Shizentai and Hidden Dangers

As my body gets older and the effects of bad movement, sports martial arts, wild "stunts", and injuries begin to really show, I am finding incredible value in how natural Soke's movement is.  Instead of learning another waza, I prefer to spend my training time focusing on how to make what I know that much more efficient and natural.  In a nutshell, I am focused on the ergonomics of how I move and finding that small adjustments make big differences.  Often, these little anti-ergo habits go unnoticed, especially when youth and health can compensate or hide the negative effects.  But, time will eventually win, as repeated stress on joints and connective tissues begin to wear away natural structure and movement.  Recovery becomes more difficult and takes longer to complete, so the wear and tear compounds into each training session, each bad movement, until eventually something blows out or injury happens from a seemingly minor action.

There are many ergo-mistakes I see in how people move, in class and on video.  I'm no expert, I don't have a doctorate in these things, but I have enough direct experience in how NOT to move and what effects it has on the body to know what I mean.  It doesn't take a university course to learn these things.  Our own bodies speak to us constantly, if we listen closely.  I am finding that I can 'hear' my body telling me when something isn't natural or ergonomic.

The same is also true for my own internal health, what I eat, how I control my emotions and thoughts, etc.  But, that's for another time to discuss.  I want to focus on physical movement, or what we know as taijutsu.

Since the base of our taijutsu exists in our legs and how we move using them, I will write about one particular area that many in the West are commonly prone to injure - the knees.  More specifically, the inside and outside ligaments of the knee (commonly known as ACL & PCL).  I'm sure either you or someone you know has injuries related to one or both of these ligaments.  In addition, there are injuries that involve the cap itself not seating correctly when the knee is flexed, the crunching sound from knee deterioration and calcium buildup, and other nasty ailments that strip a person from enjoying natural, balanced and free movement.

There are lots of things that we can look at here, but I'm going to present something most Bujinkan budoka should be familiar with.  From our very first class, we are introduced to posture such as Ichimonji no Kamae or Seigan no Kamae.  More specifically, the 90 degree "L" shape of the feet (and the opening angles that extend farther).  We are taught the importance of keeping the knees aligned over the toes and the hips and shoulder aligned over that.  Most practice this as a static 'pose' to work on alignment and flexibility, which is good.  It is when we move that problems begin.

Here's a typical example:  The student steps back into the classic "L" shaped kamae (let's say Ichimonji no Kamae).  Then, they shift their weight forward to launch that rear handed strike (like Ichimonji no Kata or Sui no Kamae).  Where ergo/natural movement breaks down is in the transfer of position from back to front, the middle moment when the body turns to face front.  If you watch closely, often you'll see a collapse of the rear knee inward, the rear foot moving either little to none, then the step forward.  For that brief moment, instead of the rear knee joint holding weight evenly between both inside and outside points of the joint, there's a shift of pressure to the inside joint, causing stress against the ligaments and structure.  It's at that moment that wear and tear happens and the joint is vulnerable.  If the ground changes, something or someone strikes that point, or the joint itself is already stressed to the point of blowing out, then things can go real bad.  Couple that with the fact that what will happen next in the movement sequence is a lift of weight off the leg, a planting of the foot to the front, then sudden weight reapplied as the rear foot now becomes the front foot and the strike delivered to the target.  At that moment, any weakened tissues in that joint are now required to load body weight and momentum.  Often, this is where the person also will stop their motion, as they complete the strike/technique.  This involves increased stress as the 'brakes' are put on to stop the momentum.  The muscles around the knee flex to absorb the weight and motion, while pushing back into the body to counter the inertia.  If the knee is not aligned properly, that is further stress against a knee joint that already has been stressed when the movement first started.

You see the compounding problem here, and it all starts with how you start moving.

There are many ways to reduce the stress to your knees in how you would move from back to front.  This is, in my opinion, what kuden (oral teaching) is for.  Some things you just can't explain in a text book.  It has to be felt, seen, and explained person to person.  There are so many variables to this that no one way is sufficient to be a fix-all to every person.  But, there are a few things you can do now to help reduce these dangers and add more natural, ergo-friendly movement to your taijutsu:

• Pay attention to your knees!  You can feel the pull or stress on your joints if you slow down enough.  Example:  Stand in Ichimonji no Kamae with the "L" shape foot pattern.  Take your lead arm (should be extended out front) and, using your body, turn your body to the inside and outside as if you are painting a horizontal line with your lead hand.  As you do this, pay attention to the inside and outside of your knees.  Do you feel pressure building and releasing on the inside, outside, or both sides of your knees?  That's a warning.
• Try keeping your knees over your toes and using the flexibility of your hips, where the thigh connects to the hip, to open up to allow for the turn.  You may feel your rear glute (butt cheek muscle) flex as you do so, but that's ok for now.  See if you can point your belly button forward without causing stress to the inside of your rear knee.
• If you are going to do the step back and step forward action really quickly, don't turn out your rear foot so much.  This is controversial to purists, but it is a way to keep your rear knee pointing halfway forward already so that you can spring forward into your strike without having to stress the inside of the knee in the sudden transfer.  What is interesting is that one of the senior Japanese teachers I trained with while in Japan taught a version of Jumonji no Kamae that uses this kind of half-step/half-turn positioning of the rear food (as opposed to the "L" shape).  I have taught Jumonji no Kamae what way ever since, as a halfway point to Ichimonji no Kamae, with the option to spring forward (or any angle, actually).  Again, some may not agree or do it this way, so it's up to you to experiment and find what feels more natural to you and allows you to move efficiently.

