Original Article by Chrisgee

I was going to post a blog about koshi waza, but as I so bitterly disappointed with my performance that I’ll try to produce some videos worth sharing and discuss them next week.

Something that has been knocking around in my head recently has been more philosophical.  Jutsu or Do?  Other than the stylised distinctions between Jutsu and Do combative systems, I think the truth is that two are not so easily parted.

To quickly address the point about Aikijutsu/Aikijujutsu and Aikido.  From what I can gather only Daito Ryu was occasionally referred to a aikijutsu/aikijujutsu rather jujutsu and it seems to me like it was some sort of marketing ploy.  No other school (ryu) of classical melee combative system was referred to with the suffix.  Sometimes I think that this aikijutsu name gives Aikidoka  a false sense of the sophistication and power of our art.  The reality is that many amazing melee systems existed, like all the systems Sokaku Takeda studied and others like Kito Ryu, Yagyu Shingan Ryu (pictured) and Yoshin Ryu all carried the suffix Jujutsu.

After that small digression, when we look at the definitions jutsu means technique.  Many modern creators of Japanese combative systems wanted to distance themselves with the cruel techniques of the Japanese warriors commonly called Samurai.  However, does this mean we should practice blindly and without focus on the original purpose of the techniques that we are learning.

I’ve covered in previous articles my belief that Aikido techniques are like living archaeology, and with focused study we can see how the techniques we practice have medieval roots.  If we distance ourselves from these truths do we do ourselves a disservice?  Arguably Ueshiba Sensei, especially in his later years rarely discussed (from what I’ve read) the combative nature/hertiage of Aikido. But is it because he knew those foundations the he could become to powerful. I believe so.

Ueshiba Sensei’s understanding of Jutsu, not just the Do (or self perfection/which he focused on later) allowed him to access the true power of each and every technique he developed.

However, in our modern society can we allow ourselves to just focus on Jutsu?  Is Aikido just an archaic combative system from a medieval age which has no bearing place in the 21st century?  We all have the luxury of perfecting our throws and pins, our body movement and balance, a luxury rarely afforded in more unstable times.  But I do believe that if we follow the Do path, then we must understand the movements we make or we are on a path to nowhere. Jutsu is the car and Do is the road, and if we want to make this journey then we need both.

Train with form.

Osu.

Original Article

AIKIDO UKEMI

Its Pathology & Treatment,”

by Chetan Prakash

 

Acknowledgment:

Chapter 4 of my teacher Saotome Sensei’s book: The Principles of Aikido (Shambhala, 1989) is my highest recommendation for reading about the meaning and purpose of ukemi. Any mistaken understanding I have of his teaching is of course, mine and not his.

Let’s start with some quotes to set the tone of the discussion:

“Aikido: The spirit of honest attack and loving reconciliation” attributed to O Sensei

“As your training progresses, always remember that the key to gaining the ability for spontaneous and creative technique lies in good ukemi;” — Mitsugi Saotome Shihan, in “The Principles of Aikido”

“Ukemi is like a leaf falling from a tree, spiraling down to a fast river: the moment it touches the river it is instantly carried downstream…”— Hiroshi Ikeda Shihan, at a seminar, 1999: interpretation mine

“What is Kaeshi Waza? Kaeshi is ukemi, ukemi is kaeshi – my choice.”— Hiroshi Ikeda Sensei, private communication, c. 1995

“Ukemi: skill at receiving arts at a level similar to that in performing them and so demonstrating understanding of technique”— Aikido Association of Northern California test requirements (emphasis mine)

Notes: 1. There is also the saying: “Uke is always right.” It may seem in what follows that I disagree with this. I don’t: off the training mat, that is always true. Ichi-go, ichi-e: there’s no time to dwell on our emotional judgments and hopes. On the mat, it ought to be the aim of one’s training to make this quotation true (and how to do this is the subject of another essay…): Do not interrupt your execution for “another chance.” This article is to be seen in a pedagogical context of helping people learn Aikido. 2. I use the word “ego” in this essay to indicate the illusory, Eastern, sense of separation (“Ahamkar” in Sanskrit), not the positive Freudian ego which is a function of the psyche that (at its best) identifies and copes with reality, using human capacities. The two usages are almost opposites! 3. In what follows, only the first appearance of a Japanese word will be italicized.

Here I will discuss ukemi in two dimensions: as part of basic Aikido study (kihon waza) and as a budo practice, or keiko.
In basic Aikido, ukemi usually means the receiving of a technique executed by nage, the person being attacked. As such it presupposes two things:

A strong, committed and honest attack; and

A movement of the attacker in complete harmony with nage’s intention.

So, in fact, the onus to produce the desired result, in kihon waza, is more on uke than on nage.

