From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Lupin, anime figurine, Kadena-Cho Okinawa Japan. photo by satori.image

Timing is basic to combat strategy. Whether it is unarmed, iaijutsu, or even gunfighting. This variable and how you manage it contains hidden lessons.

Consider this example from a gunfight in William S. Burroughs' "The Place of Dead Roads,"

Suddenly Kim flicks his hand up without drawing and points at Mike with his index finger.
     "BANG! YOU'RE DEAD."
     He throws this last word like a stone. He knows that Mike will see a gun in the empty hand and this will crowd his draw….
     (With a phantom gun in an empty hand he has bluffed Mike into violating a basic rule of gunfighting. TYT. Take Your Time. Every gunfighter has his time. The time it takes him to draw aim fire and hit. If he tries to beat his time the result is almost invariably a miss….
     "Snatch and grab," Kim chants.
     Yes, Mike was drawing too fast, much too fast.
     Kim's hand snaps down flexible and sinuous as a whip and up with his gun extended in both hands at eye level.
     "Jerk and miss."
     He felt Mike's bullet whistle past his left shoulder.
     Trying for a heart shot.
     Both eyes open, Kim sights for a fraction of a second, just so long and long enough: the difference between a miss and a hit. Kim's bullet hits Mike just above the heart with a liquid SPLAT as the mercury explodes inside, blowing the aorta to shreds.

Violent and descriptive. Thank you Mr. Burroughs for an example that obviously comes not just from an imaginative writer but from real gunfighting experience.

In basic taijutsu timing, you can be early, current, or late or all the moments in between. In reality, making such distinctions has little to do with the reality of time as experienced in combat.

Time becomes elastic. People experience time differently depending on their age, psychological state, or even cultural background.

Burroughs' gunfighter, Kim, uses an early timing with his finger bluff. Let's consider this type of early timing. How do we define it?

The other night in my class we were training the kata 隼雄 Shunū . In this kata, as your opponent moves to draw his sword, you enter before he can execute his draw and while his sword is still partially in the saya. At one point I moved in really early before my uke had acted at all. You might say  I jumped the gun (heh). From the outside maybe it looked like I made a mistake. But the timing felt right. And the results I got confirmed that to me.

Many people train this kata unrealistically. Largely because the attacker has a terrible draw that never had any intention of being completed, or was so poor in execution it never had any chance to cut anybody. But if you train with a competent swordsman the timing changes.

Here's the reality. If a competent swordsman has correct distance, and you attempt to enter when he starts his draw, you will be cut down. The only hope at this moment of timing is that you are facile with kyojitsu or you abandon your entrance entirely.

A good swordsman has ways of adjusting his draw to catch you coming in, retreating, or standing still. So entering early in this context has a different meaning. Hatsumi Sensei references this timing with the concept of 出花 Debana,

"Attacking the opponent before their own attack has formed; this is the art of seizing the flower before it blooms. The expression "debana" can be traced to the Fushikaden by Zeami ("Flower of Appearance," a Noh drama book of the 15th century). It refers to the state of a flower just before blossoming."

This timing is not the same as a preemptive strike which is an even earlier timing. Like paying a visit to your opponent's house the night before while he is sleeping. Even though preemptive strategies can be useful, that are largely illegal. The "出花 debana" timing catches your opponent just when his intention shifts.

That is where the secret hides. As Zeami wrote, “秘すれば花  Hisureba Hana” - "That which is hidden is beautiful" or, “when you keep a secret, a flower blooms.” To use this timing you have to notice and be aware of your opponent's shifting mind or intention. He of course attempts to keep that flower hidden. So how do you find it?

Hatsumi Sensei says,

"Use kyo-jutsu (present truth) to discern the hidden aim of the opponent and strike them before they can execute the move." 

This is your tool. Use 虚実 kyojitsu. If he responds to the 虚 kyo (illusion), give him the 術 jutsu (true form).

This is exactly what Burroughs' gunfighter did in the example above.

This can't be taught in writing, but must be experienced. So how do you know when you've got it? Well, in my own class the other night, my uke was startled by my entrance and froze. In my own experience, whenever I've executed 出花 debana correctly, my opponent stutters, freezes, or hesitates in his attack. It's like you interrupted the signal from his brain to his body.

During this interruption you have ample time and space to watch the flowers bloom.

