Lesson 3: Bokken

Tonights lesson will include a bit of a book review of Dave Lowry's, "Bokken: Art of the Japanese Sword." (Bokken refers to the wooden model of the Japanese sword, and not the more commonly known steel katana, though the bokken was used as training for use of the katana by samurai in Feudal Japan) This was one book included in an indulgence of Aikido books from Amazon the other night and was first to be received. At first when I was reading I found a few good ideas, and then many many problems. By the end, I was very dismissive about it, but couldn't blog about it until I had some questions answered by, or at least asked to, my Aikido sensei.

For a positive start to the book, I admire Mr. Lowry's devotion to maintaining the integrity to the style of suburi (the way of the bokken) he practices: Yagyu Shinkage. He writes:

"The only aid the individual can bring to the budo he follows is to set aside his personal predilections and desires, and attempt to pursue it with a pure heart, staying as closely as possible to the course set by those who've gone before him. Through study, through interaction with his seniors, teachers and masters, and of course, through incessant and selfless training, he must make the effort to comprehend the true meaning of the budo, and to follow it unswervingly."

Now, as a matter of fact, I highly disagree with his opinion that belittles creative exploration by the individual and raises the "ancient teachings" to an untouchable status. However, for writing a book on such a topic, this belief may be to the author's advantage. So in this case, I appreciate this attitude. I happen to like that Mr. Lowry also begins most of his points by highlighting what "the wrong way to practice is", which I think helps his writing. For example, before explaining his experience in authentic suburi, he explains that 99% of what untrained and unread people know about the Japanese sword stems from Japanese Samurai films from the 1960's, which is of course not true suburi. One more point of his I appreciate is his constant reminder that kendo is not just a bunch of physical techniques, but that it is a way of self-cultivation. By balancing these two factors, we find true personal growth.

Besides those three points, I have much to disagree with in "Bokken: Art of the Japanese Sword." First of all, I'd say in the majority of the pictures of himself with the bokken, he appears to be off-balance or contorted! Two things that, as far as I know, are big no-nos in Japanese martial arts. I couldn't help but notice this when I first flipped through the book before reading, and within ten seconds of handing the book to my Aikido sensei, he said the same exact thing. My other discontents refer to specifics of positioning.

First of these is how he holds his bokken. Mr. Lowry says that a proper grip has one's pinky curled UNDERNEATH the end of the bokken. This, he says, is used for maximum mobility. A picture of this grip is shown below.

In our Aikido class however, our bottom hand fully grips the bokken, with the pinky wrapped around the base as shown below.

At first I was extremely surprised by the first option shown in Mr. Lowry's book, and when I tried it I thought it felt extremely weak. In fact, when I was taught to hold the bokken, it was the pinky you wrap around first, as it is the key factor for strength when gripping something as such or making a fist. When I asked my Aikido sensei, he said he had seen this before, but that we certainly practice it the second way in our Aikido class. I asked my Aikido sensei why we do it that way and ... all I can remember is it had to do with shiho nage ... !!! Bad student. I guess the detail was important enough to convince me at the time, but not substantial enough to make me remember exactly what it was? Crap, I'm sorry to the readers and myself.

Next, is a problem with his hips. When in a front stance after finishing shomen-uchi, (straight cut forward) he says to keep your hips directly and squarely foward. However, in our style of Aikido, we point our hips in a forty-five degree angle. By doing the second method in Aikido, you get a further reach, as well as ideal angle to slice. If two partners (or enemies) are standing face to face in Mr. Lowry's stance and do shomen-uchi, the swords would come down straight on each other and it would not be possible to easily deflect your opponent's sword or find the smallest angle to avoid your opponent's attack and strike his center. With the Aikido stance, you have the ability to find that smallest angle to strike your opponent. Also, the Aikido stance seems to me to be more stable and more mobile. It looks to me like the differences in a traditional front bow stance with your hips forward, and a natural fighting stance with your hips turned forty-five degrees. This problem here seems absolutley ridiculous to me.

