From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Monomania-Light and Its Grand Narrator, photo by DerrickT

How do you train to be a ninja nightmare? I was attending a class with Hatsumi Sensei when he did something terrible to his uke. I mean it was so hideous and gross I don't want to repeat it here. Maybe later in this article I'll work up the nerve.

Then he looked at the expressions of everyone watching and told us,  as if we just didn't get it... When you are dealing with bad people, you have to do worse than they'd expect.

This idea gets to the heart of a big problem with training. We get too comfortable in our dojos and our knowledge. Training becomes habit. We lean on technique. We become reliable and complacent in our ability.

Bad people, or desperate and crazy people willing to do bad things, are the opposite. They will go to any lengths. They will have no technique. They will do things that just don't make sense. That is hard to defend against.

So we can take a lesson from them and drop the "common sense" or the group think or dojo inbreeding that gets everyone training sensibly. Anytime anyone says that "this" or "that" is the way something should be done, I try recognize that for what it is… a trap.  I think, "Maybe that's the way YOU do it!" Memorized kata or techniques are a disease.

Sensei urges us to separate ourselves from the waza so that we see the whole picture. If you think in your own mind, "this is the common sense way to do the technique," that is very dangerous. He has told us to use 非常識 hijoushiki which is a lack of common sense.

I'm definitely not using common sense in giving away my current training notes. I explain why I'm doing this here: 稽古記録 Keiko Kiroku

Hijoushiki. This idea is not new to Budo. It goes back to some of the earliest documents in Japan. An example is the Shinden Kohyō no Hikan where the "Starving tiger" or even "Nursing tiger" kamae might reflect this spirit.

But beyond this is a secret or hidden sense. Another kanji for hijoushiki is 秘常識. This feeling is described in the Koteki Ryoda scrolls. Here you develop the uncommon sense or the secret sense yet still very natural ability to predict, sense, and see through things.

Sensei tells us that if you try to memorize these forms you will end up trapped. He says that any conventional "common sense" about the martial arts prevents you from adapting or changing. He writes,

"In real life, people who live beyond the bounds of common sense attack you suddenly, with scant regard for rules of combat."

Soke punched the guy in the throat. Not from the outside like common sense would lead you to believe. His fist was in his uke's mouth and he said to punch it down the esophagus and then maybe rip the tongue out as you withdraw. It was shocking to witness. His poor uke definitely had to learn some sutemi that night.

So when dealing with bad or crazy people, this might be the only way to communicate some sense in a language they can relate to. Do worse than they'd expect. Be worse than their nightmares. They can't prepare or defend against that.

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From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Asakusa photo by kalcul

I try to keep it real. But there is real and there is REALITY. It is important to remember that training is not reality. Sometimes reality gets in the way of training.

When I was in my twenties, I used to spar with some very large guys. I often lost because of their size and strength advantage. When they locked in on me with their strongholds I would feel desperate and trapped. Then I would instinctively claw and struggle to no avail.

Now I don't have that problem even though I am older and not as strong. In my training I developed another type of strength that Hatsumi Sensei described in one class as 臨機応変 rinkiōhen. This is adapting oneself to the requirements of the moment. Musicians know this feeling as improvisation or playing it by ear.

In this class Hatsumi Sensei was working on Suwari gata. He did one henka on Nagato Sensei where he kicked him in the neck three times before taking his arm.

The same kata demonstrated on Senno Sensei was very different. Soke was able to trap both arms instantly to the point of breaking. He even remarked at how fragile the human body is.

Soke said that if he tried to do to Nagato the same technique he just did on Senno, it would not work because Nagato's arms are as big as Senno's legs.

臨機応変 rinkiōhen is a manner that shows flexibility in response to what the situation demands. In this case, to be able to take one of Nagato's arms required three kicks to the throat to soften him up.

In western culture we have the concept of Ad hoc. It is Latin that reads "for this." As in "for this" moment or situation. It may be a response for a problem or endeavor that only applies to this specific situation and probably will not work in another moment.

