A Return To Kiso (Foundation)

First off, let me start with a few general definitions of some key terms:

• Concept – An abstract idea or general notion.
• Principle – A fundamental truth or proposition that serves as the foundation for a system of belief or behavior or for a chain of reasoning.
• Technique – A way of carrying out a particular task, especially the execution or performance of an artistic work or scientific procedure.  A skillful or efficient way of doing or achieving something.

Concept.  Principle.  Technique.  These three words are tossed around in the Bujinkan pretty loosely, so I thought posting a definition of each first would help to set the base for which I am writing this blog entry.

I would also like to add another three words (or together as one word) which is presented frequently in the Bujinkan (and most traditional Japanese arts):

Shu Ha Ri 守破離 

• Shu (守) "protect", "obey" — traditional wisdom — learning fundamentals, techniques, heuristics, proverbs
• Ha (破) "detach", "digress" — breaking with tradition — detachment from the illusions of self
• Ri (離) "leave", "separate" — transcendence — there are no techniques or proverbs, all moves are natural, becoming one with spirit alone without clinging to forms; transcending the physical

In my travels and exposure to martial arts, mostly as part of my pursuit of Bujinkan arts, I hear people talk about concepts, principles and techniques, but seldom about Shu Ha Ri.  Yet, in traditional or historical Japanese martial arts, the Shu Ha Ri represents the model for learning.  The length of time one spends in each of the three stages is never clear, because it is impossible to put a definitive time frame on it.  They are conceptual in nature, ambiguous and vague, with no general standard for measurement.  It relies on the unique relationships between a student and his teacher and the student to his own personal training path.

But, when we talk about concepts, principles and techniques, the meanings become more tangible and clear to understand.  However, they are not the same.

As a student and someone feebly trying to help (i.e. teach) those students who trust me with their training, there is always a constant struggle between the importance of concepts, principles and techniques.  Add the Shu Ha Ri model and it becomes even more frustratingly confusing, not just in my own training and development, but in what and how to share my understanding of this art with others.

It is because of this very struggle that I have found myself continuing to bounce around in how I train and teach.  The amount of information is vast.  Access to people who are masters in this art is far easier now than it used to be.  But, even with all the ryuha and densho, there really isn’t much out there that details how a student is to learn this art, particularly when our Soke no longer teaches it directly and gives confusing (and often misunderstood), contradictory admonitions like “forget the forms” and “everything is basics”.

Some people prefer to first learn the concepts and principles.  These represent a larger purpose.  From there, many techniques are possible and it is through that filter that technical skills are explored.  It’s the “Application First, Technique Second” kind of thing.  Other people prefer to learn techniques first, so that they can apply those techniques to a variety of applications or purposes.  This is the “Technique First, Application Second” method of learning.  The arguments are many and often heated.  I have taken up the banner of each side at various points in my path, as I have seen the value each have.  But, I have also seen the limits, too.  Here are some examples of good and bad of each:

1.        Application First, Technique Second (Principles & Concepts Based Training)

a.       The Good - Knowing the reason or larger perspective gives the student deep understanding of what is appropriate for the situation, allowing logical analysis and exploration of variables and options, providing adaptation guided by a singular purpose.  Once you understand a concept or principle, many techniques can be understood.  Our Soke teaches this way most often, although he has stated numerous times he is teaching to Judan and above (10^th degree black belts and above).

b.      The Bad – Without strong technique, even concepts and principles are deeply vulnerable.  Holes in one’s taijutsu allow for weak application and give the attacker(s) openings.  Even if it’s the right technique in the right situation, following the correct concepts and principles, weak application will most likely either fail, be countered or leave you in a very dangerous situation.

2.       Technique First, Application Second (Techniques/Forms Based Training)

a.       The Good – Strong technique is foundational to any martial art.  Mastering a technique takes physical development, patience, precision/coordination, conditioning, and knowledge of physics and anatomy.  It’s equally demanding of one’s body and mind.  The benefits of technique mastery show in increased learning capacity of additional techniques and key points of a technique carry great efficiency, power and balance.  Vulnerabilities or weak points in the student’s taijutsu diminish, as layers of technical proficiency develop in the smallest details.

b.      The Bad – Without learning the concepts and principles, the application can suffer when conditions present variables that don’t fit the context of the technique.  Additionally, a pre-programmed response through technical training can cause you to do things that don’t fit the situation or cause legal problems if those responses exceed the Force Level allowed by law.  Also, those who are entirely technique-based can lose sensitivity to the situation and become rigid in their ability to adapt.  They risk becoming nothing more than a technique library, instead of a martial artist.  There is little self-actualization.

So, where is the balance and how does that compare to a traditional Japanese learning model where one has to preserve the form in Shu (“by the book”), long before breaking out of the form in Ha (“add variables and changes to what’s in the book”) or even transcending the form in Ri (“throw the book away and let your own book write itself”)?  What do you tell that student who has been training for their black belt?  At what point do you tell them to break the form of a technique?  At what point do YOU decide to break or transcend forms?

