Year: 2017

There was a time when you came to the Honbu dōjō for techniques.

Then there was a time where you came for some profound philosophical concepts.

The time now is about the rest: non-action. Wu Wei. (1)

Today Hatsumi sensei added a “click” in his no-action movement. “Mutō Dori is Zero” was his introduction to the class.

As often on Sundays, the Dōjō was full of people from all over the world visiting Japan in the hope of understanding better the intricacies of our art. But there was nothing to understand. Sensei was unfolding the same things he has been doing for quite some time through Taijutsu, Katana, and Tantō. But today his actions were impossible to understand.

Sensei can control the space, and the opponent using only one finger at a time. There was no Waza (he repeated it a few times), there was no philosophical concept, there was nothing. It reminded me of this Wu Wei the “action without action”. Even when I had the chance to be his Uke, I couldn’t get it. It was as if Sensei was not there with me, but I was incapable of doing anything. Putting his fingers, one at a time he would control all my movements as if playing music on a keyboard. On a sword attack, he would only grab the blade from above and use his fingers to lock the blade in place as if taken by a pair of pliers.

During the break, seated on the ground next to him he would continue to show us the simplicity of it. Pedro was asked to Tsuki him and would lose his balance on the spot. The same happened to me, and to a few Japanese high ranks around him. Each time he would read Uke’s balance and destroy it effortlessly. Watching it, was something, feeling it yourself, or better said, not feeling anything was amazing. Today I began to see the vast path opened to us, and the power of non-action. Touching the attacker with only one fingertip, Sensei was able to use the power of Kūkan. (2)

Earlier, he had reminded us of the Ishitobashi (3), the skipping stones, and of the importance of using those “air pockets” created by the bouncing of the stone on the surface of the water. His Budō has never been so simple, and at the same time so difficult to reproduce. Because that was beyond feeling, sensation, or intent. One moment you attack, the next, you are defeated with no reason.

When you are Uke, you usually have a better chance to grasp the feeling, not anymore. Let me insist here. Even when you are Uke, you do not see; do not feel, do not understand what is happening. There is no pain; there is no speed, there is no technique. It is pure nothingness.

I call it Wu Wei (Chinese, literally “non-doing”) for that reason. Wuwei is an important concept of Taoism and means natural action, or in other words, an action that does not involve struggle or excessive effort. It is the cultivation of a mental state in which our actions are quite effortlessly in alignment with the flow of life.

“No excessive effort” summarises quite well what Sensei did to us today. Sensei was hardly moving, and whatever attack he was facing his control was the same. He said it like that: “at this level of Mutō Dori everything is the same, this is Zero!”.

I wish more Bujinkan would join the training in Japan because if they don’t, I don’t see how they can evolve and complete the Shingitai. (4)

Mastering the Gi and controlling your Tai is good, but moving at the Shin level requires another type of training that you can only get here in Japan.

_____________________

1. Wu wei: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wu_wei

2. Kūkan: 空間, Space, airspace

3. Ishitobashi: 石飛ばし, skipping stones (on a body of water); skimming stones​

4. Shingitai: 心技体, originally a concept originating from Sumo: spirit, technique, physique

There was a time when you came to the Honbu dōjō for techniques.

Then there was a time where you came for some profound philosophical concepts.

The time now is about the rest: non-action. Wu Wei. (1)

Today Hatsumi sensei added a “click” in his no-action movement. “Mutō Dori is Zero” was his introduction to the class.

As often on Sundays, the Dōjō was full of people from all over the world visiting Japan in the hope of understanding better the intricacies of our art. But there was nothing to understand. Sensei was unfolding the same things he has been doing for quite some time through Taijutsu, Katana, and Tantō. But today his actions were impossible to understand.

Sensei can control the space, and the opponent using only one finger at a time. There was no Waza (he repeated it a few times), there was no philosophical concept, there was nothing. It reminded me of this Wu Wei the “action without action”. Even when I had the chance to be his Uke, I couldn’t get it. It was as if Sensei was not there with me, but I was incapable of doing anything. Putting his fingers, one at a time he would control all my movements as if playing music on a keyboard. On a sword attack, he would only grab the blade from above and use his fingers to lock the blade in place as if taken by a pair of pliers.