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From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

photo by rick manwaring

Bujinkan ukemi doesn't look impressive. It's not supposed to. It has other goals.

In my Tuesday night class we were studying koshi kudaki. There are many levels to studying such a simple looking technique. First you need to understand the attack which is normally a type of hip throw like o goshi or harai goshi. As we were studying the attack, one of the students who also studies Judo was taking proper Judo ukemi. I suggested to him that this was creating a bad habit. His ukemi looked great, so what was bad about it?

It is important when studying any martial art to understand the goal of the study. In many modern arts, the goal is sport. In sport, there are judges to determine points or winners. But the judging gets more insidious. Your teacher naturally judges your form or technique. Your fellow students judge as they watch you. You even judge yourself. All this judging creates an impulse toward pretty form. Clean moves. Flashy kicks or throws. Satisfying slaps on the mat during ukemi. Even tapping out becomes part of the aesthetic.

Then ukemi training becomes very formal and repetitive to develop form and instant response.

None of this is real. It is all set up under false conditions that would likely never occur in combat. Hatsumi Sensei says,

"Don't take ukemi. When you take ukemi you create openings. In the moment you think, "I have to take ukemi here," you're actually open because your mind is occupied with something else. Don't take ukemi. Just let it happen. For example, if you use your hands in taking ukemi, you won't be able to use weapons against your opponent and you'll be killed as a result. You're occupied."

Bujinkan ukemi is more about natural response in the moment. It has few flashy moves and is not a big crowd pleaser at martial arts demos.

The Bujinkan sometimes faces criticism in the martial arts community because it doesn't have this aesthetic appeal. People don't understand what they are looking at. It is often hard even for experienced Bujinkan students to understand what Sensei is doing even as he does it right before their eyes.

What are some of the goals with our ukemi?

One is safety for the uke. Being able to survive being kicked, punched thrown, grappled, stabbed, shot at… whatever the situation demands. Survival ukemi isn't showy. And no two incidents look alike. In many martial arts dojos you walk in and find students all falling the exact same way repetitively. In Bujinkan classes, rarely do you see any pair of students falling or taking ukemi the same way. Training cookie cutter, repetitious ukemi can build bad habits that can get you injured.

Another goal of our ukemi is escape or evasion. You won't see this in any competition. So the training that sports martial arts do also has this large gap or absence in their curriculum. And, the ukemi they teach may be corrupted and dangerous because of this.

A third important aspect of our ukemi is countering. Often, the ukemi is the counter. Sports martial arts do have this but their end goal is different: i.e. pleasing judges (or the audience), a tap out or submission, maybe KO). These end goals again corrupt the use of natural ukemi that is a very powerful tool for countering.

Our ukemi has other goals as well like kyojitsu, searching and situational awareness, or accessing weapons.

Natural ukemi rarely looks impressive. It looks sudden, clumsy, chaotic or when done superbly, just blends with the attack to appear like nothing at all. But if it meets any of the above goals, then it was correct ukemi.

Hatsumi Sensei says,

"Those who take ukemi as Budoka are just amateurs."

For those of you who study arts besides Bujinkan, please ask your self next time you hit the mats: Why fall this way? Why be thrown this way? Why slap the mat? What is the purpose of your ukemi?

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From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Making His Move, photo by Petteri Sulonen

Hatsumi Sensei often speaks in English. Of course his accent is Japanese so you may not notice or understand. One English phrase he says often is "case by case." When he says this the translator will often repeat it just because it is hard for ears not accustomed to the Japanese accent to catch the meaning.

What might he mean when he says "case by case?" In English, when someone says to consider something on a case by case basis, it means to judge each situation independently and as unique, even though it may appear similar.

Hatsumi Sensei also uses the word 状態  jōtai which is the current status;  condition;  situation;  circumstances;  or state. This suggests the ever changing state cause by the bufu blowing through the kukan and our connection to this.

When we study fighting in class, our actions often become fixed. The opponent repeats the same attack as we attempt the same technique over and over to study it. This is not real. And students often get confused when they realize this. A question that I often get from them is, "What if?"

What if the opponent changes his attack? What if he had a weapon? What if there are multiple attackers? My opponent would never let me do this, what if he resisted?

So of course, each individual situation is unique. We can't study them all. So we build adaptability and flexibility into our taijutsu. Like a rope.

