Quotations from Soke III
by Benjamin Cole
This is a collection of quotations made by Masaaki Hatsumi-sensei during practice sessions at Ayase, as recorded in my training diary. Despite the current debate over the role of the Internet in the Bujinkan, I, Ben, will continue to make this part of my diary available. If you truly look at what Hatsumi-sensei is saying, you will understand that these words (as with any printed, spoken, or otherwise) are to be used as a reference, nothing more. It is up to YOU to make the proper choices in your life and in your training. My hope is that more and more Bujinkan practitioners will increase the intensity and frequency of their training as a result of this series. I also hope that these words will push people to do what they can to make it to Japan to train with the only one who truly understands this art. As for the quotes themselves, I try to remember the general flow of the training sessions when I record my thoughts, because, as Hatsumi-sensei once said, “I teach from what I see around me.” I have tried keep these quotes in essentially the same order as they were made during the training session, but naturally memory does play its tricks. These are my interpretations as to what Hatsumi-sensei was saying, based upon my feelings at the time. They should not be viewed as verbatim nor as “official.” Words in parentheses are my comments, most of which are for clarification.
June 28 (Friday)
“I went to this federation of martial artists gathering the other day with
Anthony (Netzler). It was good to meet these people. There were many good
instructors, but also some pitiful ones. It was a good experience.”
“As I have mentioned before, these five or six years are going to be very important. They, combined with the three preceding years, are the times of blooming in the Bujinkan. I decided a few years back to start teaching you all in this way. Those who fall back on what they learned before, and think it sufficient, are kidding themselves. If they make their own curriculum and teach that, their students are the ones who ultimately suffer. And that distresses me.”
“This period for the Bujinkan is like a watermelon. We are all trying to mature into large delicious watermelon. Watermelon may all look the same on the outside, but only some of them will be succulent and delicious. Others won’t taste very good at all. I hope that you all grow into large, delicious watermelon.”
“Don’t be concerned about the neck right now. It will take you too long if you try to go straight from the block. His sword will come in right here (to your ’do’) and you’ll get killed. Rather, take the closest target—that’s the hands. Then go for the kill.”
“Even if you miss (with your sword), just keep flowing into the next technique. Doing so will save your life.”
(Concerning a thrust technique) “Once you’ve got the frontal one down, try to do this technique by moving off to the side.”
“Naturally, an attacker is not going to attack if you don’t give him an opening.”
(About a rolling technique) “Learning this technique should take you about three months. Use the rest of today to just practice this technique. If you can just grasp the essentials of it, that will be sufficient.”
“If you suddenly think you’ve got it, you don’t. That means you are probably creating your own style and falling back on that. Nothing is more frightening than someone who thinks they’ve got it, when they actually don’t. They’ll most probably be killed by that mistake.”
(Concerning the rolling technique) “When Takamatsu-sensei was 88 teaching me this technique, I was in my thirties. He would get so angry with me and would constantly yell at me, calling me ‘foolish’ and ‘terrible.’ I would go home and practice and practice, then go back... But I still couldn’t get it.”
“He used to hit me with ‘bokken,’ too.”
“I can’t teach these techniques. You’ve got to discover how to do them yourselves. It’s not a matter of understanding it in your head, it’s a matter of getting your body to do them.”
“When you get to my level, it’s hard to get down what you want to teach in books and videos. Those media can’t do it justice. We are dealing with the three-dimensional here. And from there, beyond.”
“I write books when I see a hole that needs filling. But most of these techniques can’t be explained in that medium properly.”
“Writing books in the past was kinda like P.R. There were plenty of swordsmen better than Miyamoto Musashi in his time, but they didn’t write any books. But everyone remembers Musashi because of his ‘The Book of Five Rings.’ There are people all over the world writing books and putting out materials in much the same way. It gives them more credence than what they deserve... You have to have the ability to discern who is genuine and who is fraudulent.”
“I only teach things once. Your job is to absorb all of what I am teaching. Plus, there’s the fact that age will take its toll on my memory the older I grow. (He laughs)”
“Your life is on the line. Practice well.”
“You are all making sacrifices to train here. You are gaining this knowledge first-hand. You should all be proud that you are representing the Bujinkan.”
“When rolling, you must examine the area onto which you will roll and then adjust accordingly. You could end up further away from your opponent and unable to reach them with your sword. Or you could get too close. Spacing is very important.”
July 2 (Tuesday)
“This art begins with Ninpo, or Ninjutsu. From there it moves to Budo, or
martial arts. Ninpo and Budo are one and the same.”
“Here there are no fifth dans; there are no tenth dans. Everyone is the same here.”
“There are three different ways you can have your hands in ‘Chudan no kamae.’ They can be either fully extended, partially bent, or against your chest. Practice them all many, many times until you become comfortable with them.”
“Always take the tip of your sword to their left shoulder.”
“From now on, you must strive to cut out unnecessary movement. Waste in movement is wrong and will get you killed.”
“You’re not coming in with a berzerker attack. You must keep control of your weapon at all time. No giant cuts. Short controlled cuts. No waste.”
“Once you get the sword in them, leave it there. Then if they try to turn against you, you just run them through (like this).”
“It doesn’t matter if you block the second arm or not. Just get your hand in position and they will be unable to strike you.”
“It doesn’t matter if you have short legs or long ones for this kick. Everyone’s problem is that they are not bringing their knee to their chests. Do it this way.”
“Don’t forget this hand, people. Your left hands are all dying on this technique. Your opponent is in position to kick you so be aware.”
(After calling out people to show their interpretations) “You need to take all of these good points to heart. Take other people’s good points to heart... There is no need for me to say this is a good technique or that is a good technique.”
“It’s not a question of this technique working or that technique being ‘cool.’ The most important thing is to survive.”
“You don’t have to do it exactly the same way I did it. Just feel the flow of the situation and take control, using whatever technique comes to light.”
“In a real war, if you go in a set formation, they’ll just mow you down with their guns... Similarly, don’t follow a set pattern in your movements in a fight.”
“Let them go. You must let them go a little to let them put themselves in a worse position (by moving for a technique.)”
“A martial artist (‘budoka’) does not try to steal a technique. That is for thieves and pickpockets.”
“Drop them into a trap. Let them go a little, then drop them into a trap.”
“Even if you are the one being attacked, you must be aware of all the holes in your opponent’s position. (READ: As you could see, it looked like I was going to get screwed, but suddenly I was on top and out of danger.)”
“For these techniques, you must have the fifth dan sense. That is why everyone who has attained that level should be training here with me.” (Hint, hint.)
“I am not teaching techniques. I am teaching flow. I am teaching nothingness.”
“Don’t hesitate and don’t hold back. In a real confrontation, if you do, you die.”
“You must lift up. Use your body, not your hands.”
“Use the sword as though you were not using it.”
“If you think of using the sword for the block, you’ve locked yourself into the technique and will not be able to do the next movement (a cut).“
“Move as though you do not have a sword in your hands.“
“You don’t have to cut the torso, people. You can cut whatever’s there. Cut the hands, if you want.”
“The movement is exactly like Mutto Doori.”
“I am pulling him here (where his hands touch his hilt). I can pull him toward me here and impale him. Or can lower his center of balance here and then kill him.“
July 9 (Tuesday)
(Before practice, upon seeing two people practicing knife techniques) “Don’t
try to fight for the knife like that. If they’re stronger, they’ll win.
Rather, ignore it and strike here (to the face). Or grab their other arm and
cut it with their own knife like this... You would have never thought of
that, would you? They wouldn’t have either.”
“Try not to stop walking when you draw your sword. That’s Iaido. And in a real situation, that is no good. You don’t want to stop and draw; you want to draw as you’re walking. This is an example of how to attack without any hint of the attack.”
“Use your body to cut here and just walk through.”
“If they try to turn to face you (when you move behind them), you can put your tip here at their shoulder and keep them from turning on you.”
“If I were doing this technique (in ‘jissen’) I would not stop walking here. But then you couldn’t see what I was doing. Rather I keep moving and cut the tendons here, before moving back here. At normal speed you couldn’t see this cutting. Look for the little things in your training.”
“You must make the ability to strike the ‘kyusho’ as you move from one technique to the next innate.”
“Don’t learn this technique. Use this technique to learn your spacing. Distance is very important. If you’re too far or too close you can’t do it properly.”
“Practice this well so that you always cut to the ‘jakkin.’”
“This technique should take you about five or six years to learn.”
“People everywhere are complaining about each other. This guy sucks. Or that guy’s teaching things the wrong way. The reason they do that is that they don’t understand my art. And this saddens me. I wouldn’t feel any remorse if those people were to leave the Bujinkan. Their leaving would actually bring more people—good people—into this art. And that would provide fertile ground for more goodness. More people would come to the Tai Kais to train with each other as well.”
“It’s like you’re dealing with a wild animal. If you go to grab a wild animal, it will run away. That’s a natural reaction. So you can’t go into a fight with the intention of cutting this way or doing that technique. You have to be able to create the opportunities.”
“During the times of the warring states in Japan, everyone was like a wild animal. They would react to whatever you intended to do. So the only way to win was to have no intention.”
“It’s not important if you cut them here. The most important thing is that you don’t get cut.”
“This is why I don’t like to write books any more. Having the technique done to you and experiencing it yourself is the only way to learn it. This stuff can’t be taught. This stuff can’t be understood through merely words. It must be experienced personally. Books are for use AFTER you know the techniques. It’s the same for the scrolls. (Or Ben’s diary.) If you know the technique, then read the words and it makes sense.“
“Takamatsu-sensei once told me a story. One day, his teacher Ishitani Matsutaro came to him and said, ‘I can teach you no more, boy.’ And with that, he passed the Densho for Takagi Yoshin Ryu to him. Takamatsu-sensei was only seventeen at the time. Ishitani-sensei was ninety.“
“Just because you train with me, don’t assume that you have actually learned anything. Too many people around the world have made that mistake or continue to do so.”
“So few arts break down these techniques for different weapons, such as the ’ken.’ That is why training in this way is so important.”
After practice one foreign visitor wanted to see if Hatsumi-sensei would be willing to spare some time to explain a little about healing methods in Ninjutsu. I was asked to translate. Soke’s answer was a very Japanese way of saying “No,” but was nevertheless extremely interesting.
Q: “I was wondering if you might have some time to explain a little about healing methods in Ninjutsu one weekend before I leave?”
A: “That’s a serious subject. A very serious subject... Humans expect too much of everything. They want to know how to live longer, or stay healthy. They’re never willing to admit that they are living animals that age and will eventually die... Such a talk as you ask would take many, many hours. And it would be very complicated.”
Q: “How would I say this? What about focusing your ‘ki’ and using that to heal?”
A: “It’s all the same. Focusing your ’ki’ (called ’Chi Kung’ in Chinese or ’Kikou’ in Japanese). Healing. Medicine. It’s all the same.”
Q: “What I’m really interested in is the so called ’Tradition Ninjutsu Healing.’ Is there such a thing?”
A: “Oh, yes. It exists. I’ve written about it in one of my books. And I recently gave a talk on it at Manchester University in Britain.”
Q: “Was your mention of such things in your book very long?”
Q: “Have there been any articles about your talk in Manchester? Or is there
anyone I can contact about it?”
A: “Rose-san... Chris Rose. He might have something on that.”
Q: “The reason why I ask is that I have studied such things as Chinese
healing and Indian healing. We use these symbols—these various symbols—for
the healing process, but very few people really understand what the symbols
are.”
A: “People are always looking for the miracle pill. There are such providers
of knowledge in all lands. But they always grow old and die as well. People
try to look far and wide for all the answers. But they forget to recognize
that which is good within their own land. It’s kinda like Japanese houses.
This is the land of wood. Over the years, the traditional Japanese house of
wood and ‘tatami’ has been replaced with Western style architecture. Only now
have people realized in hindsight that sticking with Japanese houses might
have been better.”
Q: “Yeah. There’s nothing like sitting in a ‘tatami’ room with good
ventilation during the summer, is there?”
A: “No, there’s not. The things you ask cannot be taught or learned on a
mental level. They have to be discovered and learned through personal
experience.”
Q: “Like what you talked about today with Taijutsu techniques?”
