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.

"He's too nice..."

"He's a nice guy," the senior Japanese teacher told me with a smile and thick accent.  Then, his smile dropped to a hard look and he finished with, "but, he's too nice."

One thing I've come to learn in the world of martial arts, martial arts masters, and all the different schools out there - popularity and quality are not equal.  Often, the highest quality teachers are the hardest to learn from, even the hardest to find.

When I was younger, I used to set my VCR to record all kinds of late-night, cheesy martial arts flicks.  They were aired on a show called "Kung-Fu Theater", where they played low budget kung-fu movies at some crazy hour of the night (like 3:00am).  The majority of them had a common plot line:  A young apprentice would have to prove himself and convince the old master to accept him as a student.  In this process, the young man would carry water, haul rocks and do all sorts of difficult tasks.  Once he was finally accepted, often the student would either be an "uchi-deshi" (live-in student) or part of the small group of students.  In the latter, the new pupil would be in the lowest class of student, usually having to work hard to keep up with everybody else, often having to prove himself to the other students.  He would be treated roughly, shown little mercy at times.  As an uchi-deshi, he would have to continue to perform many tasks, sometimes grueling and repetitious.  I remember scenes where the young student would have to stand on the tops of tall, vertical poles, while holding himself in some kind of pose.  Other situations would involve having to cross treacherous mountain passes, while carrying very heavy and awkward loads on his shoulders.

 The point is that all this was a test for the aspiring student.  Then, when finally accepted, they were still expected to prove themselves, to have their endurance and patience tested.  At various points throughout this ordeal, the student would be exposed to the master's teachings.  He would have to try and pick up what he could from them.  If he was lucky, proved himself that day (or moment), the master would give him some personalized training, a nugget of wisdom or a particular technique to practice.

In one movie, the student would have to travel miles to be taught one technique, then sent away to practice.  When the student returned, the master would ask him to demonstrate the technique.  If it wasn't to the master's satisfaction, he would send him away, telling him to come back when he's trained enough on that technique.  One of two things would happen - either the student would train enough to finally be granted a new lesson, or he would eventually give in to frustration and quit.


In many of these movies, the masters who were popular were most often the ones who were arrogant, had arrogant students, and they usually lost in the end.  Yet, they had the most attractive schools, flashy and charismatic, the kind of school that people would want to go to.  They were popular and had huge numbers of students, a large facility and fancy uniforms.

In contrast, the rogue master, the "good guy", was often a kind of hermit, usually very humble lifestyle, either no school or a home dojo of some kind, no uniform or something simple, and they lived either in secrecy or obscurity.  Some had reputations which would be almost unbelievable, yet you would never know it by their appearance and demeanor.

In today's martial arts, popularity most often is the judge of quality.  If a teacher, school or style is popular, all over the internet and other media sources, it's easy to assume they are "good" and worth our time and energy to learn from or with.  Yet, one has to take a good look at why they are popular and is it proof of the substance and quality of the instruction?  Are they even legitimate? 

I have found that most often, popularity is driven by a few key points:

1.  Marketing - the person, school or style which is most predominant in the various forms of media available (internet, books, magazines, etc) is the one on the forefront of people's minds.  Most people don't bother with doing their homework or research, so whatever is most commonly seen or heard tends to be what people go to.

2.  Availability - schools and teachers which make information easily accessible tend to attract most people.  Those who give away 'freebies' or spoon feed information are attractive to an audience who lack the drive, patience and fortitude to have to work hard for the information.


3.  Packaging - schools and teachers who present their teaching into convenient packages for the students are more likely to attract and keep students.  Most people don't want to be presented with teaching which is obscure, or incomplete.  Yet, we all remember watching movies of the old masters who taught with puzzles and cryptic lessons that forced the student to discover the answers themselves.  Our own Soke is known for this.  It just doesn't make for a successful McDojo.

4.  Home Study Courses and other means that go against actually having to come to class and train - this is a vehicle that only serves to line the pockets of the teacher.  It's pure money making, as anybody with a wad of money can purchase the material.  They have to prove nothing to the teacher, other than the purchase confirmation.

5.  Instant rewards - schools that do the best and teachers who are most popular are most often ones which pump their students with special awards, recognitions, "Black Belt Club" and other special patches, certificates for all sorts of things, and many other gimmicks designed to give the student a sense of accomplishment.  Even ranking can be used this way.  Yet, if you look back in martial arts history, even belt ranks are a fairly recent invention.




