Budo, Goshin or Konran?

Warning - this is an attempt to sort out some thoughts that have been bubbling up lately in my head, sparked by some very recent experiences and conversations, but built upon many years of contemplation and my own life experience.

For starters, let me pose this question:

Are you studying budo, goshin or konran?  Don't know what they mean?  Let me define them this way.  Budo 武道 is "martial arts", Goshinjutsu 護身術 means to "protect one's body" and Konran 混乱 means "confusion".

If you ask around the Bujinkan, most people will say "budo".  But, some will say "goshinjutsu".  Nobody will say "konran".  If you talk further, away from Japanese terminology, people begin to talk about "self-defense", which is Goshinjutsu.  But, as you talk even further, especially with the more experienced students and teachers, most admit that learning Soke's art is to always be in a constant state of "confusion" (Konran).

So, what are you training in?

I am going to make a set of statements that might offend some, make some squirm, maybe even begin to question themselves and what they are doing.  But, it has taken me many years to finally accept these as fact and in accepting them I have come to find clarity and purpose - two things I have very seldom been able to find along this martial "path" I've followed for so long.  Here are my statements:

1.  If you are training in Budo, you are not training in Goshinjutsu.
2.  If you are training in Goshinjutsu, you are not training in Budo.
3.  If your training is Konran, you are not training in Budo or Goshinjutsu.

Now, before the flames start, let me clarify. 

Budo is martial "ART", as in it is a form, a particular expression of something, done in a manner that follows a particular method.  All arts have their structure and purpose, whether dancing, painting, sculpting or martial arts.  They have a teacher who teaches pupils to learn key lessons that portray the unique attributes of that art and, very often, carry the specific influences of that teacher - and all those teachers before who have handed down those teachings.  The purpose is the art itself.

Goshinjutsu is, literally, to protect one's self.  It is pure in that there is no specific 'form'.  The sole purpose is preservation.  So, the methods vary by circumstance and it's entirely comprised of techniques for survival, doing whatever works.  It is the world of "henka" or variation.

Konran is confusion, a state of being where there is no direction, no vision, no clarity, no definition, no form or any sense of balance.  It goes far beyond just not knowing something.

When you train in Budo, you are learning the art.  The techniques are used to teach the art.  The principles are there to teach the art.  The concepts and strategies are there to teach the art.  The headmaster, Soke or Sensei, is there to represent the art to their deshi (students).

When you train in Goshinjutsu, you are applying techniques, strategies and principles in combat situations.  You train to escape or defeat an opponent under a variety of circumstances, using whatever resources are available, with no consideration for any particular form, method or "art" (outside of particular conditions presented in the training).

When you train in Konran, you are acting entirely on impulse and base animal instincts.  Adrenaline cocktail induced shutdowns and freezes are most likely to happen.

As a budoka, it's important to train in Budo, to learn the form, the art, as completely as possible.  But, you also need to practice Goshinjutsu by applying your training to a variety of situations, to adapt it to a broad range of circumstances, challenge yourself with it, take it outside the confines of the form to build practicality and implementation skills with what you learn.  This gives it purpose beyond the art itself.  Lastly, it's important to step outside the box, to take your training into areas which are uncomfortable and challenging, to create confusion and adrenaline.  You need to experience the 'freeze', the fear and shock of something unexpected, new and unpredictable.

To train in these three methods is how a well rounded budoka can be developed.  But, let's not fool ourselves into thinking that by training in one, we are training in the others.  You do so at the sacrifice of it all.  It is all too easy to try to change the art, the budo, when one tries to apply them to mock "self-defense" situations.  But, true "self-defense" is a very broad, multi-layered subject that incorporates the reality of violence, the world of predators and social violence, the legal aspects and use of force rules, and the physical, mental and emotional aspects involved.  Most of what we see as budo (martial arts) do not cover these areas in quite so specific of a manner.  But, training in self-defense also doesn't cover the refinement, the efficiency, the beauty that a budo path offers.  There's no history, culture or substance outside of immediate practicality to dealing with real world danger and liabilities associated.

The problem happens when one trains in budo, learning an art, then tries to force it into a real world self-defense situation without going into all the other components that define self-defense.  They spend their time changing the art to make it fit, losing the foundations that make the art an art, turning it into something else that most often becomes the budoka's own thing instead of the art they profess to train in.  That is fine and can be an effective system if the skills are solid, but it's not the same art.  Without a strong reinforcement and constant connection to training in the art, this undoubtedly can lead to confusion, or konran, especially if one continues to try and convince himself that he is still training in that art.

There is more I could write on this, but I'm going to leave it here.  My point is simply to suggest that we each look at what it is we are doing in our training and ask:

Are you really, truly training in the art, in self-defense or in confusion?

 

Some Thoughts On YouTube Videos...

Some thoughts on YouTube videos...

If you were to look up "Bujinkan" on YouTube, you would find almost 82,000 results. Most of them are marketing videos and various videos of people who aren't even qualified instructors. Amongst all the videos are those videos which are either shots from seminars and "published" videos (like Soke's videos, etc). These tend to be on the 'better' end of the spectrum and can be worth a viewing.