A: “Exactly. Even if I were to explain things to you, it wouldn’t matter.
Because it is different for every person. Ten different people will have ten
different interpretations. But after all, isn’t that what medicine is? A
doctor’s purpose is to heal his patients, but he must adjust the medicine,
treatment, time, and so on to meet the personal needs of each patient. He has
to understand the patient from the patient’s point of view. In a way, he has
to be the patient.”
Q: “I see.”
A: “I have tenth dans whom I am still correcting daily on their mistakes.
This is because ‘they haven’t got it.’ But when they do, everything will come
together.”
Q: “I see you have to go. You’ve been very kind. Thank you.”
A: “You’re welcome.”
July 16 (Tuesday)
“Naginata, bo, yari... By learning the character of these different weapons,
you will come to understand Kihon Happo. Those around the world who have not
been training with me over the last four or five years truly don’t understand
this point.”
“When one begins learning an art—gets involved in the fine arts—there’s a
belief in Japan that the best age to do so is the sixth day of the sixth
month after your sixth birthday. And they say that you can finally get your
art down on the sixth day of the sixth month after your sixty-sixth
birthday.(He laughs) I feel that only now — now that I’ve reached that age
— am I finally able to teach you all what Takamatsu-sensei was teaching
me... I feel kinda bad that it’s taken me this long to be able to teach this
way to you all.”
“Everyone’s not using their legs.”
“If you let them go here, they will get away from you. Follow them and
control their movement like this.”
“If you had killed them, then they would be useless here.” (They’d be on the
ground and all limp so you couldn’t use them as a shield.)
“As you can see, there’s just too much stuff. It’s so minute as well. That’s
why I cannot put this stuff into books... Books are for kindergartners. You
know, you learn from books when you don’t know anything, like when you’re in
kindergarten. After that, their not needed... Modern education is misguided.
That’s because it doesn’t teach you how to live.”
“You have to turn your ‘saya’ to the side, so you can cut straight to their
‘do.’”
“Don’t forget to push your ‘saya’ back. It will help you to draw.”
“You’re not trying to cut them. You’re trying to hold them. If you had cut
them, you could not move freely if there was another attacker.”
“Too many people think swords are just for cutting. That’s silly. They can be
used for striking...use the ‘tsuba,’ the ‘tsuka,’ the ‘saya,’ as well. They
can be used for holding, tying up, or cutting.”
“If you use swords only for cutting, you would be like the ‘tsurigiri.’ And
that’s silly. (In ancient times, ‘tsurigiri’ was the practice of wandering
around at night choosing random victims on which to practice your sword
techniques. Obviously, this was illegal and looked down upon. Its modern
equivalent is buying a new gun, then going out to a nearby playground to
practice your target shooting. Obviously, it’s bad for morale.)”
“This stuff cannot be taught. It has to be discovered for yourself.”
“By turning your body this way, you will completely amputate their foot at
the ankle here.”
“I am showing you this so you do not think that Mutto Doori is the end.”
“Don’t hit their arm with your ‘tsuka’ from the side like this. Practice
hitting straight on... No, you people are not using your bodies. Lift your
knee like this as you step back then rock forward and whack ’em. It hurts.”
“You can hit them with the ‘tsuba’ as well. That hurts worse.”
“Don’t look at your weapons! Don’t look at your opponent! Look at everything
around you. You don’t know how many opponents could be around you.”
“It’s okay if you didn’t get it. That’s what practice is for. Just keep doing
it until you get it. It will come... (After several embarrassing minutes in
front of everyone.) Good. See you did it.”
“Look with your feet.” (Initially, this statement was mistranslated during
practice as “Look at the feet,” because the concept was so...different.)
“You can tell who has been practicing and who hasn’t by looking at their
movement.”
“You could have two swords like this (on both hips like a gun slinger). And
you could draw them like this. (Draws them simultaneously with the hand of
the same side) Don’t think, ‘Oh, my sword has to be here on this side.’ Too
many writers and movie makers don’t understand this point and always portray
swords worn in one way.”
“You could strap another sword on your back like this and have three swords.
You could have a ‘daito’ and a ‘shoto’ on this side, and a ‘tachi’ here, and
another one on your back... Try to be better armed than Robocop.)”
“For this one, when they come to punch, you merely draw your sword halfway.
They’ll freeze in fear, and their other limbs won’t come in to attack...
You’re trying to control them — encompass them—here. They will be unable to
attack you. Then you can talk to them and try to calm them down. Ask them,
’Why does life have to be so short?’ (He laughs) If they don’t get your point
(that it’s stupid to punch someone wearing a sword), then just slide forward
as you finish drawing, and kill them.”
At one point, someone piped up with a comment worth writing: “I was just
talking with Sensei and he asked me to share our conversation with you. I
just mentioned that it looked like many people were not practicing with the
intensity they would need in ‘jissen.’ I mentioned that many people were just
going through the movements and drawing their swords. Sensei has mentioned
before that these techniques should be practiced for real combat. Later, when
he mentions another point, everyone focuses on that point, forgetting about
the other things he said, such as the importance of combat utility. Looking
around, it seems like people forget his previous comments as soon as a new
one is made. That is because they want to be spoon-fed everything, like
babies.... Some people actually say that Hatsumi-sensei is not a good teacher
because he doesn’t constantly say those things. But that is just because
those people expect to be spoon-fed. They don’t take responsibility for their
own training. And that is a true shame.”
July 19 (Friday)
“Your martial arts training is your own experience.”
“I am teaching to fifth dan or above—those with the feeling. Strive for the
feeling, not the technique.”
“I’ve told everyone this over and over. Always lower your hips when someone
goes to throw you like this.”
(Talking about moving into ichi-monji) “It is important to have the Kihon
down here.”
(Talking about moving back into ichimonji against a judo throw) “When you can
do the first step correctly, you can do ‘henka.’”
“You need to make sure you don’t cut yourself when you draw your sword. If
you tried to do that technique and were a woman with breasts, you would have
cut your breast off. Or you could cut your nose off. (Don’t laugh.) These
things do happen and you need to be aware of them.”
“Everything’s undecided, yet still decided. The opponent never knows what
will happen to him and is constantly being put in positions from which he can
do nothing.”
“There used to be some swordsmen who would take ‘sake’ into their mouth and
then spit on their hilts (I don’t know why, folks.). Others would just
swallow the ‘sake,’ rather than waste it. You know, alcohol abuse. (He
laughs) ... You can only use Japanese ‘sake’ for this—good ‘sake.’ You could
also set fire to your hilt, too, if you wanted. (But why would I want to?)”
“Sword is a stiff weapon. You may move very softly without a sword, but when
you use one, there is a tendency to stiffen up. It should be the other way
around. You should be able to make the sword soft like your taijutsu. (Point
well taken)”
July 23 (Tuesday)
“This is why I tell you not to withdraw your sword once you’ve gotten it in
their bodies. Turn the blade down like this (sound effect) and then with all
your weight, drop your knees and grind it down into them.”
“Stick your sword straight down here (the soft spot near the clavicle) and
then they can’t move.”
“Use dead bodies.”
“If you stick your tip all the way through them and into the ground, they
become an object you can use to your advantage. Line the dead bodies up one
beside the other and build a wall. This could act as cover against arrow
attacks, for example.”
“Using dead bodies like this would also be effective against horses. The
horses have armor and so do the riders. They would be too heavy to jump and
would trip.”
“You could also hide behind the bodies like this. And when your enemy gets
close, you can stab them through the openings (between their arms, etc.) like
this.”
“You must be willing to use everything at your disposal, including dead
bodies. Like that Argentinean rugby team that went down in the mountains.
They actually had to eat bodies to stay alive.” (Depicted in the movie
“Alive,” I believe.)
(To a practitioner) “You have to be aware of your body. You are taller than
him, so you have to drop down a little and then rise up to make it more
effective.”
“Know your body and your weapon. If you arms are long and your blade short
and you go to do this technique, you may accidentally draw your sword when
you don’t want to, and be killed because of that mistake.”
(To a practitioner) “Doing the central technique is very important. Don’t do
’henka’ until you get the central technique down first.” “Everyone has his or
her own style... I won’t tell you which one is correct.”
“It not a block. Use your spirit to immobilize them.”
“Everyone has this spookiness within them. You must learn to release it to
control the situation.”
“There are times when even the best swordsman can’t draw. For example, when
you are in room with a low ceiling. You go to draw like this and it hits the
ceiling. So you need to be able to respond to every situation, perhaps by
re-sheathing your sword and going to your knees to draw.”
“There is no difference between the dans after the fifth. There is no
difference between a fifth dan and a tenth dan. All fifth dans or above
should be training with me. For that is the only way to learn this art. I am
not saying this to be mean; I’m saying this because of my age. I feel that
this is the best time for me to be sharing this art with you all. In a few
years, I’ll be hunched over like this using a walking stick. You won’t be
able to see anything then. (He laughs at this reality I wish never happens.)”
“Move your left leg as if drawing a picture with it.”
“Moving this left foot back is like dancing...like the salsa... That’s why
the Argentinean president sent me a letter the other day. (He laughs)”
“Move your left leg, not your middle one.) ... I’m not being facetious here.
In times of battle, many times men’s balls would shrivel up. (Don’t ask me
why, folks.) If you were able to be hanging freely during such trying times,
that was quite an accomplishment.”
“The books and videos I make are merely guides. If you don’t train with me,
you will never understand these movements. They can’t be gained merely from
these materials. That’s why I no longer like to release such things. Too many
people just watch the videos and teach directly from them. This is a mistake.
The videos are guides, that’s all. I do, however, recommend you get a hold of
the videos available for the various Tai Kais. Use them as a reference for
understanding these movements.”
(At the end of practice) “If you have a sword when you are in seiza (sitting
on your knees) keep it on your left like this. If there is someone of high
status sitting in front of you, turn your sword over so the blade (curve) is
inside. This is so you cannot draw it against them. This is proper manners.
As well, rather than having your hilt pointing straight forward, point it out
(to 11:00) like this.”
(At the end of practice) “You cannot understand Taijutsu by merely
meditating... We are not all priests.”
“Taijutsu’s very free with its movement. Nothing’s set. There is no strong
and weak. The most important thing is to survive.”
July 26 (Tuesday)
(To four ‘attackers’ and the sole ‘victim’) “Your job is to kill him
together. And your job is to be killed.)”
(As the attackers circled, they would slowly cut him with a ‘kiri age’
technique, then move back into Hasso no kamae. The victim said, “They’re
creating an illusion by circling me like that. I can’t tell when they’re
going to attack.” To which, Hatsumi replied,) “Exactly! Taijutsu is the
ability to create illusions and mask your true purpose. It’s like good
manners. There are people in Japan who have terrible manners, but they mask
that fact by pretending to have good manners in certain situations.”
“As Noguchi-sensei just said to me, ‘It’s not the form you should be focusing
on.’ That is so true. Taijutsu is about living. If you cannot feel, you are
already dead. Taijutsu is feeling.”
“The simplest is always the most difficult.”
“I’m making you do this to purge you of your worst habits. Some of you tilt
your head this way; others use too much strength. This requires absolutely no
strength.”
“This is moving meditation. The thing that makes it meditation is that the
movement must be done without the will to make it happen. Make your movement
smooth.”
“Don’t let your sword drop too low on this one. You’ll just waste time and
motion. Extend your thumb like this to stop your sword from dropping.”
“People who hold their sword like this are very dangerous. It’s very fast.
For example, if you are exhausted from battle you might use your sword like a
walking stick. If someone comes to attack you, you have an instant ‘kiri age’
like this.”
“Use this technique to practice your distancing.”
“This is like a karate upblock. For those of you who’ve done karate, it
should be familiar.”
“I’ve told you all over and over that Taijutsu is not one on one. It’s one on
five...one on ten...one on infinity.”
August 13 (Tuesday)
“Your movement is too big. Make it tighter. Remember the little things.”
“Don’t think of cutting them with the tip. If you do so, you will give the
man opening.”
“This is a technique for showing how to cut someone by merely moving your
pivot point. Moving from here to here cuts, and so does this.” (I commented
that it was like dicing a carrot on a cutting board where you just kinda rock
the blade over the pivot point to cut. To which Hatsumi-sensei said) “That’s
right. You have to hold them there or they’ll get away. Like when you cut an
eel. If you don’t hold it down when you cut, it will slither away from you.”