There are other examples and solutions, but I am not one to teach via the internet.  What is important is that you are aware of the little warnings your body tells you and to adapt accordingly.  We are all built differently and each of us has our own limits, whether developmental or caused by injury.  Real shizentai or 'natural body' is when you embrace those limits and either evolve through them (limited by skill development) or evolve around them (limited by injury or handicap).  True budo is about survival, to 'keep going' (gambatte) and the root of it all is how we adapt to find the most efficient method to achieve not just peace in our environment and our lives, but peace in our own body.  Train slowly and with mindfulness to what 'conflicts' we are having in our own bodies and find how little adjustments can prevent, reduce and even eliminate these stressors that only cause long term injury and steal the natural, ergonomic body movement we seek.

Train hard - train smart - live well.

Darren

Offensive defense

The subjects of blocking and receiving have been a common theme element in my training lately, so I thought I would take a moment to put my thoughts down as to what these are and provide some insight into what makes them work.

Blocking is simply to provide a resistant surface to an incoming strike.  It can also be seen as "shielding", either with the body or with an object.  Receiving is the act of absorbing.  The two can be the same thing, such as you have to receive in order to block.

Then, there's the topic of soft and hard blocking/receiving.  This relates to how much you yield to the strike.  Hard blocks are less yielding, soft blocks are more yielding.  Yielding can be used to change the direction of the strike so that it travels off the support structure and causes a break in balance.  Not yielding can cause the strike to collapse, breaking the structure of the attacker.  Both require lots of development and conditioning to pull of in a real encounter.  But, there is a time and place for everything.

A third topic is not about blocking or receiving, but of attacking.  This is when you attack the strike.  In the Bujinkan, you see this alot with the kihon Jodan Uke, where you attack the weak parts of the uke's arm as it strikes out at you.  This can be done with the knuckles or forearm of the tori's forward arm.

The problem comes when people confuse these together and deliver a bad combination in their technique.  They try to attack the arm with the softness of a yielding receiver, or have the rigidity of a blocking action instead of a continuous strike through the target.  This creates ineffectiveness and holes in taijutsu for the tori.  Each action, whether blocking, receiving/yielding, or attacking the arm, has to be developed and implimented according to what they are.  Treating each one as a seperate skill set or tool will help ensure they provide the effects they were designed for.

When a strike happens, the body's muscles load up with energy then burst it outward towards the target.  In a series of strikes, this is a process of loading, firing, reloading, firing, and so on.  In defensive action, the blocking is a buildup of tension and energy to provide structural solidity, to aid in the body's ability to resist the impact of the strike.  In receiving and yielding, the muscles don't load or fire.  The body relaxes and molds with the energy of the strike and shifts angle to guide the direction of the strike or reduce the impact.

However, in striking as a defensive action, the muscles must load and fire just like any offensive strike.  This build up happens as the strike is coming forward from the uke.  This means movement is vital for the tori to avoid being struck.  The counter strike then happens when the uke's attack has fired and is in the process of reloading for the next attack.  The timing of this is crucial.  A muscle that has fired it's energy is weak, exposing the nerves and creating a soft target that allows impact to reach the bone structures within.  If the strike happens in the moment between firing and reloading, the uke's limb will be most vulnerable and it will have maximum effect.

When a muscle is struck in this important moment before it reloads, it sends shock waves and affects the muscle's ability to reload.  It is 'stunned'.  Blood will fill into the muscle tissues and it's ability to reload to full capacity will be affected.

This timing is something that has to be practices slowly at first.  The uke needs to move, then strike.  Move to avoid the tori's punch, then strike before the tori can retract and reload.  A mistake people often make is they receive, block or just move, but don't do anything else until the uke's muscles have reloaded.  In reality, to try and attack the limb or body would be at the same timing of when the uke can fire again.  This is too late.  The window of opportunity is before the uke can reload.

Another effect from this kind of 'counter offensive' is that any loading up that happens in the uke on the other side of their body will fire as a response to the uke's hit.  As the uke strikes out, he likely is also loading up the other side for a second strike.  Hitting the uke's expired muscles on the striking limb will cause the loaded up muscles of the other limb to fire, thereby greatly reducing the power of the second strike.  It also will cause a shift in the structural alignment of their body, which will also affect accuracy.

Something important to note here is that the 'counter offensive' action isn't limited to the striking arm.  It takes many muscles to load and fire a real strike.  You can also attack those muscles as well.  Having a good uke who can move slow and mimic the tension and firing of a real attacker will help identify those muscles.  For instance, watch what happens to the pectoral muscles when a punch is delivered and retracted.  You'll see an explosion of tension then release in one or both sides.  Hit that target the moment it releases and watch their body collapse in and their ability to take in a breath become difficult.  But, please be careful!

As the tori strikes out at the uke's expired muscles, causing a "misfire" in the remaining muscles that are loaded up, this provides excellent opportunity for the tori to then execute an action with the other side of their body - which is loaded and ready to move because it hasn't fired yet.  This timing can play into kata like Ichimonji no Kata.  The timing of when to counter strike with the forward hand jodan uke and when to close and strike with the rear hand shuto is key to understanding this kata.  It all happens when the uke has expired their muscles!

This same principle also applies to legs, hands, feet, facial muscles, torso, hips - everywhere!  Just pay attention to your own body when you do a strike or kick or even locks and throws.  Your body will teach you if you listen.  Your uke will also experience very similar things, so you'll have clues about your uke just by listening to your own body.  That's the beauty of proper Sanshin no Kata training...

I hope this helps, play with these ideas and see what you discover!

Gambatte!

I hate math...

I hate math.  Seriously.  It gives me pains in my head like no other subject.  And, subjects like Physics use a lot of math.  Yet, lately I've been researching Newton's Laws of Motion and found some excellent lessons regarding taijutsu and effectiveness.

