Recently I was in Japan, and during a training break one of the teachers wanted to know if anyone had any questions. When nobody volunteered anything he said that it doesn't always matter if you have questions or not, because the answers don't always make sense, you will understand when you are ready.
This is a little bit how I feel about the book Tetsuzan which was recently re-released. I originally bought it about ten years ago, I skimmed through it searching for answers to my questions, put it down with good intentions of studying it later, and then after circumnavigating the globe on my travels, I realized I could no longer find it. I soon forgot about it altogether, it was just a book after all, I had many.
Now in 2014 I just read through it again, and the whole experience was different. Instead of looking for what I wanted, I just read through it diligently and let whatever attracted my attention simply 'be'. I got a lot out of it, but the most shocking revelation of all was that.....nothing has changed.
Let me explain via one simple example why I say this. One of the many recurring messages of the book was how important it is to gain good basics before trying to do all the advanced movements. Something I have been told before. Something said at the same Daikomyosai where I bought the previous book in 2004. Something said in Hombu dojo just last month by Soke himself to the entire class.
So why? Why is this message repeated over and over again? My only logical explanation is that generally people are not doing it. They were not doing it 25 years ago, 10 years ago, or last month. And for me this is almost good news. It seems that human beings have a tendency, a tendency towards impatience, and lack of commitment. Why is this in any way good news? Well, because it turns out I am only human after all. Prone to weaknesses, shared by people all over the world. That hearing or reading something is not the same as really understanding or knowing something, but that is OK because it is still the first step. So often I hear that 'acceptance is the first step'.
Furthermore the book reveals that only those who really improve themselves as people can get the most out of this Budo. Tetsuzan is chock full of warning for those that underestimate the need for a good heart, and the importance of defending others or living a good life. That is a relief for me, improving oneself continuously is no easy task, but we are all in the same boat in that respect.
I think the only way I could not have found benefit in revisiting this book, is if I truly believed I had learned all the lessons it provided already. Instead I found the book very revealing, about how little has changed in the pitfalls of studying an ancient martial art. This art is hundreds of years old, and stems from transmissions beyond that. Yes, the book was written many years ago, but the techniques of the Bujinkan are even older, we still practice them.
Tetsuzan available here
Couldn't have put it better myself
At a recent class I was training with a very good Buyu friend of mine, who also happens to be in great physical shape. It was a real opportunity to stress-test my kamae and see if I could get the right positioning and application of a technique. I knew that if I did not have a tactical advantage I would unlikely overpower him. I had one advantage though, he had missed a few classes lately.
We took our time and coached each other through the motions, constantly trying to smooth out the rough edges of our form. We joked that every time we started to improve in one area, we might lose it in another. Our distancing improved, and that threw our timing out, then we improved our timing and we started using the wrong muscles to apply the technique, we started using the right ones and our distance was impacted. Jack told us that this was the whole purpose of training versus fighting, that training was the time to learn and get better. So we had better utilize the opportunity.
At one point my partner got impatient and muscled through the form, this resulted in an incomplete technique that did not quite work. If done quickly it may have caused some damage, but it just didn't feel right to either of us. Of course, this was the one that our instructor observed...
"You muscled it!" exclaimed Jack, smiling.
"I know, I know..." said my partner. And then suddenly he said "I'm supposed to get in to a good position so that I can control him easily, and he finds it very hard to control me, that way a weaker person can take on a stronger opponent and win. Right?"
A few of us stopped. Although nobody, not even Jack, had said it quite so succinctly and directly, that was exactly what I felt we had been focusing on for a while. At least I hoped that was right...
"Exactly!" confirmed Jack, "I couldn't have put it better myself."
It seemed we all knew what we were supposed to be doing, we just had to keep doing it until it became integral to our training.
We took our time and coached each other through the motions, constantly trying to smooth out the rough edges of our form. We joked that every time we started to improve in one area, we might lose it in another. Our distancing improved, and that threw our timing out, then we improved our timing and we started using the wrong muscles to apply the technique, we started using the right ones and our distance was impacted. Jack told us that this was the whole purpose of training versus fighting, that training was the time to learn and get better. So we had better utilize the opportunity.