But, herein lies a problem that I, myself, have fallen victim to at different points. We see a video that 'looks' good. We get inspired by it and decide to incorporate things from in into our training. The dilemma is that learning and applying things from so many different video sources can often lead us into disarray in our taijutsu. This is due to several possible and likely factors:

1. The person in the video is not your teacher. You do not train regularly with him/her, don't have any sort of feedback or kuden (oral instruction) that is geared towards developing you as their student.

2. You don't have the overall context of the teaching or demonstration. You see a cool little version of a technique and immediately start replicating. Problem is that you are doing something that likely could just be an exploration or extension of a greater lesson or teaching that was no in the video. Missing that 'starting point' is a vital thing. Too many times, what is demonstrated is interpreted as the lesson, when in actuality it may just be an application of a lesson - the very lesson that wasn't included in the video.

3. The things shown in the video lead to a different conclusion. If you are training under a real teacher, you are being trained and developed along a particular path. There is a logic and process that will eventually take you to a certain level of ability. When you pick up things from another teacher's video, you are picking up things that may be contradictory or leading to a different result. Although learning new approaches and perspectives is a good thing, you have to be careful you aren't blinding yourself to the one your teacher is investing the time and energy to provide for you.

4. Videos are easier. This is something that causes an uncomfortable stir among budoka, I am sure. We can literally spend countless hours watching YouTube videos of guys teaching and training. We may think we are learning something new, but none of it matters until we step foot on the tatami and actually train our bodies. The problem is that the latter is uncomfortable and difficult, or at least your training should be. Watching videos is easy. Dreaming and being inspired is fun and exciting. Spending an hour doing a zenpo keri forward kick over and over to develop power, structure and accuracy is not fun or exciting. But, which one will make you a better budoka? You have to ask yourself what you desire more, to be entertained or to be skilled?

At the recent Duncan Stewart Shihan seminar, Duncan made the comment about how people's taijutsu seemed 'weird'. He attributed it to people spending too much time training on variables, which includes different teachers. He was careful to point out the value in getting out to train with different teachers, but that doing it too much or with the wrong focus will cause chaos and confusion. There are always going to be those things that seem better than what you are doing. The grass will always 'look' greener over the fence. However, instead of hopping fences to always chase the greener grass, why not put your head and back down, get your hands dirty, and work the patch of dirt under your own feet - and grow your own beautiful grass?

Do that and you'll discover your own lawn is better that what's "over there".

"Toh-mah-toh" & "Toh-may-toh" versus Apples & Oranges

Over the span of almost 28 years, I have trained with a wide variety of Bujinkan teachers.  From some I've learned quite a lot, from some I've picked up some new perspective or technique and from others I've learned nothing at all.  Yet, for all of them I am deeply thankful for their time and knowledge, as it all helped me in some way.

In the Bujinkan, there are very few standards when it comes to quality.  We are not held back from exploring and venturing off on our own.  For the most part, I believe we all veer off in some way to follow our own interests and ambitions.  For many, it's a brief interlude and we return to our path having gained something, whether the experience was a mistake in judgment, an added skill set or that it provided a new way to look at what we have been doing already.  For some, this also translates into what is taught in the dojo.  Some instructors bring their outside experience and knowledge into their teachings, whether they find it fills a hole or deficiency, adds a new element to the training, or that it is pure ego-driven ambition to be a maverick or corner the market in some new, enlightened way.

And it's amazing how much bickering and finger pointing goes on in regards to what is "right" or "wrong", who is training and teaching the "real" Bujinkan, and so on.

Aside from the ones which are downright wrong or completely different, there are many reasons for such variance in the teaching methods and styles which exist.  Just because someone teaches and trains differently than someone else doesn't necessarily mean it's bad or wrong.  There are factors to consider when looking at such things.

The funny title to my article highlights what I mean.  We may both agree that there is a tomato sitting in front of us.  However, I may pronounce it "toh-may-toh" and you say "toh-mah-toh".  I may call it a fruit.  You may call it a vegetable.  I may like a raw tomato, but hate it cooked.  You may hate a raw tomato, but love it cooked.  At the end of the day, what we're debating over is still a tomato, no matter how we pronounce the name, how we categorize it or choose to eat it.  It's always still the same.

Now, if I put an orange on the table and told you it was an apple, we would have a genuine argument based on merit.  An orange and an apple are different on all levels except one, that they both are fruit.  Outside of that, they are different in color, texture, chemical makeup, DNA, cell structure, glucose level, and on and on.  So, we could both agree that we are enjoying a fruit, but we definitely are not enjoying the same kind of fruit.

And if I'm going to make orange juice, I'd be a fool to think I can do it with an apple!  (And visa versa)

There are literally thousands of those in the Bujinkan who are teachers, whether they have formal dojo schools or small shibu training groups.  You can visit one after another and most likely each one will be different than the next.  Some differences might be drastic while some are minor.  But, they are all different because the teacher has his/her own unique way and the training they provide is influenced by that.