(To his uke-of-the-day) “Your arms should be fully extended and you must keep
constant pressure on them. It’s scary, isn’t it? There’s nothing you can do,
is there?”
“When most people are doing this technique, they are setting themselves up to
move either left or right. They should be trying to be centered. Then, from
there, they can go to either side. Things will just be born from there.”
“Walking is very important.”
“Human beings become adults once they’ve learned how to walk. Infants can’t
walk. Small children who enter kindergarten are still learning their
faculties. Only when you can walk, do you become an adult.”
“Some people do their Kihon Happo as they trudge around like sumo wrestlers.
They don’t realize how important walking is. That is a true shame. The finer
details of learning to walk will improve their Kihon Happo. That is, after
all, what Kihon Happo is.”
(To everyone before being called out in pairs to practice) “If you see an
opening, take it. Don’t give them anything.” (As a result, things got
*really* physical.)
(To someone doing a takedown) “Even after you took him down, he got a kick in
as he rolled. Be careful.”
“Work together with your ‘uke’ to help each other to improve.”
(After a black belt male goes easy with his green belt female ‘uke’) “Don’t
underestimate a woman. Don’t hold back against them in a fight. They are your
equals.” (The man is told to do the technique again and ends up getting taken
down himself instead.) “See! What did I tell you?” (The room erupts in
laughter and applause. The black belt is embarrassed, but a good sport. The
green belt quietly returns to her place with her partner.)
(To a practitioner) “Your sword is not cutting straight down (from Dai
Jodan.) Noguchi, come here and teach him. If your sword wavers like that, you
will be killed.”
“Everyone practice this cutting down. Tell your partner if his sword is
straight.”
“I am teaching ‘Shin-Gi-Tai-Ichi.’ (The bringing together of the spirit
(‘shin’), technique (‘gi’), and body(‘tai’) into one (‘ichi’)).”
“I have corrected several people today. Being corrected is not a reason to be
embarrassed. You are all very good. I teach from fifth dan on up. They are
all the same in my eyes. Fifth dan, tenth dan, eleventh dan. All of them
should be corrected if they are doing something wrong.”
“You must throw away your bad habits to get good.”
August 16 (Friday)
“Don’t throw their blade to far with this, you will lose control, and you may
be cut.”
August 23 (Friday)
“You need to know your own weaknesses. You need to know the weaknesses of
your opponent as well. That way you can exploit them.”
“You can only understand if you’ve had the technique done to you. It’s like
food. You can’t describe the taste, but if you’ve tasted it, you know what it
is. You have to personally experience it to understand.”
(To a practitioner) “Now that I did the technique to you, you must go and
help others to learn it.”
(To a practitioner) “You’re thinking too much. That’s because you are so good
that you analyze your movement to make the most effective choice. But you
have to learn not to think.”
“I want to confuse my students like this. That way they learn through
self-discovery... I am very kind for doing so. (Yeah. Thanks, Soke.)”
“You’ve got to learn to utilize the space (between you and your opponent).
Distancing is very important.”
“As you can see, people can completely ruin their technique by having the
wrong angling. This technique shows you how important angling is.”
“You’re not moving just one leg back; you’re moving both at the same time.”
“It’s not just wearing armor, but learning to use it to your advantage. If
someone attacks you and their sword gets stuck in it, you have to be able to
utilize that to your advantage. Or if their weapon gets stuck in your
shoulder protection, you have to know how you could whip your body to attack
them or break their weapon. That’s why I say that everyone should get armor.
That way they’ll understand... Granted, it is expensive. (Yeah. Thanks,
Soke.)”
“This is so you can knock over your opponent even if they manage to hit you.”
“A lot of people are twisting too much. Move straight back. It’s not
strength, it’s angles.”
“Watch my feet!”
“You are not just pulling your right leg back, you’re pulling both back (it’s
just that the other leg looks like it’s not moving.)”
“This point is very important. From here you can do anything.”
“It’s up to you to make it work for you. From fifth dan on up, I am not
responsible for you. It’s up to you to figure things out.”
August 27 (Tuesday)
“In martial arts you must have the ability to see with two eyes. One is for
examining oneself. The other is for evaluating others... Actually, those two
eyes come together to create one vision, so to progress you need still
another set of eyes. That is what the fifth dan sense is.”
“People who say teach me this or teach me that are being childish. It’s their
responsibility to pull what they can out of these things. That’s training.
This isn’t school.”
“You can’t go into battle asking people teach me this or teach me that. No
one will do that. It’s your job to ‘teach’ yourself through experience. So
when fifth dans train in this (childish) way, they need to grow up.”
“You don’t just want to kill them. You want to kill their spirit, too. You’re
saying, ’I can kill you here, or here, or here.’ Then kill them.”
“Swords aren’t just for cutting.”
“The worldwide level of Bujinkan is rising. Those who can’t recognize that
are no good.”
“You can also take both arms, but this requires and extra long hilt. That is
why the swords I have been getting made have an extra couple of centimeters.
Confrontations will be decided in the width of a piece of paper, so the extra
length can mean the difference between living and dying.”
“Tie your tassel to the inside of your ‘tsuba’ (through one of the holes) so
they can’t see that it’s tied. Then you can throw it and draw it back to you.
You could also spin it around like this (Looks of horror as Hatsumi-sensei
whips a ‘mogito’ around his head. He laughs.)”
“Do this over and over to learn the flow.”
“Never lose contact with their sword or you risk being killed.”
“Don’t be afraid of getting cut.”
“It’s okay if they hit you with their sword. Occasionally, they won’t cut
you, like if they were using a heavy ‘tachi.’ And if you’re in armor, it may
save you as well.”
“You’ve got to be able to split their (finger or toe) nail...have that much
power.”
Note: Hatsumi-sensei was gone to Atlanta for the Tai Kai on both August 30
(Friday) and September 3 (Tuesday)
September 10 (Tuesday)
“You can also turn your sword over (so the blade is up then swing down,
twisting the blade down at the end to cut them). This also makes no noise...
The opposite is also true. Have the blade normal, then turn it over to hit
your opponent with the spine of the sword. This too makes no noise.”
“It’s important to know how to swing your sword without making any noise. If
you can’t do this, then you cannot assassinate someone. Someone, maybe even
your victim, may hear the whistle of your sword.”
“Remember: once you hit them there, your sword is stuck in their arm. You
can’t just whip it around. You have to twist it as you lift it to move
effectively. Use your body!”
“Don’t use your arms for the cut, because they can read your movement. If you
pull your hilt butt to your forearm like this, it is faster and they can’t
see it coming.”
“Keep your elbows in tight. If they are not, you cannot generate any power.“
“The Tai Kai had way too many people—almost 600. People were bumping into
each other; it was very dangerous.” (For future reference, he mentioned that
about 500 is optimal.)
“When your opponent is punching at you, all his focus is on that punching
arm. So by punching his other arm (the one ’covering’ him), you take control
by changing his focus (and his balance). Then by punching his punching arm
from there, don’t retract your arm, you once again change his focus and have
control of him. If he tries to punch from there with his cover arm, then just
use your elbow to press down on his arm. He can’t move. Then just do this
(and knock him on his butt).”
“Make sure you are set when you go to punch them. Otherwise you will have no
power.”
“Your second punch here actually holds his other arm against his body. He
couldn’t attack you even if he wanted to.”
“Practice this very slowly, to make sure you have no openings.”
“Do that technique using only Taijutsu.”
September 13 (Friday)
“Those who cannot put their faith in others are no good. We must all trust
others to improve. Those who cannot trust will never get good.”
“Everyone thinks they have a sword in their hands, so they try to use it as a
sword. For this technique, use your sword as a chain.”
“To defeat a superior swordsman, for example, you have to use your sword, not
as a sword, but rather as something else, like a chain or a rope.”
“Use inertia (of you flipping them) to throw your weapons.”
“Don’t throw your swords.” (He laughs after he shows a throwing technique,
says “Play!” then realizes there are over sixty people brandishing swords in
a very small area.)
“Don’t use arm strength.”
“It doesn’t matter if they’re big or small. They’ll go down with this.”
“If your opponent is big, you need to let them go at that point. Let their
own body take them down for you. If you don’t let go, you may get taken down
with them.”
“You guys are grasping things that are impossible to grasp... There’s an old
saying that if you think it’s there, it’s not. As well, if you think it’s not
there, it’s there. That’s the art of Taijutsu.”
“You are all improving nicely... I’m not saying that just to be nice, either.
You really are. Keep going with your training.”
Ben lives, trains, and sleeps in Japan. He very much enjoys hearing from
people via e-mail during his work as a underappreciated cog in the Toyota
machine. He may be reached at 6550827@tmail.
toyota.co.jp
In recent teaching sessions, I have emphasized the importance of observing
the right and left hand, or in and yo (yin and yang), or Taizokai and
Kongokai, of the polarities of experience and awareness in martial arts
training.
Experience stands for the years of actually doing the physical things that
make up our training. This over and over again repetition of becoming
familiar with the capabilities of the mind and body in harmony is the only
way to be able to perform should the pressure be turned against us someday.
Awareness stands for the extensive study and examination of that which makes
up what we experience in martial arts training. This probing and questioning
and scenario construction is the only way to be able to realize the value of
that which we experience.
Too much emphasis on one aspect throws our progress dangerously out of
balance. Experience without the enriching clarity of awareness is
wheel-spinning at its most pointless; any lessons gained from the experience
can only occur by mere random accident. Awareness without the pragmatic
grounding of experience is dream-spinning at its most futile; there is no
proving ground for the theories and philosophies.
During my training visit with Masaaki Hatsumi in Japan last year, I had the
opportunity to consider in more depth this experience/awareness dual focus
required for gaining the most from Hatsumi Sensei’s 900 year old Bujinkan
tradition. The perfection of the ninja’s taijutsu combat art must be seen as
a two-part development in which the kihon fundamental basic techniques are
reflected against the henka nagare spontaneous adaptability and flow. A firm
foundation in the basic building blocks of the movements and principles of
our combat method is essential for the eventual development of the ability to
flow and adapt spontaneously, creatively, and appropriately with an
assailant’s attacking motions. On the other hand, extensive exposure to, and
repetition of, free-moving scenarios of multiple action attacks requiring
presence of mind are essential for the eventual development of the ability to
actually utilize the basics in a successful fashion. You can not call your
training realistic self-defense unless you incorporate fully both aspects of
the process. With this reality so stated, it is now important to warn our
students and potential students of the art that it is easy to be fooled into
misunderstanding our art as one of weakness if sufficient time is not devoted
to exploring both sides of the training. This controversial statement means
that the “tourist” who takes in a few seminars, a demonstration or two, or
jets to Japan for a couple of quick sessions with Masaaki Hatsumi is likely
to see only one side of the process and come up with an incomplete picture.
It really can seem to the outsider that we are involved in two separate arts
at the same time. Indeed, to some degree this could actually reflect a tiny
hint of truth.
On one hand, the art is one of methodical and reliable ways to break bones,
damage tissues, and render joints useless. This is the kihon, or fundamental,
level of training emphasized in our pre-black belt portions of the training.
Our emphasis on pragmatism can, however, be unappreciated by those who are
looking for flashy moves, exciting action, and “martial artiness.” The
tourist observing only the kihon tends to complain that the training is too
brutal and has none of the electricity and theatrics of the more conventional
sport contest and entertainment martial arts.
On the other hand, the art is one of fluid and captivating action that
effortlessly pulls the assailant in to cause him to create his own demise.
This is the nagare, or flow, level of training emphasized in our black belt
portions of the training. Our emphasis on effortless effectiveness can,
however, be unappreciated by those who are looking for toughness, tension,
speed and snap. and conventional martial “macho-ness.” The tourist observing
only the nagare tends to complain that the training is too soft and has none
of the explosiveness and precision of the more conventional athletic and
image-conscious martial arts.
Both tourists are of course missing the same boat, only from different piers.