During the break, seated on the ground next to him he would continue to show us the simplicity of it. Pedro was asked to Tsuki him and would lose his balance on the spot. The same happened to me, and to a few Japanese high ranks around him. Each time he would read Uke’s balance and destroy it effortlessly. Watching it, was something, feeling it yourself, or better said, not feeling anything was amazing. Today I began to see the vast path opened to us, and the power of non-action. Touching the attacker with only one fingertip, Sensei was able to use the power of Kūkan. (2)

Earlier, he had reminded us of the Ishitobashi (3), the skipping stones, and of the importance of using those “air pockets” created by the bouncing of the stone on the surface of the water. His Budō has never been so simple, and at the same time so difficult to reproduce. Because that was beyond feeling, sensation, or intent. One moment you attack, the next, you are defeated with no reason.

When you are Uke, you usually have a better chance to grasp the feeling, not anymore. Let me insist here. Even when you are Uke, you do not see; do not feel, do not understand what is happening. There is no pain; there is no speed, there is no technique. It is pure nothingness.

I call it Wu Wei (Chinese, literally “non-doing”) for that reason. Wuwei is an important concept of Taoism and means natural action, or in other words, an action that does not involve struggle or excessive effort. It is the cultivation of a mental state in which our actions are quite effortlessly in alignment with the flow of life.

“No excessive effort” summarises quite well what Sensei did to us today. Sensei was hardly moving, and whatever attack he was facing his control was the same. He said it like that: “at this level of Mutō Dori everything is the same, this is Zero!”.

I wish more Bujinkan would join the training in Japan because if they don’t, I don’t see how they can evolve and complete the Shingitai. (4)

Mastering the Gi and controlling your Tai is good, but moving at the Shin level requires another type of training that you can only get here in Japan.

_____________________

1. Wu wei: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wu_wei

2. Kūkan: 空間, Space, airspace

3. Ishitobashi: 石飛ばし, skipping stones (on a body of water); skimming stones​

4. Shingitai: 心技体, originally a concept originating from Sumo: spirit, technique, physique

Someone said “What comes easy, won’t last, what lasts, won’t come easy”, this is a correct definition of the class we had today with Senō sensei.

For the whole class, we did only two techniques using his deep understanding of body mechanics. Joseph, a French Nidan, and I were lost in the first tries.

Senō sensei like any other Japanese Dai Shihan has a touch of magic when it comes to body mechanics. And to replicate it takes multiple repetitions. Often I am unable to reproduce his Taijutsu, but when I do it, even partially, it benefits my whole training.

Today, I didn’t do it perfectly as it was so subtle and efficient. I was close, but not enough. Senō’s techniques always look easy until you try to do them. A few years ago, I asked him where did he get this precision. He told me that: “for three years, I tried every possible angle, for every joint lock.”

“What comes easy, won’t last, what lasts, won’t come easy”. Excellence is about repeated failure. Nothing is given. Everything is the result of hard work. And once you have it, it will last. Remember how difficult it was as a kid to learn how to swim, or ride your bike. Today when you swim or ride your bike, you know.
The harder it is to get, and the deeper it is ingrained.

Senō sensei insisted on three main points: proper distance, correct footwork, full body pivot. They are all linked to one another, but before connecting them together, you have to study each one thoroughly.

Proper distancing is the space between you and the many possible attacks by the opponent. It is not enough to copy the blocks, locks, kicks. You have to position your body correctly at each step. Training properly demands slow movements.

As always in the Bujinkan, a correct footwork is a capital element of the technique. When you study the footwork of the Japanese Dai Shihan, you will discover that each one of them has a personal way to position the body correctly. They move all differently, but they achieve the same result. If Noguchi sensei is more into Kosshi Jutsu, and Nagato sensei more into Koppō Jutsu, Senō sensei is into Taihen Jutsu.

The last point, and he insisted a lot on it, is to move the opponent by pivoting the body as a whole, through the hips and the feet, and not with your hands. Grabbing is a consequence of a correct body motion, not the opposite. Last April, I remember how he taught us how to take Uke’s balance by bending the body forward instead of putting strength in the hands.