At one point my partner got impatient and muscled through the form, this resulted in an incomplete technique that did not quite work. If done quickly it may have caused some damage, but it just didn't feel right to either of us. Of course, this was the one that our instructor observed...
"You muscled it!" exclaimed Jack, smiling.
"I know, I know..." said my partner. And then suddenly he said "I'm supposed to get in to a good position so that I can control him easily, and he finds it very hard to control me, that way a weaker person can take on a stronger opponent and win. Right?"
A few of us stopped. Although nobody, not even Jack, had said it quite so succinctly and directly, that was exactly what I felt we had been focusing on for a while. At least I hoped that was right...
"Exactly!" confirmed Jack, "I couldn't have put it better myself."
It seemed we all knew what we were supposed to be doing, we just had to keep doing it until it became integral to our training.
2d vs 3d Waza
"You are trying to do a technique!" said Jack. I knew I was, old habits truly die hard. Such a statement would have sounded like madness to me years ago, but not these days. We had been practicing some concepts from Ichimonji no Kata, and at first I had been in a fairly comfortable zone. I had been watching the tactical space I was familiar with, I knew the terrain. As we moved on to different shaped attacks, and different directions to maneuver, started including Gyaku and other forms, I started to struggle.
Jack mentioned that we students were mostly doing two dimensional techniques. In other words, we were trying to 'push' our opponents down (one direction) and in order to do this we were trying to unbalance them with a lateral movement (second direction). He pointed out that such techniques might not work because the opponent must simply resist sufficiently in two dimensions to prevent them. If the opponent is stronger than you, or has fast reactions, they have a good chance of beating/escaping your technique. Instead we were told to use three dimensional movements, adding an extra direction of movement to the form. This makes it much harder for the opponent to resist and converts their resistance into further imbalance. This is much more efficient.
I knew this, I should have known this. I even teach this. So what was wrong?
I was in the wrong place. A three dimensional technique uses Kaname (a spiraling action), which requires you to be in the Kukan no Kyusho (correct point in space), and you can only find that point if you are paying attention to the changing tactical environment.
I have been taught many times the precedence of Ethics first, then Tactics, and finally Technique. It is a natural law of nature. If you are focused too much on doing a specific technique you might lose focus on the tactical space. If you lose the tactical space your technique will become two dimensional. It might work, it might not, depending on your opponent. By focusing on being in the correct tactical position as a priority, the technique can become much more efficient. You don't have to 'try' so much.
So when I hear my teacher say "You are trying to do a technique!", perhaps I should try to be more tactically positioned instead. I already know how to try and 'force' a technique if I am in the wrong place. If I want to learn and improve I need to start focusing on the higher priorities.
Jack mentioned that we students were mostly doing two dimensional techniques. In other words, we were trying to 'push' our opponents down (one direction) and in order to do this we were trying to unbalance them with a lateral movement (second direction). He pointed out that such techniques might not work because the opponent must simply resist sufficiently in two dimensions to prevent them. If the opponent is stronger than you, or has fast reactions, they have a good chance of beating/escaping your technique. Instead we were told to use three dimensional movements, adding an extra direction of movement to the form. This makes it much harder for the opponent to resist and converts their resistance into further imbalance. This is much more efficient.
I knew this, I should have known this. I even teach this. So what was wrong?
I was in the wrong place. A three dimensional technique uses Kaname (a spiraling action), which requires you to be in the Kukan no Kyusho (correct point in space), and you can only find that point if you are paying attention to the changing tactical environment.
I have been taught many times the precedence of Ethics first, then Tactics, and finally Technique. It is a natural law of nature. If you are focused too much on doing a specific technique you might lose focus on the tactical space. If you lose the tactical space your technique will become two dimensional. It might work, it might not, depending on your opponent. By focusing on being in the correct tactical position as a priority, the technique can become much more efficient. You don't have to 'try' so much.
So when I hear my teacher say "You are trying to do a technique!", perhaps I should try to be more tactically positioned instead. I already know how to try and 'force' a technique if I am in the wrong place. If I want to learn and improve I need to start focusing on the higher priorities.