Jōtai can be written with different kanji: 縄体 meaning rope. Hatsumi Sensei has used the rope as a tool to help us reach this understanding. And I highly recommend this study. In my Sunday classes we are making a thorough exploration of Hojojutsu, Hayanawa, and all flexible weapons. It is challenging indeed.

Here's something you can try. Take any kata. One that you feel you know well. You know you can do every step blindfolded while eating tacos. Then introduce a rope into the movement. Try to use the rope during the kata.

What happens next is that the rope has a mind of it's own. It will do it's own thing. So every time you do the kata it will be unique. Most people's results end up being sloppy and awkward as their taijutsu is abandoned while they try to cope with the chaos of the rope.

One hint is that the effective use of the rope is in connection. Connecting to your opponent through the kukan. The rope can physically represent this connection like in a game of tug of war. Or the connection can just be through your kamae. Or even further, the connection is not just with your opponent. It is like the spider web from heaven in Hatsumi Soke's Daruma painting.

One day in class Soke said that Takamatsu told him,

"What works most effectively is to make the connection and then push. Don't think of doing anything, just think of making that connection there."

Sensei then went on to remind us of our larger connections and responsibilities,

"When you're fighting or  tied up like this, and you think of trying to take a lock or something that doesn't work - these things are very effective. This is martial arts. Therefore don't teach anybody bad. Only good people. Just know budo and teach those people with good hearts and keep going."

Even though I am too young to have met Takamatsu, it's nice to feel that connection from Hatsumi Sensei back through Takamatsu and to all the Bujin that have gone before.

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From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Old City Gate photo by cliff1066™

Hatsumi Sensei tells us that we should awaken to the fact that we are only living in the space between life and death.

I've had a lot of death in my life recently. Every year that goes by, it seems that I know more and more people who are no longer around. That is natural as I grow older I guess. But in noticing this I also determine that death is always there, I just am not aware of it.  This awareness is an important quality in Budo.

People can misunderstand the famous quote from Hagakure, "The way of Bushi is the way of death." I think Soke is leading us to different understanding of that phrase. He says,

"All worldly things are impermanent; life and death are but one. Bushido is what runs through the Wabi and Sabi (transient beauty) of nature. Yet I feel compelled to say that enduring to the end no matter what happens, persevering with life despite being prepared for death at any time, is actually the secret of Bushido."

This "secret" has opened up important lessons for me in my training and my life. That space between life and death exists in the kukan. One day in class Soke told us to make space in the kukan where we could live. It confused me at the time. But I'm beginning to discover how to use that in the midst of danger. This is one aspect of the idea 九死一生 (kyuushi isshou, nine-deaths-one-life), meaning “a narrow escape from death,”

Sensei quotes the famous Zen Samurai Suzuki Shōsan,

"Knowing life and death; therein resides enjoyment."

Being aware of death in this way can get us intimately aquainted with the effects of impermanence. Shōsan taught that no one should forget their own mortality. But how does one find enjoyment in that?

As I write this, the founder of Apple, Steve Jobs just passed away. Here is his take on death awareness,

“Almost everything–all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure–these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.” – Steve Jobs’ Stanford Commencement Address

If you take this lesson to heart you won't waste time being a 八方美人 (happou bijin, eight-directions-beautiful-person) or someone who tries to be all things to all people. You may quickly find yourself at the 死門 shimon gates of death. In buddhism this is the gate, or border of death, leading from one incarnation to another.

As I think of all my friends and family that I have lost recently, I try to remember that there is a connection from birth, through life to that 死門 shimon. I cannot honor the joy that their lives brought me without also accepting their death. Or that my own path will follow theirs. Sensei says,

"Life and death are connected. Like In-Yo. Like a magnet and metal, life and death are attracted to each other, always getting closer."

So if you truly want to understand our training, it won't be morbid or wrong to do as Shōsan suggested: "Make the one character "death" master in your heart, observing it and letting go of everything else."

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From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Hatsumi Soke Painting For Me

Assumptions are deadly. They kill the chance to learn anything in class, and they can get you killed in combat. Sometimes they are subtle and you are not aware that you are making them. One simple interaction I had with Hatsumi Sensei illustrates this.

I was training at Hombu dojo one Sunday. Sensei was generously making calligraphy and ink paintings for the students. When he had my blank shikishi 色紙 board in front of him, he took one look at me and said,

"You like manga right?"