The trick is in knowing if what you are doing, the teacher you are training with, is trying to convince you an orange is an apple.  Just because they might be training in martial arts does not guarantee that it is accurately Bujinkan martial arts, any more than eating a piece of fruit does not guarantee that you are eating an apple or an orange.  But, if what you are being taught has the same components, same DNA, same cell structure, same parts on every level - but just looks different or trained differently, you can rest assured you are still likely training in the same art.  It's just pronounced differently.

Something that is important to understand when training with a teacher or mentor is that their taijutsu evolved along their own natural abilities and capacity.  For instance, a large, muscular man will have no problems using their size and strength to influence the effectiveness of their technique.  Same with elusive, smaller teachers and mentors who seemingly can disappear within a technique and hit you where you can't see (not to imply larger teachers haven't developed the ability to do this, either, but it takes more training).  They all use their natural, God-given abilities that have evolved parallel to their growth in the martial art they study.

This natural evolution will greatly affect their teaching, too, as most people teach what they learned and how they move.  You can see this in each teacher's class.  Some are natural grapplers and prefer going in close.  Some are natural strikers and prefer to keep distance to use their limbs.  Some are weapon oriented and train at those ranges.  Some are elusive.  Some are solid as a rock.  Some are natural acrobatics.  All of them will emphasize their talents in what they bring to teach.  Those students who share a commonality with the teacher will evolve naturally in that direction.  Those who are different will struggle to evolve, to the degree they are different.  But, it is still good to experience a difference, to learn skills that are not naturally ingrained or part of our hardwired tendencies.  I'm more referring to long term training and who we will subconsciously migrate towards.

Yet, even with differences in how each teacher is in their own natural state and what differences this brings to what and how they teach, they (and we, for those of us who do teach) should still all be teaching the same art.  It all should still be a tomato, no matter how we choose to pronounce it or think of it as a fruit or vegetable.  It doesn't matter.

But, if we're training and teaching in something so different that it's no longer the same, it's foolish to try and think (and convince others) that you are offering an apple when, in fact, you are offering an orange.

I hope my analogies are not too ridiculous, but I hope you can understand the meaning behind my words.

Gambatte Kudasai!

Meditations at The Watering Hole

I have reached another watering hole in my budo path.  The term “watering hole” references a kind of fresh water well or pond.  These places were valuable to early travelers.  The body can go weeks without food, but only a short few days without water.  Water always was, and still is, the primary element for life (except for oxygen, of course!).

Watering holes also were a normal place for people to meet and talk.  It was the place where information was exchanged, new ideas presented and relationships happened.

It was also the place where weary travelers chose to rest, to rejuvenate their bodies, minds and spirits and cross check their maps and directions before continuing on their way.

I have reached such a place and am taking the time to rest, rejuvenate and check my maps.  It is at these points where decisions have been made in regards to my life, where introspection and meditation help me to evaluate myself, where I’m at, where I want to go, what needs tending to, and what I may need to leave behind.  It’s a time to look for needs and problems, to take the time to make repairs and, if necessary, heal.

At this point in my budo path, I have been shown a great many things.  Some are contradictory, some are valuable, and some not quite so valuable.  Yet, I have tried to soak it all in with equal consideration and, frankly, I have discovered the results to be less than favorable for where I want myself to be in my travel.

One of the challenges in trying to walk a budo path is that, unlike a real traveler going to a specific destination, there never is an end or a destination.  The only thing you can try to achieve is a set of goals, an obscure vision or feeling of what progress *should* be, as modeled by those you consider to be your teachers and mentors.  They represent your destination – but that destination is also moving, also changing, and sometimes in conflict with each other.

The latter point, the conflict, is where I am at in my budo path.  As the Bujinkan has grown over the decades, I have been around long enough to see a large portion of the changes it also has gone through.  Things which are taught today are vastly different than twenty, even ten, years ago.  Yet, there are some parts which are still the same.  The number of Shidoshi teachers worldwide ranked above judan number in the hundreds.  The number of Shidoshi teachers worldwide number in the thousands.  The number of Jugodan, the highest belted rank one can attain in the Bujinkan, is growing by leaps and bounds. 

Yet, it would also seem that the variety of methods in what is considered as “right”  or “correct”, as far as what and how training should be, seems to be growing just as fast.  To add further, the number of people visiting Japan and training with the Japanese Shihan and Soke also continues to grow more and more.

With so many people going to the source (i.e. Soke and the Japanese Shihan) for training, why do we have so many different ways to train?  How can you have one way, the way Soke or the Japanese Shihan, teach and it filters out into the world into a myriad of methods, techniques and ideas?

I also have been to Japan, trained with Japanese Shihan and experienced Soke’s amazing taijutsu.  I have discovered there is a kind of commonality to all the Japanese Shihan, even in their different nuances that are unique to each of them.  Is this commonality something that has been lost in the interpretation?  Is the commonality something that people take for granted, choosing to consider the unique differences inherent in each Japanese Shihan’s taijutsu a kind of permission to allow themselves to train however they choose – even to the point of dropping those things which are common?

And, when it comes to the various ideologies about what is “right” for training, each side clings to their perspective, sometimes almost fanatically.  Those who are more fanatic will be the first ones to point fingers and tell others that they are “wrong”, too.

