THOUGHTS ON BUDO AT THE TURN OF A DECADE

The world has changed considerably since I first began to study Budō, several decades ago. It is now a much smaller world, due primarily to the innovations made in communications and computer technology. I can recall that in 1995, computers and the Internet were at best, an insignificant part of most people’s lives, and cell phones (mobile phones then) were large, cumbersome things: hardly anyone had one. In the ensuing fifteen years however, most of the industrialized world has been connected to the Internet and the phenomenon of mobile communications. Literally, billions of pages of information are at anyone’s fingertips with just a click of a computer mouse. Sadly, at the same time, the world has grown more violent and dangerous. In the United States, we witnessed firsthand the attack on the World Trade Center, the war in Iraq, the war in Afghanistan, countless terrorist attacks, and assassinations, not to mention innumerable homicides and heinous crimes here at home. Domestic and foreign terrorism, in all its forms, have become almost daily occurrences, and news of them is now almost instantaneous. We now see crime and violence even as it occurs, often graphically, from the comfort of our easy chairs. When examined, even superficially, the sum of all this tends to reinvorce my feeling that the need has never, in modern times, been greater for people to train in traditional martial arts, such as Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu.

I have no personal knowledge of any official study, however my own understanding is that few, if any people, classically trained in martial arts, have committed the types of violence and terrorism that fill our computer and television screens, as well as the front pages of our newspapers. Acts of terrorism and violence run counter to the very nature and intent of traditional martial arts programs. Classic Japanese martial arts, Budō if you will, is in fact the art of peacemaking. I continue to teach Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu, not simply because it trains one to perform acts of violence, but rather because it trains both mind and spirit to seek out peace and harmony while preparing one to defend against acts of violence; the end result of which is creating, in some small way, a more peaceful world for its practitioners.

While Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu, on the surface, would appear to have little application to contemporary ideas of self-defense, I cannot help but feel that it truly does have practical applications. A broomstick, a mop handle, a cane, with training, can be a real boon for a person threatened with attack. Beyond that, these arts are simple serene, and elegant, bereft of the splendid embellishments and gymnastics assigned them by the cinema and print media, such as manga. In a real sense, however, this simplicity, serenity, and elegance, and the absence of superficial flourishes, have at least in the United States, been self-defeating. It is difficult for the uneducated and the unsophisticated to see how Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu could be of any use in self-defense; thus, such arts have little attraction to those who are instead drawn to more brutal forms of “combat,” such as grappling, Brazilian Jiujitsu, and “mixed martial arts,” which many traditional instructors, including myself, regard as nothing more than fighting. Fighting is what is cool. Fighting is “in.” Fighting is power. Skill in fighting makes one a “tough guy,” which assists in maintaining the “thug is good” thinking, propagated by television and movies, manga, music videos, and worst of all, violent video games. Indeed, contemporary, violent video games occupy the minds and time of American youth far more than such mundane pastimes as study, reading, or active participation in sports. Absent are the enduring values and ethics of traditional Budō, now set aside for the less endearing and enduring values of contemporary “martial arts” training.

Sadly, I do not foresee much change in the way that the “samurai arts” will be presented in literature or the entertainment media. Looking back, I think that the contemporary view of Budō began with the larger-than-life, naïve, unworkable, and improbable portrayals of traditional martial arts by works of fantasy and fiction such as the Teenaged Mutant Nina Turtles. Since their inception, the media has inundated us with anime, manga, video games, television programs and feature films highlighting samurai-like characters that perform gross representations of sword and other martial techniques; which in turn, have created false impressions and therefore expectations, that make legitimate martial arts at least disappointing if not totally unattractive. I say disappointing in view of the large number of would-be students who are disenchanted early on in their training, or even before they begin training, when they come to a dojo in the hopes of learning the “moves” that they saw in some movie or video game, and the dojo is either unable, and often unwilling, to do so.

My own experience recently is that interest in traditional Japanese martial arts, in the United States, does not support nor will it sustain classes in such subjects as Kenjutsu or Iaijutsu; individual, private students yes, but classes, no. In a country that would seem to pride itself and take comfort in its ignorance, obesity, and laziness, and its attraction to that which is crass, serious students are far between. Certainly, I have received inquiries from parents who want to enroll their children in classes; yet, what is the point when the child does not want to attend and has little or no interest beyond the “flash,” nor the common sense or sense of responsibility that goes with learning potentially dangerous techniques? There is none. Even parents are disappointed when they discover that it takes years upon years to achieve the proficiency to earn a black belt, the “holy grail” of American martial arts: not six months, not a year, but years. It is no better with potential students in their late teens or in their twenties; indeed, such students are almost totally absent. The discipline of mind and body that is required is simply not there. What few potentially good students there are tend to be over fifty, college educated, accomplished, and disciplined. Interestingly, these are mature people who potentially suffer more aches and pains then younger students; and yet, are more than willing to endure such discomforts, for the sake of the art.