Sensei described 臨機応変 rinkiōhen as an aspect of kyojitsu tenkan. If you are resourceful in this moment of truth and falsehood you will find the answer you seek.

Hatsumi Sensei says you must adjust your technique so that you are using the strong points against the weaknesses of your opponent. This could be your own strong points, or the strong points of the technique, or, as I learned recently, the extremely powerful and strong points that are kyusho present in the moment of the kukan. The results I've gotten from this have felt almost supernatural.

So 臨機応変 rinkiōhen may be an old expression but one that we can understand through kyojitsu when we constantly change and adapt to whatever comes up in our moments of reality.

…

From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Katori-jingu, Katori-shi, Chiba-ken, Japan photo by TANAKA Juuyoh

Training sometimes seems mysterious. Even more so when Hatsumi Sensei gives us Japanese philosophical ideas to consider.  Sometimes these mysteries come in the form of a stated yearly theme.

The idea or feeling behind the yearly theme continuously changes as our lives and training evolve through the year. So whatever we think the theme is, it's important not to get attached to any set concept and to allow the natural evolution of training to occur.

These yearly themes and ideas Soke gives us are like gifts that resonate throughout the year as reflected in our training, in our taijutsu, and our lives.

As we enter 2012 what sort of starting point might we have for the yearly theme?

I was at a class earlier this month where Hatsumi Sensei gave us some hints. We spent a considerable portion of this class exploring concepts with a sword sometimes against long weapons like a bo or yari.

At the end of class, after bowing out, Sensei wanted to share some ideas with us, so we sat on the dojo floor as he began sharing with us some ideas about a theme for 2012. Connected to the sword training we did that night, he made reference to 沸 Futsu which he used as an onomatopoeia (giongo 擬音語) for different sound effects.  He started out describing its relationship to the sound a katana makes when cutting. But then Hatsumi Sensei was using a lot of wordplay that night.

He continued to explore these meanings by using the ぶすぶす Futsu sound of simmering or boiling. He compared this to 煮沸消毒 shafutsu shoudoku which is sterilization by boiling. He told us this was like a burning away of bad parts of the self.

When I began to look into Futsu with more depth I found a wealth of meaning. One idea in particular seems well suited to the possibility of sword for the coming year.

Please remember that none of us knows where the training or Hatsumi Sensei will take us in the coming year so these connections and ideas are my own.

In his talk, Hatsumi Sensei made reference to the Katori Jingu (photo above), where Futsu Nushi no Mikoto 経津主之命 Guardian deity of martial valour is celebrated.

Even more intriguing is Futsu no mitama 布都御魂 the Divine sword of Japanese mythology, possessed by gods Takemikazuchi no mikoto and Futsunushi no mikoto,

The personification of a divine sword. At the time of Emperor Jinmu’s 神武天皇 (Jinmu-tennō) campaign to the east, Amaterasu 天照 ordered Takemikazuchi to assist the beleaguered Jinmu, whereupon Takemikazuchi miraculously sent his divine sword Futsu no mitama to appear in the warehouse of Takakuraji in Kumano熊野 . Takakuraji found the sword and presented it to Jinmu, whereupon Jinmu was enabled to complete his campaign. In Sendai kuji hongi, Futsu no mitama is called “Futsunushi no kami’s sword of spirit,” presented by Jinmu to Umashimaji as a prize for killing Nagasunehiko and submitting to the imperial forces. It is believed to represent a divine sword worshiped by the martial clan Mononobe, who were instrumental in the early pacification of Japan, and is enshrined as the central deity (saijin) of Isonokami Jingū and other shrines.
--Kadoya Atsushi, Waseda University, Tokyo

Another connection for Futsu is the mirror as in the 真経津の鏡  Mafutsu no Kagami (alternate name for Yata no Kagami, the mirror of the Imperial regalia). When you look for your reflection hidden there it is like a search for the Buddha hidden from view or 秘仏 Hifutsu.