As a complete layman on the subject of Physics, I'm going to attempt to explain my thoughts regarding how these Laws apply to martial arts and what we can learn from them in our own training.

Newton Law of Motion #1 - Law of Balance.  A Stationary object will never move as long as all the forces acting on it are balanced.  The forces acting on an object moving at a constant velocity (steady speed) are also balanced forces.  If a car is traveling at a steady speed, the forces are balanced (even in motion).  If that car starts to accelerate or decelerate, then the forces will no longer be equal and balanced.

Think about our balance.  Our own and our uke's balance.  When we move, we alter our balance.  When we stop moving, we alter our balance.  But, when all our parts move in perfect relationship to the velocity, and that velocity doesn't change, then we have balance.  Think about how this is applied in Sanshin no Kata, and especially in nagare (flow).  In addition, there is a timing element of when to change how our uke is moving or being moved, where they are no longer balanced.  This is applied in our Kihon Happo.  This also plays heavily in my current emphasis of keeping moving, as the balance should be maintained through consistent velocity (no speeding up or slowing down/stopping). There are more lessons here, but I'll let you ponder on that yourself.

Newton's Law of Motion #2 - Force = Mass x Acceleration.  This lets us work out the forces at play on an object by multiplying the mass of the object by the acceleration of the object.

Now, I have a few thoughts on this.  In martial arts, force is important.  But, you hear teachers admonish us not to use force.  There is a difference, however, in 2 things:  how that force is generated and where that force is used.  In our taijutsu, we learn to generate force through our movement, relying less on our own muscles.  However, that is not always the case and we need to train so that we have the muscle power when we need it.  The second factor is even more crucial.  Using force against force goes against the basic maxim of most, if not all, martial arts.  Some situations require it.  But, we train to move so that we are at the correct angles and timing and spacing to apply force where it will have the most effectiveness.  In basic taijutsu, this is often from low postures (kamae) and at off-angles (usually 45-90 degrees).

Newton's Law of Motion #3 - Law of Mass.  Mass is how heavy an object is without gravity.  Or, Mass is how much matter (density) an object has.

Size doesn't always matter.  Size can matter, however, when you look at how Mass affects power.  Since it is a key component in the definition of Force, you have to acknowledge it's place in martial arts.  But, don't confuse size with ability.  No matter how big the opponent is, he will always have weak points, vulnerabilities, and can be defeated.  Remember, Force does not just equate to Mass.  It also has Acceleration.  And, with Acceleration comes balance.  When you apply gravity to Mass and Balance, then you start to see where larger Mass (weight) can be a vulnerability.  On a combat level, one's fitness is also challenged when their own muscles and oxygen absorbtion are not developed to carry their Mass through the exertion of conflict.  Then, there's always the psychological and emotional component...

One important factor in our taijutsu is to relax.  Relaxing not only conserves energy and makes the body supple so it can adapt, but it also affects the weight.  Try picking up someone who is tense, then someone who is relaxed like a limp dishrag.  The latter will feel almost double the weight.  So, you add relaxed muscles to the movement, you increase the Mass x Acceleration factor.  Of course, you need to then develop what muscles to use and when to use them to support the impact of a strike or apply leverage (as well as a properly aligned structure that provides stability without having to compensate through your muscles).  You can't defeat someone by being a limp dishrag...

A quick comment regarding structure - structure has to support balance and applied force.  This means that your structure needs to support your Mass against the effects of gravity through the correct alignment of the bone joints of the body, like a house of cards, so that the muscles can relax into the base or framework.  When you apply Force, that structure has to shift alignment in direct proportion to the effect on balance the motion creates.  In addition, just as your skeletal structure should be aligned to support you from gravity, the same structure should also absorb the impact when you apply that force against a target.  The less your skeletal structure can do this, the more you have to use muscles and connecting tissues.  The more you have to use muscles and connecting tissues, the more you waste energy and your balance is further affected.

When you apply the Law of Balance with the Law of Force, keeping correct balance and structure throughout, you have pretty effective taijutsu.

Is your training 'scary'?

This is a topic I've played with for some time, and only now have begun to truly understand it.  It seems silly when I think of it, but I see it as a problem that runs rampant throughout the martial arts world, especially in the Bujinkan.  However, I am not going to make this a rant about other people.  Instead, I just want to write about this important aspect to training and being a budoka.

So, I ask:  Is your training 'scary'?

What I mean by 'scary' and why it's in quotes really has to do with a feeling.  Of course, for newer people, most aspects of our training is scary.  We roll around, breakfall, get hit, kicked, twisted up and thrown around.  Then, there are the array of weapons, some wood, some rubber, some plastic, and some metal.  Some are even sharpened metal!  So, yeah, on that note our training can be scary.  But, I would like to emphasize the 'can be scary' over 'is scary'.  The potential is there.  Whether it really is, is something else.

When the young Hatsumi first met Takamatsu Soke, the feeling he got was of genuine fear.  Now, it's important to note that Hatsumi was already an accomplished fighter, martial artist, with more training experience than the average martial artist alive today (seriously, read his bio).  He also had grown up with an alcoholic, abusive father whom he had to physically subdue on more that one occasion.  Hatsumi knew danger.  Yet, this little, frail, old man named Takamatsu scared him down to his core.

Why?

Hatsumi knew nothing of Takamatsu Soke's background.  He didn't know how much Takamatsu Soke had trained before and he didn't know of Takamatsu Soke's real life and death battles during his years traveling in China (a land going through change, where political battles, assassinations, rebellions, and even wars were rampant).  He didn't know much of anything about Takamatsu Soke.  Yet, when he met him, the fear that struck him told him this man was the real master, someone he could learn real budo from.