What the coming decade will hold is of course a mystery. Perhaps, with the diminished American economy and the austerity that it demands, some small side effect will be a turn away from crassness, lack of discipline, and lack of responsibility, toward a new embracing of good, traditional values. Only time will tell.

THOUGHTS ON TECHNIQUE IN BUDO I

"One should train themself meticulously and then forget about it."

Ultimately, the reason one practices Budō or a martial art is so that one can make the art an integral part of one’s self. In order to achieve any degree of mastery, that is, competence as well as confidence, it is necessary for one to attain a state in which he or she is able to use the best possible techniques instinctively: without thinking. The only way that one can accomplish this is by learning to deal with every conceivable circumstance.

Alone, our imaginations are not always able to conceive of every possible situation; consequently, in the classes I have taught, as an unwritten adjunct to the curriculum, students are encouraged, actually they are expected, to bring possible variations to a situation up to the class, so that the other students may consider and discuss the circumstance and actively experiment with the various ways to deal with it: good and bad. They work out solutions and in a sense the student becomes a teacher. By doing this, it is possible, through slight variation or innovation, to transform one technique into ten.

One must, however, be wary of allowing their “soul to attach itself to a technique.” That is to say, one must not become obsessed, when for example engaged in combat or practice with a sword or shinai, to become solely focused on technique. If one is simply centered on technique, and not freeing up his mind, if one’s actions and reactions are not instinctive, then the opponent will ultimately have the opportunity to not only strike back but to win.

When in combat or practice, one should not think about “killing” their opponent or what technique will do the job, but rather merging and flowing with an opponent and allowing the techniques to select themselves.

Remember that no matter how wonderful one’s technique may be, if one is focused solely on that aspect of their art, then one, simply put, cannot win. Once techniques are learned, practice without thinking of simply striking, parrying, or thrusting. Let the mind go free so that the movements and techniques come freely from within one’s self.

It is a simple fact that once one has trained themself well, their body, arms, and legs will move automatically; that is, without any conscious effort. So, one’s mind will not be overcome by their physical movements and be able to make use of the techniques they have learned and practiced without having to think. Once this state of mind has been reached, no misgivings or wavering will occur. There is no enemy or opponent, not even a tengu or a demon, who will be able to find an opportunity to effectively attack.

One should train themself meticulously and then forget about it. One should toss aside their mind and thus follow the Way without actually being conscious of it. This is a obscurity of all ways and arts, be it Aikidō, Iaidō, Judō, Karate-Dō, Kendō, Aikijutsu, Iaijutsu, or Kenjutsu.

Copyright 2010 by Hayato Tokugawa, Sekishinkan Tokugawa Dojo, and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part 2)

To cut the opponent while avoiding being cut is in one sense largely external, because it depends, in part, on technique and strategies which are taught and learned. The second goal, to progress in the direction of perfection of character, is more internal, as it comes from within each of us; yet, it is equally as valid. Both of these objectives are keys to the proper practice of the art of swordsmanship and every subsequent goal is derived from them.

To cut an opponent while at the same time not being cut is, as noted above, a largely external goal. It relates to one’s physical actions as well as to those of their opponent. If one thinks about it, however, “to cut an opponent while not being cut” is also a theoretical goal, in that in modern Japanese society, we do not typically use the katana as a weapon. The modern trend is to place far less emphasis on the killing ability of the katana and instead focus on its character as a tool by which one adds or modifies character and self-discipline. It is however, necessary to keep in mind the true, fighting purpose of the katana. One must maintain a concept of the practical reasons for the art of swordsmanship; thus anchoring one to a sense of martial practicality. Each decision one makes; how to hold a sword, how to stand, how to move, how to think; must be based on the actual principles of fighting with the katana; otherwise one’s actions are no longer fixed in the art and its traditions.

Within our dojo, “to cut an opponent while not being cut” is taken quite seriously, both in discussion of tactics and techniques, as well as in practice. Wearing full bogu[i], it becomes a practical matter of not being “whacked” by bokken or shinai – both potentially a painful experience. The intent of such a practice, among others, is not a competition, but rather to take matters one step further in providing a real, tangible means of fixing in one’s mind in the true, practical aspects, traditions, and history of swordsmanship.

The perfection of character, an internal end, relates directly to the state of one’s mind and spirit. It is equally a real goal although difficult to achieve. It is possible through practice to improve one’s awareness, thought patterns, self-discipline, even one’s integrity and ability to live harmoniously within the community, in keeping with the principles of Wa-Dō. Granted, there is no actual need to develop the skills of sword fighting; yet, there does exist a true need for one to refine themselves and to work toward the betterment of themselves and their community.

The more one follows their quest to accomplish the first goal, the more one makes press along the path to the second. Time spent well in practicing kata, in drills, and in other training with the sword, the more the internal goals are achieved. Therefore, when one speaks of strategy, one addresses both the most successful ways to use a sword and the most effective ways to utilizing swordsmanship to fashion one’s spirit.