I hope my exploration of Futsu gives you some hints to reflect on for 2012. Happy New Year!

…

From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Diamond Corridor photo by dickuhne

Hatsumi Sensei's classes are often too crowded to do "large" techniques. Or, to train with weapons that need "large" distances. Recently I was lucky enough to be in a class that was small enough for Sensei to have us using Bo, Yari, and Naginata. Along with the big weapons came some big ideas for training.

He was attaching these weapons to his uke's body or clothing, then moving in a way where the weapon seems to develop a life of its own. He explained he was using a reflection of the attacker. That was a big idea that reminded me of another time when he described 辛抱 Shinbo to us.

 One other large idea he put out there for us came at a moment of evading a yari thrust. He used the phrase 不惜身命 Fushaku Shinmyō. Roughly translated in this context it means sacrificing one's life to accomplish its resolution. It can be related to concepts of Sutemi and throwing away the self.

The roots of this idea come from Buddhism and the Nyorai Juryo Hon chapter of the Lotus Sutra: teaching of devotion that spares neither body nor life.

Some other translations for this phrase read: not sparing one's life for a worthy cause; courageous and selfless dedication; Self-sacrificing Dedication; or to place the cause above one's life.

How do you get to that selfless state? The state where the tip of the spear is no longer a threat and you can move undeterred against the slash of a sword?

One clue I found may come from the study of Goshin no kata. This is when you do a continuous, non-stop repetition of one of the (Sanshin, Gogyo) five forms endlessly without an attacker until one of two things occurs.  The form naturally and spontaneously shifts or changes to one of the other forms, OR you reach satori (a flash of enlightenment).

I found an interesting reflection on this in an essay from Chōjun Miyagi (founder of Goju-ryu) published in 1942. In his style they have a "Sanchin no kata." He writes,

"Kongoshin Fushaku Shinmyō no Kyochi

If you could attain Enlightenment or Satori through practicing
Sanchin, you were beyond life and death, and your mind and body
would become strong enough like Diamond."

Well I think a yari tip would break against diamond armor such as that.

…

From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

敲玻璃器 Break on through, photo by .HEI

Did I learn anything? Sometimes I wonder. I watch Hatsumi Sensei teach and then he does something or says something that I find fascinating. So I look around the Hombu to see how other people are reacting. Did they see what he just did? Did they understand what he just said? Did I?

That's the real question. What is my own capacity to understand?

Is everyone at the hombu dojo having the same training experience and are they getting as much from it as I am? Will I understand or experience the training as deeply as someone like Oguri Sensei who has been training more than 40 years and actually trained with Takamatsu Sensei?

The answer is no. We are not having the same experience or learning the same thing. No one there is. We all have different levels of understanding. As for myself, I can only experience training to the fullness of my capacity.

In Chinese they say, 大器晚成 it takes a long time to make a big pot. This suggests that great talents mature late or the idea of being a late bloomer.

The character for pot may look familiar to you 器. A few years ago, Hatsumi Sensei made it one part of the yearly theme with the idea of 才能魂器: ability/talent (Saino, 才能), spirit (tamashi/kon, 魂), and capacity/vessel/container (utsuwa/ki, 器)

That is an interesting idea: capacity.  It may seem like the capacity of a container, pot, or student is set at a certain level. But this capacity may expand or shrink depending on what it is being filled with.

Imagine Bujinkan or teaching like a flowing river. You may have a big glass or a small glass. Both will be full after being dipped in the river.

But you get to decide from what source you fill your container. This is a simple secret.

It is like an ura side to the concept of utsuwa/ki, 器. When we study budo, our capacity to understand, grow, or fill up is set by the size of the glass we drink from.

Did you get that? That is simple but powerful. Drink from a larger source and your own capacity will grow.