Next is the angle of the sword when raised above your head. This however, is a question I still have a problem with after talking with my Aikido sensei. In Mr. Lowry's book, he says the proper position for the bokken when it is above your head is to be perfectly parallel with the ground (although in many of the pictures in his book it is draped behind his back). This is actually the way that I have believed to be correct for a while, but after talking with my Aikido sensei, he prefers to drape it down towards his back. Now, this focuses upon one of the lessons I learned tonight which is that there are quite a few seemingly contradictory theories in Aikido that I'm learning. My Aikido sensei that draping the sword towards your back relates to an open hand technique called ... (I don't know! I have not learned the name yet, but it is the technique where you are sitting, raise your hands to a shiho-nage like semblance, and then throw your opponent to one side). Anyway, he showed me that to do this properly, your hands follow the motion of the bokken in a manner that would drape it down your back, BUT, this contradicts what he has said about shiho-nage in that you need to always keep your hands in front of you, as if they go too high or far back, you lose strength. I have a problem with this explanation, and I don't like my Aikido sensei's way of draping the sword down his back. If anything, it makes more sense to me to follow the way of modern kendo, where the sword is tilted up at a forty-five degree angle. This way, it requires the least amount of time and muscles to effectively complete a cut. Anything slower would get you killed with a real sword is my take. While kendo is often criticized as focusing on quick hitting movements instead of a more realistic slice one would make with a real katana, I don't see how this way of holding the bokken in kendo compromises it's ability to slice. Anyone who practices the bokken is very welcome to make a comment on their particular way and it's reasoning. I don't feel comfortable with the answers I've found thus far.

These were the three logistical problems I was able to ask my Aikido sensei about: grip, hip direction, and bokken positioning. As for other problems I have with the book, he makes no reference to connecting the bokken to one's center. In our Aikido class, there is a huge emphasis on the connection between our center of balance and positioning with the bokken, but in Mr. Lowry's book there is no attention on this, and much of his seemingly bad posture is a result of him holding the ken to far back or to one side. This lack of connection makes for unbalanced and weak technique in my eyes. Instead of a constant balance and strength you attempt to achieve in Aikido or Chinese internal arts, you get on-and-off sporadic strength in bursts. Also, he does not mention once how the Japanese sword was used for cutting, which effects many techniques. The katana was not used to chop or hit, but to slice. Of course, this is a book about bokken and not katana, but this is one origin that needs attention I think, as it directly effects techniques of the bokken away from simple hitting or chopping.

For me tonight, the biggest moral of the story, is that Mr. Lowry's style of practicing the bokken in Yagyu Shinkage is different from that which I practice in Aikido. One is not necessarily "right" or "better", but used differently for different effects. Perhaps the biggest difference is Ueshiba Morihei's development of the bokken to work perfectly with all open-handed techniques in Aikido.

This is all I will say on this issue for tonight, as the epitomies and arguments could last for many more pages and books. But perhaps there is an issue to ponder here concerning two different views of the martial arts: First, should we follow our teachings unswervingly as Mr. Lowry states, or second, should we actively and creatively work to innovate techniques towards new refinement.

Thoughts On Etiquette in Japanese Culture

You're lucky tonight because they're not just mine, but also those of Inazo Nitobe. Mr. Nitobe was unarguably one of the best writers on Japanese culture, and is most famous for his book, "Bushido: the Soul of Japan." He was born into an old samurai family in 1862 in northern Japan. Though his father and grandfather died early on in Mr. Nitobe's life, he was raised by his mother and uncle, and was always reminded of the honor his heritage was known by. His life would be one of international education and deep study. Universities that Mr. Nitobe studied and taught at were: Sapporo Agricultural School, Tokyo Imperial University, Johns Hopkins University, an agricultural school in Germany, University of Halle, Kyoto Imperial University, and the First National College in Tokyo. This does not include the list of schools where he guest lectured, and does not include the many groups and councils he was part of, or the essays and books that he published.

What we are dealing with here is someone from the highest calibur of education the world could offer in his time, as well as someone from an old samurai family that would greatly effect the morals and philosophies of the worldly thinker. I think Mr. Nitobe's writing is absolutley beautiful and amazingly expressive of both emotion and factual detail. I think everyone concerned with the origins and meanings of martial arts should read his book, "Bushido: the Soul of Japan." However, I'm not sure everyone would enjoy it. The book is written in a scholarly style that is not regularly found in what most consider martial art books. In fact, it's not exactly about the martial arts of budo, but about the connections between the life of budo and the rest of the Japanese, as well as comparisons with other forms of warriorship in the world, especially those of the Occident. In this book, you read more about the social and cultural reasoning of why the samurai lived as they did, and how that affects Japanese culture.

Here I will highlight some of Mr. Nitobe's thoughts that deal with "etiquette" in Japanese culture.

Each country may have it's own factors that culturally shock it's foreign visitors, and I bet most of those gaijin who come to Japan find that it's usually with matters of politeness and courtesy (or maybe just weird pickled vegetables). Perhaps you walked into a room with your shoes when you weren't supposed to. Maybe you took a drink of your beer as soon as it was handed to you by the waitress, but you didn't wait to make your first drink a cheers with everyone else at the table. Or maybe even you answered your phone on a subway. All of these usually are accompanied by a gasp by the Japanese in close proximity as if someone was twisting their spine from the inside of their bodies. Actually a couple of my favorites are not walking on designated paths or sidewalks that wind unneccesarily, or trying to joke with Japanese, which always ends in confusion and some rule of conduct being broken. But anyway, let's hear a little bit from Mr. Nitobe:


"I have heard slighting remarks made by Europeans upon our elaborate discipline of politeness. It has been criticized as absorbing too much of our thought and in so far a folly to observe strict obedience to it. I admit that there may be unnecessary niceties in ceremonious etiquette, but whether it partakes as much of folly as the adherence to ever-changing fashions of the West, is a question not very clear to my mind. Even fashions I do not consider solely as freaks of vanity; on the contrary, I look upon these as a ceaseless search of the human mind for the beautiful."