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[i] Bogu (防具 ) is the specially developed protective armor used in Japanese martial arts, particulary in Kendō. A complete set consist of: men (面 ), the facefask and shoulder protector or helmet; the dō (胴 ) or torso protector; the kote (小手 ) or hand and forearm protectors (long, extended gloves); tare (垂) the leg and groin protector.

The men which protects the face, neck and shoulders, consists of a facemask with several horizontal metal bars, running across the entire width of the face, from the chin to the upper forehead. To this is attached a long, rectangular, thick cloth padding, which curves over the top of the head and extends to cover the shoulders. A plate to protect the throat is also attached to the bottom of the facemask. The men is held in place with a pair of cords, which wrap around the head and are tied at the back. Note that the men is left open for ventilation and thus the back of the head is left unprotected. This is primarily due to the fact that there is no prescribed nor permitted stroke to the back of the head.

The main component of the dō is the curved stomach and chest protector. In its modern form, the dō has a distinct bulge, which helps convey the force of a strike away from the soft, middle areas of the torso. Lacquered bamboo has traditionally used however, molded plastic or fiberglass is now frequently used instead. The dō is held in place from the shoulders by two diagonal ties from the shoulders and a small set of ties at the back.

The kote are gloves that resemble long-sleeved mittens, designed specifically for Kendō. While they look cumbersome, they indeed provide a high degree of mobility for hands and writs in gripping in gripping and wielding the shina (the traditional split bamboo “sword” of Kendō.

The tare is a thick, padded, cloth belt that wraps around the waist and ties under the front flap. The padded flaps that hang from the belt protect both the upper legs as well as the groin area.

Copyright 2009 by Sekishinkan Tokguawa Dojo/Takayama Budokai, Shisei-Do Dojo, Shisei-Do Publications, and Hayato Tokugawa. All rights reserved.

MUSASHI AND SELF- DISCIPLINE

MUSASHI AND SELF- DISCIPLINE

類い稀な体力、精神力、知性の持ち主、二刀流の達人、独力で剣の極意を得た剣豪、といえば、「バガボンド」の主人公宮本武蔵ですね。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　これだけ有名な剣豪ですが、さて、幼少の頃の武蔵はどうだったかということになると、なかなか資料が見つかりません。ただ、現存する資料や武蔵関連の書物から子供時代の武蔵を推測すると、武蔵は幼少の頃より自己鍛錬に励み、強い意志を持った青年だったようです。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　武蔵には師匠と呼べる人はいません。仮に、武蔵がどこかの道場の門下生だったとしましょう。武蔵は13歳にして、すでに木刀の達人であり、当時、巷で強いと評判の剣豪達に戦いを挑んでいました。そんなすごい生徒なら、道場が黙っているわけはありません。道場の評判を高める為にも、○○道場門下生として武蔵の名を世間に公表したであろう事は十分に考えられすがそのような記述はみたことがありません。また、武蔵の剣豪としての意識は子供の頃に形成され、剣の修行のため、幼い頃から独力で鍛錬に励みました。
さて、武蔵のおこなった修行を現代に当てはめて考えてみましょう。武蔵の修行ががどれほどのものであったか、想像してみてください。

金メダル目指してトレーニングしているオリンピック選手と比較してみるのが良いかと思います。コーチの指導を全く受けずに、技術的な面も精神的な面も助言を与える人が全くいない状態で金メダルを目指さなければならないとしたら、どうでしょう。

武蔵は独力で金メダルを獲得しました。

武蔵の修行の中から、何か私たちの日々の生活に取り入れられるものが、きっとあるはずです。


MUSASHI AND SELF- DISCIPLINE
One can assume that tremendous mental, physical, intellectual, and spiritual self-discipline are the reasons that Musashi Miyamoto was able to achieve his great success and reputation as Japan’s finest swordsman while still a relatively young man. Despite the fact that records of Musashi’s youth are both scarce and confused, as one learns more about him, it becomes apparent that he was indeed strong-willed and extraordinarily self-disciplined from an early age.
In Go Rin Sho, Musashi wrote that he himself had no teacher but rather that he was self-taught. This would seem to be true if for no other reason than any one of the formalized schools of Budo, which kept careful, strict records could have claimed him as a student and would have done so. By the age of thirteen, he was exceedingly adept at least with a wooden staff, to the extent that he had no hesitation in challenging a veteran samurai who had killed many men in one-on-one fighting.
This alone is enough to make Musashi distinctive in the chronicles of the samurai and indeed rare in any context. It supports Musashi’s claim that his own ambition formed very early on and compelled him to a level of self-discipline that seems rather extraordinary for a boy on his own.
In a modern application, perhaps the best way to point up the degree of self-discipline required in Budo would be to compare it with what men and women training for the Olympics would have to go through without the benefit of coaches, or sponsors. There is, however, nothing really new with regard the role of discipline in developing skills of any kind. Musashi’s deeds make it clear that in order to achieve that kind of success one must exercise comparable self-discipline, which can, be applied to any of life’s undertakings.

Copyright 2007 by Hayato Tokugawa and Sekishinkan Tokugawa Dojo