From my own training I have discovered just how powerful this is. For example, we might rate the size of various learning opportunities: On a scale from no training; to reading books; watching videos; attending a seminar; attending regular classes; teaching (yes this is part of learning too); visiting Japan to train with the Shihan and Hatsumi Sensei; Living in Japan and training regularly; Learning from Bujin or divine insight…

Or, finally, off the scale and beyond all is learning from or opening to the source that Soke often speaks about. Just recently I heard him say to invite nature into your training. He said if you are having trouble, let nature into your technique and let it take over.

You can discard your container's limitations and toss it away (捨身 sutemi) by connecting to the deepest source of knowledge. Opening yourself up to nature itself instantly makes your capacity limitless. Any training or experience then becomes rich with joy and insight.

I personally have had surprising results from this process in my training. But it is easy to feel overwhelmed and some days I crawl back inside my old jar. When I return to my old home it isn't as comfortable or as big as I remember.

You may be familiar with this concept if you've ever returned to your childhood home. It seems smaller and less vibrant somehow. Your experience and capacity has grown to encompass so much more of life.That is the same wistful yet amused feeling many people experience after going to Soke's classes.

Hatsumi Sensei tells us not to get caught up in thinking. Throw that away. Release yourself from it. Have this 生命反射 seimei hansha, or  reflection of life in your training.

…

From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Rikidōzan

During a recent Sunday class at Hombu, Hatsumi Sensei was showing techniques  against a double lapel grab. He made a point of demonstrating these techniques on some of the largest foreigners in the room. He tossed them around easily and made them groan or whimper in pain.

He then said that all of the Jugodans in the Bujinkan should be able to defeat any pro wrestler. He wasn't talking about the kind of pro wrestling we see now that is full of theatrics and largely staged, but he was referring to the kind of athletes and matches that were common during his youth.

Hatsumi Sensei then told us about a story from his past when he had accepted a grudge match against one of the most famous of those wrestlers, Rikidōzan.

Soke shared with us the surprise ending to this event, but first let's learn more about this legendary fighter. From the Rikidōzan Wikipedia entry:

Mitsuhiro Momota (百田 光浩 Momota Mitsuhiro?), better known as Rikidōzan (Japanese: 力道山, Korean: 역도산 Yeokdosan, November 14, 1924 – December 15, 1963), was a Korean Japanese professional wrestler, known as the "Father of Puroresu" and one of the most influential men in wrestling history. Initially, he had moved from his native country Korea to Japan to become a sumo wrestler. He was credited with bringing the sport of professional wrestling to Japan at a time when the Japanese needed a local hero to emulate and was lauded as a national hero.

Here is more about Rikidōzan from a Wrestling Revue article in 1964:

"Though born in Nagasaki in Kyushu, Rikidozan was of Korean descent. And in Japan, Koreans are usually objects of contempt, often discriminated against. Rikidozan fought hard to overcome this stigma. In the process he developed a trigger-like temper, rebelled constantly, against authority. "Nobody tells me what to do," he used to boast."

"Riki, who was given the Japanese name of Mitsuhiro Momota (literally, "Bright Child of the Hundred Ricefields"), never dwelled on his early years. But he was known to have been a sullen, bad-tempered youth who, shunned by his prejudiced schoolmates and deserted by his parents, left home at the age of 13 and journeyed 800 miles to Tokyo.

Seeking a living-and an outlet for his repressed hostilities-he enrolled in a sumo training gymnasium and after three years of incredibly arduous training was ready for his first match. All the bitterness erupted out of him as he tackled his opponent. Riki now weighed 300 pounds, with the big, blubbery but tough-as-steel belly characteristic of sumo wrestlers.

Despite his weight, blown up from downing 18 rice bowls and four cases of beer at a single sitting, he was as fast and agile as a cat. He could run the hundred yards in 11 seconds flat and was so superbly trained that he could write a letter by holding a pen between his powerful toes. Riki pounded his foe savagely. with every blow, every kick, he avenged the hardships he had suffered in the gymnasium-getting up at 2 A.M. to work outside in the freezing cold...smoldering at a thousand humiliations...absorbing insults and beatings from advanced classmates... Well, things were going to be different from now on, he vowed, as the fans hailed his victory.