These "certain slighting remarks" can very often expressed through great frustration. For me that's the length of meetings at school extended much longer due to "unnecessary niceties." For the same reasons, I am also kept from having some meaningful conversations with the Japanese I work with. What do these have to do with a "ceaseless search of the human mind for the beautiful"?


"Much less do I consider elaborate ceremony as altogether trivial; for it denotes the result of long observation as to the most appropriate method of achieving a certain result."

Well, that does seem to be the purpose, or at least a benefit of society.

"If there is anything to do, there is certainly a best way to do it, and the best way is both the most economical and the most graceful."

There is a sentence that should catch the eye of all mindful martial artists.


Mr. Nitobe then goes on to explain this theory through Sadou, the way of tea, as seen in Japan's tea ceremony. Japan has many cultural arts that are highly popularized in modern culture, usually of the martial quality, however I doubt many people would choose to sit through a tea ceremony. Tea ceremonies will often last a few hours, and consist of sitting silently with a few other people in a very small tatami mat room. There, conduct and niceties are strictly outlined and obeyed. For all those people enthralled with the idea of "Zen"; who want to buy products that are labeled "Zen", maybe your "Zen" daily planner, your "Zen" tea, your "Zen" t-shirt, or your "Zen" H4 hummer, maybe you should try to experience what is considered "Zen" in the tea ceremony.


"Mr. Spencer defines grace as the most economical manner of motion. The tea-ceremony presents certain definite ways of manipulating a bowl, a spoon, a napkin, etc. To a novice it looks tedious. But one soon discovers that the way prescribed is, after all, the most saving of time and labour; in other words, the most economical use of force,-hence, according to Spencer's dictum, the most graceful."


Here I think we have a wonderful ideal found in Japanese philosophy: beauty through design. This certainly underlines traditional Japanese culture as we have just read about, but is most certainly a driving factor in many modern facets of Japan. I think one of the most interesting (though I personally know so very little about) is architecture. If one travels to Tokyo, you will be able to see the pinnacle of artists striving to create beauty from design in the modern buildings that surround you. That may be one of my favorite things about Tokyo. Though it may not look similar to traditional culture, the modern creations follow the same theory as that in tea ceremony: beauty from design.


(above picture is from "dcafe" and can be found at http://www.flickr.com/photos/24062854@N04/3454086292/ )


Mr. Nitobe then proceeds to discuss about how this physical economy of motion relates to one's spiritual realm, which does not have a little to do with bushido.


"'The end of all etiquette is to so cultivate your mind that even when you are quietly seated, not the roughest ruffian can dare make onset on your person.' It means, in other words, that by constant exercise in correct manners, one brings all the parts and faculties of his body into perfect order and into such harmony with itself and its environment as to express the mastery of spirit over the flesh. ... If the promise is true that gracefulness means economy of force, then it follows as a logical sequence that a constant practice of graceful deportment must bring with it a reserve and storage of force. Fine manners, therefore, mean power in repose."

Did all you martial artists hear that? "...a constant practice of graceful deportment must bring with it a reserve and storage of force. Fine manners, therefore, mean power in repose." Talk about yin and yang; the warrior must contain the greatest amount of patience and repose where he builds his strengh and must also be able to explode into the fury of mortal combat. Or what about that "storage of force"? For all those with imaginations, where do you think that would physically be in your body? Your brain? Your foot? Or maybe your center, tan-tien, or hara, located a couple inches below your navel and into your body? Very interesting.

Let's return for a moment to the tea ceremony as an explanation of etiquette.

"Tea-sipping as a fine art! Why should it not be? In the children drawing pictures on the sand, or in the savage carving on a rock, was the promise of a Raphael or a Michael Angelo. How much more is the drinking of a beverage, which began with the transcendental contemplation of a Hindoo anchorite, entitled to develop into a handmaid of Religion and Morality? The calmness of mind, that serenity of temper, that composure and quietness of demeanour which are the first essentials of Cha-no-yu (tea ceremony) are without doubt the first conditions of right thinking and right feelings. The scrupulous clealiness of the little room, shut off from sight and sound of the madding crowd, is in itself conducive to direct one's thoughts from the world. ... Before entering the quiet precincts of the tea-room, the company assembling to partake of the ceremony laid aside, together with their swords, the ferocity of battle-field or the cares of government, there to find peace and friendship."