For some reason this question threw me. Sometimes Sensei takes requests from people. People often request calligraphy of a certain phrase or kanji that is meaningful for them. Some people just let Sensei decide.

In the many times Sensei had painted something for me before, he had waited for my request. This time he did not. He just asked that question.

So what were my assumptions? I had two. And they were both off the mark.

One had to do with my poor understanding of Japanese. When he said the word "manga," in my mind that translated to Japanese comics. That's how most people define manga back home.

But Soke may define manga differently. He says,

"I am expressing inner secrets in three ways - through painting, pictures, and a combination of pictures and calligraphy. It is my sincere wish that people can grasp a feeling of the inner secrets."

and,

"Here we use the word manga 漫画 for picture. Change the characters and it becomes "infinite pictures" 万画. Flip the order and change the characters and it becomes "perseverance" 我慢. Indeed, it is because we persevere that we receive the power to draw the infinite pictures."

The day before, when I was thinking about what picture to request from Hatsumi Sensei, I thought I would just let him decide in the moment unlike other times when I had requested something specific. But when he said manga, all of my presumptions about what that meant and what he thought I wanted jumbled up in my mind so that I had no response to his question.

He didn't wait for my answer. He just seized the moment and made a beautiful picture for me. I went home with my picture and everything was fine, but for some reason this moment stuck with me.

Another assumption I made was that he would have just done this regardless of who he was painting the picture for. But as I thought about this, and I looked at all the pictures Sensei has made for me over the years - I realized that I almost always requested some sort of picture rather than any specific kanji.

Hatsumi Sensei probably remembered this when he saw me, and that's why he asked that question. It never occurred to me that he would remember out of the many hundreds of paintings  he makes every year.

If I make assumptions about things this simple and I am wrong or muddled in my understanding, what other faulty assumptions do I make about my teachers and what they are teaching?

This is an aspect of sutemi 捨て身, throwing yourself away or sacrificing yourself. My friend Paul Masse describes it as "Being caught in yourself means stopping the flow." Throw away your assumptions before you come to class or you will be as lost as I was.

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From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Footprints, Gifu Prefecture, Japan. photo by tallkev

Well I've done it. Something no one else in this office would ever have thought possible. I've done something that most would consider a foolish and wasted effort. Something that only history will judge in it's fickle wisdom:

I've written ONE HUNDRED blog posts. This one makes 101.

I never set out to do that many. In fact, I don't know what I set out to do exactly. I simply started writing. One every week. And then I persevered.

Just like people start with training. They start for many reasons. None of those reasons matter so much. Just starting and then showing up for class every week. It's the perseverance that leads to growth and enlightenment in our art. You eventually find yourself with a lot of knowledge under your belt. Enough knowledge so that you are courageous enough to admit you know nothing.

Hatsumi Sensei says that he didn't start out to teach:

"When I first started accepting students, it was not truly for the purpose of teaching but rather for my own self-study and training"

I started my own classes here in Santa Monica for the same reason. And I still conduct my classes with this goal. The side effect of this is that some students join me on my journey, and as we travel the path together, we go further than we could by ourselves.

The funny thing is, I didn't realize I was starting my blog for the same purpose. I thought I was starting it for two reasons. One was to share, because when I was a young student in the Bujinkan I would have loved to have a weekly blog to read.

The other reason was that new students always ask me for a training manual. I don't really believe in training manuals, so I thought posting my thoughts on a blog would help my students with some information they were seeking.

But, as my blog grew, the reason for doing it evolved. It became about my own "self-study and training" as Hatsumi Sensei described. But more than that, as I started getting visitors from all over the world, It became part of my connection to the Bujinkan community and this path we are all on together.

Together the path becomes greater. We may travel farther.

I heard Hatsumi Sensei say a couple of years ago that even though his teacher Takamatsu had passed a long time ago, Takamatsu was still growing and walking ahead and Sensei was still following along in the footsteps of his teacher. May we also continue in the footsteps of the Bujin and the warriors who have travelled before us.

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From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Steamed Hokkaido potato seller, photo by robizumi

The study of form. It is where most classes begin. But it also leads to some of the biggest failures and flaws in martial arts training. So much so, that Hatsumi Sensei constantly reminds us not to focus on or memorize forms.