Hatsumi described training with Takamatsu Soke as always being unpredictable and dangerous.  Takamatsu Soke would share tea with him one minute, and in the next he would be suddenly attacking him.  And, I don't mean simply throwing out some flimsy fist.  He really struck at him.  Hatsumi said many times how he felt like Takamatsu Soke was going to kill him, yet he obviously never did.

Hatsumi describes one night, after training, he and Takamatsu Soke were walking on the street when Takamatsu Soke suddenly pulled out a live sword and began swinging at him!

Now, all these things would scare the crud out of most of us (well, probably ALL of us!).  But, that came later, after the initial meeting where Hatsumi felt this fear.  The rest was just validation of that fear!

In looking at the 35mm video of the late Takamatsu Soke training and teaching the apprentice Hatsumi, the movements don't seem all that 'scary'.  In fact, on a general level, they really don't look much different from what one can experience in a Bujinkan dojo.  When we look at the old videos of Hatsumi Soke, the actions are very violent looking.  But, my opinion is that these were done after many rehearsals, to make something that more resembled a performance than Hatsumi Soke teaching.  So, they are more like fight choreography from theater than 'real budo'.

What we see today is Hatsumi Soke moving very different from either of these two video examples.  He moves fluid, natural, almost floating, as he dances about the uke very simply (well, as it looks anyway!), not doing any real physically strenuous action (unlike his younger days).  The uke winces in great pain, struggles to maintain balance and structure, and eventually crashes to the mat.  It doesn't look like much, yet the results are 'scary'.  If you don't believe me, be his uke and you'll see...

Often in training with people, I find that their technique, how they move, is so far from 'scary' to be literally unbelievable as having anything to do with budo.  I know that sounds bad and I am not trying to be insultive or pious in any way.  I'm guilty of it myself at times.  When someone is learning a technique for the first time, this is common and expected, because the student has to start and stop, keep adjusting, until they get the technical aspects correct.

But, eventually, the student has to move past this.  Eventually, they have to put something else into their training.  And, this has to happen relatively soon, not something to be reserved for years later.  Their training has to have some reality, appropriate to the level they are, in order to have the right feeling of shinken, or real fighting.  It has to have danger.  Otherwise, it's not budo.  If it's not budo, then what is it?

What makes me shake my head is when I see people training in such a way that they have no danger in their technique.  When they have a cooperative uke, the problem compounds.  They do some little thing, maybe even incorrectly, and the uke graciously 'assumes' it works and breaks their own structure, their own balance, and falls.  The tori didn't break their structure and balance, the uke did it themselves.  But, it looks like it works, so both are happy.  I mean, the guy fell, right?  The uke was too busy being nice, doing what he thinks he's supposed to do (i.e. lose balance and fall).  So, nobody questions it.

But, was it 'scary'?  I'm afraid not.

In being an uke on countless occasions for teachers whom I consider to be 'scary', I have come to the conclusion that there are 2 kinds of fear I experienced:

1.  Fear of pain/injury
2.  Fear of unknown

Now, psychologists will tell you the greatest fear is the unknown.  I can honestly say this is true.  When your teacher has you attack, you don't really know what he's going to do.  There's fear and apprehension in your attack.  Afterward, when he asks you to attack again, it's fear of pain that can create apprehension.  But, it's a different fear.  In retrospect, if you really look back on how you felt, the first fear was greater.  Knowing what you will experience, even if it's pain, lowers the fear because the unknown is now known.

When you are drilling a known technique with your partner, like a technique from the Kihon Happo, there is little actual fear.  You know what to expect.  So, unless your partner inflicts pain as part of his technique, you have no fear.  You simply do your attack and receive the results with your good ukemi.  No danger there.  And, no budo there, either.

So, in training, there has to be some fear.  There has to be some pain.  And, there has to be an element of the unknown.  That's what is going to transform what you do to being closer to budo.  You don't have to have a huge degree of pain and unknown, either.  Just a little bit can go a long way.  But, it's essential.

As teachers, we have to also create this in our teaching and to encourage it in our students.  Allow a student to experiment.  Push them to get past the uncomfortable feeling of invoking pain on their partner.  Really hit through the body target.  Really apply that gyaku until you get a tap.  Really grab that flesh instead of just the gi jacket.  It doesn't have to be extreme to be effective.  Just a little bit to at least tell the uke's body that this is just a taste of what 'could' happen.  And, watch the reaction.  It will be pure, natural and real.  It will be budo.

And, it will be 'scary'.

Laws, Rules & Purity

I'm going to try and express my thoughts regarding a topic of conversation with a friend from another martial art.  Some of this could be merely semantics, play on words, but I think it raises important distinctions I find interesting and which help me to understand where I am on my own budo path.

For starters, I will say that in martial arts, and in everything, there are Laws, Rules and Purity.  However, when we look at each one individually, we find that they don't always equal each other.

For the sake of this exploration, I will define what I perceive each of these to be and how they play in martial arts study.

By Laws, I am referring to those things that pertain to Natural Laws.  What I mean is that gravity is a Natural Law.  Time is a Natural Law (actual time, not the perception of it or the timing of things).  Relativity is a Natural Law.  You get the idea.  These Laws simply are what they are.  We can try to work against them, but eventually they win.  The more we operate within those Laws, the more effective we are.  At the same time, by having an innate understanding of them, we also can freely operate around them, and have that sense of predictability in what will happen next.