Is this the bone smashing drag ’em to the ground fighting method of Japan’s
original no nonsense espionage agents, or is this the effortless flowing body
movement art of the spiritual warrior who has attained his enlightenment
through letting go of the need to prove his strength to lesser persons? The
answer of course is yes to both, but only for those persons willing to devote
the awareness necessary to view both sides of the picture at the same time.
Stephen K. Hayes first traveled to Japan to find the school of his teacher
Masaaki Hatsumi over twenty years ago. As the “elder brother” of everyone in
the Bujinkan Dojo of the Western Hemisphere, he introduced the taijutsu
martial art to the western world in the early 1980s. He was made a member of
the Black Belt Hall of Fame in 1985 for his pioneering work. For the past 6
years, he has served as personal security escort for the Dalai Lama of Tibet,
Nobel Peace prize winner. He is the author of 17 books, and has been
publishing his Musubi monthly newsletter for over 18 years. Stephen K. Hayes
and his wife Rumiko can be reached at Stephen K. Hayes Academy of Martial
Arts, 6263 Far Hills Avenue, Dayton, Ohio 45459. For information on seminars,
books, tapes, and on-going training in their dojo, you can phone (937)
436-9990.
That day we had participated in the training that Hatsumi Sensei led at
Someya Dojo. When it finished, my friends Arnaud Cousergue (France), Paco
Roldan (Spain) and myself got ready to take the train.
The main aspects of our conversation during this trip, and even in our
previous meetings, was how we could communicate in a deeper way with Master
Hatsumi and avoid the language boundary.
At that moment Arnaud was proposing something interesting and I was trying to
look for parallel ways, and vice versa. In this way we were looking for the
ideal way to communicate and have deeper and more meaningful conversation
with Soke.
We were inside the train, which was empty, and were alone in the wagon,
discussing solutions to this problem. Suddenly the train stopped in a medium
station and a Japanese who was drunk came into the wagon. He almost couldn’t
stand up, and, as fate would have it, he seated himself in front of us. At
first we ignored him, but suddenly, this Japanese man, with a wish to
establish a conversation with us, asked us in Japanese, “Where do you come
from?” “From France,” answered Arnaud; from Spain I answered, also pointing
to Paco who was seated on my right. “I am Sato,” he told us afterwards. At
the same time we repeated our names using what little knowledge we had of the
language of the country of the rising sun. We asked him if he spoke English.
“A little,” he replied in harmony with the train, his drunken movements
barely controllable. Suddenly there was silence, and I remember that I looked
into his eyes and I felt something strong; there was something in him ...
Suddenly he made signs that he wanted to write something for us. Arnaud
offered him a note-book he had in his hands at the moment and a pen. The
Japanese man, making an ability puddle, took the notebook with one hand and
the pen with the other hand. Barely able to keep from falling over, he wrote
something on the note-book, and gave the note-book back to us. Imagine our
surprise when we read in perfect English:
“It does not matter the language. Spirit, mind and heart are the most
important things.”
At that moment Arnaud and I looked at each other without knowing what to say,
and we both looked at the Japanese man, who, having arrived at his
destination, parted with the traditional Japanese reverence.
I can still “see” how he drunkenly got off the train, nearly unable to stand
up, and how, after the wagon door closed and the train started moving, the
Japanese man, stopped completely in front of the door, and gave us one last
reverence.
Of course this is something we will never forget, my companions and I.
Especially if we think that it was the answer to our question. “How do we
carry a deep conversation with our teacher?” We had just received the answer:
“It does not matter the language. Spirit, mind and heart are the most
important things.”
This piece is excerpted from the book “Artes Marciales Bujinkan Dojo”
(Martial Arts of the Bujinkan Dojo) by Pedro Fleitas. Pedro encourages fellow
budoka to visit his web site at:http://www.algonet.se/
~helmet/BUJINKAN/VIDEO/ PEDRO/videos.htm or to contact him via e-mail
at unryu@lix.intercom.es
Through my e-mail I got information from the States about how to cure
injuries sustained in Martial Arts training. In this article I want to tell
the people in Martial Arts my view of the training, a training that sometimes
leads to injuries and sometimes, which I hope is more often than not, leads
to mental development.
In my last two articles in Ura & Omote I have been talking about the
importance of the inner side of Martial Arts training. There will always be a
need for curing injuries, of course, since most of the trainees in this art
put their emphasis on the physical side of the training. It is important to
learn how to cure the injuries that might result in the training curing.
Chinese Herbal Medicine is one way of curing injuries that works efficiently
for martial artists.
From the information that I’ve read I think that for most minor injuries
(i.e. scrapes, small cuts, etc.), Chinese Herbal Medicine could be used
effectively, with little side effects. However I wouldn’t go about curing a
serious dim mak strike with herbal medicine — this could be fatal. Knowing
when to seek proper medical is as important as knowing how to treat yourself.
If a Martial Artist has been injured during training there are some aspects I
want to mention:
Whatever the reason for the injury, there must be a proper physical
examination of the problem. To treat serious injuries by yourself could be
fatal. Only persons with great knowledge of how the body functions should do
it, and even they will say that a physical examination of the injured place
must be done.
During my 38 years of training in the Martial Arts I have seen many injuries.
Most of them has been during beginners training or during competition.
My own opinion of competition in Martial Arts, as most of the readers
probably know by now — but for those who do not know it — I feel that
competition and Martial Arts are two counterparts. The true Martial Art, as I
see it, should be done with a goal of finding inner strength, and through
that injuries should be out of the question.
For those who enjoy competition it is allright, but as far as I see it, its a
kind of modern tournament, mostly without stressing the inner side. Money,
reputations, winning symbols are not things that belongs to the way a true
warrior, or Martial Artist is walking.
I know that many people do not agree with me about this. But if every person
was thinking as I did, the world wouldn’t be as funny a place to live, not
even for me.
To train in the Bujinkan is a way to train your inner side. Not all people
realize that. I hope the time will come when they do.
Bo Munthe was born in Stockholm Sweden 1943. He is a teacher in Martial
Arts, mental development and conflict-handling. He also works as a
security-consultant for working-groups that are jeopardized by threat and
violence at work. He has written several books on Martial Arts and
conflict-handling, as well as several articles on the same subject. He has
also, since 1983, traveled around the world holding seminars in
Self-protection and Martial Arts. He can be reached via at e-mail:
bo.munthe@mailbox.swipnet.se
It was 5:00 a.m. on Friday, August 30th. The day that I had been waiting for
had finally arrived. I was on my way to a Tai Kai for the first time. Every
year I would make plans to go, but in the end I would never be able to swing
it financially. However, this year’s event was special. The Tai Kai started
it’s annual festivities one day after my birthday and with a few generous
monetary birthday gifts from my family, I was able to attend.
When Eric (my flight partner and roommate at the hotel) and I got to Atlanta,
we felt like kids on a field trip. We were going to see the big “boss” for
the first time and we were both very excited about it. Naturally, this event
brought many questions to mind. Questions such as, “What is he like in
person?” “What kind of training does he offer at a Tai Kai?”
By the end of the Tai Kai, all of these questions and more had been answered.
Yet, many more have come to mind that still need to be answered. One in
particular that kept popping up in my mind was “How does he do it?!?” His
grace amazed me. He was as fluid as the flight of an eagle — literally
poetry in motion. His humor and brightness gave the lessons he taught a final
touch — like a cherry on an ice cream sundae.
These are a few of the many things he taught that stand out strongly in my
mind:
The Godan test was given to 22 people at the same time and Hatsumi Sensei
didn’t stop for a moment. He taught as he tested and all 22 people passed.
This says something very good about the training in America. We had the
largest group of practitioners gathered with 502 and counting. This high
number doesn’t include the spectators and guests who gathered to watch. I
believe the total was well over six hundred people.
Something very significant happened to me during the Tai Kai. I never had any
doubts about my Shidoshi’s teachings and I realized the things Hatsumi Sensei
spoke of and taught during the weekend where exactly the same as what
Jean-Pierre teaches at New York Budo. Shidoshi Hayes himself teaches the same
way in his curriculum as well. They both may have different approaches and
have stylized things according to their personalities, but the end result
according to Hatsumi Sensei’s teachings remains identical. I was glad to have
had the opportunity to see and feel this “truth” for myself. It made concrete
the fact that I am, literally, in good hands.
I was also fortunate to win one of the categories in the “Ugly Tie” contest.
I am proud to say that my tie won “The Tie Most Likely to Cause an Accident”
award. I even got a certificate signed by Soke. My thanks go to the lovely
Bonnie Malstrom for inventing the contest to begin with.
The banquet on the last night of training was very nice and filled with
happiness and positive messages from Bud and Bonnie Malstrom, Shidoshi Hayes
and the Tai Kai community. Everyone shook hands to the song “Power of a
Dream” (the theme song for this year’s Olympics), and as gift to Hatsumi, Bud
and Bonnie presented him with a collector’s coin from the Olympics which was
issued by the U.S. Government. Bonnie also gave him two bricks — which were
duplicates of bricks used to build Centennial Park where the Olympics were
held. One of the bricks was inscribed, “Hatsumi Sensei, Ninjutsu Soke” and
the other’s inscription read “Bonnie and Mariko, Dear Friends.” (Mariko,
Sensei’s wife was not present at the Tai Kai because she was ill. It would be
great if we would all send her some positive energy so that she may get
better more quickly.) At the end of the evening, the DJ played some music so
we could all practice our ninpo dancing skills.
One of the most beautiful aspect to events like this is the bonding that
forms between groups. People who you only see at the dojo become close
friends, and you’re able to relax, laugh and joke with them. I would like to
acknowledge and thank Jason for being such a great group leader,. Eric for
being a great study partner and roommate, Vinnie for making me laugh all the
time, Tracy, Alexandra, Lee, Scott, Chris, Dave, Tony, Leonard (and his
friend) and Ryan for being part of the New York Budo group. You guys made my
first Tai Kai unforgettable.
Max Formento is currently a 3rd kyu student at New York Budo. He is a
practitioner of ninpo taijutsu, budo taijutsu or ninjutsu — whichever you
prefer. Contrary to popular belief, Max is an extremely good dresser — ugly
ties notwithstanding — and his ninpo dancing skills are pretty good, too.
Max can be reached via the editor at Ashidome@aol.com.
“Return to zero.” It was all the way back in 1982 when I first heard this
saying. Hatsumi Sensei was discussing blocking techniques. If you execute a
down block and remain in that position it will take twice as long to block a
strike to the head than if you return your hands to a belt or chest level
position. This position, being ‘the zero,’ allows you to respond to the
right, left, up or down with minimal effort. It made sense to me then and it
still makes sense to me now, but ‘return to zero’ means so much more and yet
so much less. Contradictory? Let me explain.
At the 1996 Atlanta Tai Kai, Hatsumi Sensei once again spoke these same three
words. Initially, I recalled the blocking, but then three incidences occurred
that helped me gain a deeper understanding. First, during a question and
answer session, a participant asked Sensei to discuss breathing while
performing the Sanshin No Kata. Sensei stood there for only a brief second
and stated: “I never thought about it. I just breathe. It’s natural. When I
sleep I don’t have to tell my body to breathe. It just does it.”
Now initially I thought this, and many other of the answers given by him that
night were circular and superficial. He just blew them off. Of course
breathing is important and there are times when breathing is most efficient.
Think about ukemi. We have all hit the floor and ‘forgotten’ to breathe. That
can really hurt. But if you breathe at the ‘natural’ time, when your body
wants to breathe, it doesn’t hurt at all (well, not as much).
Wait a minute! When your body wants to breathe? Isn’t that what Sensei said?
You don’t have to think about breathing. Your body knows how to breathe. Your
body knows when to breathe. Whether sleeping, falling or practicing Sanshin
No Kata, your body knows what to do. Just don’t think about it. Yes, at a
quick glance all the answers that night were circular and superficial. But if
you look just a little deeper you see the circle turning into a spiral. Like
a whirlpool going deeper and deeper. With each turn you’re taken to a new
level. A new understanding.