With dynamic drive, he battled his way up in the sumo ranks. At 23, he made the sekiwake grade and was on the verge of entering the ozeki domain which would put him in line for the grand championship. Then he destroyed a brilliant future by quarreling with a gymnasium official over a technical decision. In a rage, he quit sumo forever.

Out of a job and missing the adulation of the fans, Riki was at a loss in the big metropolis. But not for long. Tokyo was starting to boom-it was during the MacArthur occupation-and he easily found work as a construction laborer. Swallowing his disappointment, he worked for a year.

In his spare time, he continued to train hard, concentrating on karate, the deadly art of open-handed fighting that later became his trademark. Then, with a small nest egg, he rented a hall for wrestling exhibitions. In no time he built up a rabid following. As his fame spread, he accepted an offer from promoter Al Karasick in Honolulu. Riki was a sensation there.

He followed with other triumphal tours, capturing a fistful of titles all over the world, beating Haystacks Calhoun, Fred Blassie and even the great Lou Thesz. He was now down to 250 pounds. A siege of illness had melted off 50 pounds and Riki decided to stay that weight after he saw what happened to Tamanishiki, a prominent sumo wrestler. Tamanishiki, a 400-pounder, joined his honorable ancestors when doctors were unable to cut through the mountain of blubber during a stomach operation. 

Except for Thesz, Riki had nothing but contempt for American grapplers. He sneered at their hippodrome showmanship, called them soft compared with the Japanese. He called Blassie the "dirtiest wrestler" he had ever met. In the boxing and wrestling stables that formed part of his vast business empire which also included hotels, night clubs, golf courses and apartment houses, Riki was a hard taskmaster, demanding the utmost from his men and whipping them with a bamboo stick when they failed to measure up to his stringent standards.

By December of 1963, Riki had successfully defended his "International Title" 19 times."

Around this same time there was a Ninja boom going on in Japan. Ninja were appearing all over the media and Hatsumi Sensei was in demand for TV interviews and sought out for demos and his expertise. Sensei has never hidden his idea that real budo and sport fighting cannot be compared. Maybe he said something in an interview, maybe Rikidōzan was simply seeking publicity by challenging and criticizing the legendary Ninja.

There were exchanges of words and letters back and forth. Rikidōzan basically calling Hatsumi Sensei out to a challenge. Hatsumi Sensei wrote to Takamatsu for advice. Takamatsu being a veteran of many such matches in his youth, told Sensei to accept the challenge and began coaching Hatsumi Sensei on how to handle this opponent.

A week before the fight was to occur, Riki was killed by a Yakuza in "the chrome-striped restroom of a plush Tokyo night club." Here are two versions of the murder,

"On December 8, 1963, while partying in a Tokyo nightclub, Rikidōzan was stabbed with a urine-soaked blade by yakuza Katsuji Murata who belonged to Bōryokudan Sumiyoshi-ikka. Reportedly, Rikidōzan threw Murata out of the club and continued to party, refusing to seek medical help. Another report states that Rikidōzan did indeed see his physician shortly after the incident, and was told the wound was not serious. He died a week later of peritonitis on December 15."

Another account:

"On the night of December 8, tragedy struck. Riki, whose business interests brought him into contact with one of the numerous gangs which dominate Tokyo's night life, was in the restroom of the New Latin Quarter when a gangster approached him. The gangster reportedly warned Riki to "stay out of this territory." Riki, who never took any lip from anybody, told him to go to hell. They tussled. A switchblade flashed, And Riki collapse, spilling blood. Rushed to the hospital, Riki was told the wound was minor and would soon heal. But a week later, after bleeding copiously, he died of peritonitis at the age of 39."