The old masters trained their students hard and expected absolute devotion to the lessons they provided.  How much a student put into their training was a reflection on the level of respect they had for the art they were learning.  Only the most passionate, hardest training students were allowed to continue.  It was the student's obligation and responsibility to seek out the teacher, prove themselves as worthy of the teaching, and through their actions, continue to be accepted as a student of the master.

The master never pursued or tried to influence the student to join.  If the student failed, or wasn't showing up to train, the master continued without him.  If the master saw potential in a young man, he might invite him to come train, but would not use any slick marketing or gimmicks to get him to join.

It was always about the relationship.  Building that relationship took time and effort, at first on the part of the student.  However, when the student stuck it out, did everything the master instructed, and proved his devotion and showed respect by practicing hard and diligently in the lessons he was taught, that relationship became stronger than any other.  This is why the relationship between a student and one's teacher can be stronger than family.

Yet, today we have students who simply sign on the dotted line, show up and expect to be taught.  They carry themselves as the valued person, where the teacher is their servant and their success or failure is a result of the efforts of the teacher, not of their own.  In a McDojo, this is further hammered in by programs which offer ranking for memberships, structured lesson plans that lay out a cookie-cutter design for everybody.  It's not about the relationship.  It's about the program and it's success as a business.  You have teachers who are salesmen, watching their profit/loss ratio and always coming up with some new strategy to attract more and more students.

Then, there are those who aren't running businesses, but who are almost like predators in the way they go out and seek "followers" or "students" to surround themselves with.  For them, it's not about the program, but about the attention.

Unfortunately, the McDojos tend to be the popular schools and teachers who have strong public presence and easily accessible instruction tend to be the popular teachers.  But, there are many masters, those who live normal lives outside the limelight, who train in their arts and pursue their own Shugyo (martial path).  Those who they allow to follow in their footsteps are close knit, having developed good relationships which began with the students first proving themselves as devoted students who are serious about training.  The numbers are small and anybody wanting to be a part of that group has to first try and find them, then be welcomed in.  Neither of those two points are easy and that's part of the test.  If a student is allowed to join a class, they still aren't accepted.  They have to earn their place and lessons are things to grasp, not something handed to them.  Sometimes, it can take a very long time to finally be accepted as an actual student.  But, in the end, that relationship with the teacher (and the others in the group) is incredible, as are the lessons and the quality of martial arts that come from it all.

So, be careful of those who are "too nice", as they may be trying to sell you something or get you into their circle to fuel their need for attention.  Learning martial arts from a true master first requires establishing a relationship with them.  You have to earn their trust and prove to them you are worth their time and effort to teach you what they already know.  Understand that many different teachers sell their knowledge and, for the most part, that is fine.  But, there is a difference between a business transaction and a personal relationship.  You may get what you pay for, but nothing more.  However, in a true relationship between teacher and student, where it's a personal relationship instead of profits, the transmission of the art becomes enriched on unlimited levels.  You don't just learn what's in the textbook.  You get to learn all the good stuff that exists outside the limits of the textbook.

Seek out those real masters, do what it takes to prove to them that you are a serious student and, lastly, give respect to what they teach you by devoting yourself to training hard on it. Do that and you'll discover a depth to the art that you would never have gotten by simply following the crowd to the nearest McDojo, signing up for the 3 year black belt club program, purchasing the ten disc home study video course, buying the latest dojo t-shirt and fancy uniform with the artsy logo and falling for the slick salesmanship of the "nice" martial arts teacher who compliments you with a smile and tells you what you want to hear.

It requires hard work just to get the opportunity to learn from a true master.  It requires even harder work to actually learn from them.  There are no shortcuts.  There is no easy way.  It's in the struggle that the greatest rewards exist.  Anybody who is "too nice" runs the risk of denying their students those rewards.  Any student who chooses to follow the popularity of a school or teacher runs the risk of a transmission of an art that is no better than fast food.

This is budo, the way of war, of life and death.  You should never settle for anything less than the best opportunities and the most fulfilling training.  But, that may require intensive searching, sacrifice, often travel and constant struggle.  Are you willing to go through all that?

Most aren't.

Kata is the vehicle, not the destination...

My thoughts on Kata and their importance…

In traditional martial arts, Kata are the techniques that make up the core of study.  Depending on whom you ask, Kata can have different meanings and levels of importance.  In more recent history, this has been a constant source of controversy, with some dropping Kata entirely from their curriculum and focusing, instead, on concepts, free exploration and adaptation.