Then, there are those like me, confused and wandering between various perspectives, ideologies and methods, trying to uncover some kernel of wisdom or unlock some new level of discovery and growth.  I most often can see the point each side tries to make.  I can see the value in what that senior teacher is bringing to the training.  Sometimes, I can also see the holes, the flaws, and the incompleteness in it, too.

Throughout the decades of training, I have learned many great things from different teachers.  Sometimes, the lessons I learned from one teacher helped to point me to a new level of understanding in another teacher’s lessons.  They also, at times, helped me fill a deficiency.  But, lately, I have come to discover that much of what I have been doing is wandering, lost and confused, bouncing from one influence to another.

Recently I attended a seminar taught by a jugodan senior teacher, someone who was a long time resident of Japan, who trained weekly with Soke and the Japanese Shihan for many, many years.  His taijutsu was crisp, dynamic, had power and structure, and flowed with superb timing and control.  In trying to replicate his movement, I found myself struggling in many foundational areas.  I was mad at myself, frustrated in how I have become in my taijutsu.  The techniques really weren’t that sophisticated, other than the precision of distance and angling.  It was a simple matter of putting my feet where they needed to be.  Yet, I was stumbling around and inconsistent.  Why?  Hasn’t all my training up to this point supposed to enable me to have the control to actually step where my mind tells it?  With all the literally hundreds, probably thousands, of techniques I have trained on over the span of 25+ years, you would think that I would have the control to move any way my mind dictates, to have the control to follow an innate sense of distance, timing and angling consistently every time so that I would always be at the right place at the right time for any kind of slow to moderate attack from my Uke.

Yet, I fumbled terribly.

I can only reach the conclusion that I need to stop.  Not stop training, per se, or give up training.  But, I need to stop and take the time to evaluate what I am doing, where I am going and rejuvenate myself before continuing.

One thing that clearly stuck out for me was how much I have ventured away from core foundational training.  I preach it regularly; even drill it in my classes.  Yet, somehow it isn’t enough.  I realized that I have been ‘underfeeding’ my kihon, like underfeeding the horses which carry me on my journey, and they have become weak as a result.  So, I know I must make those my primary focus.

Alas, but here’s the problem:  What one teacher considers “kihon” differs from another teacher.  In conversation, we can all agree what kihon are in principle – it’s the foundation, the core body mechanics, that exist in all taijutsu and make it strong, resilient, powerful, balanced, etc.  It’s found in kamae, tsuki, keri, uke, ukemi taihenjutsu, etc.  They are not kata, but more about the pieces that make a kata work.  Then, there’s the concept of Shizentai, or natural body.  Movement that follows natural function…

That’s all well and good and a common language we all can agree.  But, when you start refining that down to exactly WHAT those are, how to do a tsuki, how to do an uke, how to do a keri, how to do all the ukemi taihenjutsu – that’s where there’s vastly different ideas, along with explanations and rationalizations that can even include teachings or examples demonstrated by Soke and/or the Japanese Shihan!

Many talk about how a student should find one teacher to follow, to not bounce around, because it only causes confusion.  But, how do you choose that teacher, especially when you are around several who are all different and each one has something positive to bring to your training?

How do you know if your teacher really is teaching you something that is wrong or dangerous?  How do you know if your teacher is teaching you in a way that is actually a stumbling block to evolving in line with the martial art you are pursuing?  What if what your teacher is teaching you goes against your own natural evolution?  How do you know the difference?

For me, right now, I can only see that somehow I have left my base.  I have moved in a direction that seems to conflict with my foundation.  I don’t blame anybody, any teacher.  I blame only myself for that.  Maybe it was my own ignorance.  Maybe it was my own selfish ego or pride.  Maybe my natural evolution was taking me one direction, but my mind was trying to take me elsewhere.  I don’t know.  All I know is that what was once not lacking is now lacking, even though there are many things I have gotten better at, too.  So, my resolution is that it makes no sense to continue to build upon the new when my foundation has become weak.

So, if I agree with myself that I need to refocus attention on my own kihon, to just stick to the core, the foundation, and drill them until they are solid in my taijutsu, the same old dilemma exists:  WHAT kihon am I focusing on?  What exactly are they supposed to look like?  What methodology do I use to train them?

A significant point was mentioned to me recently by a top Bujinkan Shihan:  “We are all on our own Shugyo”.  The definition of “shugyo” is often referred to as a kind of transcendence.  It involves movement, of stepping out.  Depending on the definition attributed, this also is used to describe when one received his training and has gone out into the world to put it into application as a necessary phase of further growth and enlightenment.

For me, “shugyo” has been about the journey of discovery that we are all on.  Through our journey, we learn the secrets.  So, as with any journey, there are also times when one has to stop, refresh and reflect on those secrets.

I feel I am just now at a point where there are some very significant secrets being revealed to me, of hidden truths, not only about my budo path, but also of myself.  I realize my need to get back to my foundation, my base, not only in training, but also in my life.  I need to focus on simplicity, not layering of more and more.  I need to let go of some things and embrace much of what I already have, of lessons already learned, and train harder on those things that are more primal to my own self and evolution.  As far as my training is concerned, I need to look beneath the surface of those seniors I trust and value, to find the common core of their taijutsu, and resist the temptation to be lured into what is different between them, for those differences really are just unique outward expressions of a common base.  As I train on those common fundamentals, I need to recognize they may express according to my own natural state, that it’s ok if they look a little different, as long as I don’t lose that common base where all our taijutsu should emanate from.

