Well, this last year certainly has been quite the year. As I contemplated what this blog post would contain, I was taken with just how much of my last year's post still seems to apply. In case you never read it or need a reminder, you can find it here.
I wrote considerably about my challenges and struggles with training methods, the different (and very vocal) schools of thought, referenced my own experiences with real violence and how this has evolved my own view of training. I ended with the idea that I would make 2013 about moving, timing and trying to pump life (and "realism") into the training.
Well, nothing has really changed as far as that goes.
This last year was marked with many major milestones. I was introduced to the writings of guys like Rory Miller and Marc MacYoung, two men from different backgrounds, but who have vast amounts of experience with real violence in the real world, as opposed to the sanitized, controlled conditions of the dojo. Their perspectives helped me to put words and thoughts to things which I also had experience with, but struggled with how to express in relation to my own training. Real danger, real violence, is sometimes hard to really talk about or reflect in training. My own background in law enforcement, security and investigations includes many situations where real violence happened and, honestly, most of it is a complete blur. When you are filling out arrest reports, having to explain why and what you did, the exact techniques used and the justifications for the level of force you deployed, you find that much of the time you are able to do it as long as the situation was relatively controlled or within your ability to process the actions. But, in an ambush, or if you don't have much experience with real violence, there is a blur or even a shutdown of perception that occurs. Recollections become difficult and often what is remembered is not accurate.
I wonder how many faced the same problems back in the warring periods when martial arts were being taught? I wonder how many returned from the battlefields and had difficulty trying to describe what happened, what techniques worked in particular situations, and, when they did describe something, it was not accurate due to the altered perception that the adrenaline cocktail induced?
I wonder how many samurai returned from a victorious battle, proudly displaying the heads of their defeated enemy, but had really very little idea of how they themselves survived through it all?
I wonder how many kata which were written down during these times were really only guesses and assumptions of how the victories were achieved, using logic and reasoning based on fleeting glimpses of an altered memory?
I wonder how many couldn't bring themselves to admit they didn't remember anything at all?
Kata are a study of physics, of anatomy and kinetics, of science and logic. They attempt to teach many things, to provide a model to train the body for conflict in a variety of circumstances. But, they are only empty shells, shallow and one dimensional. They are ink drawings and vague writings on a scroll. Very few, if any, kata on historical densho are explained in full detail. I believe this to be for several reasons, which include security of information (in case the scrolls are stolen) and the fact that you just can't explain every detail in writing. Scrolls or densho would be huge! But, I also believe that this leaves the greater lessons to direct teaching, verbal instruction from teacher to student. In addition, I also believe that there is a vast amount of learning that comes from just practice, because it is in practice that the variables begin to come out. Differences in the training partners become a factor, such as size, weight, mobility, and other things. Terrain is also a factor affecting movement and balance. Then, there is equipment, weather, the chaos of battle, indoors or outdoors, and on and on. There is also luck, that fickle lady who who can either be with you or against you from one moment to the next. Lastly, there is what Rory Miller describes as the "Twilight Zone", the weird stuff that just happens with no rhyme or reason, seemingly defying any logic, predictability or even Laws of Nature!
How does one prepare for something like that?
That is where all the dojo training falls short. You cannot create these conditions. You can come close, but even then it's all controlled fantasy. At the end of the day, your training is still based on agreements and rules, neither of which truly exist in real, life or death violence - and that difference is huge. If it was real, you would likely never come to the dojo in the first place, or when faced with it, you would run out the door or grab one of the weapons hanging on the wall. The reason for this difference is important. I don't mean the reason being the violence itself, but of how you are on the inside when faced with it - compared to training in the controlled, fantasy violence of the dojo.
So, why train?
This is where everything rests for a martial artist. People train for different reasons, some for fitness, some as a hobby, some for sport, and some for a love of history. But, there are also those who train for self-defense and dealing with violence. Based on the "why", the training methods will support it. It is when someone trains in a manner which is different than their "why" that conflict happens, motivation drops and participation slowly trickles down to nothing. But, when the "why" is matched to the method, then there is no conflict, motivation is high, and participation not only increases in the dojo, but continues outside the dojo, too.