In our Bujinkan organization, we have nine traditions, or ryuha, each with their own structure of Kata.  There are Kihon (foundation) but then you get into levels of Kata, from written Densho to oral Kuden.  This is how the arts have been preserved and passed on from generation to generation.

For myself, Kata have been like the perfect antagonist to a fantasy novel.  They are context-based, coming from history and archeology at a time when people carried swords, wore armor and even had basic firearms.  In the different histories of our ryuha, you have armored guys fighting aboard ships, deploying guerilla warfare tactics, guarding dignitaries and their lords from assassins, living in nature as warrior-monks, and so on.  The histories are rich and culture and legends, at a time in Japanese history when turbulent wars for power were constant.  Only when the wars ended, Japan became unified and the overall need for martial arts changed, that you began to have ritualized, codified and preserved traditions.  Prior to that, martial arts were not something publicly taught, there weren’t really any “dojos” and those who taught were either privately training their students or taught government/military forces in a more generalized and structured way.

Today, martial arts are not only a commercial industry, but also the needs and context today are not the same.  But, the lessons learned from those Kata are still every bit applicable to learning.  In my opinion, people miss the lessons those Kata taught.  As the saying goes, they’ve missed the moon for the finger.  They fail to understand that those who wrote down and shared Kata did so to convey certain lessons, lessons which we still need to learn if we are to truly learn the art we profess to study.

If we take a Kata and first look at it in a narrow “Solution A to Problem A”, then context matters and we’ll be trapped into finding no relevancy to modern danger or situations.  I mean, really, are we likely to be attacked by a sword wielding Samurai looking to take our head back as a trophy?  Maybe a terrorist or crazy madman might come at us like that, but the likelihood is really far off compared to, say, Feudal Period Japan.  But, if we take a Kata and dig into the details, of what makes it work and why, we begin to learn about anatomy, physics, kinetics, balance, leverage, and many other wonderfully universal lessons that can be directly applied to modern application.

Let’s take a look at a basic Kata called Hicho no Kata, from our Kihon Koshi Sanpo.  Without “teaching” this kata on a blog, let me at least share with you some key points that often are missed.  The starting Kamae (Posture) for this Kata is called Hicho no Kamae.  Your lead foot is up on your rear calf and your lead knee points at your Uke, while your hands are up to protect.  The Uke executes a strike to your gut and you do a downward, almost sweeping type of "block" to receive it.  This is called Gedan Uke Negashi.  From there, you do a front kick to their midsection, at a target which is at a specific point at their stomach.  This target is called Suigetsu.

Now, this raises several problems for the student.  First, nobody is going to face off with an attacker while standing with one foot propped up, unless maybe you are the Karate Kid.  Second, to kick that part of the attacker requires you to be almost perpendicular to the attacker’s torso.  If they strike you with the standard Tsuki (thrusting with the body narrow, like a fencing thrust), the torso points out the side, making that target almost unreachable.

To “fix” these two issues, a student will rationalize themselves into changing the base form.  They will start in Ichimonji no Kamae, with both feet on the ground, step out to the inside and raise the front foot as the opponent strikes.  They change THEIR position.   To them, this “fixes” the seemingly vulnerable part about standing on one leg while being attacked and the part about being able to reach the Suigetsu target.  Or they may even just forgo the Suigetsu and just kick wherever they can reach.

So, what is learned from this Kata?

The way I was taught placed absolute importance on two things:

1.        Being able to maintain balance and structure while sweeping low to redirect the attack.  You can’t move position, so you have to rely on the Uke Negashi to do the work.  This involves dropping low on the base leg and catching the timing of when to push the attack out so that it misses you.  This is VERY difficult and uncomfortable!


2.       The importance of doing #1 correctly so that you move the Uke’s torso, twisting them on their axis, so that the front of their abdomen faces you for the kick to Suigetsu.  This also means having to pull your kicking leg back into Hicho no Kamae, while maintaining balance and low Kamae.  The final action in the Kata is to deliver an Ura Shuto to Uko, which is under the ear at the base of the skull.  This requires going back to Hicho no Kamae after the kick to allow the Uke to “fall” into position for the Shuto.  This is also VERY difficult and uncomfortable!

If you train this Kata in the manner I described, think of the benefits you get to your body, your structure, balance, power generation and delivery.  You also learn to control the Uke to create the openings, while developing precision in hitting specific Kyusho (weak areas of the body).