For me, I want more training in my kamae, my posture, balance, and structure.  I want to train to develop strong foundation in my legs, hips and spine, as these are at the center of taijutsu.  I want to train on power generation and delivery, the tsuki, as projected from my legs, hips and spine.  I want to develop my uke (receiving) to be powerful and effective, not just a limb floating in space with no purpose.  I want my movement to be free and controlled, so that every part of me is exactly where it needs to be, every time, consistently, in proportionally correct relationship to the situation.

All of that is going to require a mental focus in training that leaves no room for distraction, no room to follow a whim, no room for being bored. 

Soke wrote in one of his books (“Unarmed Techniques of the Samurai”) that training in the Kihon Happo was training the mind.  I have learned just how incredibly true this is!  True kihon training is tough on the body, but ultimately the mind is what needs to be trained, too.  Our bodies become weak with age and we may experience injury.  But, it’s our mind that has to continue to grow, to be sharp and clear, to gain wisdom and knowledge and be able to see through the many illusions that life and people throw before us (and that we put around ourselves).  As I look around among my own martial community, I can see how people have become mentally weak in their training and, as such, their taijutsu has also become weak.  But, I am human just like they are and have been shocked to discover that I, too, have allowed myself the same.

So my shugyo is now clear before me, where I am and where I need to go.  Additionally, I also have gained a clearer picture of what I need to do to get there.  But, I also recognize my need to spend time at this Watering Hole, to get the refreshment I need, the rest I need, spend the time with those I need to spend time with, to develop those relationships I need to develop, so that I am well equipped to carry on in a newness of purpose towards a destinations that is, at least, a little bit clearer for me.

And I have a rejuvenated vigor to get out there and train harder than I have ever trained before!

Ikimashou!

Thoughts, Reflections, Meditations

I spent a week up in the Northern Sierra mountains in South Tahoe.  Spending time in nature is valuable to me.  It allows me the peace and space to process things and meditate.  During this trip, I read - a lot - and wrote - a lot.  It was a great time of self-discovery, of weeding out things about me I wanted to change, and to wrestle with some deep thoughts.

I kept a small journal of my thoughts and spent considerable time reading books by Rory Miller and Wim Demeere, both of whom were paramount in providing the inspiration and words I needed.  The following are excerpts from my own journal.  I have tried to clean it up where I could, as my journal writing is often fragmented and not in pure grammatical form.

Although seemingly random and wandering at times, these words represent what was rolling around in my mind at the moment.  I hope they inspire you.  Please feel free to comment, too.



Tahoe - Aug 2013

Martial arts training is not about winning or losing.  It’s about percentage points.  No teacher, art or amount of training can guarantee your safety.  It can only provide a measure of degrees of safety compared to what you were.  But, nothing is ever 100%.

Something for future thought and writing:

Predatory nature of martial arts and religion.  A predatory nature is fueled by a deep need or want, often predicated by an awareness of and pursuit of people, things and ideas which serve the predator’s needs or want.

Book quote:

“Deep Survival”, by Lawrence Gonzalez.   Stress locks you into previous behaviors.

Meditation:

We are all born with a primal state of ability, or primal nature, which is a natural state of size, build, ability, capacity (mental/physical/emotional), cognitive process or function, and talent (i.e. “knack”).  Some heavily generalized examples include:

•  Large men have advantages of size, strength and stamina.
•  Short men have the same, but in different ways.
• Tall men have reach, use distance to out range, to control space at greater distances.
• Short men use lower positioning and closer ranges to evade, get inside the power zone, etc.
• Large men tend to be grapplers and short range strikers. 
• Tall, thin men tend to be long range strikers and avoid grappling. 
• Short, thin men tend to be elusive escape artists.

Our primal state is our “Go To” method of dealing with danger.  Problem is that it doesn’t differentiate types of danger.  A large man may be able to be solid, hit hard, and be incredibly strong, but also a giant pin cushion to a man with a shank or a gun.  A smaller, fast moving man may be evasive and hard to hit or grab, but once cornered, ambushed, outnumbered, blinded, or crippled, his natural abilities are compromised and he is overwhelmed.

Natural grapplers and natural strikers are effective – until the circumstances reduce or neutralize their natural ability.  But, arguably more important, training should build the weaker attributes, to reduce the vulnerability by increasing the effectiveness of those natural weaknesses.  You can’t really be equal in natural strengths and weaknesses, as you will always have a favored attribute or training method that follows your primal state.

However, you can train to add options outside your natural state.

In true survival, you will react based upon this hierarchy:

1. Primal State – Your natural abilities
2. Ingrained/Muscle Memory/Direct Experience
3. Learned/Academic/Training
4. Analytical/Creative

Operant Conditioning (OC) fits with #1 & #2.  OC training that is drilled to fall into #2, but works in agreement with #1 is the best form of natural development.  But, remember, your primal state is a narrow solution or set of options.  You need #3 to evolve yourself out of your limited box and #4 is good for exploration and discovery.