Hatsumi Sensei simply stated to us that the wrestler was knifed by the yakuza. Sensei went on to tell us that it was a lucky break for him because he would have likely been destroyed by the wrestler in the fight.

Lucky indeed. I have also heard him say that Ninjas make their own luck.

…

From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

The Robbery photo By gcfairch

Here I will share a story I heard from Kan Junichi during Daikomyosai that proves Hatsumi Sensei is not a superhero who can dodge bullets. Of course I joke, but the story does prove something very important about the essence of training. First let me explain why I am not a superhero myself.

I screw up often when I teach. I get things wrong, I slip, stumble, misspeak, let myself get hit by my students, use the wrong words, or misremember facts. If a mistake can be made, I've made it. But I always do my best to acknowledge and recognize this humbly. My mistakes are my most important teachers. Training is not real if there are no mistakes. Teachers are not real if they don't allow themselves this honesty.

I've met many martial arts instructors who are terrified by this. They must always project some kind of superhuman perfection to their students and others. They only demonstrate with uke's who make them look good. And they won't try anything that could make them look bad in front of their students.

Show truth in your budo. The only way your budo can be effective is for you to train honestly. Be honest with yourself and with your training partners or students.

Kan Junichi told us this story about a visit to a U.S. military base with Hatsumi Sensei:

"Near Albuquerque there's a military base. We all visited that base with Sensei and as we were walking in there were cameras everywhere. Sensei said, "Don't speak with words, speak with your eyes." And then Sensei was giving us directions without speaking but by using his eyes. 

There were many people watching and Sensei asked us to do a demonstration. Then a military instructor came and stood three meters behind Sensei and pulled out a gun, then asked, "What would you do in this situation?" . Sensei replied by putting his hands up and saying, "I can't do anything. I leave my life up to you."

Then everybody watching began to clap. The instructor told Sensei that many other martial arts instructors had done demonstrations before and they all tried something like a back kick or grabbing dirt off the ground to throw it. The gunman said to them, I am much faster on the trigger than you are with that kick.

So then he bowed to Sensei and said, "Thank you. You are real."

He continued on to say, "There are three ways to make martial arts teachers from Japan happy: One is with Sake; Another is by letting shoot exotic guns; And the third is by having pretty women there." But Sensei turned down all of these.

They had all manner of weapons and machine guns available. They brought a bunch of ammunition, rounds… They said here, go ahead shoot all these guns. Sensei said, "I don't need that." I don't need women. I don't need Sake."

The truth is like this. It's really nothing. At three meters here, of course the gun is faster. You try to throw sand or kick, you're finished, right? And so Sensei showed the truth here in his gesture. And I thought that was very important when I saw this."

Show the truth in your training. Show it to your students, but more importantly... to yourself.

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From Bujinkan Santa Monica by Michael

Navel Lady photo by Candida.Performa

Ideas as fundamental as Kyūsho 急所 (vital or tender points on the body) can seem mysterious when you try to really understand them. We have many Kyūsho 急所 in the Bujinkan. They have interesting names which vary according to the ryu. But their names and locations on the body are just the beginning and a door to understanding something deeper.

Let's consider the meaning of the kyūsho 五輪 Gorin.

I thought I was comfortable using this kyūsho until I read what Hatsumi Sensei wrote in his Advanced Stick Fighting book,

"The kyūsho known as "Gorin" means to point at "chi-sui-ka-fu-ku."

I was confused but curious about this statement. This inspired me to examine 五輪 Gorin more closely.

Gorin is normally explained as five vital points around the navel. That seems simple enough. But what are the five? and what about the variations of 五輪月影 Gorin Tsukikage and 五輪稲妻 Gorin Inazuma?

You will be hard pressed to find any Bujinkan teacher to explain more than the name and general area of 五輪 Gorin. But what does it represent? What does it do exactly? Why are there five points? And what about Hatsumi Sensei's reference above?