No, it’s not a real fight.  It’s not meant to be.  It’s a learning tool.  But, from the lessons in there, you can apply them to a fight.  You learn how to receive an attack in a manner that takes power away and breaks the structure of your attacker.  You learn how to attack specific targets as they appear.  You develop strong, reliable and consistent power, flexibility, control and balance in your lower body and core (a “must” for Japanese budo arts).

How applicable are all those lessons to modern fighting situations?

This is just one example, but you can begin to understand the point.  Kata are vessels containing many lessons.  Some are obvious, some not so obvious.  Others are so deep that, even after almost three decades of training, I’m still discovering them (or having a teacher reveal them to me).

Some people may ask when is a Kata no longer important or when does it run out of lessons.  My opinion is that the only way that happens is when the student’s mind closes itself off from them.  Kata don’t need to be changed.  They don’t need to be adapted.  They need to be explored with an open mind and curious attitude.  The lessons learned can be experimented with, isolated and developed on their own, mixed in with various techniques and situations, and so on.  But, they need to be discovered and learned first and you can only do that when you dig deeply into the Kata that contains them.

Just my thoughts.

The Knowledge, Experience, Ability Paradigm

I have been going through a lot of changes in my Shugyo (martial arts training path) and wanted to share some interesting thoughts I've concluded recently that have served to be a hard look at myself and a catalyst for my own "keeping going".

Before I begin, however, I must confess something I haven't told anybody except for maybe a very few select people:  I almost quit martial arts.  Actually, I have hit this wall so many times now that I am surprised this is something profound for me to admit.  But, yes, I almost walked away from training, at least in the current arts in which I train.  The reasons have always been varied and I could still sit here and list out a number of them which have been constant for me in a decision to hang up the keiko gi and do something else.

Yet, I don't.  I still keep training.  Why?  I don't know.  I can recite all sorts of specific, and even valid, reasons to quit my Bujinkan path.  Yet, I have trouble citing specific reason why I keep going.  Maybe it's because I've been doing it so long that I don't know how to NOT train?  Maybe it's because of the friends I've made along the way?  Maybe it's my loyalty to those few who still look to me for guidance in their own paths?  Maybe it's some wayward fantasy that I just might reach some amazing level of ability and enlightenment that will make it all worth it?

I tend to believe any of the others over that last one!  But, still that nagging question haunts me - "why keep going?".

I have been training for almost 30 years now.  In that time, I have trained in many arts, with many friends and teachers.  I have been taught so many different "ways", often contradictory to each other, to make anybody confused.  I have trained with those I thought were quality teachers, only to have another point and tell me that what I was taught was wrong.  I have had teachers openly criticize methods and techniques I was taught by other teachers.  They all seem to share the same conviction that their way is The Way, or (and probably more so) what the other guy is doing is not The Way.  Some of these people are good friends, those I consider quality bugeisha and budo sensei.  Yet, the conflict tears at the fabric of training when one struggles to get the approval of who they are learning from.  That is what a student does - train for approval from their teachers and peers.  We all like it.  It motivates us and validates our efforts.

The thing with the Bujinkan is that quality can be determined by relationships - the transmission line from Soke, through the Shihan to the rest of the world.  Those who are there the most are afforded the best opportunities to garner the best quality of transmission.  That doesn't mean they "get it" or don't struggle with their own misunderstandings, ego and ignorance.  We are all human, after all.  But, on paper, it makes for very convincing criteria on who one should listen to.  The next layer of determining validity is to simply watch to see if that person moves like the next level up in the line of transmission.  Does Shidoshi "A" move like their teacher or Shihan, who moves similar to Soke?  Or does that teacher move in ways that don't resemble anybody, including Soke or the Shihan?  What if that person is a Jugodan who lived in Japan for years, trained several times per week with Soke and the senior Japanese Shihan?

What if two top Shihan both tell you the other is wrong?

How would you feel if, after 10+ years of following the teachings of top instructors, training hard, you are told by a top, respected Shihan that what you are doing is wrong and that HIS way is the RIGHT way?

Yet, everybody just repeats the same matras of "Shut Up & Train" and "Gambatte" or "Keep Training".  So, keep doing the same thing?  Do you know the definition of Insanity, to keep doing the same things over and over, expecting a different result?  Whose advice and correction should you trust?

This happens regularly and is precisely one big reason people will throw in the towel and stop training, or they simply go their own way and ignore the criticism - which can lead to critical flaws in development.  It all becomes overwhelming, confusing and discouraging.  At times, it even is childish and destructive.