Yet, it is hard to teach or learn anything without using form as a starting place. How do we resolve this paradox? We can look at one of our basic forms to seek answers to these questions:

Gogyo no kata: why and how does form corrupt our training of this basic concept?

I will give two examples that have far reaching implications in the Bujinkan worldwide.

In the first, it comes from a natural human tendency to take something new and compare or relate to something else we already are familiar with. This happened many years ago in the Bujinkan with the Gogyo. It was the concept that the gogyo should be a spiritual concept like the godai.

Sensei has said this isn't the correct approach:

"We are training with the gogyo no kata: chi, sui, ka, fu, ku. If you think of this as something as religious then that can be a really bad mistake. Some people try to make this a study of "godai no kata" from a religious aspect but then you lose track of the real martial arts. Experience the gogyo no kata as a universal form - the natural form."

This seemingly small choice to compare gogyo to godai has travelled the globe and the decades so that the misconception persists very strongly even today. To the extent that people will insist on it. So if I am learning a form from someone who insists on this approach, what am I learning? What is the form in the form?

Form inherently limits freedom. Of thought, of movement. This brings me to my second example.

If you learn any form in a specific way, you end up memorizing it with your mind and body. Then the form gets repeated. A lot. It is supposed to be some kind of practice I guess. Memorizing and repeating form is substituted for real learning.

So if you are shown a new way, or are corrected, it is difficult to change. In the gogyo I see people all over the world perform it in a way that can be traced back to poor understandings from the '80's. I have even watched Sensei try to correct them. Over the years he continues to correct when it comes up. But bad habits die hard.

In my own classes, I sometimes have people join us for training who learned different versions of the gogyo. No problem. I show them my version. Then I ask them to share their version so we can learn something new. But often, everyone is so attached to their own form that they cannot even do another. Even after being shown it repeatedly.

I observed this same lack of flexibility when Sensei corrected the gogyo he saw people doing. They were so trapped in their bad habit, they understood nothing he was saying or showing them in that moment.

Form is a container for ideas that cannot be seen. We can take some feeling from the Sui of gogyo. But what is the essence of water? How do you contain it? Even today science does not comprehend all of its properties. Sensei says he is teaching steam:

"In martial arts it's common sense to think of water as something that flows from high places to low places. But in places you can't see, this water turns into steam and rises up into the heavens."

This is a hidden lesson of water. Another is that it does not memorize the form of the landscape it flows over. Every rock and twist of geography, or falls in elevation. Water just flows or changes state as needed.

So if you look at the form that is being shown in class, look further. Sensei says,

"Always understand one step beyond what is being shown. then be able to go on to the next step. Even if a bad person uses some fantastic techniques, you'll always be able to go beyond that and defeat them."

Do you see that in the form of gogyo you practice?

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From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

photo by davco9200

There are different ways to consider the words rokkon shoujou.  When Hatsumi Sensei put this idea out for us as a theme for 2010, many of us gave the concept a lot of thought and smiles (he did say it was the purification of the senses through laughter). But it is not only about thinking. To succeed with rokkon shoujou, we need to include it in our everyday practice and training for it to have any effect.

Our training consists of fighting and combat. How does one purify the spirit while fighting?

I can give you something to work on in every training session that will get you started. But first please consider how training reflects your spirit. Maybe you've heard a song of the gokui that says,

"If you possess a heart like clear water, the opponent is reflected as though in a mirror."

Well the opposite of this is also true: if your heart is muddled and confused it will be reflected and magnified in your taijutsu. Another gokui reflects this idea,

"Bottomless waves that reflect on the water's surface, it is humiliating for my mind to be known."

One of the easiest ways to spot this in yourself or an opponent is the over reliance on strength or force. I know you've heard this from your teachers before. "don't use force," or "do it without muscle…"

So you seek to remove force. This is an act of purification. Overuse of strength and muscle in training reflects something about the spirit of the forceful. There is something in your personality or in your heart that seeks that release of power (or fear).

Hatsumi Sensei says,

"In the case of any technique you are practicing, it is necessary to absolutely eradicate any excess strength or power from your technique - in essence you must purify yourself of these ways."

If you do this every class - focus on this one simple aspect of training - then you will be living the practice of rokkon shoujou. And you may discover that one natural way to remove too much strength is to train with laughter and a light heart.

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