In the past, I have tried to teach some students in ways that worked against their primal state and I know I caused problems for them.  I tried to force a square peg into a round hole, as the saying goes.  As a result, they either quit or developed dangerously ineffective technique.  I needed to find their individual primal states, to work in agreement with it, to build OC that agrees with it – then stretch and develop them outside (not against) the box that is their primal state.

I look back now and realize how much of a mistake it was for me to teach the way I did.  I am thankful that there are those who realized this and either sought better training elsewhere, or stuck with me through this growth and are now training the way their primal states are supposed to evolve.

I need to teach to the hierarchy I described.  I also need to train myself the same way.

Additional:

Training for me has always been a process of self-discovery, to find my own primal state (those things I was naturally good at, or what came natural for me), and as a result a discovery of my own weaknesses (what I wasn’t good at or didn’t come naturally).  Embracing the former helped me with my own lack of confidence, but the price was ego or pride.  I resisted accepting my weaknesses, as they countered my own selfish clinging to what I was already good at.  I tried many times to do things that went against my primal state, to train in methods or techniques that I learned academically and even technically, but were never in agreement with my own natural self or at least developed enough to evolve into my primal state (i.e. to make a natural part of me).  Thus, when adrenaline and fear hit under the stress of reality, that training either did not manifest into action (making all that training a waste of time) or it was forced, which made it deeply flawed and dangerous or vulnerable – more than if I had just fallen back to my original, primal self.

As I have become older, have trained for so long and been through so many real life experiences of danger, I have realized I am at a new place.  Albeit, not perfect, but still a shift from the old me.

I have begun to recognize and embrace my weak side, those things I am not naturally good at or don’t have a knack for.  I am still yearning to learn new things, but acknowledging what comes natural vs what doesn’t touches on the relationship with my natural, primal self, to allow me to accept what is natural for me and what isn’t.  Those things I am still not good at I can look at through the lens of whether it agrees with my primal nature or goes against it.  If it goes against it, I can modify it to match my own natural state (that would be #4 on the hierarchy, by the way).  If I am unable to match it, then I need to accept that I cannot force it.

Warning!  Just because I am not good at something, struggle with it or simply don’t understand it does not mean it is automatically against my primal self.  It is important to struggle, because in that struggle we learn many things, such as how our own primal self influences how we perceive, remember and understand – and how we perform.  The new skills we learn are integrated as an extension of our primal self, even if the version or way we perform them change to look like something different.

It is a fatal mistake to use your strengths, things you naturally are good at, to mask weakness in order to protect your selfish ego.

By embracing weakness, you strengthen the relationship with your primal, natural self.  By training correctly in this relationship, your primal self evolves past the dependency of strengths and the hidden vulnerability of weakness, where both strengths and weaknesses med together into one natural you.

To train as one with my primal self in a natural evolution in equal balance with my strengths and weaknesses is the phase I find myself reaching for.  So, the self-discovery continues, but with both eyes open.

Side Note:

Perception is an important element here.  The process of discovery is tainted by perception.  There are no absolutes, outside of God, and understanding can also be a barrier to growing naturally.

Many times, far too often for even me to see, I have had false understandings, even to the extent of creating false understandings to support my own illusions about myself, martial arts, training and life.

I am sure, if I search deep enough, I will discover where I still do this today.

Side quotes – Rory Miller:

“Faith is the ability to leap in the space between the branches.”

“Faith is the ability to let go, to not need to know the outcome before acting.”

Self Challenge:

How much do I need to know before acting?  When is there enough information?  Never?  Fear tells me there is never enough…

More thoughts inspired by Rory Miller’s writings:

The threat decides when force is going to be used, how much force is going to be used, and when it will stop.  You may also have these choices, but ultimately it is the threat who is always in charge.

Pain

Pain does not equate to injury.  Lack of pain does not equate to lack of injury.  Pain sensitivity is the body’s warning system, like a red light or siren that something is happening.  It’s an awareness trigger, nothing more.

Some people have a dulled or weak sense of pain.  For them, the danger is in a lack of response, adaptation or change, to avoid possible injury – even if they don’t feel the pain of the injury.  Still others are hyper-sensitive.  For them, their brains and bodies confuse pain with injury.  They react too quickly, too much and tense up long before any real danger happens.  This makes them easy to control and they are more likely to give up or fall into defeat – a self-defeat.

Experiencing pain at the right balance means receiving the warning that injury could happen, but also recognizing the reality of whether injury is either going to happen, is happening, or will not happen – and only changing or adapting in relationship to it.

Pain does not have to be avoided.  Injury does.  Pain is a feeling, an illusion.  Injury is a reality.  In training, pain is expected, embraced.  Injury is shunned and avoided.  In surviving real violence, pain is usable but not reliable.  Injury is both usable and reliable.  However, to feel pain in surviving violence doesn’t mean you lost.  Getting hit hurts, but it doesn’t mean you are dead.

Quotes from Wim Demeere:

“Don’t die in training.”

“Don’t train to fail, train to overcome, no matter what.”