Something I have been giving great thought to recently, in looking at my own Shugyo, the challenges I have faced and continue to face, and the brutal self-assessment I keep subjecting myself to, is what I call "The Knowledge, Experience, Ability Paradigm".  No matter who you are or who you train with, this model represents where we all are at any given point.  They can be individually looked at as:

• Knowledge - This is what your brain understands.  It's not just techniques, principles and such, but also how you understand those things.  It's your thinking muscle, what you observe and interpret the teachings with and how you observe and interpret your own training.  It's all visceral.
• Experience - This is direct experience, what you have done, the things you've encountered, had done to you, all the classes and seminars you've attended, the many teachers you've learned from, the different methods and arts you've trained with, and so on.  Direct, first hand experience accumulated over time.  This can also be thought of as "mat time".
• Ability - This is your level of performance.  This can also include conditioning, mobility and strength, as well as technical proficiency and having that "something" that goes beyond the technique.

We are all at differing levels of each one of these and, together, they make up what level we are in our evolutionary growth as budoka.  What you learn in your head is expressed in your action, which creates your ability.  At the same time, your ability can reveal things that, because of your experience, tells your brain valuable information about yourself or what you are trying to learn.  They are all unique, yet interconnected to each other.

Knowledge without Experience lacks Application.  Experience without Knowledge lacks Ability.  Ability without Knowledge or Experience lacks Reality.  You can interpret it many ways, but the point (I think) is clear.

Where I have been the most frustrated in my Shugyo is when there has been a disconnect in this Paradigm model.  I spend too much time in my head and my training time lowers, thus my ability or performance suffers.  I spend too much time just training and not researching, analyzing, listening and watching my teachers and I get off track in my development.  I go out and experience too many different things and I get confused and my taijutsu falls apart in contradiction.  It is a fine chemistry that needs constant evaluation and honest assessment, not just from ourselves, but from our teachers (and even our peers).  There has to be honesty at the root of all of these.  Honesty is the thing that binds these all together, like the silver cord that keeps them all connected.  It is through this self-honesty and teachers/peers being honest with you that you are able to maintain this balance.

Where things fall apart is when a student, who takes on a teacher because they see/interpret something that fascinates them enough to want to replicate it in their own taijutsu, suddenly faces problems when another teacher tells them they don't understand or that they are going about things wrong.  It is in those moments that the student needs to take a look at not only what they are doing, but also what their teacher is doing.  Is what they are learning taking them on a path towards Soke?  Is what they are doing not only based on Knowledge (Densho?  Kuden?), but also backed up by Experience (training) and Ability (level of application)?  Or is it pure theoretical musing, not based on teachings from Soke or the Densho, and which, in training, uses skills which are found nowhere in the art you are learning?  How different or far off the path of transmission to the next layer up to Soke is it?

And, are you being pushed to learn from sources which are also not in the line of transmission to Soke and the arts you are trying to learn?

These are important questions, and even if one analyzes what they are doing from this perspective, they will STILL run into conflict in what methods are "right", and what techniques are "right".  As long as there are at least two budo sensei, there will always be points of conflict or disagreement.  It's been that way since the inception of martial arts.

All we can do is trust.  Trust ourselves enough to follow our gut or instinct.  Trust ourselves to admit when something (or someone) just doesn't feel "right".  Trust ourselves to know that we are capable of making our own choices and that, even if we later discover the error in those choices, we also are capable of change.  It's also in trusting ourselves to have that honesty in evaluating where we are in each of the three areas:  Knowledge, Experience and Ability.  Don't have enough knowledge?  Ask questions, read Soke's books, watch Soke's videos, get around the people who do know.  Don't have enough Experience?  Show up and train.  Practice at home.  Just get up and work on something, even small things.  It all adds up.  Don't have enough Ability?  Check your Knowledge and Experience.  Maybe you need more of one or both.  Maybe you are just in a slump, too (that does happen).  Ability is influenced by Knowledge and Experience, but you can't control it.  You can have strong Ability one day, and weak Ability the next.  That's just life.  You can only directly control your Knowledge and Experience.  Ability is the product of the two.

Another important point is simply this:  If you struggle with your Ability, take a look at the Ability of the one you are trying to replicate and ask yourself these 3 questions:

1. Am I doing what they had to do in order to develop the Ability they have?
2. Do I have a physical makeup (body type, fitness level, etc) that resembles what they have?
3. Is what they are doing following a line of progression and transmission that leads to Soke?