For example, if my uke throws a punch, projecting themselves forward onto a lead foot, I know that without the support of that lead leg or foot, the Law of Gravity will win.  I can then choose to take away that support (attack the leg), change the direction of the strike away from the support of the leg (attack the arm), interrupt the attack so that the leg continues but the body stays behind (enter or jam the space), and so on.  I 'know' that if the uke's movement isn't supported, then their balance will be sucked down by gravity.  I also know that if their movement is inadequate, unbalanced, etc, then the line of gravity will pull them that direction.  I can predict it and operate effectively within the effects of that Law.

Another example is when I move out of the way or receive my uke's strike.  I know both our bodies will move relatively the same.  Their strike will likely be faster, by nature, because my body takes time to recognize the incoming danger and react.  As I move back, my rear leg is going to load up with my body weight and momentum.  I have to either put force against my momentum to stop the movement or keep stepping with the other leg to catch and redirect the momentum to avoid tipping past my support base (leg) and falling victim to the Law of Gravity.  At the same time, I have to redirect my momentum in time with moving my support (legs) to keep balance.  If I can guide this momentum back around without having to load up my leg (resist the momentum and then push back), I find that suddenly my time shortens between receive and counter.  For the uke, they are loading their lead leg as they project their strike, but they are easily able to keep tipping past the support of it and step forward again with the other side for a second strike.  This gives them the advantage of doing more within a frame of time.  This is where people get jammed up.

The Law of Time is consistent.  A second is a second.  A minute is a minute.  Within that Law, we can operate in such a way that we are able to do more within that second or minute.  However, if we spend our time trying to unload and push against the momentum we generated to get out of the way of the uke's strike, then when we start to move again, then next strike is already upon us.  We have to learn how to guide our momentum so that we don't do this, to cut out the wasted time in fighting our own action.  You can't change time, but you can change your timing.

Ok, you get where I'm going with that.  So, now let's look at Rules.  What I mean by Rules is simply the dictates of a technique or martial art.  Sports have rules.  They are there for a reason (safety and fairness).  In techniques, Rules are there in how a technique is performed.  It's practiced a certain way for a certain reason.  Sometimes it is to work with a particular Law.  Sometimes it's to fit a certain context (armored combat, for instance).  Sometimes it is fitting with the philosophy of the ryuha or teacher (such as Aikido).  Whatever the reason, Rules are there for people to follow, period.  If they aren't, it doesn't mean the technique isn't efficient or follows the Natural Laws.  It just didn't adhere to what the specific technique or kata dictates, or isn't fitting with the context presented, or possibly goes against the philosophy of the ryuha or teacher.  An example can be from our own Gyokko Ryu.  In this tradition, there are Rules that actually are written in the old densho documents.  One of them refers to taking away the opponent's power, but sparing their life.  This has to do with a philosophy or spiritual/religious belief.  So, you would be going against it if you did a technique where you cut the head off your opponent.  Or maybe you do a technique that involves killing an innocent person.  That would probably go against most people's "rules", I'm sure!  But, the technique itself could be efficient and effective and follow all the Natural Laws.  Unless, of course, you find it violates Moral Law (killing of innocents, etc).  But, that's another topic.

Lastly, I want to take a moment to discuss Purity.  By Purity, I am simply referring to stripping away that which is unnecessary, which interferes, that which makes movement inefficient.  For some, Purity is the pursuit of mastering the Rules of a technique, so that it confines to what the ryuha or master teaches (Purity of Form).  This is what most martial arts are like.  However, there is a different Purity.  We have heard it described as being Zero, breaking the form, etc.  However, in the pursuit of Purity, we can't confuse our breaking Rules with trying to break Laws.  In fact, my opinion simply is that the pursuit of Purity is to clear the vision so that we see less of the Rules and more of the Laws.  We understand movement on that level, because it follows naturalness.  We don't resist, but yield to the Natural Laws and operate accordingly.  By doing so, we discover a new world of possibilities that are not confined by Rules.  We don't just do things because 'that's the way it's taught'.  We understand why because it follows certain Laws (gravity, time, etc).  We start to see how we can operate within those Laws and know when we've violated them (loss of balance, too much time lapse, lack of patience, etc).  We can also manipulate circumstances so our uke also fights or violates these Laws (break their balance, cause them to take too much time, cause them to have to hurry, create panic and distraction, etc).  When we are in accordance with Natural Law, and either allow or cause our uke to have to fall out of compliance with Natural Law, we gain immediate advantage.  We can relax.  We can adapt.  We are free.  We become Pure, in my opinion.

There's more to this that I can write, but I think this is something best left for introspection and self-discovery.

Happy training!

My thoughts on Kaname かなめ

Soke has said this year that a main theme is this idea of 'kaname'. So far, I have heard it explained as pertaining to connections, transitions, and such things. I'm not going to pretend to even know what Soke means by such words. However, in my own study I have found an important meaning and, in my own current state of development in my budo path, it has come at an important time.

The kanji for 'kaname' is かなめ. The conventional interpretation is 'pivot' and 'vital point'. Now, I know by 'vital point', we aren't talking about kyusho, or the weak points of the body. Rather, this has more to do with a deeper meaning within a technique.

Every technique has actions, or sequence of specific movements. Those movements often are dependent on certain conditions to exist that make those movements logical and fitting to work properly. If those conditions change, the movement may no longer be appropriate. So, in the beginning training, it becomes important to focus on the correct attack so that the conditions are correct for the technique.

But, there is a deeper, more significant point here. In every action, there are points which are optimum for a counter or response. Every action has a weakness, or hole. Every action has a beginning and ending (timing). Every action has a line of force (angling). Every action has a range of effectiveness (distancing). Every time the body moves, there are always points it is balanced and not so balanced (kamae). And, when combined together, every attack by an uke has a specific 'kaname' when they are most vulnerable and the tori is most safe.