I think that this section well explains one stark difference between ideals of the Occident and those of the Far-East: in Japan one seeks to become the art, not just observe it. In Europe at this time, it would be considered of the highest culture degree to have elaborate paintings by famous artists hanging upon your walls as one plays fine music in the background while you stroll with your friends elaborating at length about the magnificent wonder contained in the things you own. This is contrasted with the silent practice of drinking tea in a seemingly bare room. However, in the tea ceremony, one becomes the art through the experience. From this deep well of strength nurtured by strict forms of etiquette, one's own creative power may emerge and dance with that of the other's in an invisible yet intoxicating realm beyond the crude senses.

Through reading this enlightening book, I hope to find the time to reveal more such thoughts from, "Bushido: The Soul of Japan."

Lesson 2: One Movement

Not ichi, ni, san, shi, go, roku.

Iiiiiiiiicccccccccccchhhhhhiiiiiii.

Wakaru?

Tonight, and actually very often, I get into the habit of practicing Aikido movements broken down into their individual steps. This is certainly residual from my past experience in Hawaiian Kenpo and Tai Chi Chuan, and it can be a very helpful way to learn movements, but in my Aikido class my sensei is always telling me to make it one smooth movement. You can certainly break movements down in Aikido when learning them. However, when practicing them with an uke (partner), it seems the technique suffers unless it is performed with its full fluidity. I think this is not so much a weakness in the art, but a goal to strive for.

Tonight I was reluctant to go to Aikido for numerous reasons, all of which stemming from a bit of laziness. Of course about 20 minutes into the practice I was having an amazing time and had forgetten about any reasons to stay at home. Most everyone has days where they don't want to go to practice for some reason, but I've noticed it's tendency to become a habit. Ever since I've been practicing martial arts, I've noticed this trend in myself of not wanting to go to training even though I feel amazing during and after. Often times for me it can last weeks, and sometimes it gets the better of me. After a few years of experience, I think that it's important to get over it as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Instead of succumbing to it or waiting for it to go away, do whatever it takes to get excited about going to practice, whether its some kind of mantra, reward, or watching a clip of a cool kung-fu movie. I think this is crucial for any aspiring student, as this laziness can truly plague good potential. What matters in martial arts is hands on practice, and I don't know about any of you readers, but for me I only get two chances a week. If I don't consistently go to those two practices, I know I won't improve (at least as much as I want). What matters most to me is benefiting from the few classes I have in Aikido while I'm here, and that requires attendance.

I had a great training tonight, but I know again soon I will be reluctant to go, but I will do whatever it takes to make it there, because the rest is taken care of when you do your best. For all of you students thinking it would be better to just get some sleep, clean your apartment, or read a book about your martial art rather then practice it with your precious companions ... JUST GO TO TRAINING!

:)

Gateway to Nippon

Today I had my greatest bike adventure to date. When I stepped out of my apartment and saddled myself upon my trusty bike, I started rolling but didn’t know exactly where. I’ve found that the two best directions to head are either across the highway towards the mountains, or towards the beach, and on this day it was the former. I was actually initially thinking maybe I’d go to one of the neighboring towns I haven’t been to yet by bike, and headed in that direction. But I kept being pulled towards the rising mountains and unknown forests. Here in Kurobe Toyama, the highest mountain range in Japan just shoots straight up about a couple of miles inland, and stretches for an absolute complete panoramic view. It is incredible, and makes Kurobe a convenient outpost to access the mountains, but it is still separated a bit. On the coast of a long plain, the land is covered with towns and rice fields, which is nice, but it’s not like walking out your front door and into the mountains. The Japanese wild of forests and mountains has its own unique qualities, and one of them could be called mysterious. I say this less so because of what you may infer from being in them, but more so of their view from the outside. In Japanese society it is usually very clear what you are supposed to do and what you are not supposed to do. Moreover, what is safe and what is dangerous. I think for the most part to the majority of Japanese people, the wilderness is perceived with first a lot of wonderment, but also fear. The Japanese are generally nature lovers, and will venture out of town sometimes, but 99% of the time it would be a short day trip on a very designated and more likely touristy path. Though there are these towering mountains with endless forest, there is really only one trail I know of as being popular and accessed by the general public: it is the path to the second tallest mountain in Japan, Tateyama, and even for that they have a cable car that takes you up most of the way so it can be summitted by just about anyone in a couple of hours. On summer holidays, this trail is packed, as everyone gets their wilderness outing desires quenched. I’ve often, with fairly weak attempts I must admit, tried to penetrate the unknown wilderness around here, but to no avail. Well, today I got a little closer, and found a socially acceptable entrance to the Japanese wild.