If there is a disconnect in any one of those, then you know what you have to do.  You may not be able to help body type, but fitness, flexibility and strength you can improve.  Look at Soke and the senior Japanese Shihan (most are in their 70's).  They are amazingly flexible, strong and with incredible range of motion.  How are you in comparison?  However, there are body types which simply are structurally limited.  For instance, there are some body types you will never see doing a front or back handspring.  I'm not saying it can't be done, but the likelihood of it is very rare, compared to a lean, lightweight person.

Also, maybe you are rushing your training expectations?  We have to remember that when Soke and his inner group of students came out into the world with this art, they were already in their 30+ years of training.  Yet, what we saw we all tried to replicate, expecting to gain those results in only a few years.  Think about that for a minute.  Only through some grainy photos and old black and white film do we get a small glimpse of what their training was like prior to that.  But, even so, you still see them with black belts on...

So, if you are training and trying to move like a senior Japanese Shihan, cut yourself some slack.  Also, consider what they did when they were starting out or in their first years of training.  Are you doing that?  Do you honestly feel you don't need it?

Have you ever taught to a group of people who were all at different levels of Knowledge, Experience and Ability?  Who do you tend to teach to?  Any instructor will tell you that, with a large group, they focus on the middle third.  Those who are new will learn from the more experienced and those who are more experienced will train at their level, guided by more private or personalized instruction of the teacher during practice.  Now consider the hundreds who go to Japan every year to train.  When Soke is teaching, there could be upwards to over 50 people crammed in the Hombu Dojo!  When Soke teaches at the Budokan, this number could swell to a hundred or more.  The Japanese Shihan there also can have larger or smaller classes.  Even so, most are people who may only be there for a handful of days and try to absorb what they can in that small amount of time.  Those who live there or will be there for extended periods have the time to break things down and work on them, receiving correction and guidance along the way.  Then, there's the mix of yudansha, yodansha, Shidoshi and Shihan from all over the world, with their different cultures, languages and levels of understanding.

So, what you tend to get is teaching that tries to either shed light on a few pointers, or help explain what Soke was showing the night before, or the Shihan just keeps teaching at the level he chooses to capture the greatest number of people.  It's not complete, it isn't really reaching the individual development needs of each person and it doesn't allow for the time it takes to really put in enough "mat time" to train on.  You are expected to get what you can get, take it back with you and let it guide or provide inspiration for on-going training at your own dojo.  That is why many of the Japanese Shihan have their own personal dojo, outside of the Hombu Dojo.  But, if you aren't regularly attending, then what are you really learning?

At the end of the day, you still must have a teacher who you trust to train with regularly to work on those building blocks that take you to your next level, assuming that next level takes you a step closer to Soke.  Just be accepting that we all develop according to our own natural pathways, limitations and understandings.  Ignore the politics, the dribble and bickering.  Have an open mind, clear vision and honest judgement - and don't be afraid to change if you discover something is taking you off course from what you want to achieve.

Different teachers teach different things differently.  They all have value and something you can learn from.  But, know why you are learning from them, what it is they are trying to teach you and what role that plays in the direction you are trying to go.  Blind faith is suicide and irresponsible, two traits not becoming of a Budoka.  It's okay to seek out a teacher who might have more Knowledge, Experience and Ability in some areas than the teacher you currently train under.  In fact, an honest teacher will guide you to someone they feel more qualified in a particular area.  I suck at some things in my own training and don't pretend to be an expert.  Yet, I have friends who are very qualified in those areas.  Not only do I train with them myself to fill those deficiencies, I encourage my students to do the same.  That's just being honest.

You can't let the snobby attitudes of elitist instructors dictate your path.  If fact, if you had to choose between a mediocre, honest teacher and a very skilled, egotistical one, I would bet you would spend your time with the former, rather than the latter.  And, you will find those others in class will most often be the ones you enjoy training with the most, building strong friendships based on trust and honesty, whereas the egocentric teacher will tend to draw those who are either egocentric themselves or who blindly worship such people.

Yet, it is that mediocre, but honest, teacher who struggles the most in their own Shugyo, because at the root of it all they still consider themselves a struggling student, with errors, misunderstandings, challenges and development needs, who continue to self-assess and seek out instruction from those teachers who can help bring balance back to their Knowledge, Experience, Ability Paradigm.