So, my conclusion to this is that training in martial arts, or doing anything in life, should be an "inside out" process if there is to be growth and longevity. You have to define your purpose, then align all your choices with that purpose. When you do that, you express with freedom and power, you evolve and achieve great results.
But, when it comes to dealing with the reality of violence as the "why", there can be a conflict, especially if you enjoy the "violence" behind the training, as opposed to training to avoid violence.
Violence is terrible, ugly, and unnatural. It is a fact of life, but it is not something to embrace. To have violence as the centerpiece of your "why" for training, you are choosing to put your focus on that which is negative. It is not a bad thing to do, as we all should be training for reality, but you need to have a greater purpose, a greater "why", that is life fulfilling.
Yet, when people train, they find great joy in the "violence" of their training. Let's face it, how popular would a martial art be if every response was to either not step onto the mat to face the partner, or to just turn and run once the partner started to act? Everybody wants to hit, kick, lock, twist, throw and cause pain to their partner. Grab a weapon and excitement skyrockets. The more lethal the weapon, the more the excitement and interest grows. Violence is popular, even if it's fantasy.
But, when you approach your training from an "inside out" perspective, you have to ask yourself why. Why does the applied "violence" of a technique excite you? Now compare that to what the reality is with real violence, from a physical, emotional, and even legal liability. Look at the possibilities of your own death, permanent injury, criminal prosecution and civil lawsuits. Look at the reality of blood borne pathogens that you can contract from bodily fluids (blood, urine, excrement - all things that can exist in real violence). Now consider bringing all this on your family, as you consider realities like being incarcerated, losing your job, losing your assets, or even losing your life or spending your life disabled. Consider the health risks to your family if you bring home HIV, Hep, or any other nasty disease. How exciting does the violence seem to you now?
How does this reality check affect the "why" of training? It clearly shifts the interest from the excitement of thrashing your "attacker" to being excited to have survived. In the latter, avoidance and escape offer the least of danger to you and your family. When violence is unavoidable, using tactics and techniques designed for maximum effect with minimal risk is the logical application when the "why" is rooted in the reality of violence I described.
So, then, how does the methods of training align to support such a "why"? This is where the struggle can happen, as training methods which focus more on techniques can lose the greater purpose behind the "why", causing a disconnect and fatal flaw in application when it is for real. This also is where too much focus on the "why" without the perfecting of techniques which support it can leave someone training incorrectly, ineffectively or even dangerously. We still need to be able to perform correct technique, regardless of the "why", but we also need a "why" to tell us which techniques to perform - and it's the "why" which influences the manner in which those techniques are deployed.
Jack Hoban Shihan wrote a very good New Year's Message for 2014. In it, he makes a distinction between "inside out" and "outside in". He said that we can create laws to control society, but that laws are an "outside in" method that will never change how a person is. An unethical person will still choose to act unethical, even if laws are in place. However, if a person has good ethics, they will act ethical regardless of laws. For instance, most people have a universal sense of ethics. We just *know* lying, stealing, murdering, raping, etc, are all wrong. We don't need laws to keep us from doing any of those unethical things. Yet, there are those who, regardless of the laws against those actions, still choose to commit them against others. Bottom line is that, when your foundation is set a certain way, your actions will emanate from that center, regardless of what society, rules, laws, or anything else "outside" would dictate.
In training, we have countless kata, techniques, principles, and so on. But, how we are, our foundation, will still dictate how our own expression of martial arts play out in our world. There are those people who would never take another life, no matter what. In the military, they are called "Conscientious Objectors". No matter how many techniques they are shown on how to take a life, they will either hesitate or fail to act. However, those who can rationalize or justify their abhorrence to taking a life will accept those techniques and deploy them when the conditions match their justification (example: When faced with lethal force and no other option exists.).