Context:  In training, don’t give up or stop if you make a mistake.  Keep true zanshin, combat mindset, even when you’ve completely messed up.

What matters most to you, the true role of martial arts:

In a circle, list all those things you love about your life (kiss from your spouse or partner, the hugs of your kids, the love of family and friends, the warm sun on your face, etc).  This is your base, the “why” you get up every day.  Now think about possible dangers to that.  Car accidents, predators, social violence, bad health choices, etc.  Draw a line around the bubble that is your base, so that it is completely encircled.  This line are all these threats.  Now put a dot outside it all and mark “Me”.  That’s the image of danger, those things that try to block you from accessing your bubble, all the things you love in your life.

If you can avoid the danger, then do it because your main goal is always to get to your base.

If you are distracted by anything outside your base, reshift your focus and direction to your base so you aren’t pulled off your goal.

If something is blocking you from getting to your base, try to go around it, under it, over it.  If all that fails or you are unable, then the only option left for you is to go through it.  You attack and attack with intensity until you are free and able to return to your base.  There is no “defeating” the attacker.  There is only you getting to where you need to be – your base - and denying anything the chance to interfere or keep you from it.

Hope you enjoyed all of my ramblings!

Transformations

People train in martial arts for a variety of reasons.  Most will reach points when their original reasons seem to not fit or aren't as important anymore.  It is those moments that the person has to decide to either stop training or find a new reason.  If it's a new reason, they also have to make the hard decision as to whether the current art they are training in fits this new purpose.  If you ever get the chance to meet anybody who has trained in a martial art (or variety of arts) solidly for more than 10 years, ask them if the reasons they continue to train are the same as when they first started.  Compare that to someone who has only been training for a handful of years or less.  For those who have kept to their training, they all will talk about changes in perspective, in understanding, and how this has evolved their continued enthusiasm and purpose for training.  You can also hear about when they struggled, reached plateaus and walls, and kept going until a new level was reached that changed everything for them.

Those moments are transformations, in my opinion, and they are as natural as a caterpillar becoming a butterfly.

The root of the word 'natural' is 'nature'.  Nature is all about transformation, of change.  Seasons carry life and death, birth and change.  Nothing stays the same.  Even the rocks themselves change.  Just look at the evolution of the Grand Canyon.  At one point, it started with a trickle of water on a rock.

Sometimes transformations can be blossoming life, of vibrancy and newness.  Or, it could be of decline, aging, and all the changes leading to an ultimate death.

I have been training since the mid-1980's, the exact date being long forgotten.  During this time, I have always carried an intense passion for martial arts and training.  But, I have also changed, experienced many transformations that have altered my perspective, my understanding and the purpose of why I keep going.  I have spent a lot of time training with other martial artists and styles outside my Bujinkan path, partly out of my own personal interests and partly because I have always felt I needed to see what I do from a different "filter" - and gain some new skill sets along the way.

Our Soke is truly an amazing martial artist!  Over the decades, I also have seen Soke and the Bujinkan itself go through many transformations.  Yet, they were never some random, whimsical series of changes.  Looking back at how all these have manifested, I can clearly see how these transformations really are more of an unpeeling of layers, of clarifying higher purposes for training, more about a lifestyle than a set of skills, and more about a way of approaching ourselves and life that promotes and embraces natural change as the only constant.

People expect transformations to always be about newness and feel good stuff.  Yet, as I described with my parallel to nature, transformations also involve decline, aging, and all the natural changes that lead to a death.  We all go through these.  Everything goes through these.  We are left with the choice to either embrace them and 'keep going', to fight them, or just give up.  To fight them is kin to fighting nature.  It's impossible.  Nature wins eventually.  Just look at the aged Hollywood stars who spend countless dollars getting all the plastic surgery they can to hold on to a youth that has long passed.  Are they looking natural, or something unnatural?  In the end, they are still going through the transformations of aging and the more they fight it, the worse they look.

Yet, I know many who have accepted their age and are quite beautiful in their naturalness.  They embrace the transformations they are going through, even when those changes aren't exactly "feel good" or convenient.  Oh how we take for granted the benefits of youth, the innocence, the health, the "forgiveness" our bodies can give us in our choices, the energy that seems limitless at times, the tight skin, full head of hair, clear vision and hearing, good teeth, bodies and minds strong and vibrant.  But, we also take for granted the benefits of our older years, too.  The wisdom, experience, perspective, maturity, and grace of having experienced life.  The finding of the slower rhythm of life that allows you to fully enjoy the little things.  The peace that comes from getting out of the 'rat race'.

In my long pursued martial arts path, I have come to learn that, for me, life and martial arts are really the same.  The same transformations I have experienced throughout my training are mirrored in the transformations I have experienced in my life.  Or is it that the transformations in my life are mirrored in the transformations of my martial arts path?  Is it the martial arts that change or do I change?  Of course, it is I who changes and, with it, my values, perspectives, purposes, and definitions.  But, in many occasions, it is my martial arts and life that seem to change first and, through it, I reach another transformation.