So I was on my bike, and kind of headed toward the neighboring town of Nyuuzen, and kind of headed toward the mountains, when all of a sudden a police car comes up next to me and tells me to pull over. I was extremely surprised, but also the night before, when I was on a beer run on my bike in the middle of poker night, I saw a police car pull over three young males on their bikes. I was shocked, annoyed for the kids, and scared because if I had been pulled over and if the cops had realized I had been drinking, I could have been in a lot of trouble as it is illegal to ride a bicycle intoxicated. As I pulled over, I realized I was doing nothing wrong, so decided to approach them as genki (energetic or lively) as possible. I’m sure they were nervous about dealing with a gaijin, and I certainly only confused them more by approaching them in such an outgoing spirit, which is not how the Japanese usually communicate with the police. I surprised them with my Japanese, and it ended up that they only wanted to make sure my bike was registered, which it is. While in conversation they asked me if I was headed to Unazuki … mmmmm … Unazuki. I said maybe, and they recommended I go to the onsen there. Onsen in Unazuki … mmmmm. Unazuki is the town inland towards the mountains, and is the outpost for the train that heads into the mountains and through the Kurobe gorge which is home to the famous Kurobe dam. And the town is famous for its onsen. “Sure, yeah, I’m headed there,” I said. They said great, and that it would probably take an hour by bike. Great. I was on my way.

Unazuki was certainly in my realm of dwelling, but I never expected to get there by bike, it seemed a bit too far away. But now I realized it certainly was possible, and the mystery of it fueled me forward on my one-speed granny bike.

The first sign of something wild was the Kurobe river. There are many small waterways and streams through Kurobe, but this river is quite large and impressive. Here there was a small dam to the right in the picture, and to the left you can see it flow to the sea. On the side of the road next to a bridge going over the Kurobe river was this strange structure that looked like a castle out of a Mario Bros. video game.

It is about 40 feet tall and ten feet in diameter at the bottom. It didn't look like there was any entrance inside, but as you can see, there was a spiraling staircase around and up to the top. It was clear that you weren't supposed to make an ascent as there are bars blocking the way up the stairs. But nobody was around; can you guess what happened next? I climbed it, and after stepping over the bars, my heart beat a little harder for the thrill, and because the stairs were probably only a foot wide!

I got to the top, looked nervously around, didn't find Bowser, and decided to climb back down and resume the adventure.

The road ran parallel to the river, and from here on, I started to head inland towards the mountains. The houses and rice fields became less and less frequent, and the land rose up steeply on either side of me, much of which was concealed in mist. I biked through a small congregation of buildings, that may have been considered a part of Unazuki, and kept on. Eventually as the transition was being made into the mountains and I had biked through a couple tunnels, I found a shrine to the left that looked down onto another area with houses and the Kurobe river.

At this point I realized I was approaching the gateway to the Japanese wilderness; the gateway to Nippon. In Japanese, Nihon is the term most often used for Japan, but Nippon holds and older more noble quality. I use the term Nippon in this description because this is a Japan older than bullet trains and anime or even samurai and geisha. I began to see a Japan both mysterious and terrifying. A Japan where humans were a small part of the whole, and spirits dwelt in the woods with monkeys, foxes, crows, and bears. This is a Japan not many people "see", but it is there indeed, untouched and unimpressed by human concerns or judgements.

Here is even a sign warning against bears. I've seen some of these signs on the edge of towns like Kurobe, and have to laugh a little bit because it seems so very unlikely that there are bears around so close to town. And yet, here the sign lays, and as I look up into the wilderness, I begin to heed its cautioning.

Through another tunnel, I finally made it to the main town of Unazuki at the end of the road, and the beginning of the wilderness.

It is a very small town, maybe about the size of Eastsound, but it is much more dense. As it is the beginning of the train through the gorge and home to many hotel resorts with their famous onsen, it is a tourist town with many gift shops and an ambience that is lacking in Kurobe. Actually, this is a bit more like the image I had of where I would live before arriving in Kurobe. This town of Unazuki definately had it's own magnificent charm, and was certainly removed from the rest of civilization. Reflecting now on where I live, I'm glad to live in Kurobe for it's convenience. But, it would be pretty cool to live in a place like Unazuki. There is no high school there, and any students who do live there usually go to the school I teach at in Kurobe. I would guess it's a half hour train or car ride from Unazuki to Kurobe. By bike if you were to not make any stops, takes about a hour and a half up into Unazuki, or an hour down to the plains of Kurobe.

Well, I had made it to my destination, and I had only to look around for a moment to find the onsen which would mark the climax of the trip. My stomach was crying for sustennance, but I realized I had one more leg of the journey to make as I looked up to a steep staircase into the forest behind some generic building.

Man's presence doesn't seem to get in Nature's way around here.

