their support, concern and encouragement during my down time of healing. So much has happened since June and I have been struggling to come up with words to express it all on this blog. A whirlwind would seem like a light analogy compared to what my life has been like. But, I made it through in one piece!
I don't want to write about my family life on a journal which is devoted to my budo life, but family is at the center of everything I am. It affects every aspect of my life, including my budo life. In June, not only did I make the trip to Japan to finally meet and train with my Soke and the Japanese Shihan, I also accepted a new employment position with a major retailer. I had decided to go back to my old career of loss prevention investigations, something I was doing before my wife and I decided to have another child. This new position was a senior management position and offered a nice salary package, so I decided to accept it. What I didn't know at the time was the effect such a decision would have on my family.
This new position required so much of my time, plus long distances of commute, that my family suffered greatly from my absence. My children struggled in school and my wife, who is also a high school English teacher, was facing extreme hardships in balancing her career with being a solo parent. In addition, I no longer had the time to spend on the other important centerpiece to my life - my budo training.
So, after 8 months of struggle, I made the decision to resign from that employer and go back to the occupation I had previously - one which allowed me to work the same schedule as the school schedule. Being back with my family again has put so much balance back in my life.
And, as an added plus, I now have time to go back to budo teaching and training. So, I emailed my Intel folks and let them know the good news. They welcomed me back with open arms!
Last Tuesday, I joined them for the weekly class and had a great time training with them again! We even had a new guy who had started just before my return. I kept the class light, mostly just to see what they had been doing and how our bodies moved. I was satisfied with how my body felt and enjoyed the adrenaline of light randori free play techniques. I felt no pain in my abdomen and my energy level was strong. It was a great night and a good kick off to coming back to my budo life.
So, tonight, one week since, I am excited to start the Intel class again. I have many ideas for the class, in particular a focus on fitness and conditioning. That was paramount in my recovery, so I want to give it a prominent place in my teaching and training. In addition, I want to focus on the foundation of our training, through drills and exercises. Good basics cannot be downplayed and I think this also needs to be given its due position as a center piece to the class.
As I promised, I will post segments from my Japan trip journal. I have been writing them down in a text file on my laptop. I will copy each day's notes on this blog so that you have a chance to read it. Keep in mind, however, that I started writing many things in the early days of my trip, but soon lost interest in writing. There was just so much to experience that writing seemed to get in the way. But, I will post what I have anyway.
I'm glad to be back.
I don't want to write about my family life on a journal which is devoted to my budo life, but family is at the center of everything I am. It affects every aspect of my life, including my budo life. In June, not only did I make the trip to Japan to finally meet and train with my Soke and the Japanese Shihan, I also accepted a new employment position with a major retailer. I had decided to go back to my old career of loss prevention investigations, something I was doing before my wife and I decided to have another child. This new position was a senior management position and offered a nice salary package, so I decided to accept it. What I didn't know at the time was the effect such a decision would have on my family.
This new position required so much of my time, plus long distances of commute, that my family suffered greatly from my absence. My children struggled in school and my wife, who is also a high school English teacher, was facing extreme hardships in balancing her career with being a solo parent. In addition, I no longer had the time to spend on the other important centerpiece to my life - my budo training.
So, after 8 months of struggle, I made the decision to resign from that employer and go back to the occupation I had previously - one which allowed me to work the same schedule as the school schedule. Being back with my family again has put so much balance back in my life.
And, as an added plus, I now have time to go back to budo teaching and training. So, I emailed my Intel folks and let them know the good news. They welcomed me back with open arms!
Last Tuesday, I joined them for the weekly class and had a great time training with them again! We even had a new guy who had started just before my return. I kept the class light, mostly just to see what they had been doing and how our bodies moved. I was satisfied with how my body felt and enjoyed the adrenaline of light randori free play techniques. I felt no pain in my abdomen and my energy level was strong. It was a great night and a good kick off to coming back to my budo life.
So, tonight, one week since, I am excited to start the Intel class again. I have many ideas for the class, in particular a focus on fitness and conditioning. That was paramount in my recovery, so I want to give it a prominent place in my teaching and training. In addition, I want to focus on the foundation of our training, through drills and exercises. Good basics cannot be downplayed and I think this also needs to be given its due position as a center piece to the class.
As I promised, I will post segments from my Japan trip journal. I have been writing them down in a text file on my laptop. I will copy each day's notes on this blog so that you have a chance to read it. Keep in mind, however, that I started writing many things in the early days of my trip, but soon lost interest in writing. There was just so much to experience that writing seemed to get in the way. But, I will post what I have anyway.
I'm glad to be back.
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