Your hands become your worst enemy if you overuse them because you will lose the natural efficiency created by your knowledge of distance, and by the quality of your footwork. Use your body.

Today during class, as I was struggling with what seemed simple techniques, I remembered what Kary Mullis, Nobel prize of Chemistry said: “It is complex to make something simple.” (1)  I asked Senō sensei to do it a few times on my partner and me, and each time I was not able to do everything he did, even when I had the chance to experience it or to see it at close range. Senō sensei is like those close-up magicians. You can observe their movements; you never see what is happening.

“What comes easy, won’t last, what lasts, won’t come easy” is a good way to summarise the whole class. Even though I got technically close to what he did, I was not doing these techniques as well as he did. But I know for sure that my entire Taijutsu got upgraded today with the little things my body understood. What is strange is why so few people have the courage to attend his classes and face their limits. After all isn’t facing your limits, the essence of Mutō Dori? (2)

____________________________

(1) http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/chemistry/laureates/1993/

Read his book: Dancing naked in the mind field

(2) Today only 12 students join the class. I don’t understand.

Someone said “What comes easy, won’t last, what lasts, won’t come easy”, this is a correct definition of the class we had today with Senō sensei.

For the whole class, we did only two techniques using his deep understanding of body mechanics. Joseph, a French Nidan, and I were lost in the first tries.

Senō sensei like any other Japanese Dai Shihan has a touch of magic when it comes to body mechanics. And to replicate it takes multiple repetitions. Often I am unable to reproduce his Taijutsu, but when I do it, even partially, it benefits my whole training.

Today, I didn’t do it perfectly as it was so subtle and efficient. I was close, but not enough. Senō’s techniques always look easy until you try to do them. A few years ago, I asked him where did he get this precision. He told me that: “for three years, I tried every possible angle, for every joint lock.”

“What comes easy, won’t last, what lasts, won’t come easy”. Excellence is about repeated failure. Nothing is given. Everything is the result of hard work. And once you have it, it will last. Remember how difficult it was as a kid to learn how to swim, or ride your bike. Today when you swim or ride your bike, you know.
The harder it is to get, and the deeper it is ingrained.

Senō sensei insisted on three main points: proper distance, correct footwork, full body pivot. They are all linked to one another, but before connecting them together, you have to study each one thoroughly.

Proper distancing is the space between you and the many possible attacks by the opponent. It is not enough to copy the blocks, locks, kicks. You have to position your body correctly at each step. Training properly demands slow movements.

As always in the Bujinkan, a correct footwork is a capital element of the technique. When you study the footwork of the Japanese Dai Shihan, you will discover that each one of them has a personal way to position the body correctly. They move all differently, but they achieve the same result. If Noguchi sensei is more into Kosshi Jutsu, and Nagato sensei more into Koppō Jutsu, Senō sensei is into Taihen Jutsu.

The last point, and he insisted a lot on it, is to move the opponent by pivoting the body as a whole, through the hips and the feet, and not with your hands. Grabbing is a consequence of a correct body motion, not the opposite. Last April, I remember how he taught us how to take Uke’s balance by bending the body forward instead of putting strength in the hands.

Your hands become your worst enemy if you overuse them because you will lose the natural efficiency created by your knowledge of distance, and by the quality of your footwork. Use your body.

Today during class, as I was struggling with what seemed simple techniques, I remembered what Kary Mullis, Nobel prize of Chemistry said: “It is complex to make something simple.” (1)  I asked Senō sensei to do it a few times on my partner and me, and each time I was not able to do everything he did, even when I had the chance to experience it or to see it at close range. Senō sensei is like those close-up magicians. You can observe their movements; you never see what is happening.

“What comes easy, won’t last, what lasts, won’t come easy” is a good way to summarise the whole class. Even though I got technically close to what he did, I was not doing these techniques as well as he did. But I know for sure that my entire Taijutsu got upgraded today with the little things my body understood. What is strange is why so few people have the courage to attend his classes and face their limits. After all isn’t facing your limits, the essence of Mutō Dori? (2)

____________________________

(1) http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/chemistry/laureates/1993/

Read his book: Dancing naked in the mind field

(2) Today only 12 students join the class. I don’t understand.