The second incident came in an unlikely form: a television commercial. It
went something like, “Grasp the failed illumination between thumb and
fingers. While applying gentle downward pressure rotate wrist in a counter
clockwise direction. Check device for damage to structural integrity. If
damage has occurred, replace with new illumination device in a reverse
manner.” What were they talking about? Changing a light bulb. The point they
were trying to make is that we often try to make the most simple things
difficult. Just look at your hand: five digits, opposable thumb, the ability
to grasp. Just reach up there, grab it, and change it. Our hand may not have
been designed to change light bulbs, but it was designed to perform similar
functions such as picking fruit off a tree.
Hatsumi Sensei said, while describing a technique, “Simple is difficult.”
Yes, a technique can be difficult. A natural body movement can also be
difficult if we make it so. Don’t think. Just let your body do what it wants
to do. It’s simple, yet it’s so difficult.
The third and final incident that helped me gain a new meaning of ‘return to
zero’ was the actions of Hatsumi Sensei throughout the Tai Kai. Like an eagle
soaring on a thermal current, Sensei would flow from technique to technique.
Like a gibbon swinging from limb to limb, Sensei showed no effort in his
movement. Like a chameleon catching an insect with its tongue, Sensei’s
punches would appear from nowhere with speed and power and then, just as
quickly, disappear again.
After watching Sensei, I wondered how he could say he is not a good teacher.
But at some point I realized that while most of us see Sensei as having
everything to teach us, maybe Sensei sees himself as having nothing to teach
us. Maybe he knows that everything we need to know is already inside each and
every one of us. Maybe he cannot teach us something that we already know.
Maybe he can only guide us.
To me zero is a body acting in a natural way. Zero is a mind devoid of the
fear that takes us below zero of the harmful pride that takes us above. Zero
is a strong free spirit. Zero is nature.
Was Hatsumi Sensei teaching something new 14 years later? Had his meaning
changed? I think not. In 1982, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t able to get below the
surface of his words. But now, in 1996, I had been caught in that whirlpool
and taken down a little deeper, to a new level of understanding. Is this the
final level? I think not. I hope not! Check back with me in the year 2010 and
I’ll tell you then. But remember a whirlpool goes faster the deeper it gets.
The ride may just have begun.
Jay King has been training in the Bujinkan since 1982 and now is a student
of Ken Harding at the Missouri Bujinkan Dojo in St. Louis, Missouri. He is a
doctor of veterinary medicine. He can be reached through Ken Harding at
shadowsword@primary.net.
I was sitting, mind wandering from the book I was reading to thoughts on its
topic, art. Art. Art and life. One and the same. I thought of one particular
manifestation of art that I currently study: ninpo taijutsu. Often have I
likened it to dance, on several levels; the ‘Antagonistic Dance,’ I once
called a fight. The physical requirements of strength, balance and
coordination come immediately to mind. So, too, do the aspects of timing,
judgment and sensitivity. Critical as these are in relation to an adversary,
they nonetheless must be cultivated by the individual, to his or her own
ends, own personal growth. I believe this is why it is so often said that the
most accomplished practitioners of this art are so good at ukemi. For it is
through ukemi, the rolling, tumbling and breakfalling that is just us and the
world (or us and life, if you will), that we must really come to terms with
who and what we are, and how we relate to this life. How flexible are we? Can
we ‘roll with the punches’ — physically as well as spiritually? What is the
limit of our endurance? How far can we go? Is this beyond me now, or can I
take it a step further?
Dancing, whether with a partner or otherwise, is movement to a beat in music
(a simplified version of the classical definition). Thus, there is always
something in the background, in the air, to which the dancers move. An
energy. A flow. As we study our art we learn to recognize that flow, how and
where it is moving, and at what rate — is it adagio (‘slow’), or con brio
(‘with fire’)? We also learn how to adapt to it, move with it. Part of that
energy, that flow, is what our opponent/adversary is doing? What is their
energy? How is it flowing now? What direction is it going in? Just as a
couple dancing must not only dance the same dance, they must also be
sensitive to where their partner is, where they are going — as well as
what’s around them. Such awareness has always had high emphasis in my
experience of ninjutsu, whether from the books I’ve read or the instruction
I’ve received.
As I study this art, I see it as a reflection of my life. Or, possibly more
accurate, I see my life reflected in it. Difficulties, questions arise, like:
Where am I with this? Am I as good as I think I am? Am I better or worse?
What can I accomplish? What can I do? Why don’t I try to find out? Yes, why
not! Learning to trust yourself, your ability, your knowledge, your
awareness. Recently, two separate but related incidents served as an example
of this.
I was in Europe for the first time, and by myself. I had planned to hitchhike
through France and Switzerland to Austria, where I had friends. That, too,
would be a first for me. As I got off the ferry in Calais, I was approached
by a fellow who was also hitchhiking. We joined up, and shortly ran into
another guy, whom the first had met in Dover. A truck driver, he agreed to
give us a ride at my new companion’s request. In the way over to the truck,
the bells started going off: How do I know these guys are who they say they
are? How do I know he’s a truck driver? Is this a setup? Actually, I wasn’t
sure that he was the truck driver; I thought they might have been talking
about someone else. I figured if it was a car we’d get in, I’d just bail out
and find my own way. Well, it did turn out to be a truck — a new, clean,
shiny Volvo semi that I figured would not belong to a couple of con artists!
And neither of them proved to be any sort of criminal or unfriendly in any
way.
I have to say I never had a bad feeling about that situation. You know, the
kind you often get before something goes wrong, or you do something you ought
not to have done? My concerns were based on my fears — what I learned
growing up, from those around me — not my own experiences. I trusted my
ability to defend myself — thank you, all senseis and ukes out there! — and
my feelings and awareness. And lived through a happy growing experience.
The other example came a few days ago, as I re-read parts of the daily
journal I’ve been keeping the last few months. I noted one day that I had a
lot of fears going to Europe, by myself, hitchhiking and being alone in
countries where I didn’t speak the language. I had a big concern that I
wouldn’t meet people, wouldn’t be spontaneous, wouldn’t get help along the
way. I could not have been further from the truth. I met so many friendly,
helpful people, at such unexpected moments, that its not even funny — but
those stories are for another time! My fears were almost completely
unrealized. I am reminded of some words of Hatsumi Soke: “All that it’s
necessary to do when one faces a barrier is just keep walking, paying it no
attention. Just keep going, keep walking and the obstacles disappear!” I
would just suggest dancing past them — it may be more fun!
Philip Greeley is a kyu rank student at New York Budo. He welcome
commentary and feedback to this article and may be reached via the editor at
Ashidome@aol.com.
(from the Ninjutsu FAQ by Kevin R. Gowen II; kgowen@emory.edu
What is the significance of the elements earth, water, fire and wind?
Chi — represented by the Earth element; stands for stability, the attitude
of confidence and strength. The confrontation is won before it has started.
You stop them in their tracks. You are immovable as a majestic mountain or a
mighty oak tree.
Sui — represented by the Water element; stands for responsiveness, the
attitude of fade and strike. You withdraw from your aggressor’s attack, and
respond with a blast of power. You are as a wave in the surf rising back and
then crashing on the shore.
Ka> — represented by the Fire element; stands for expansiveness, the attitude
of foresight. You perceive the potential for attack and are committed to
stopping the aggression the moment you perceive it. You are as a fireball
hurling forward.
Fu — Represented by the Wind element; stands for the attitude of intellect.
You are free moving and skillful enough to know exactly where you need to be
in order to take control of the aggression, positioning yourself to take
advantage of your momentum. You are like a cloud of smoke that one tries to
grasp as you slip and curl from between his fingers and out of his grip.
Ku — Represented by the void, the source of all elements. You use your skill
to face unknown attacks and acquire the appropriate attitude in response.
Martial Arts Terms: J - N
J
K
M
N
Many people have been enthusiastic enough to contact me with questions about
what kind of sword I would recommend to them for their personal use. Please
allow me to share my own opinions along with a few cold, hard facts. To start
off, the majority of questions I’m asked involve advice on what kind of sword
would be good for combat. I’m asked what Japanese sword maker I prefer, what
ancient blade do I personally recommend and so on. Mostly, my fellow sword
devotees are most interested in the old Japanese blades used by the ancient
Samurai. Needless to say, these legendary swords possess a well-deserved
reputation for deadliness and quality. Centuries ago, when swords were still
used on the battlefield, an old blade was desired because it had seen combat
before, and was less likely to fail in a confrontation. Not all swords
produced were of the highest quality, however. The wealthy could afford the
best ones, made by artisans whose families for generations worked on
perfecting the craft of a well forged blade. The best swords had been
thoroughly tested by a variety of methods. Some included cutting condemned
prisoners into several pieces, and others used wrought iron plates and very
old, primitive swords as test media. A sword created for war had to have the
same mettle as the warrior that carried it into battle. The Samurai regarded
his sword as his soul, and could have no excuse for losing it. One reason
that so many Japanese swords have survived through century after century is
that their owners took great pains to care for and preserve them. Not
everyone knows how to properly accomplish this, and this is one reason why
good ones are getting harder to find. I think of most old swords as artifacts
or one-of-a-kind works of art, and that they belong in a museum or private
collection. In Japan, they are national treasures, and rightly so.
The Japanese sword is also one of the biggest sacred cows I have ever
encountered, with many people worshipping it as the most awesome weapon ever
devised by human beings. I’ve met martial artists who firmly believe that a
Katana would just simply slice through any non Japanese sword or armor like
cheese. To even suggest that there could be any other possibility often makes
them lose their temper. There is a book in my personal library that claims
that a Katana could easily shear through an M-1 Garand rifle, then a World
War II U.S. issue steel helmet, and lastly, their hapless owner. I’ve heard a
legend of some Japanese Officer cutting the barrel of a M-2 .50 caliber
machine gun off with his ancestral blade during a “banzai” charge from more
than a few acquaintances. I seriously doubt these stories are wholly true, if
at all. I have never heard of any of this information supported by the
Japanese, but rather by westerners who have romanticized and exaggerated the
abilities of this excellent weapon. I am most interested in obtaining any
sort of historical documentation on this subject, but I have had no luck so
far. I have been fortunate enough to have examined a large number of Japanese
swords and blades, and only a relative few were not warped, nicked or
chipped. I do not believe that a Katana behaves like a “light saber” from
“Star Wars.” Still, for those who want to purchase one of these well designed
and well made weapons, here’s a guide for the novice.
The main problem in shopping for an antique Katana is dealing with clever
fakes. There were schools in Japan that devoted themselves to reproducing
copies of famous and priceless swords. These were used by warlords for
display, while the genuine swords were stored safely out of sight. Sometimes
an old nakago (tang) of a famous sword that had been broken in combat was
welded onto a new blade to make it appear to be of great value. The color of
the rust on the blade and the rust on the nakago being different is the
tell-tale sign of this being the case. I’ve been asked how I would know
whether or not an old sword was genuine or not, and my answer is to subject
it to a metallurgical x-ray. The other problem is less than honest dealers.
When I go to sword shows, I always “play dumb.” When I feign ignorance, I get
to enjoy outlandish stories employed to make a piece of junk worth a small
fortune. Trust me, I’ve heard some whoppers. The best insurance against this
happening is to be as well informed as possible before hunting down a sword.
There are many very good books on the subject, so I don’t feel the need to
write my own one. Most dealers are honest, remember, because a bad reputation
makes their career choice short-lived. It is important to know who you are
dealing with. Suffice to say, my attorney once told me that “with words,
you’ve got nothing but air. With paper, you’ve got a prayer.” Bad grammar
aside, this is a guide to wisdom. A good Japanese sword should have a
certificate of authenticity that comes with it.
Now I’ll let you in on my own criteria for selecting a sword. First, I use
swords to learn more about swordsmanship, not as an investment to be sold
later for a profit. I place a very different value on them. I cut with them,
I test them, and I see what they will and won’t do. They must be tough enough
to hold up to what I realistically would expect it to be able to do. My sword
has to take and hold an edge and not bend or break when cutting. The point
must stay sharp after repeated tsuki (thrusts).
Hardness is one of the most important elements in a good sword or knife.