Soft training and slow training
"Everyone knows that the yielding overcomes the stiff,and the soft overcomes the hard.Yet no one applies this knowledge.”― Tao Te Ching
Last night we continued our theme of controlling the opponent through his own resistance. Jack mentioned that, last year in Japan, Hatsumi Sensei had revealed the importance of a well integrated body combined with soft hands. I had certainly noticed that concept before when experiencing techniques from various Shihan, but I couldn't understand how or why it worked. It was also very difficult to practice because although it sometimes 'just happened' for me, it wasn't repeatable and therefore difficult to improve upon.
We practiced a technique whereby there was a temporary moment of body tension that caught the opponent by surprise and unbalanced them, it was done subtly but we focused on it in slow time. Without slowing ourselves down we could not 'feel' the effectiveness of our kamae, could not develop our timing, and our uke could not experiment with natural resistance. There was no way to improve by rushing it. As we got more comfortable and as the technique sped up, the kamae, the tension, and the technique itself started to disappear and blend in to our movement.
Some of us had a Muso Dori variation applied to our arm. It felt dangerous, scary, as if our joint was at risk of being damaged, even though it was slow and his hands were soft, there was no way to prevent the pain without throwing ourselves onto the floor or breaking our kamae even further. Jack explained that in a real moment of danger our adrenalin will excite our muscles, and our movements will become fast and hard, adding an extra 30%, or so, of intention. Because of this, it is not necessary to try and hurt the Uke with hard and fast motions when training properly, that could happen anyway, depending on the situation. So this focused slow and attentive training was the way to really teach our bodies how to do it correctly.
Training while injured
I have often heard my teacher talk about training while injured, more importantly though he actually does it himself as an example. Please note the use of the word 'injured', rather than 'highly contagious', or 'seriously ill'.
Many Budoka train frequently, with various different partners, in various different locations. Some work out, or partake in sports, others do physical tasks for work. The chance of hurting a muscle, tendon, or bone over time are high, not to mention the elements of repetition and natural aging. Eventually, something will go wrong. What then?
It really is a personal decision, but here are a few things to consider.
Training should be good for your body if done correctly. You should usually leave the dojo with a sense of well-being, as opposed to a reservation of "how much longer will I be able to do this?". Training should get the juices flowing, and serve as a source of rehabilitation for injured areas.
It is sometimes possible to learn from the injury, and use it to improve your Taijutsu. Often bad form increases the pain experienced performing certain movements. For example I once had a bad shoulder, if I did my Jodan Uke incorrectly I would experience searing pain in my nervous system. By training while injured I re-enforced myself to do a better job of it.
The injury may have happened because of something you can change (bad choice of training partner aside). It could be that you have issues with structural Kamae and movement. Other considerations might be the overall state of your health, such as extra weight and lack of flexibility. Even how we deal with the stress in our lives can effect how we move.
Injuries are a part of life, and real life does not go on hold for you. Part of training is to be able to accept and adapt to the situation. What if you are in danger while injured? It is sometimes good to test yourself a little, and see how you would 'keep going' despite an injury.
Other people might be injured too. Training with other injured people gives you both a chance to train without impacting the rest of the dojo, you can also both appreciate and protect certain areas. Training with injured people and taking their condition into account can also be good training.
Many Budoka train frequently, with various different partners, in various different locations. Some work out, or partake in sports, others do physical tasks for work. The chance of hurting a muscle, tendon, or bone over time are high, not to mention the elements of repetition and natural aging. Eventually, something will go wrong. What then?
It really is a personal decision, but here are a few things to consider.
Training should be good for your body if done correctly. You should usually leave the dojo with a sense of well-being, as opposed to a reservation of "how much longer will I be able to do this?". Training should get the juices flowing, and serve as a source of rehabilitation for injured areas.
It is sometimes possible to learn from the injury, and use it to improve your Taijutsu. Often bad form increases the pain experienced performing certain movements. For example I once had a bad shoulder, if I did my Jodan Uke incorrectly I would experience searing pain in my nervous system. By training while injured I re-enforced myself to do a better job of it.
The injury may have happened because of something you can change (bad choice of training partner aside). It could be that you have issues with structural Kamae and movement. Other considerations might be the overall state of your health, such as extra weight and lack of flexibility. Even how we deal with the stress in our lives can effect how we move.
Other people might be injured too. Training with other injured people gives you both a chance to train without impacting the rest of the dojo, you can also both appreciate and protect certain areas. Training with injured people and taking their condition into account can also be good training.
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