At the top of the stairs there was a small shrine. Shrines are ubiquitous in Japan, be it in towns or in the wilderness, and they run the range from clean and well kept, to dilapitated and infequently tended to. This one leaned more towards the latter. Personally, I think it adds to their quality, and even exhibits some quality of wabi-sabi. What I thought was really interesting though is this small wooden piece next to the door. I'm not sure what it says, but I was drawn to the simple drawings of these two wolves. I read recently that there were wolves in Japan a few thousand years ago, but had disappeared before man's presence on the islands ... I think. I find this question very interesting, but have never really had what I could consider to be a trusted source. It's always vague hearsay or my shaky translation of an exhibit in a museum. Anyway, this only reaffirms my image of an ancient Nippon.

Here is the shrine itself. Ha, just joking. But that piece in the middle looked a bit like some structures you may find in a Japanese garden. With the atmosphere, I think it stands better as a piece of art than whatever mechanical use it has.

To the right of the shrine, there was a semblance of a path that winded into the forest. It was definately a path, and I almost turned back because I thought it may lead to a walk for a couple hours that my stomach at this point could not sustain in it's empty state. But, I decided to give it a quick check. After two minutes, I saw what would in fact be the climax of my journey.

The path quickly led to this. I felt as though I was Link himself from the Zelda video game, wandering towards the entrance of a forest temple. I stopped in my tracks to drink in my first view of this scene, and squinted my eyes looking deeper towards to dam to see if there was some sword wielding nemesis I must face on that bridge just before the waterfall.

I was alone, but there were a couple covered picnic areas and barbecues. Check out this setup. Can you find these kinds of tables with grill capabilities in the center? Very cool. Ideal for some yakiniku, yakitori, and any kind of yaki whatever I suppose.

Here is the view with my back to the dam and looking down towards Unazuki.

I was feeling the giddy rush of adventure, wide-eyed and taking large gulps of this refreshing haven. I looked at a medium-sized patch of grass just next to and below the dam's waterfall, and thought what every good Tai Chi Chuan practitioner would think: time to do the form.

It was one of my best experiences doing the form on top of the experiences of the day. And yet, it was rank with distractions! I thought of the camera filming me which made me a bit nervous and shaky. I thought about how hungry I was. I thought about playing mariokart later that night. I thought about my girlfriend thousands of miles away. TOO MANY MIND! I thought later on if I died later on that day, would I have been happy with that form? I critically thought "no", I wouldn't. I must be more clear in order to give honor to myself and the form. I have a long way to go.

Well, it was time to descend this mountain I had found, get to town, find a bowl of tempura soba, and get in that onsen. The soba was delicious, and the onsen was great. I realized though that Unazuki's famed onsen are in the hotels around the area, and not the one I had entered in the town. The onsen I went to was absolutley tiny; only one hot tub inside about 25 x 10 feet. But it was just me and two other grunting scratching oyaji, so I had a wonderful time reflecting on my presence in ancient Japan. Though I must say, it certainly wasn't no Kintaro.

I emerged from the onsen red-faced, full-bellied, and relaxed, and started my downhill bike ride to Kurobe.

Back to flat ground where towns and rice fields meet the sea; back to my friends and belongings. I had been to Unazuki once before, but only very quickly before riding a train through the Kurobe gorge. I was amazed at it's charm then, but this intimate experience had changed everything. I have now received more proof that I need not travel to every region and famous site in Japan, but rather look more closely to the mysteries that lie in the largest mountain range in Japan, which is only a half hour train ride away. I've had a strong desire to go hiking in Japan, and I now know Unazuki will be where I will find the trail heads. As the weather is warming and access to the mountains is opened up, this was quite an ideal time to make this journey. Over the next few months, hopefully Gaijin Explorer will be full of such experiences. For those that made it to the end of this long post, I thank you for your time and wish you on your own journeys. Onward and upward!

Lesson 1: Ukemi

Here begins Lesson 1: the attempt at a project where I catalogue at least one tangible thing I can say I learned from every Aikido lesson (normally that will be every monday and thursday night). In order to prevent any blending together (how anti-Aikido) of memories or epiphanies, hopefully this project will prove useful for later review. Or maybe at the end of some chapter I can look back and say "awe, isn't that wonderful", as if it was a photo album of my own baby; but in a way I guess this is kind of my baby right?

Anyway, on with the lesson; and actually a couple into one tonight. Big happy bonus number one.

First we'll start metaphysical:

"Senri no michi mo ippo kara."

Roughly into English: "A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step."