So, they Keep Going and that's why I Keep Going.  Because, nobody's opinion matters more about me than my own and I value myself, my potential, too much to give up.  I know any lacking in Knowledge can be learned in many ways and am fortunate to be surrounded by those with more Knowledge than me.  My Experience can be built by training and I am fortunate to have friends always willing to train, my health to be able train and the venues to conduct the training.  My Ability, well, it is what it is.  I just have to be patient and keep seeing it as a Work in Progress, a soup containing all the Knowledge and Experience, some good and some maybe not so good.  I have proud moments of performance and moments I wish I had never stepped onto the mat!  But, as long as I keep growing in Knowledge and Experience, finding the people and sources which are the closest to what I understand as the next level in the transmission of this art from Soke to me, then I have to trust that my Ability will twist, turn, change and evolve in that direction, too, even if sometimes I may wave off into a tangent.  It will return if I Keep Going.

Anyway, enough rambling.  If you've made it this far, thank you for reading.  I hope it has helped you in some way or at least provided something to chew on in your own seeking of Knowledge.

Gambatte Kudasai!

Conditioning Your Body For Your Technique

No, this not just another post about fitness and health, as the internet is already full of literally thousands of sites dedicated to such topics.  Rather, this is about sharing my thoughts relating to classical fighting techniques and your body.

Throughout history, mankind has had to survive against extinction from a wide variety of threats.  Whether from environment conditions, illnesses, accidents, animals or other people, those humans who survived had to do so through adaptation, innovation, hard work and a deep resolve.  Those who didn't or couldn't adapt simply didn't survive.  Of course, humans were limited by knowledge and technology, so even a well developed body and trained technique still failed when the threat was just more than they could handle.  However, history tells tales of those rare individuals who defied the odds and were able to survive incredible danger.

The body, when powered by the Will to survive, can adapt and overcome many challenges.  It's truly a testament to the sheer awesomeness of the human animal.

As humans learned how to hunt, build shelter, make clothing, gather and prepare foods (and which ones didn't poison them!), those lessons were taught to others and shared among their family and, eventually, their tribes.  In addition, as long as there have been humans, there has been fighting.  Skills were learned through direct experience.  Some were for establishing social order, some for forcibly obtaining resources or protecting one's resources - or for fighting wars.  Those who were successful passed along their knowledge and experience to successors.  All this is what eventually became martial arts.

Fast forward now to Feudal Period Japan.  Armies of young warriors, Samurai and Bushi, collide into each other in wars for dominance, to further the aims of their Daimyo, until eventually there was one who became Shogun.  To serve as a soldier, even more as a Samurai, was a serious thing.  Considering the poverty that existed, being a paid soldier was better than starving or slaving away as a farmer or other laborer.  The conquests and chance to gain fame and honor in the service of one's lord was a very attractive venture.  Every one of them made it their priority to train hard so they would always be ready to fight and to succeed.  It was their job to not only train well, but to be healthy.  An injured, ill, or disabled Bushi or Samurai would be of little or no use.  There was no unemployment, welfare or disability insurance.



When martial arts techniques were developed, they were shared among their respective groups, armies, tribes, communities and families to aid in the overall survival and success.  Along with those techniques also came advances in technology.  Various tools and equipment were developed.

However, even as techniques and technology advanced, there still existed the basic human component of adapting the body to the conditions.  The health and ability of the individual was still paramount to the success of those strategies and techniques.  It's no different today.

As time passed, many strategies, techniques and technologies became codified and preserved.  These were passed on from generation to generation as a form of historical significance.  This is where we get Koryu, or the old martial arts.  After the unification of Japan, when the wars for dominance were over, those military arts were turned into Koryu.  From there, many other arts were born, along with sport martial arts.  Those arts created from the Koryu or after the warring periods are called Gendai.  This is where we see arts like karate, judo, kendo, and many other martial arts.  From there, we also have all the modern arts which encompass aspects of several older arts.  The techniques vary, the technologies vary, and many astute masters have evolved their arts to adapt to modern day fighting and technologies.

But, no matter the art, it's history, the strategies, the technologies, or the techniques, one's health and ability is still the foundation, the deciding factor, in the successful outcome of surviving real danger.

With all that said, I want to propose some ideas to challenge your perception of martial arts techniques.  I don't mean sport techniques or techniques adapted to modern times.  I mean the old techniques, the ones developed during horrible warring and struggles for survival.  These are the techniques which were brutally effective, designed to be decisive and direct, often against very dangerous situations.