Swords need to be able to withstand tremendous amounts of shock without
breaking. If a sword is too hard, it will shatter on impact. If too soft, the
blade will bend. As many people know, the Japanese approached this problem by
making a sword with a very hard edge and a soft body by welding a hard skin
over softer core. This was not the exclusive method of making swords in old
Japan, by the way. At this point, I will remind the reader that they must
take sole responsibility for their own actions and/or inaction’s. We are
examining a very dangerous and lethal weapon, so we have to treat it with the
utmost respect and caution when using them. The Japanese treated their swords
as living beings, worthy of the same courtesy as you and me. For this reason,
that’s why we call a razor sharp, tempered blade “live steel.” If you dare,
try taking two different blades and strike the edges together real hard. Most
likely, one edge will be nicked, and the other will show little or no damage.
Be very careful, because sometimes very sharp shards or slivers of metal will
fly out and could easily cause an injury. This test will demonstrate which
blade is harder than the other. Most of the swords in my own collection
readily bite into stainless steel replicas without showing any damage
whatsoever.
Next, try a flex test. Carefully bend your blade an inch or two out of line
and see if returns to true. If it doesn’t, your blade is improperly tempered.
If your sword passes these tests, take it to a wooden post and lightly strike
the post up and down with the edge until you feel a positive vibration in one
spot. This is what Sir Richard Burton refers to as “the center of
percussion.” Here in the states we call this the “sweet spot.” It’s the same
spot on a Louisville Slugger baseball bat used to strike the ball. For us
that use the sword, this is the optimum spot for chopping cuts. Now make sure
the fittings are good and tight so the blade doesn’t fly out of them.
Having braved all these tests, get ready to cut with your sword. To test how
sharp your edge is, you can try shaving hair off a part of your body, but
this is a rather risky activity if you’ve never attempted it before. Instead,
fill a plastic soft drink bottle with water, suspend it with a cord from a
tree branch and deliver a Kesa Giri (shoulder to hip, or diagonal cut). This
is as much as a test of your ability as it is of your sword. From there, try
Take Giri (bamboo cutting) on some fresh, green bamboo. Now, I’d like relate
something really SCARY! My student and close friend Brad Hodges one day
decided to try something very interesting. He went to a slaughterhouse and
bought a fresh cow femur and executed several cuts, including a draw cut and
light chop. Brad’s final cut was a chop with slightly more force. His Italian
made Del Tin Bastard sword cleanly split the bone all the way through without
effort. The largest bone in the human body is the femur (thigh bone), and a
cow’s is much, much thicker. I’m certain anyone can draw the obvious analogy.
Brad even video taped this gory, but illuminating experiment. I’d now like to
comment on modern replicas. I prefer them to antique weapons for a variety of
reasons. First, when you buy a good replica, you pay a lot less than an
antique, and you know what you’re getting. I have done things with my modern
swords that I would never risk with an ancient blade. These things include
cutting steel plate used in armor construction and flinging my sword point
first into a plywood target repeatedly. If I were to destroy or severely
damage my sword while training, I would prefer to be using something I could
easily replace. The only blades I have in my collection are the ones that
survived very rigorous thrusting and cutting. I train with my live steel as
if my life depended on it.
Still, it’s a matter of “buyer beware.” I have seen tangs that are too short
to safely stand up to the rigors of powerful cutting (giri) and thrusting
(tsuki). If the nakago is too short, it may break free of the tsuka (handle)
during cutting. A real Katana had a long nakago that normally took up at
least 1/2 of the length of the tsuka (handle). I have seen Katana replicas
that had poorly tempered blades, which promptly bent when used to cut bamboo
(take). Beware a stainless steel blade that has been “case hardened.” To
explain this term, “case hardened” means that only the outer skin of the
blade is heat treated to a large degree of hardness, while the core or
interior steel is of a lesser hardness. If you sharpen your blade enough, you
will expose the softer steel, and your edge will not hold up to constant use.
All too often, the hardened outer skin is much too thin (2/1000" in some
cases) to be useful for the stress of combat swordsmanship.
The methods of constructing and tempering swords were zealously guarded
secrets in olden times. Today, metallurgy is more of a science than art form.
Whether or not the Japanese sword was the finest example of the art of sword
making is subjective. The Celts were making laminated carbonized swords as
early as 800 B.C. The legendary Norse Vikings produced swords as good or
better than the Japanese blades nearly a century earlier. There were Mecca’s’
of sword making throughout the world, such as Damascus, Solingen, India,
China, Italy, and Spain that all produced premier examples of the art of
sword making. The selection of steels used today in modern swords is much
better than the steel produced in earlier centuries. Modern quality control
and technology produces steel containing exact amounts of desired elements
and a minimum of impurities. I have met people at Renaissance Fairs wearing a
sword they claimed to have made themselves “folded 300 times, like the
Japanese.” I’d ask them why they did this, and they told me “for strength.”
Actually, the Japanese folded their steel and placed it back in the forge to
burn off the slag and impurities. Repeating this process purified the steel
greatly. I know of no Japanese sword maker that ever folded his blades more
than fifteen times. My favorite maker, Masamune, crafted swords containing
4,194,304 layers of steel. He used an elaborate method, but never folded his
blades 300 times to obtain this effect to my knowledge.
The steel available today already comes out of the smelter ready to be
hammered or ground into an excellent edged weapon. I know people that think
stainless steel is the best choice for swords. I do not share that opinion.
If carbon steel is so bad, why is stainless steel almost never used for tools
such as saws, chisels, drill bits and punches? I think stainless steel is
great for diving knives, firearms and anything used in an environment where
an enhanced resistance to corrosion is desired. There is, of course, a great
deal of misinformation and myth about swords and swordsmanship. A little
research can go a long way towards learning the correct perspective.
Kendall Kelsoe heads the Austin Kunren Sukisha Dojo, a branch of the
American Bujinkan Dojo in Austin, Texas. You can reach Ken at (512) 832-8401
or e-mail him at 104247.2152@compuserve.com
As an introduction into the concepts of warriorship and awareness Marty Smith
and I sat in the meadow of a local state park, just before dusk, waiting for
the cool autumn mist to invite us to participate in the evening’s activities.
This was Marty’s meadow. As the park’s head naturalist, it is Marty’s job to
observe, look after and care for the inhabitants of this serene place; those
with whom we now sought to commune.
Marty sat quietly, drifting into himself and joining with his second home. I,
on the other hand, sat ever so uncomfortably; trying to remember and focus on
hunting skills taught to me as a child: being quite and moving very slowly.
As my vision adjusted to the night I focused on shadows, sounds and smells
and in time I found enough inner peace to relax and bear witness the world
around me. It was not easy, however. The key, as I discovered, was in
watching my friend’s face. In a systematic fashion owls and other nocturnal
birds setup perches in the nearby trees; and deer moved into the meadow to
find a safe haven for the night in the tall grass; while small critters
scampered amidst the underbrush all around us. As this happened around us, I
observed occasional smiles or a slight turn of the head by Marty, as if in
silent greetings or acknowledgment of a sound — a friend.
Rather than trying to achieve a level of understanding I had not yet been
exposed to, I decided to share his experience and borrow some of his inner
peace to guide me though the evening’s introductions and in redirecting my
focus, to my surprise, it worked. I was truly saddened when our time with the
meadow came to an end.
I bring this story into the light of day because it signifies a beginning of
a path towards a new awareness. As a research microbiologist, I am trained to
be a professional observer of life and its processes. Learning something new,
everyday, is a personal gift I truly enjoy. And yet, despite my formal
abilities, until the night in the meadow, I was never fully cognizant of just
how aware our environment is. The meadow animals’ sense of awareness was one
of main points in our discussion later that evening in the park. All of the
animals seemed acutely aware that we were in their meadow. Our presence was
tolerated under a silent but very strict survival guideline. Their lives
depend on their ability to distinguish between friend and foe. They couldn’t
afford to daydream, get lost in thought, or be so preoccupied by life’s
little complications that they lose this sense of awareness.
Another principal thought for me was the recognition that we, as civilized
animals, need to focus on and re-cultivate this natural sense of awareness
within ourselves if we ever hope to achieve true inner peace. Over the year
and a half since my experience in the meadow, I have pondered the question of
‘How to accomplish this conceivably simple task,’ but with only limited
success. It was while in attendance at the recent Tai Kai in Atlanta that a
minor breakthrough in my paradigm occurred. During a late evening
conversation, with some Bujinkan friends, I identified an error in my
analytical tactics. I realized that a heightened sense of awareness is
achieved and can be easily maintained by truly joining with your environment
as it does not take great effort to do the things you love to do. Awareness
need not be perceived and exist in a world of paranoia or fear of extinction,
which is of course, the premise behind the concept of survival of the
fittest; requiring a constant flow of adrenaline and taking the strongest
position of defense or aggression. Rather, one can feel renewed and refreshed
by doing things that you love to do. Everything around us deserves notice and
appreciation. Awareness seems to grow as you perceive your part in the
dynamic equilibrium of energy, mass, and emotions. These universal forces
join us together creating one marvelous creature. When I open myself to
little things around me, with a true sense wonder, awareness naturally
evolves. Just acknowledging the existence of parts of my world is refreshing.
It doesn’t take great energies, forces, or adrenaline to be aware and to
love; a concept that became very evident to me as I sat with these friends
and sensed the wrongness in the energy levels they were generated. The
wrongness I sensed could best be described as the adrenaline high of
anticipated conflict. Awareness is really loving the little things in our
environment. Being “aware” day to day is acknowledging the ants, the leaves,
and the breezes for the loving miracles they are, and each day partake of
these miracles anew. The edge of training is not dulled by the beauty around
us.
When something in our life is not right it will stick out like a sore-thumb,
for even the most head-blind of us will take notice of a wrong feeling. One
of the rules that have helped me to remain centered and focused on which
level I am training is: “The simplest things are the hardest to learn.” Love
of and for all things brings with it the greatest awareness.
Matthew Sequin is a research microbiologist working on development of
malarial vaccines at the Walter Reed Army Institute of Research in Washington
DC. His training group is the Washington Bunjinkan Dojo with Marty Smith, Ray
Hayes, Paul Smith, Carol Ceramicoli, Scott Rutherford, Dave Juth, Warren
Gregory, Sellers Smith, Dion Sparger and Ellen Duncan and a few others.
Matthew considers himself a full time student of life and considers learning
the spice of life. He may be reached via e-mail at
meseguin@erols.com.
“The information presented here is based upon the research of me personally,
with great help from others (mentioned where appropriate) and has not been
verified by, nor received the approval of Hatsumi Soke. It is presented only
as the researchers’ interpretation of history and should not be taken as
fact.“
Gikan Ryu Soke—Grandmasters
Notes about the Sokes
1. Uryu, Hangan Gikanbo: Gikan Ryu was founded by Uryu, Giganbo who was the
Daimyo of Kawachi no Kuni (Kawachi castle). This was a family castle known as
Uryujo. It is said that his punch was so powerful that he once broke a sword
blade in half. He was also a master of Hichojutsu (leaping techniques) and
Senban nage (blade throwing). The “bo” in Gikanbo was probably added to his
name after his death. It was a custom to add “bo” (dead) to the end of the
deceased person’s name on people with higher social status. Still today
deceased persons with a high social status, often have “Ingo” or “Koji” added
to the end of their names on their tombstones.
2. Uryu, Yoshimitsu: In his later years he became a monk.
10. Uryu, Gikan: On 27th August 1863 he was fighting for the emperor’s army
in a battle called “Tenchigumi no ran.” He was shot in his arm by a musket,
but he kept fighting with only one arm. When he could, he retired to the
safety of a nearby temple. It was here that Ishitani, Takeoi Masatsugu who
already was the Soke of Kukishinden Ryu and Hontai Takagi Yoshin Ryu found
him. Ishitani told him that the battle was already over. Ishitani helped him
to recover, and together they escaped to Iga. — Paul Richardson’s Book (4th
edition)
11. Ishitani, Takeoi Masatsugu: As he had helped Uryu, Gikan to safety in
Iga, a friendship began. Ishitani was then taught the Gikan Ryu, and later
received the Menkyo Kaiden, a diploma that verifies that he had learned the
Gikan Ryu techniques fully. He was also to be the next Soke of Gikan Ryu, and
he added to his own two schools — Kukishinden Ryu and Hontai Takagi Yoshin
Ryu. He died sometime around 1905.