That tipping point of awareness, whether life and martial arts - or my self - initiates the change and causes the transformation of it all.  That is a point I am at right now.  For if the martial arts path isn't what truly changes, but only myself, giving way to a new transformation of my martial arts path, then am I in complete control of my transformation?  If martial arts and life are synonymous with each other, than does this mean I also am in control of my own life's transformations?

And, how do I know whether my 'transformation' in life and martial arts is natural, or just my selfish attempt to fight nature?  Am I trying to cover up natural transformation in my life and martial arts through some symbolic form of plastic surgery?

I have been delving deeply lately into the reality of violence, predators and the legal system that ultimately surrounds it.  In my last blog post, I shared with you some of the experiences I have had in my past that involved these things.  Yet, when I started in martial arts, my reasons had more to do with fantasy than reality.  I wanted to the the next ninja or samurai, fighting off armies of enemy soldiers and gaining fame and glory on the battlefield.  I was in to sport martial arts because I liked the competition, the challenge - and the win.  As I grew into a man and took on careers in law enforcement, military and investigations, a lot of these early fantasies stayed with me.  They were a fun escape from the reality I lived.  So, I kept training and playing in my own world as a form of entertainment and stress relief.  Although the skills I learned helped me in the dangerous aspect of my real world, high risk employment, I was still very much training to satisfy the dream world I had created.

I look back now and I can't help but blush in embarrassment!  But, we all have been there.  I believe all martial artists start out living some kind of fantasy that is removed from their real world.  Many still continue this duality even into decades of training.

At some point, I began to question the effectiveness of what I was doing and to see the ridiculousness of the fantasy I had created.  I began to see others in my martial art (and others in different arts) as being foolish, convinced that they wouldn't last 10 seconds in the 'real world' of violence.  I became skeptical and even bitter at times, pointing a judgmental finger and being ignorant of my own foolishness.

Yet, I kept training in the art that has been with me since those early years back in the 80's.  I kept showing up, putting on the black keikogi training uniform and split toe Japanese tabi shoes, and 'pretending' to fight off attackers with a variety of medieval Japanese weaponry.  The fantasy changed, but yet I still lived in a new fantasy of sorts.  I still left the outside world at the door and stepped into my dream world as I walked on to the mat.  But, my language and attitude changed.  I saw things differently.  Kata became academic subjects, to be studied for their content and reinterpreted into skill sets that apply to modern uses.  I would train with a Japanese sword, then change it for a mock firearm.  I took classical jujutsu techniques and applied them to modern style knife attacks (not the lunging extended stabs and slashes common to Japanese martial arts).  I even took up cross training in different modern arts to try and understand this feeling I was searching for.

I was looking for something.  I couldn't tell you what it was.  But, the feeling was compelling.

Then, the art I trained in transformed.  The teachers and friends I train with began changing how they moved and it far more reflected what Soke was doing.  But, was it a transformation or did my own change allow me to "see" what was already there?  At any rate, the newness was refreshing.  The vibrancy was electrifying and stimulating.  I felt like a kid again, enjoying my training with passion.  But, even better, the seasoned self found direct application to my own past experiences, as it all fit what I knew to be real in regards to violence.

But, I have to stop there and be honest for a second.  I still have my doubts, my struggles, with the question of whether this that I am going through is a natural transformation - or am I again trying to stuff Botox into my understanding, to try and hide or stop the natural change that should be happening?  If so, then nature will eventually win.  But, at what cost to my life and martial arts?

So, I keep training.  I keep going.  I try to stop pointing fingers and making judgements, because I have learned that when I do, I stop growing.  I also know to stop pointing fingers at myself, too, because I am organic and evolving.  How I am today is not how I will be tomorrow.  I am getting older and, with that, all the natural changes that come with it.  My body is not as forgiving.  My health, although really good for my age, is still not as good as it was in my youth.  My perspective is greater, as I have lived through many experiences and learned so much.

But, I feel that I continue to have a kind of innocence, about life and my martial arts path.  My innocence is in the realization that I really don't know.  I don't know what is truly around the corner for me.  I don't know if what I am doing is natural or not.  I don't know if I am just a fake tanned, Botox filled, artificial human product of my own plastic surgery.

All I know is that I am always compelled to keep going, in life and in my martial arts.  I can't put a finger on exactly what it is I am after, because I no longer carry the fantasies of my old martial arts beginnings.  For me, right now, I seem to be in pursuit of a feeling.  That's it.  A feeling.  Exactly what that is, I can't describe.  It's as elusive as trying to describe a deep emotion.  Because that's really what it is - a deep emotion.  It's as deep as the very essence of who I am.



And I guess that's how I see transformations as being like an unpeeling.  I seem to be reaching to connect to this deep emotion in some way.  Maybe that is my own essence, the root or core of "me", and all my pursuits, all my transformations, are simply layers of revelation.

The path of martial arts is a path to nowhere, having a beginning but no end, until the day we die.  Maybe that's what death is, at the end of our road, the final transformation where the last layer is removed and we finally exist as one, unfiltered, with our deep emotion.


I don't know.  But I do know that I plan to go to the dojo this week, like I have done every week, to put on the black keikogi uniform and split toe Japanese tabi shoes, and train with my friends in a variety of fantasized combat situations.

Maybe this next class will hold a new transformation.