Even as an attack unfolds, you will see there is a specific point when the attack can be interrupted, manipulated, destroyed, and drained of power. Finding this moment is a search for 'kaname', the 'vital point'. It can also be another way to look at something else Soke has mentioned this year - the 'kyusho in the kukan'. But, although related, that's another topic for exploration.

When one looks at training from the perspective of finding that 'kaname', the techniques aren't what is seen anymore. The vision changes to present a different image. It's like the famous picture by the unknown artist where it is either a beautiful woman or an old woman depending on which you see first, but after a few minutes or so you can then see the other. The picture is the same, but your perspective now can see two pictures. Its not about the ink on the page (technique), but something deeper. It becomes a study of our own perspective instead.

For me and where I am at with my own training, I believe I am at my own 'kaname'. My vision is pivoting between technique and that mysterious place beyond technique. In class, because many of my students are new, I am focused on teaching them techniques, the tools they need their bodies to learn. But, for those who are more advanced, and especially for my own training, I want to develop a stronger sense to find this 'kaname' on an instinctual level - and develop my own taijutsu to operate within this 'vital point'. This last part is important, as it involves always being in this 'kamae', always in position to keep moving (tsugi), and constantly adjusting without sacrificing balance and power.

It's a challenging goal ahead for me and I'm looking forward to taking it on.

Gambatte!
 
 

Fumbling With A Topic (or should I "ought" to?)

I had a great conversation recently with a friend regarding individuals seeking martial arts training and whether they 'ought to'.  This led me to some deep thought and I would like to share with you my personal feelings regarding this.  I apologize if some of what I write offends anybody or seems harsh, but it's important to look at these things with a mature attitude.

For starters, let's take a look at history.  Martial arts came about because of the issue of violence.  It wasn't about trying to better ones' self, unlock some deep mystery about life and death, or build a vast network of McDojo schools.  In fact, martial arts were really a quest for survival skills that allowed one to be able to live through violence, whether in war, defending one's village and family, and defending one's self from an attacker.  It also included how to attack as a necessity for survival.  Some of this came from hunting skills to acquire food without gettung hurt or killed in the process.  It also evolved into protection from wild animals and other tribes looking to conquer and steal resources.  It was survival at it's most basic.

Eventually, military sciences were born from that, as groups became more sophisticated and societies developed.  Unit tactics evolved into a mainstream of training.  But, at the core, individual skills were still practiced, developed and nurtured.  Old veteran fighters shared their experiences with younger fighters and those who made a name for themselves became teachers as their trade.  Young warriors would hear of these people and seek out their guidance.  Some would be fortunate enough to have these teachers as part of their military group or society, so they had regular access to a quality teacher.  But, as warriorship became a trade or full time occupation, where personal skills were not just for success on the battelfield, but as a way to gain fame and status, early martial artists set out to increase their skills through training and challenges.  To find the best teachers, they would travel far, endure personal hardships, often becoming injured and sometimes even dying in the process.

But, finding a teacher didn't automatically mean you would be accepted as a student and certainly many young men were turned away, even if they gave up everything and went through immense sacrifice to get there.  Many also gave all to pursue notable teachers, only to find out the rumors and legends were either false or grossly overstated, including many frauds and cult leaders.  Some even discovered their great "master" was purely fictional.

Those who were fortunate enough, had the right "stuff", and were accepted as a student gave their lives to the training - because they knew what it took to get this opportunity.  Their teacher represented an ideal they sought for themselves, whether it was a specific style of swordsmanship, grappling, sticks and long staves, or whatever.  The whole thing even evolved into spiritual/religious training, where teachers were not just teaching fighting skills, but also spiritual guidance and lifestyle.  Some arts even dropped the combat aspect of their training to become entirely about personal development, spiritual practices, and such.

I say all this to illustrate the point that, historically, to be a budoka (martial artist) was a real thing.  It took personal courage, sacrifice and hard work.  There were no guarantees and sometimes people were simply not accepted for a variety of reasons.  In today's martial arts, most of the time whoever is willing to show up and pay tuition is automatically accepted into the class, whether that person really 'should' be part of the class.

In the Bujinkan, we have guidelines.  As part of those guidelines, it is made very clear that those with mental illness, bad character and criminal histories are supposed to be turned away.  This is important for reasons that should not need clarification.

But, what isn't mentioned is that not everybody is suited for this kind of training.  There are people who want to take up all sorts of things, but it doesn't mean that they are suited for all things.  That doesn't mean they couldn't be, either.  It just means that maybe *right now* they are not suited for it (unless the reason is such that it will always be a factor).  I'm not suited to climb a 1k meter rock face.  But, I could train for it, learn the techniques, and one day actually do it.  But, I couldn't go out right now and just start climbing.  Not successfully, anyway, and not without a high amount of personal risk.  I'm simply not ready yet.

There are people who come to a martial arts dojo and want to learn martial arts.  That's wonderful.  But, they may have deeply rooted emotional or health issues.  Maybe they were a victim of a terrible violent crime and they still have issues to work through regarding violence.  Would subjecting them to controlled violence on the mat be appropriate?  Some say so.  Some also say it could tip the balance and incur an emotional damage, a "re-victimization".  That's not a healthy approach to learning martial arts.

Compare that to someone who is terribly overweight, with zero physical fitness, who has a sedentary life and consumes all the wrong foods.  Would they be doing themselves the best good by continuing their bad habits, but coming to the dojo to learn martial arts?  Some think so (it is exercise, after all).  Some think you should at least prepare your body first for the training.