12. Ishitani, Matsutaro Takekage: He came to Takamatsu family match factory
in the early 1900 looking for a job, he got the job as the security chief on
the factory. He was an old man using his bokken as a cane. He died in the lap
of Takamatsu in 1911.
13. Takamatsu, Toshitsugu Uoh (1888.03.01-1972.04.02): He learned Gikan Ryu
from Ishitani as well as Kukishinden Ryu and Hontai Takagi Yoshin Ryu (not to
be confused with Takagi Yoshin Ryu, which he learned from Mizuta Tadefuza),
for approximately two years between 1903-1905 until the death of Ishitani. He
was already an expert in Togakure Ryu, Gyokko Ryu, Koto Ryu, Shinden Fudo
Ryu, and Kumogakure Ryu which he had learned from his uncle. He was also an
expert of Takagi Yoshin Ryu from Mizuta Sensei. He learned the three schools
from Ishitani fast and received Menkyo Kaiden. When Ishitani was about to die
he called for Takamatsu, he told Takamatsu that he would be the next Soke for
the three schools. He also told him that he should also give a copy of the
three Denshos from Takagi Yoshin Ryu to his student, and Takamatsu’s friend,
Kakuno Hachiheita.
14. Akimoto, Fumio (born?-Approx. Death 1962): Takamatsu gave the Menkyo
Kaiden to several people, including his best friend and senior student
Akimoto, Fumio. He died an untimely death in 1962 without a successor. So the
Gikan Ryu returned to Takamatsu, and then later passed on to Hatsumi with the
other eight Bujinkan ryus sometome between 1968-1971. This is the reason he
is listed as the 14th Soke. It is believed that his scrolls were destroyed in
the fire bombing of Tokyo in World War II, but this has not been confirmed.
Akimoto was also Soke of Shoken Ryu Dakentaijutsu which ran through his own
family. This Ryu probably died with Akimoto’s death in 1962. Since Shoken Ryu
is not one of the Bujinkan schools, not much is known.
15. Hatsumi, Masaaki (Yoshiaki) (1931.12.02-): He trained with Takamatsu for
fifteen years between 1957 and until the death of Takamatsu in 1972. A year
before Takamatsu’s death he said that Hatsumi had learned all that he could
teach and awarded Hatsumi to be the sole inheritor of the nine Bujinkan
schools. Hatsumi still lives and teaches his Bujinkan Budo Taijutsu and the
nine traditions.
Connection to other Schools:
Gyokko Ryu and Koto Ryu.
Izumo Ryu Koppojutsu.
Gyokushin Ryu Ninpo:
Hontai Yoshin Ryu
Hontai Takagi Yoshin Ryu
Menkyo Kaiden is only evidence that the people have learnt the techniques and
teachings of a particular school. The title as Soke is given to the person
that is most suited to be the next successor of a particular school. Sokeship
is not necessarily given to the best pupil, but to the person with the best
opportunity or who is best suited to carry on the teachings in the best way..
This ceremony is called Densho Shiki.
One of Hatsumi’s oldest student’s named Tanemura Tsunehisa (now Shoto) left
the Bujinkan in 1986 after a quarrel with Hatsumi after the funeral of
Hatsumi’s mother. Hatsumi was ill for a long period, and Tanemura probably
thought that he should take leadership. It is said that Tanemura visited
Takamatsu’s wife and asked her if he had her permission to be the next Soke
and that she said yes. She is dead now so this cannot be verified. Tanemura
also looked up Takamatsu’s former students that were still alive. He is
supposed to have met Sato Kinbei and received several Menkyo Kaidens or
Sokeship from him. Sato is no longer alive to verify this either. Whatever
the reason for the split, neither of them likes to talk about it. The split
was only between Tanemura and probably some of his students, and Hatsumi and
Bujinkan,. All of Hatsumi’s other students remained loyal. Neither Hatsumi or
Tanemura speaks of this incident, nor should we. What happened is their
business. Tanemura has his own organization called Genbukan. He claims to be
Soke of several schools.
Kodokan Judo:
Characteristics and History notes.
<Genealogy according to Sato Kinbei and Tanemura vs. Hatsumi:>
THE DISCLAIMER & END NOTES
This is absolutely not to be taken as “true fact” since it is
quite impossible to prove the Kuden. We would be happy for any kind of
creative and serious research that you have found out, so if you have
noticed some errors in this text or would like to point out something
else worth a note please let us know so we could update and make this
even more accurate. And if possible, please try to back up your claims
with some sort of verification or serious references.
A big problem when one do research about the history of ninja and
Bujinkan is when one compare information in books about those subject
with general acknowledged history in history books. This means that
all information in circulation are to be considered as gossip until it
can be compared and proven against general history. This includes the
text above.
Some of the people we wish to thank for the sources are here listed in
no particular order...
For more information like this get hooked to Internet and browse over
to http://www.algonet.se/~helmet/BUJINKAN/ or phone ++46-8-985948 to
MokoNoTora FidoNet BBS.
This translation is allowed to be posted electronically or printed as
long as it is left unedited or changed in any way. It is not allowed
to be reprinted in any way for commercial purposes without permission.
(c) MATS HJELM 1996
I have no parents—I make the heavens and earth my parents.
“We are the hero of our own story.”
As I was about to start meditation class on Saturday morning, the phone rang.
“Another kid wanting information,” I thought to myself, as I sighed and
answered the phone. Information calls tend to take a long time—since I
usually get the wackos who want to know if Ashida Kim teaches at our school
or the kids who are calling up while their parents are still asleep. Or, if
I’m really lucky, I get the guy who trains with the one and only REAL
grandmaster... of Koga ryu, and he wants to know if our school accepts
challenges.
“Good morning, New York Budo,” I whispered into the phone, waving a late
student onto the mat. I found myself holding my breath as I usually do when I
feel uneasy; odd, I thought. The man on the phone introduced himself as a
screenwriter who wanted to interview a female martial artist because he was
interested in finding out about fighting from a woman’s perspective—
preferably from a woman who had been training a while. He began asking me
some questions—a few of which struck me as weird at the moment, but I
dismissed my gut reaction in my haste to start class. I answered some of his
questions, and, glancing at the clock, quickly told him that I needed to lead
a meditation, but that he was free to call back after 11 A.M. when I or
someone else would be able to answer his questions. He was pleasant enough,
and agreed to phone later.
I put the call out of my mind as I went on to lead meditation. A breath
counting session first—to develop focus, followed by a thought counting
session—a difficult meditation. As class ended, the phone rang and I cut
the bow-out short and literally ran the length of the dojo to answer it. It
was Mr. Screenwriter again. He began by asking the usual: “Does your art
have punches, kicks, etc.?” “Do you do throws?” “How long have you been
studying?” “What’s your belt color?” Some of his questions were
“interesting” to say the least, but I figured he was just another typical New
York/Hollywood type—looking for the flashy techniques—so I dismissed
the slight queasiness in my stomach again. I told him that he was welcome to
watch class later on that day, if he felt like it, and speak to someone in
person.
I was on the mat when he entered the dojo. He was a small, roundish,
unassuming man with balding red hair and a goatee. I almost didn’t notice him
at all. However, when I excused myself to get a drink of water, he
approached me and introduced himself as the man that I had been speaking to
earlier. He asked if he could interview me and I acquiesced. I’m used to
being asked questions about the school and training—I’m always very
friendly to visitors and prospective students, so I put on my best interview
smile and listened to his questions.
Mr. Screenwriter turned out to be a “class A” creep (in my not so humble
opinion). He had the “vibe” — a sleazy, unctuous feeling to him that made me
want to put as much distance between me and him as possible. He LOOKED normal
enough, but the vibe was there... and so were his ulterior motives. (Don’t
get me wrong. He didn’t come in and urinate on the kamiza or molest any of
the kids. He just had... ulterior motives.)
He started to “creep me out” almost instantly. He kept asking me about how
strong I was, whether or not I worked out or arm-wrestled. I’m not a
delicate woman by any means—I’m short and built pretty solidly (but I’m no
Olga-the-Siberian-dog-tracker, either!) He asked me to arm-wrestle him, which
I declined. He then asked to feel my grip. My body/mind screamed no, but,
out of politeness, I held my hand out and shook his hand. I didn’t try to
crush his hand, I just held it firmly—my usual handshake. (I consequently
had to wash the palpable scuz from my hand later on.)
Screenwriter-boy then proceeded to ask me how I would assert my dominance
over a man to prove to him that I wasn’t to be messed with. He asked if I
would grab him by the throat, or throw him. I kept saying that women don’t
approach confrontations like that... that I would do things differently.
However, Taki Otoshi did quickly come to mind, but since he hadn’t signed a
training waiver, I didn’t think it prudent to drop Mr. Scuz on the concrete.
I kept trying to send him to Jean-Pierre, telling him that my teacher would
be better able to answer his questions. But he didn’t seem to want to speak
to any of the men in the room... just the women.
I kept on getting more and more uncomfortable since throughout the course of
our conversation, Screenwriter-boy continually asked if I trained in
groundfighting or if I did any pins. I answered him honestly, hoping to turn
him away from that line of thinking. I personally don’t like to engage in
groundfighting at all (I had a very negative rape-type situation in my past),
and as for pins, well... the last time I try to restrain someone, I popped
my uke’s elbow and hurt him (AND I still feel guilty for that !) His eyes
lit up for a minute when I disclosed that I hurt someone and he continued to
ask me about ground-fighting and wrestling. I started to look for a way out
of this conversation, as I sat and smiled through the uncomfortableness that
made itself known throughout my body.
This mock-interview went on for about ten minutes. He put his hand on my
shoulder and asked me what I would to if someone, a stranger did that to me.
Would I throw them? Strangle them? I looked him dead in the eye and told him,
in a low calm voice, that I would inform the person to get their fucking hand
off my shoulder. I also calmly told him “You don’t need to get into a
physical confrontation every time—that’s not what this art is about.”
Since he was too touchy-feely for my taste, and I got the feeling that the
next question was going to be about co-ed naked taijutsu, I finally got the
courage to bail out by saying that I had to get back on the mat.
He watched me train for a little bit longer, then left. After he left, I
excused myself from the mat and spoke with Kris, who was covering reception
that afternoon and had also felt the vibe from him. He had started asking her
similar questions, and when she began to give him “non-answers” he gave up on
her. He had also appraised her body with his eyes and asked her similar
questions on strength, etc. He had also told Kris that he had a different
occupation—he was a composer, not a screenwriter.
After class, we all joked about the incident. One of the instructors, Nick,
asked me how much I would charge the guy to dominate him. He said I could
make a lot of money from it and we all laughed... but the incident stayed
in my mind for the rest of the weekend.
Why did this incident bother me so much? Perhaps its because I want to be
taken seriously—both as a martial artist and as a woman. I’m not someone’s
love mistress—let me beat you, chain you, etc. And this man was
trivializing, and degrading something that I felt very proud of—my
strength and my ability to defend myself. My strength is sexy when *I* want
it to be—not when some creep decides that muscles are hot. That’s part of
it, but not all.
The other, more deep-rooted reason is that I was never able to bring myself
to tell him, “Your game is up. I know what you want and you’re not going to
get it here. Leave the school now. This isn’t Mistress Diana’s House of
Pain.“ In other words, I never stood up for myself. I allowed this man to
make me feel uncomfortable in what is to me one of my “safe places.” The
dojo is as safe as my home for me. I sat there and allowed this man, this
STRANGER to touch me when I didn’t want to be touched; to “hold me captive”
because of some arcane politeness gene. By standing up for myself, I
wouldn’t be a nice and good girl anymore.
Funny thing, is a similar situation happened to me earlier this year in May,
involving a man I had just met at a bookstore. I commented on some book that
he was reading and he thanked me. He asked if I wanted to have coffee, so I
decided I would take a chance and do so. I regretted that. As I sat across
the table from this individual, I knew that every single word coming out of
his mouth was a lie. I just *knew* and I could feel myself shrinking inside,
as I tried to mentally get away from him. But again, I was too nice. I could
not bring myself to be rude and leave—to tell him what I really thought of
him. It was near closing time, so I figured I would escape that way.