At what point do principles and concepts preserve, break, or transcend the forms?  Can techniques preserve, break or transcend forms?  Confused yet?  Yeah, me too.

Many people in the Bujinkan will tell you to just “Shut Up & Train”, to stop over thinking.  I know I’ve been told that more times than I can count!  Even our Soke has been quoted as saying “No Think – Just Train”.  But, honestly, we are thinking creatures, capable of logic and reason.  It’s what kept us alive as a species all this time.  We figure stuff out, improvise and innovate.  We explore, experiment and discover.  It’s what has allowed us to achieve amazing things in all areas of our lives.  So, no, we are not robots.  We are not clones who mindlessly act.  The fact that we are thinking creatures is the single greatest attribute to our human condition.  It’s also the worst at times!  Also, telling someone to “just train” means little when the HOW TO TRAIN and WHAT TO TRAIN are not clearly defined or contradictory!

And, don’t get me started on the overused saying “just train on Kihon”, because (in my opinion) when it comes down to actual defining what Kihon are, most people really don’t have a solid definition outside of concepts and principles, unless they are talking kata names like Kihon Happo, Sanshin no Kata, etc.  Even then, each person will differ in their interpretation of those kata and what points about them they consider “Kihon”.  (Note:  "Kihon" is loosely defined as "basics", or building blocks towards a strong foundation)

It is this very point that I believe lies at the root of our struggles to learn this art – and something which has been at the very essence of so much of my own writing and self-analysis.

I have trained with many, many people - some good, some bad, a few really good and a few really bad.  I’ve trained with some really great teachers who have taught me excellent concepts and principles.  I’ve trained with some really great teachers who have taught me extremely effective techniques.  Both types provided deep insights which helped to open my eyes to the other.  For a long time, I found the value of concepts and principles to be more important than the techniques and this is how I taught.  I would ‘cherry pick’ techniques that matched a concept or principle I was trying to convey.  It was exciting and had plenty of opportunities for training.  But, I began to notice something – that the technical level needed so much that I would be forced to make a choice.  I had to either ignore trying to “clean up” the technical errors so that we could stay on track with the actual lesson (principle or concept), or forgo the principle/concept and spend the time working on the technical aspects.  Since we were only doing henka (variations) instead of actual densho kata (“by the book” forms), many of those technical lessons would be lost the second we moved on to a new technique, concept or principle.  People understood things like timing, angling and distancing, the 3 key components to good taijutsu, but had flaws in their structure, balance, power generation and delivery.  If the Uke was resistant, they tended to muscle the technique to “make it work”, because mastery of the technique wasn’t the goal.  The end result mattered more than the process to get there.  There was no internalization of technique, because there was no consistency.

Then, I started to see this in my own taijutsu.  There are some videos out which I can easily spot these things in my taijutsu.  I like to look at them because it inspires me to focus on my own training, to fix those holes I see and correct flaws.  Luckily, I have the benefit of having seniors and teachers whom I respect for their insights, coaching and examples.  But, if I saw it in my own taijutsu and took responsibility for it, I have to take responsibility for it in my own students, too.

So, most recently I have gone through an entire paradigm shift in how I conduct my classes.  Where before, I had no set curriculum for each rank and every class was taught openly with little formality, I now have changed all of that.  I went back to the books and formed a ranking curriculum up to Shodan made entirely of the material from the Ten Ryaku no Maki and Chi Ryaku no Maki.  The Jin Ryaku no Maki is for Nidan and above, but the material in the Ten and Chi Ryaku no Maki is enough to establish a strong foundation for students to study the ryuha kata of the Jin Ryaku no Maki.  I am teaching very technical, emphasizing the details.  In particular, I am drilling in the various kyusho (weak points) which are listed in the descriptions of techniques, along with various technical details which I have learned from the original Japanese translations and through spoken teachings from those high level teachers that know those things.  I use repetitive skill set training to develop consistency and accuracy, constant fixing of structure and movement, with little variation off the original form.

But, I do try to save time for some exploration, adaptation and henka (variation).  That is part of the fun, after all!

What I am finding now is a renewed passion for learning, as I am rediscovering details long forgotten and learning new layers of understanding I didn’t know before.  As I pass this along to my students, I see their level growing strong.  They are moving better, with more clarity, balance and power.  They are developing “eyes to see” the taijutsu, as they gain technical skills that provide reference points in being able to learn the next technique or apply a technique on the fly.  Discipline is increased, too, as their concentration and focus sharpens.  This entire shift has benefitted us all and I am inspired by it.

So, where does my training and teaching go from here?  At what point do I allow myself or my students to focus less on technical and more on conceptual?  I have no idea, nor do I need to know right now.  All I know is what I am now discovering through the results of the changes and how this current training focus has impacted us all.  For me, that is good enough.