I actually learned this very early on in my time here in Japan from my closest Japanese teacher at high school, and I have said it to myself at least once every single day. In the context of foreign language, it is so blatantly apparent that fluency and mastery are so very far from a beginner's ability. However, there's no use complaining or quitting or doing anything else except practicing if you want to get better. Also, there's no jumping from one to one hundred, one to fifty, or even one to ten (unless maybe you've done strength shoes ;) ), you must take it one step at a time. This is also very very very apparent in martial arts, and in my opinion especially those of the softer type like Tai Chi Chuan and Aikido. This can be a cute little Eastern "zen" phrase for you to read and think for a moment and forget, or it can be something you follow very closely and in depth. This one has stuck with me.

Now on to something tangible. I received an answer to an ukemi question that has been bugging me for a long time: When doing ukemi (roll), should you be on the toes of the foot that ends up under your bum like in the picture just below ...

Or should you land on the top of your foot like the the picture shown below here?

When I first started martial arts with Hawaiian Kenpo, we were specifically told to pay attention to this detail and choose option "A", the first one listed with your weight on the toes. From what I recall, this was to give you mobility and balance on that foot to enable you to move in a new direction or propel forward with the help of that foot. Option "B", the second one, was called the "dead foot" and should be avoided because it can get you stuck in the middle of your roll.

However, when I asked my Aikido teacher tonight, he definately favored option "B". He said it was more "natural", but all of you martial artists out there know that "natural" can be helpful but often even more so ambiguous and manipulated. Well, by executing your ukemi, if you focus to flex your foot up for position "A", it may interrupt your roll and create what may be called an unnecessary strain in your ankle. In option "B", if your foot takes the relaxed position and makes contact with the top of your foot, you can ideally roll through your ukemi more smoothly. Perhaps this explanation may not just fit better with Aikido ideals, but may also prevent harmful tension on your ankles. My sensei also mentioned something about distance, but I wasn't able to discern exactly what he meant. I think he was trying to say that you could roll farther away with option "B", but I'm not sure if that feels right or not.

This explanation is also in the context of my imperfect Japanese. I 100% understood that my aikido sensei favored option "B", but my imbellishment of his explanations could be subject to error.

With different opinions, I think it's only clear there is no one right answer, but different answers according to their relative situations. As for now, I'm rollin' with "B".

The chicken or the egg?

The answer is both.

Taking a look at the two kanji on the right hand side of this picture will answer this question.

Together, they are "sottaku."

Yesterday, one of the fellow teachers at my high school saw me practicing my daily kanji (Chinese characters in Japanese writing), and said he had a homework assignment for me. Surprised and curiously I said sure, and he then instructed me to go to the front of the school where there was a large paper with kanji on it; I was to try and read it.

I was optimistic about the assignment until I saw the kanji. My homework was written in beautiful but inelligible calligraphy. I reported back and said "zenzen wakkannai" (I have no idea.) He laughed, but quickly took a serious tone and explained very carefully the meaning of these two kanji that greet the students and teachers of Sakurai High School every morning. Below I will display what he wrote to me in quotations. I think my own attempts at this point would only dillute it's meaning.

The top right character can be read as, "From the inside of an egg, a chick bird is going out of egg, pecking the egg from inside."

The bottom right character can be read as, "A mother bird is giving hints to a baby bird with knocking the egg to show the direction and strength."

"Further meaning:

Sottaku is a noun and a metaphor, which shows the good relationship between an educator and an educatee.

An educator gives not so many hints to the educatee while an educatee is yearning. A mother bird never breaks the egg for a chick, because the chick needs the self confidence and independence. In the same way, an educator never solves the problem, nor gives the solution because the educatee needs the self belief. This word, also shows us that, the quality, the amount, timing of hints are important. Sottaku is the ideal state between teachers and students."

This was given to me written in these exact words from a math teacher, who has spent some time in the States, studied English for a long time, and is the head of the kendo club at school. I speak to him daily, but like many people we see and work with everyday, I had no idea that he would give me such information.

The fact that so much meaning can be drawn from only two Chinese characters is absolutley amazing, and a testament to their importance for students of Japanese language.

What comes to my mind right now when I ponder this kanji is the difference between teaching methods between American and Japanese martial artists. To generalize, Americans often seem to want and expect all the objective information and answers to their questions immediately upon being taught, irregardless of time spent training. I don't think this is necessarily bad, and if there's knowledge, it should be free to everyone, right? Maybe to generalize on the Japanese side, students are expected to obey completely without asking questions, and teachers teach by simply performing the techniques on the students.

Perhaps dwelling somewhere between these extremes, there is an eggshell to be carefully cracked.

Great Aikido Sources

I've spent a bit of time searching for quality Aikido videos online and have found just a few good ones amid throngs of junk, but the other night I was given a DVD from one of my fellow Aikidoka that was quite impressive. It is comprised of clips of five different teachers' seminars, and below I will list a description of each, as well as links to websites for those that are available.