However, he offered me a lift home. Although every fiber of my being
screamed “psycho-killer” I allowed this man (whom I knew was lying with every
word he said) to drive me home. I gave him a cross street near my home so
that he wouldn’t know where I lived. I sat in the car the entire time with my
hand on my folding knife. I figured that I could jump out of the car if I
needed to and steeled myself mentally to do so. It was when he passed the
street that I had given him by about quarter mile that I started to panic. I
told him sternly to pull over and let me out, or I would have to hurt him
because I did not trust him anymore. He drove another block, apologizing the
whole way, and then let me out of the car. I disappeared quickly, fearing
that he would follow me home. Fortunately, I made it home safe and did not
become another sad statistic.
This is what I have to work on. Asserting myself and my right—to be safe,
to be comfortable, to be happy. Somewhere along the way, my mom must have
told me to be a nice and good girl. I guess I understood that to mean
non-assertive. As an adult, I’m still paying for this mis-understanding.
However, I still have hope and time... I can still change. And I’ll use the
confidence that I gain through my training to change... and assert myself
more.
That’s it for this month, guys and gals! As always, please e-mail the authors
with your support and recognition. Also, please e-mail me with any errors or
adjustments to this newsletter.
See you next month!
Liz maryland is the editor of this newsletter. She is a graphic designer
by trade and an information gatherer by choice. Contrary to popular belief,
Liz is a real, flesh and bl
“Kihon Happo... learning Kihon happo requires learning things other than
Kihon Happo, like Biken Happo, Bugei Juhappan, and Ninja Juhakkei. By
learning these other things, you will eventually come to understand Kihon
Happo.”
(Before practice) “I got a letter from the President of Argentina. He said
that the Bujinkan has developed nicely, not only in Argentina, but throughout
the world.”
“I mentioned before about the importance of Kihon Happo. Without them, you
cannot understand the Happo Biken, and you cannot understand the sword.”
“Most arts nowadays teach you only to cut on the outside. You have to learn
how to cut on the inside (once you’ve penetrated).”
“The other day I mentioned to you that it is the little things that are most
important. Do you know (some dude’s name)? That criminal who was apprehended
in Argentina? They finally were able to track him down and capture him
because of a few minute details. This illustrates my point.”
“You’ve got to get this lock without them knowing that you’ve got the lock.”
“When you’re cutting someone you want to stop your sword at that point. Many
people practice cutting through ‘makiwara’ or bamboo, but that is no good.
Just because you’ve cut someone, doesn’t mean that they’ve died as soon as
your blade touched them. (It’s not a light saber from Star Wars, folks)
Someone with a great fighting spirit would still fight on, despite their
wounds, and could very easily kill you. You have to stop your blade and be
prepared to respond (by moving into ‘kamae’ or whatever) to any subsequent
attacks.”
“Those who think only of themselves are no good, be it in life or martial
arts. They are the same thing.”
“If you swing your sword down normally like this, it will give off a sound.
But if you extend your arms and push your sword out and stop it at this
point, it won’t.”
“The U.S. Tai Kai had over 600 people. This shows how the Bujinkan has
grown.... There were many people who were very good in their own ways.”
Two Views of One Ultimate Reality
by Stephen K. Hayes
Communication Through the Heart
by Pedro Fleitas
Injuries in the Martial Arts
by Bo Munthe
Reflections on Tai Kai 96
by Maximiliano Formento
Observations on the Atlanta Tai Kai
by Jay King
Martial Arts and the Dance of Life
by Philip M. Greeley
Did you know...?
Taijutsu, the ninja self-protection method, is sometimes taught using an
elemental approach based on the Go-dai “five-elements.” This way of teaching
introduces taijutsu concepts and movements in a way that is easy for most
westerners to understand.
(from the Scholar Warrior's Dictionary—Japanese)
Jo: Short staff.
Jodan Uke: Block of a strike to the head level (see Jodan) by sweeping
forearm upwards across body to just above face.
Jodan: The upper section of the body, the head.
Ju: Ten; Korean—Yull
Juji Uke: Block with both forearms crossed; Korean—Eot Gee Ree Mak Gee
Kakato Geri: Kick where heel is used to strike opponent, generally to the
rear. (see Ushiro geri).
Kara Te: (Ancient—China Hand) A style of empty hand fighting whose basics
come from China and was further developed in Okinawa and Japan.
Kata: A complete set of choreographed martial movements; Korean—Hyong Poomse
Katana: Japanese curved long sword.
Ken:Closed hand used for various strikes; Chinese—Chuan; Korean—Kwon
Ki Ai: Shout used to harmonize the body and energy during a martial technique;
Korean—Key Ap
Ki: Vitality; A Yang counterpart to Blood(Yin), it forms and circulates blood;
See San Bao(Chinese); Chinese—Chi
Kiba Dachi: Stance with feet parallel and twice shoulder width apart; Korean—Juchoom Sogi
Ku: Nine; Korean—Ah Hop
Kumite: English-Sparring; Korean—Gay Doo Ghee
Mae Geri: Front Kick. Kick with the ball of the foot impacting target parallel
to the kicking leg; Korean—Ap Cha Gee
Mawashi Geri: This kick pivots at the knee, lands perpendicular to the
kicking leg, hitting with the ball of the foot; Korean—Dol Ryo Cha Gee
Migi: Right
Mitsuba Dachi: Stance with feet together; Korean—Cha Dhee Ut Sogi
Naginata: A pole arm with a blade affixed to the end designed for slashing.
Naginatajutsu is a well practiced art of the women of Japan.
Naha Te: The martial art which comes from the Naha village in Okinawa.
Naha: One of the three major villages in Okinawa from which Martial
traditions spring See also Shuri and Tomari.
Ni Ju: Twenty; Korean—Soo Mul
Ni: Two; Korean—Dool
Nikute: A strike made with the open hand, thrusting forward with the
tips of the fingers (Hand generally held vertically) ; Korean -Sohn Ghoot
Selecting a Sword
by Kendall Kelsoe
Awareness
by Matthew Seguin
Gikan Ryu Koppojutsu Happo Hiken
by Mats Hjelm
Akimoto, Kanai Moriyoshi
Akimoto, Kanai Moriyoshi: He was a student of Sougyoko, Kan Ritsushi who was
the 12th Soke in Gyokko Ryu Kosshijutsu and the 3rd Soke in Koto Ryu
Koppojutsu. He is the one who founded the teachings that would become Gikan
Ryu, he is not considered to be the founder for reasons unknown.
Akimoto, Kanai Moriyoshi was a student of Sougyoko, Kan Ritsushi the 12th
Soke of Gyokko Ryu and the 3rd Soke of Koto Ryu. These two schools were
passed down to Toda, Sakyo Ishinsai and the Momochi family in the Tembun era
(1532-1555), and later to the Toda family and down to Hatsumi, Masaaki who
now is the 28th Soke of Gyokko Ryu Kosshijutsu and the 18th Soke of Koto Ryu
Koppojutsu.
Another Koppojutsu school called Hontai Gyokushin Ryu can be traced to
Sougyoko, Kan Ritsushi the 12th Soke of Gyokko Ryu and the 3rd Soke of Koto
Ryu. The founder was named Suzuki, Taizen Taro Kanomaza (or Suzuki,
Daizentaro Chikamaza) it was later passed down to Fukao, Tsunouma Shigeyoshi
(or Fukao, Kadoma Shigeyoshi) who renamed the school to Izumo Ryu Koppojutsu.
Whether or not this school still exists is unknown.
This school can also be traced to Sougyoko, Kan Ritsushi the 12th Soke of
Gyokko Ryu and the 3rd Soke of Koto Ryu. The founder was named Sasaki,
Gendayu Sadayasu, the school is handed down for 8-10 generations until it
come back to the Gyokko and Koto Ryu and the Toda family schools. It is now
one of the nine Bujinkan schools under the supervision of Hatsumi Sensei who
is the 21st Soke of Gyokushin Ryu Ninpo.
Takamatsu was given all Ishitani’s Denshos (scrolls), and was also told that
he should give a copy of Hontai Takagi Yoshin Ryu to his friend Kakuno,
Hachiheita. Ishitani then died in the lap of Takamatsu. Kakuno’s school was
simply called the Hontai Ryu. Kakuno had three students that received Menkyo
Kaiden; they were Wakita Sei Ichi, Tsutsui Yoshihisa (Takagi Ryu from
Ummanosuke) and Minaki Saburoji Masanori (Hontai Yoshin Ryu). Minaki also had
three students that received Menkyo Kaiden. They were Tanaka Fumon (Minaki
den Kukishin Ryu Bojutsu), Matsudo, and Inoue Munetoshi Tsuyoshi (Hontai
Yoshin Ryu). Inoue is still active and teaches at his dojo in Kobe. His son
travels abroad to teach a couple of times per year.
Takamatsu had a student named Sato Kinbei Kiyoaki which is supposed to have
received Menkyo Kaiden of Gikan Ryu, Hontai Takagi Yoshin Ryu, and
Kukishinden Ryu in January 1963 shortly after the death of Akimoto. According
to him, he was the 13th Soke. He did not include Akimoto and Ishitani
Matsutaro for reasons unknown, see below for a more detailed list.
Akimoto Fumio the 14th Soke, taught Gikan Ryu (and probably also Shoken Ryu)
to Mifune of the Kodokan Judo. He taught him ways of striking and kicking.
This was later incorporated into the Judo training.
The training levels of Gikan Ryu Koppojutsu are ...
GENBUKAN VERSION BUJINKAN VERSION
1. Uryu, Hangan Gikanbo 1. Uryu, Hangan Gikanbo
2. Uryu, Hangan Yoshichika 2. Uryu, Yoshimitsu
3. Uryu, Kanzui 3. Uryu, Yoshimori
4. Uryu, Nobuyoshi 4. Uryu, Yoshichika
5. Uryu, Tenkaibo 5. Uryu, Yoshitaka
6. Uryu, Yoshitaro Hidechika 6. Uryu, Yoshihide
7. Uryu, Sokaibo 7. Uryu, Yoshimori
8. Uryu, Shinkaibo 8. Uryu, Yoshiaki
9. Uryu, Gikaibo 9. Uryu, Yoshiyasu
10. Uryu, Gikanbo 10. Uryu, Gikan
11. Ishitani, Matsutaro Takekage 11. Ishitani, Takeoi Masatsugu
12. Takamatsu, Toshitsugu Uoh 12. Ishitani, Matsutaro Takekage
13. Sato, Kinbei Kiyoaki 13. Takamatsu, Toshitsugu Uoh
14. Tanemura, Shoto 14. Akimoto, Fumio
15. Hatsumi, Masaaki (Yoshiaki)
The original Text and research was made by Peter Carlsson who may be
reached at datortek@sbbs.se. Translation was made from Swedish to
English by Mats Hjelm who may be contacted at
Sveneric Bogsaeter ¥ Perti Ruha ¥ Stan Skrabut ¥ Mariette V. D. Vliet
¥ Charles Daniels ¥ Bernadette V. D. Vliet ¥ Stephen Turnbull ¥ Ben
Jones ¥ Paul Richardson ¥ HATSUMI Masaaki ¥ Gothenburg ninposaellskap
(and possibly many others)
A Warrior’s Creed
by an anonymous Samurai, 14th Century
submitted by Howard Husum
I have no home—I make awareness my home.
I have no life or death—I make the tides of breathing my life and death.
I have no divine power—I make honesty my divine power.
I have no means—I make understanding my means.
I have no magic secrets—I make character my magic secret.
I have no body—I make endurance my body.
I have no eyes—I make the flash of lightning my eyes.
I have no ears—I make sensibility my ears.
I have no limbs—I make promptness my limbs.
I have no strategy—I make "unshadowed by thought" my strategy.
I have no designs—I make "seizing opportunity by the forelock" my design.
I have no miracles—I make right-action my miracles.
I have no principles—I make adaptability to all circumstances my principles.
I have no tactics—I make emptiness and fullness my tactics.
I have no talents—I make ready wit my talent.
I have no friends—I make my mind my friend.
I have no enemy—I make carelessness my enemy.
I have no armor—I make benevolence and righteousness my armor.
I have no castle—I make immovable-mind my castle.
I have no sword —I make absence of self my sword.
Thought of the Day
—Mary McCarthy
End Notes
by Liz maryland