In our Bujinkan traditions, there are many kata which involve some incredible ability to successfully pull off.  When you read the descriptions, you'll see that many parts of techniques have some pretty dramatic damage to the opponent.  When you read stories told by Hatsumi Soke, he relates tales of former Soke who could do amazing things.  One story was of how Toda Soke used to be able to run up tall poles.  Other stories are about Takamatsu Soke and how he was able to defeat several men who attacked him with knives.  In that story, all of the attackers were stabbed and cut to death and Takamatsu Soke was arrested for murder.  However, he was cleared of charges because witnesses said all the attackers stabbed each other - that Takamatsu Soke didn't cut or stab any of them!  Takamatsu Soke later apparently attributed his survival to the flexibility of his legs.  I can only arrive to the conclusion that he had used some phenomenal sabaki and taihenjutsu!

There are other stories about catching arrows, ripping bark off trees, and even being able to strike and break pebbles with the fingers!  The old masters could jump great heights and distances, run for hours across rugged terrain, climb mountains, trees and buildings, and do all sorts of seemingly super human feats.  It's not hard to believe.  All one has to do is look at some of the old photos of our Bujinkan senior Japanese teachers and you can see just how developed they were.  Even now, as old as Hatsumi Soke and the Japanese seniors are, they still have amazing physical abilities.  Their bodies are highly conditioned, flexible, mobile and strong.


 

The reason I bring this up is to highlight the importance of conditioning the body.  Now, why this is different than the usual health and fitness movement going on in present day is simply because of a difference of purpose.  Back then, bodies were conditioned for the techniques they used.  Sometimes that conditioning was not very healthy.  Takamatsu Soke could bend his wrists all the way around backwards.  However, in later years he developed arthritis.  He also is reported to have been deaf in one ear and partially blind in one eye from the really violent fights he would be involved in, as he further tested and developed his abilities.  So, not all conditioning is good for long term health and wellness, but may be good for short term survival when there are very lethal and imminent dangers abounding in day to day life.

As you practice and study various kata from these historical schools, it's important to also understand the kind of body that was developed to be able to perform these techniques.  If the technique, for instance, calls for striking the heart with one's fingers, think about how this would work if your fingers could rip bark off trees and break pebbles!  When you link parts of a kata together, most often the next part is reliant upon successful completion of the previous part.  If the next step in your technique actually relies upon really being able to pierce the opponent's chest with your finger tips - and you never develop your fingers to be able to actually DO it - then how successful will the next step be?  And if the conclusion of a kata is a natural conclusion of all it's parts being successful, how 'natural' is the technique conclusion if your body isn't developed enough to make all the steps work the way they are supposed to?



I'm not advocating driving your fingers into mud, then sand, then gravel and eventually into stone.  I'm not advocating slamming your forehead into boulders over and over again to build up scar tissue and callouses that make your forehead capable of crushing a rib cage.  We all live in a computer age, where the finite motor skills, sensitivity and dexterity of your hands is key to your economic survival.  We all live in an age where having a forehead that looks scarred and thick probably wouldn't serve you well in that employment or promotion board interview (although maybe Hollywood might find a spot for you!).  We all need to develop ourselves to survive in the real world, in our current, every day environment and challenges.  For most of us, it's careers, family, social circles, driving skills, and our overall health.  All of those require certain techniques, strategies and technologies to be successful and, failure with any of them, could lead to disastrous results.  Even a simple basic thing like a well executed, powerful punch could lead to a broken hand and/or wrist if the hand and wrist are conditioned for the impact.




Yet, we students love to train in martial arts.  We do it for health, protection of our loved ones and our selves, or other personal interests (history, etc).  However, in training, we most often limit our conditioning to stretching, some general fitness and striking into padded or mildly resistant target surfaces.  This carries with it the reduced capacity to gain the functional benefits many kata were designed to utilize.

So, next time you train on a kata, keep in mind the kinds of people who actually used these in real violent conflict and how they prepared their bodies for the techniques contained within it.  As budoka, find ways to push your own conditioning to allow for maximum results, adaptability and efficiency, without sacrificing your capacity to thrive in the demands and dangers of modern life.  Seek those techniques which carry the largest success in your present condition and train on them until they are ingrained.  As your conditioning increases, add those techniques which require more from your body.

And, don't fool yourself into injuring yourself with a technique that requires your body to be conditioned a certain way, when you haven't really done so.