Usually 五輪 Gorin is translated to 5 rings. If you search for it online you will get the rings that symbolize the Olympics. Not too helpful for our study of ancient Japanese kyūsho.

In Mikkyō or tantric buddhism 五輪 Gorin is often symbolized by the Gorintō 五輪塔 which you will find all over Japan commonly used as memorial markers for the dead. These stone markers have associations with the five elements.
from JAANUS:

"Each piece in the five-story pagoda (Sanskrit = stupa) corresponds to one of five elements. The bottom story is square and corresponds to the earth ring (Japanese = Chirin 地輪). Next is the spherical water ring (Japanese = Suirin 水輪), surmounted by the triangular ring of fire (Japanese = Karin 火輪). Above this is a reclining half-moon shape (Japanese = Fūrin 風輪), representing the wind, and topmost is the gem-shaped ring of space (Japanese = Kūrin 空輪)."

Now we are getting somewhere! Hatsumi Sensei also made reference to these five elements. But where do the directions come from and why does the stone monument look nothing like 5 rings?

To go deeper we have to dig into the source of this imagery. The morpheme -rin can mean “wheel,” “circle,” or “ring,” but in this usage it translates as cakra (chakra) in the yogic sense of the five power centers of the subtle body. The gorin no tõ shows each of these power centers as having a different shape, and each of these shapes indicates a different great element. From bottom up these are: 1) square for earth, 2) round for water, 3) triangular for fire, 4) semicircular for air, and 5) a crescent moon-shaped jewel for space (or the three-dimensional equivalents of these shapes).

Historically the source of these 5 elements goes back to India, then through China and Taoist ideas and into Japan as often seen with the influence of Mikkyō. Some of the earliest references in Japan of these ideas come from 五輪九字明祕密釋 The Gorin kuji myō himitsu shaku (Commentary on the Secrets of the Five Cakras and Nine Syllables) composed by Kakuban 覺鑁 (1095-1143AD). In this text the five cakras 五輪 of the body are correlated with the Taoist theory of five viscera 五藏.

What does five viscera have to do with Gorin? Kyūsho are points to be struck, poked, prodded, stabbed or otherwise disturbed to have an effect on our uke's body and spirit during a fight. The five viscera in the Chinese system are: heart, lungs, liver, kidneys and spleen.

How does poking someone in the stomach affect the heart? Well, just have someone try it and you might find out! But this also connects to traditional Chinese taoist medicine: "Blockage of the six bowels causes imbalances of the five viscera." I've been hit in the stomach myself and I could well imagine striking these kyūsho around the belly contributing to this sort of imbalance.

The five phases of the chinese: wu hsing 五行; or Japanese: gogyõ are also correlated with these five directions: Earth is considered "north"; Fire is "south"; Ku is "center"; air is "east"; Water is "west". 

五輪 Gorin above the navel

These directions are related to the path of the sun, rising in the east, passing across the southern sky, overhead or centered at noon, setting in the west, then travelling under the earth through the darkness of the north at night. We can see this path represented on our kyūsho chart and as Soke Hatsumi has shown in his drawings.

I'm glad I found all these connections to help me understand Hatsumi Sensei's simple instruction about Gorin. Of course this rabbit hole I climbed into is deep and twisty. The information in this post is what I discovered out of my own curiosity and may not at all represent what Hatsumi Sensei had in mind in regards to Gorin. I'm sure I missed something or even could be completely wrong but that's what makes learning in the Bujinkan fun!

Our training is constantly evolving so we cannot be attached to any definitions. In fact, Sensei recently said he had written the kanji of Gorin五輪 with a different reading as Gorin 五臨. He said it was to encourage people to find and re-establish a dialogue and speak from their essence, face to face and dealing with the truth head on.

It is so important to train with good teachers and experience their truth directly in person. This is what I strive for in in my own classes and in every class with Sensei or with any of my teachers in the Bujinkan.

…

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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