I write about this because these things are important to consider.  A teacher is supposed to look out for the best interest of their student, right?  So, would telling a student they really should go get a psychological evaluation first, to make sure they are emotionally and mentally able to benefit from training, be in line with looking out for the best interest of the student candidate?  Or maybe telling the terribly unhealthy student candidate they should condition their body a bit before taking on the demands of training, which not only will offer them a far better training experience, but also start them on a path towards increasing their health (since their own unhealthy lifestyle is a far greater danger)?

Some people would disagree.  Some would say their dojo training would encompass those things (yes, even 'healing').  I tend to lean towards disagreement with that thinking, at least for the classes I teach.  In my class, I train fighters.  I train people who are there to learn how to protect themselves and others from real violence.  We talk plainly about the violence and we explore a variety of situations that involve really brutal aspects.  This isn't to glorify the violence or build ego.  Rather, it's a mature approach to "why" we train.  I'm not a priest, I'm not a therapist, I'm not a fitness coach.  I'm a budoka.

And, I'm not judging any specific individual or group on their choice to train - and who to train.  I'm simply doing a bit of literary pondering on this subject.

For me, I prefer to surround myself with those who are great examples of budoka, who continue to push hard to overcome their obstacles, and have the internal balance, guts, capacity and talent that shows they are exactly where they "ought" to be.  They motivate, inspire and keep me going even when I start to question if I'm where I "ought" to be!

And, if I feel somebody isn't suited *right now* (or ever) for this kind of training, I believe it is my responsibility to turn them away.  I may even start their training by giving them a goal to be accepted in the class, such as spending a couple months in a fitness regimen (with obvious results), getting a doctor's clearance, getting a psychological evaluation, etc.

Comments regarding recent class training... :-)

For those who have been coming to class last week and this week, you'll notice the emphasis has been on using the hip. The hip is known in Japanese as "koshi", just like Koshi Nage means "hip throw", etc. However, if it is written a little differently, then we have "kosshi", which means "essence" or "marrow (center of bone)" or "essentials".

When we speak of "marrow" as in the skeleton, we are not confusing koppo, which relates to bone. In fact, the kanji "ko" in both koshi/kosshi and koppo is actually Kotsu, which means "bones". It's equally interesting to note that in Zen Buddhism, a Kotsu is a wooden scepter awarded by a teacher to a disciple when they have been granted permission to teach. It has an s-shaped curve, like a human spinal column. So, here we see the connection between the hips and the spine, which is also very evident as a core of movement behind Soke's budo.

What is important to understand is that the first three kata of the Kihon Happo are called Koshi Sanpo, not Kosshi Sanpo, although there are some versions that mix the two.

What I have discovered is that there isn't any difference between "kosshi" (essence) and "koshi" (hip). In fact, I have learned that in taijutsu, the essence or foundation of movement and power comes from the hip.

This was the first point of my training.

Whether you are doing ground or standing techniques, with or without weapons, the role of the hip is paramount. It controls the angle or plane of the body, provides the stability and balance, and powers the strikes. When we move off the base of our hips, our balance suffers. When we strike without our hips, our power suffers. When we attack our uke's hips or take away the balance, stability and power of their hips, they become vulnerable. Therefore, if you look at controlling the hips (yours and your uke's), you see the essence inside a technique.

The second point I have made in class is the topic of "sensory information". Your body perceives, adapts and learns through what it feels. Your mind, although it can control the body, operates seperately. This is why you have subconscious actions that happen when the conscious mind is distracted or 'turned off'. In the beginning of class, we worked on what I call "survival training". These are ground defense techniques that are physically challenging, with plenty of sensory information. They get internalized quickly because of the amount of data the body is receiving through the physical contact involved. Then, when we do our standing taijutsu, we do drills that involve the whole body, to provide more sensory information data your body will internalize.

What's important to note here is that your taijutsu relies on sensory data. In early training, this data needs to be physical. As we advance, our bodies become adept at perceiving sensory data that is less and less physical, as displayed in the sakki test given for godan ranking.

In our training, we look to also use this against our uke. By using softer movement and contact, we strip away what sensory data we give our uke. By lowering our kamae, changing angles to "off" angles, etc, we deprive the uke's subconscious of the sensory data it needs to adapt. When there is a lack of data, all that remains is confusion. Even a simple thing like a wide stance provides data. For example, stand at punching distance to your partner and look at his face. You will only see the upper torso of his body with your field of vision. However, if they extend a leg or arm out any direction, it expands their body into your field of vision, giving you more data. So, you can see how wide postures actually provide more sensory information the subconscious mind uses to adapt the body. Narrow postures and correct positioning/distancing/angling reduce the amount of data and confuses the uke's ability to adapt subconsciously. They have to look, to make a conscious act, in order to gain information. That gives you the timing gap you need to do something else. You can also provide false information so that they adapt incorrectly, but that's a further expansion on the topic we may approach later.

I hope this makes sense and helps you to understand what we are doing in class.


Gambatte!

Reflections on 2011...

As 2011 winds down to the last few days and a new year is right around the corner, I am finding myself reflecting on the past year and how that has shaped going into 2012.  Our Soke (grandmaster) dedicated 2011 to "Kihon Happo", with his usual play on kanji to provide alternate meanings and deeper significance.  For 2012, he announced the theme would center on "ken" or sword, with possibly longer weapons like yari (spear) and naginata (polearm).  However, as history has shown, what he actually teaches throughout the year will likely take many twists and turns, like following a good mystery story.

And that's just the point.

The mystery of Soke's budo is as elusive and subtle as a butterfly, yet as hard hitting and sometimes overwhelming as a bull.  Those who try to keep up with him only find themselves lost and confused, but struggling to continue on.  I believe that is the ultimate lesson he gives - to keep going ("gambatte") even when nothing makes sense.  Even when the mind is confused, one cannot stop and struggle.  He or she must let go and keep going, to be free, to be zero.  It is not necessary to understand, only to keep going.