There are those who are natural grapplers, natural strikers, those who are evasive, those who can generate great power and those who are very subtle. The same technique or kata will work for them within their natural abilities. But, when the technique *requires* something that is outside their natural abilities, it will fail or be dangerously ineffective. This means that the person training has to understand and accept that they may not be able to do a certain technique or that it may be lacking in some way. They will need to find ways to work *with* their natural abilities in the kata or technique, not try to just "make it work" regardless. This is an important part of training and why it's vital to train with different partners and in different circumstances.
This is also why a martial arts student needs to be able to let go of the rigid reliance of forms. Those forms are there to teach, to reveal the natural attributes of the person, and to provide a frame of reference or starting point. But, in application, that's where individual natural ability comes into play, where being able to adapt the technique or kata to the unique situation, people involved, environment, weapons and all the other factors. The more effortlessly, smoothly and efficiently one can adapt along their natural abilities, the greater their survivability when the violence is real. That is a stronger battle skill than performing a specific kata on a cooperative partner who follows the rules and moves the way he is *supposed* to...
I learned a great many things this last year, not so much about the art I train in, but more about myself and my own natural abilities. I learned exactly where conflicts are in my budo path and was humbled at many points when flaws in my own knowledge and ability were revealed before me. Luckily none of those revelations happened in real violence, although I shudder to think about the possibilities that could have happened if that was the case.
One of the main lessons I received this year was the realization that I had spent so much time and energy trying to move like other people. There are some really good martial arts teachers who have taught me many valuable lessons, shared really great insights, and helped me to understand so much. But, in my attempts to move like them, I found myself facing futility as each one moved different from the next. It was like trying to dance the Texas Two-Step, while also trying to Waltz and Tango - all to music that had rhythms which moved at differing timings and intensities. Instead of growing, I became entangled in my own taijutsu. When I was put on the spot, in front of a large gathering of visiting buyu, I lost it all and performed, in my opinion, as bad as I ever could have. That moment was a huge wake up call. I realized, right then, that I was looking outside, at everybody else, instead of focusing on my inside. By trying to train like everybody else, I was following the "outside in" approach, which only ended up with me embarrassing myself and having nothing to show for it.
So, my goal, my purpose, is to reconnect to "why". This is a personal thing, as it is for all of us. But, it is in my own "why" that I want to continue my own training, to seek out those things which support my reasons, my ethics, my purpose, my foundation or base. I am not looking to memorize countless kata or techniques. I am not looking to be a historian or martial arts archeologist. I'm also not looking to try and find the "new way" to train. I am simply trying to align my training with my "why".
But, first, I have to define that "why", which is trickier than it seems.
So, for me, 2014 is going to be a year of introspection, exploration and discovery. I will still continue to teach, to help people, to provide training methods and inspiration as best as I can. But, my focus will be centered more on my own Musha Shugyo, my own warrior path. I will be dedicated to reaching out among my fellow budoka, my sempai and sensei, for continued guidance and inspiration. But, I will also begin to strip away those things which are interfering or in conflict with my own "why".
I will be training more, but on less. I will be looking at myself while I do so, instead of everybody else. I will be attempting to reveal my own true expression of budo, my own naturalness, my own freedom and passion, using the lessons of my Bujinkan Soke, Shihan and fellow budo deshi, digging into the "why" behind the kata instead of just the "how", to focus on living in the present reality and applying my training to all areas of my life - not just the safe, controlled fantasy of the dojo.
There is more to this, but I find myself lacking the words to describe it. I get a sense that this has more to do with feeling and emotion than it does with logic, causing any attempt to communicate it incomplete and always missing the deepest, most significant parts. It is in this feeling or emotion that I want to pursue my training. Because there are no words to best express this, only action, I can really see the truth behind Soke's own admonition - "Shut Up & Train".
That sounds good to me. May 2014 for you be filled with all the wonderment, success and enjoyment you deserve. Be safe and train hard!