First was a seminar by a Russian man named Vladimir Vasiliev. This was an especially interesting beginning to the video, because the majority of the techniques and principles he was focusing on were certainly ones shared with Aikido, however, he certainly didn't limit his demonstration to only Aikido techniques. Almost all of those attending the seminar wore gis and hakama, but he wore camoflauge pants and a t-shirt. In the beginning he lead excercises in breathing, and then moved on to body movement without any martial techniques. Actually, for a part of the time he had the participants walk around each other within a small space to simulate walking through a crowd, which is often a topic visited Aikido and promoted by the founder Morihei Ueshiba. Next, with an attacker, he demonstrated how to evade an attack by simply doing the least amount of work to accomplish this. For example, when someone moves toward you with a strike, you do not first load up on one leg in your fighting stance and dash out of the way, but in a relaxed state step out of the way. He then showed this with multiple attackers to effectively demonstrate how rigid and jerky evasions will slow you down and probably get you entagled with your opponent, which in some circles is not so desirable. After this he began introducing techniques, both open-handed and with knives, but this is where it looks like it diverges from Aikido. Certainly the evasive movement was Aikido, but you could see him setting up for a lot of strikes, and performing what I thought to be a lot really great subtle leg trips. One complaint of mine though is that his attackers move only half speed, and for the effect he was going for, I would like to have seen a few a bit faster.

I was very intrigued by this man and his teachings, but after more investigation on his website about "Systema" (the System), which he seems to have built, seems a bit fishy. He claims from a system of Russian martial arts that has been developed for centuries on the principles of spiritual growth and maximum efficiency, but the introductory video on it made me question it a bit. Below is listed the website for Systema, and I encourage you to investigate further, as I certainly will. Also, he apparently has trained many people throughout the world as authorized teachers of Systema; maybe you should enquire about one near you, I would love to.

russianmartialart.com

Ok, the rest of these will be less wordy, and all of them are Japanese.

Next is Tetsuzan Kuroda, who may have been the most impressive to me of the group. He didn't speak English, but had a great interpreter to help out. He was of a slighter build than average, but seemed to execute extremely sharp techniques that stemmed from an equally so spirit. In the martial arts realm, I think he would side on the scientific side, and broke down each movement to the smallest degree where you could explore what maybe you could call a "balance breaking point." In every technique, the opponent should be brought to a point where the execution is effortless; it seemed very similar to what I know about the instructor Tim Cartmell. He repeadetly mentions, "These are not magic tricks," and that there is a science behind every successful technique; all successful techniques are a utilization of body mechanics. There was no website advertised, but I wonder if you can find him on youtube.

Third, was the livliest of the bunch named, Gaku Homma. He spoke fluent English, and I'm 99% is Japanese, but he really had the weirdest accent that made him sound like he was from somewhere in Southeast Asia. Anyway, he had an extreme amount of energy, and a lot of jokes, and would probably be the most fun to train with. However, he executed his techniques as serious as death, and always accounted for the techniques application in the street. Open handed techniques most often accounted for knives the opponent may have, and all of his ken techniques were explained in the context of their samurai origin with details about how the cuts would work around armor. His techniques were perfomed with great speed and intensity, and a great contrast to the slower more minute teachings of other teachers. He also has no website, but maybe you can find him online elsewhere.

Next was a man named Hiroshi Ikeda. He spoke fluent English, and reminded me of the second guy in this series, as he broke things down to the smallest detail, and had a more serious demeanor about himself. His trademark may be his emphasis on the waist and hips. Every movement is based upon the use of whole-body movement, where the waist and hips are the generators of maximum power. The website was listed, bujindesign.com, however, there doesn't seem to be any information about Hiroshi, is a site where you can buy martial art equipment, but also has a section for training tips that could be interesting.

Lastly was Kyoichi Inoue. He spoke little English, and had a translator, but he seemed to be a young American with a level of Japanese that was a little more advanced than mine, so I wasn't impressed much with that. Then again that's my own bias popping in. Anyway, he was a smaller older Japanese man that executed his techniques in a way that seemed more appropriate to kata and waza from Karate, but also had their own legitimacy. Perhaps that's just style of training, and doesn't necessarily limit his style of Aikido. In ten minutes of video, I think there were only two techniques, but it emphasizes the importance of basics, especially those found in shiho-nage for this source. I was less impressed by this section, but perhaps I need to see more of his teaching to understand. A website was listed for him under yoshinkan.net, but there is no appearance of him, and seems to be the website for his style highlighting it's head honcho.

In summation, I was greatly impressed and relieved by this gift of quality Aikido, and saw teachers who approached their art with the greatest sincerity and severity, but ended it all with a smile. I see a group of highly refined practicioners, that care not for "master's secrets", but rather the spreading of knowledge for the sake of human benefit.