In looking back at 2011, I made the year about our Kihon or fundamentals.  I started the year teaching most of the Tenchijin Ryaku no Maki, the 3 part book of selected techniques and skills that our Soke put together as a comprehensive training guide to help establish a foundation.  We ended the year with a little review from the students, having them come out and demonstrate something, anything, from their training experiences over the last year - and then we broke it down to look at possibilities, the inner workings and tied it together with other concepts and techniques.  So, we started with form and ended with no form.

In between the start and end of 2011 held many excellent training opportunities, with some exciting and educational workshops and seminars from top instructors, many of whom went to Japan to train with Soke and the Japanese senior teachers on many occasions throughout the year.  Having them to work with really helped me to try and keep in touch with the feeling of Soke's budo, even if I may not always have understood exactly what was being conveyed.  As I said previously, it's not important to understand with the mind.  It's important to keep moving the body.

This year I also found myself focusing my own training and teaching on what to do when taken to the ground.  With the help of some cross training friends, I picked up several really good techniques for escaping and even reversing somebody who is on top of you and trying to pound you into the dirt.  Even though these techniques came from a sport background, I found many ways to incorporate my Bujinkan training into these techniques, to take advantage of weak points and openings and use my ukemi taihen skills to protect myself, weaken their position, find the safe spaces/angles and escape or counter.  I wasn't trying to be any kind of MMA guy.  Rather, I saw this as a great opportunity to 'fix' a hole or vulnerability in my own training.  I also took on this new avenue of training with the pragmatic perspective to consider the reality of weapons, multiple attackers, environmental dangers (curb, stairs, furniture, passing vehicles, etc).

And, I also shared this with my own students - who quickly found great value in the training and I believe have a good foundation to deal with the reality that we may very well end up on our backs with a hostile attacker on top, pounding away at us with a rain of fists, fingers and elbows.  Or, maybe a weapon like a knife or firearm...

At a few points during the year, I learned some really good foundational techniques for using the katana and tachi swords.  I had some really bad habits that developed over the many years without my awareness and, thankfully, some good friends whom I value as my sempai (seniors) took the time to point out and provide correct instruction.  Now I can go confidently into 2012 with a good idea of what "ken kihon" to diligently train on, to not only close the holes, reverse the bad movement habits, but to also have correct form, control of proper distance and efficient power delivery.  Through this new awakening, I found that these things actually brought my kenjutsu more in line with my taijutsu - so that my kenjutsu and taijutsu are becoming one -jutsu.  I've always known that, but somehow it didn't translate in my body to my kenjutsu.

And, that leads me into where I feel I need to go in 2012.  I want to bring all my -jutsu into one.  We have our bugei, or warrior arts, that include weapons, striking, kicking, throwing, grappling, etc.  It is easy to pursue the various skills as seperate areas of study.  But, as was the case with my sword skills, this can lead to problems.  For my own training, I want to work harder to blend these bugei into one, so that there is no separation, no differences, no holes.  My body should work the same, no matter what -jutsu I am incorporating.  That means I am undefined; I am zero.

That's a lot harder than it sounds, believe me!

So, the reflections continue, as I work to find gems of lessons I may have missed or see the past with new eyes so that I may get as much from it as possible.  Then, with 2012 and a whole new year of training and learning ahead, I am excited to see what seeds planted then will start to blossom out now.

Gambatte!

Buyu

Friends...

I have many kinds of friends, like work friends, friends of friends, friends I see maybe once in a while, friends I see all the time, and even Facebook "friends" whom I've never personally met but share a common interest or two.  All my friends share important roles in my life and our connection is always maintained in some way, even with distance and time between us.

I even have those friends from my military "past life" and those who I've never served with, but because of our common military background, we just click as friends.

There are some friends who I consider family, because the connection of history and life between us is so intertwined that our relationship is no different than a family member.  In fact, some friends I am closer to than my own family, in the sense that they've shared more of my life than many members of my own family.

But, out of all those kinds of friends, none of them come close to the kind of unique relationship that exists with my friends in martial arts.  The martial arts are not the same as the military, yet they encompass a sort of pseudo military context.  However, the pursuit of martial arts is as much a personal quest of self-discovery as it is about learning survival and fighting skills.  It is this point that puts friendships in martial arts on a unique platform from all other kinds of friendships.  True "buyu" (martial arts friends) have a kinship with each other because each knows the internal and external struggles the other continues to face as they progress in training.  Each one knows there are ups and downs, success and disappointment, and the all-too-familiar question of "why" they each keep training.  They each know the walls, the plateaus, the high from moments of "getting it" and the lows of not "getting it".
There is a level of honesty that goes beyond boasting, masks and ego.  They know in the end, it's what they do on the mat that ultimately reveals the truth.  True buyu is based on respect because they each know they are willing to allow the other to see their imperfections, share in their success and lean on each other in their challenges.

It's a friendship that is truly unique and one to be cherished, nurtured and valued.

At the same time, this trust should not ever be violated.  Real buyu don't turn on each other, don't lead the other to failure, don't seek harm to the other and don't abandon the other in a time of need.

Recently, I have seen martial arts friends talk critically of each other, make fun of certain behaviors and do things that would be perceived as violating that spirit of trusted buyu.  But, I've also seen those same people be the first to stand up and welcome each other with hugs and even come to the defense of a fellow buyu against someone saying derogatory things.

My point is that we, as buyu, may bicker with each other, we may talk trash with each other, we may poke fun at each other, but when it comes down to it, we will still back each other up and defend each other against those not part of the special relationship that exists between us.

Funny, but that's exactly how it is in even the closest of families!  Coincidence?  I think not.