 

In budo practice there is a transformation of ukemi, based on skill at the kihon level, into a much more sophisticated function. Yet this transformation comes from a very simple idea: uke attacks in all sincerity and with deadly intent, but upon having the attack rendered ineffective, enters survival and/or reversal mode, while maintaining connection with nage, with the greatest alacrity. To elaborate:

Attacking:

Usually basic technique is practiced slowly, whether from a static attack or from a moving one. Why? One reason is that the practitioners involved may not have the skill, as yet, to go full on with each other and still stay safe. Even if the practitioners do have a great deal of skill in being thrown, struck or pinned, slower practice is the best way to study carefully the subtler aspects of technique, as well as the fundamentals of aiki behind it. One can work with a single principle at a time and discover what it takes to embody it in the midst of an encounter, without over-exciting one’s spirit to the point where fear of injury (or failure) takes over. In general, for beginners or even seasoned practitioners, significant new learning usually cannot take place at full speed. There is definitely a place for practicing as fast as possible – it’s fun, it builds courage and stamina and it shows some of the limits of one’s skill, but if it is done so fast that the parties lose sight of the level of their own fear and tension, people may well be enjoying themselves – but without learning much.

In kihon waza, uke’s job is crucial to nage’s learning process. If uke’s slow attack does not faithfully simulate what would happen at normal speed, nage is not going to learn how to deal with a real event, at real speeds. Any deviation from the fully committed attack that stays connected with nage’s initial position and finishes where it should (through the body for a strike, strongly connecting to the appropriate body parts in a hold), renders nage’s intended response, and therefore the art, meaningless. Nor does it help nage’s learning if uke’s subsequent movement is at odds with the progression of the technique.
So in our usual, medium-to-slow paced practice, uke is a person who maintains an attack in spite of the natural urge to counter nage’s rather obvious response. This both requires and engenders mental discipline and is motivated by a desire to help, at lower speeds, nage to learn responses that would become appropriate and effective only at more realistic speeds.

Flowing:

Their is a corollary to this steadfast suspension of disbelief expressed in uke’s continuing attack: As the nage’s appropriate response to it are realized in kuzushi and then projection or pinning, an agreement occurs: uke will now use ukemi skills so as to survive nage’s movement without injury. At, and beyond, the transition from attack to survival there is, ideally, no further need for uke to act “as if.” Rather, uke is now practicing complete agreement with the forces of gravity and inertia, together with nage’s centripetal or centrifugal contribution.
In the beginning of training, terms like go no sen, sen no sen and sen sen no sen are all appropriate to this type of basic practice, whether static, moving or ki no nagare. This is because the attack is, at least in basic training, choreographed. However, such terms lose their meaning in “advanced” keiko, when sufficient maturity in ukemi and internal practice develops into an embodiment of aiki.
So where does the pathology come in?

It starts with katatedori kokyu ho. All of us know that it is the rare beginning student whose grip on nage remains constant throughout the movement. It takes a difficult act of imagination to see that the movement done slowly, over a couple of seconds, is simulating something that would, in an actual encounter, happen much faster: in as little as 0.2-0.4 seconds! It takes a while – as well as a teacher who insists on it – for students to see the necessity of holding nage’s whole body with their own whole body – not just the hand – and so to allow themselves to move their feet with nage’s response. Only by freeing the feet to move can the grip be honestly maintained. Not before this is done can uke see that it is the attack that provides the energy and intention which, responded to with appropriate connection and movement, takes uke’s balance.
For this reason uke is often referred to as nage’s “teacher.” Uke sets up the conditions that make a particular technique or set of movements relevant. It would seem to be better phrased as “giving ukemi” rather than taking it. So uke needs to have some understanding of how the technique works. To develop this understanding, all students need to be able to do the entire ukemi by themselves, with an imaginary nage. Also useful is the opposite practice of moving as nage with an imaginary uke.

In basic technique, and more so in budo keiko, uke needs to be present from beginning, through the execution and also after the art is done. At the beginning, the confrontation. Then, strong attack. During the execution, the flowing, like a leaf on a stream. At the end, safe communication – with the mat, and with nage: landing in the right way and to the right place: “the sound of one hand slapping;” smoothly and without delay getting up to attack again: but doing so with a sense of respect for what nage could still do… This is Zanshin – unbroken awareness. If any of this is missing, the training of both parties suffers.

How can we train in such a way that learning is maximally enhanced?

In order to do this, we need to first understand what doesn’t work, and recognize such behavior in ourselves. Then we need to see how to fix it.

Ukemi Pathology

What can go wrong in ukemi?

First and foremost, the attitude to training can be off. People who “play” martial arts have the attitude of “let’s see what you can do.” Others have unresolved fear-issues that make them very stiff. Either of these attitudes often results in unintelligent behavior that leaves the attacker immediately open to kicks, head-butts, strikes etc. without any possibility of defense. Glomming on and excessive tension in the attack are symptoms of this kind of attitude. Another symptom is being so heavy that nage has to drag them around to finish the technique.

Then there are the “scaredy-cats” who don’t trust their partners. They will start an attack, and the moment nage responds with a movement they will – unconsciously – change the attack or start a block. Or, as is often seen in Ikkyo, they will start to back up, while still holding on, when nage starts the Ikkyo cut. So the attack disappears. Another example is that of the “absent uke.” These are the persons who think that Aikido is all about technique. It’s nage’s glory and uke is just there to provide nage with an opportunity to shine. They think it’s “their turn” when they are up for nage. As uke they will start an attack but the moment nage responds with a movement, the energy in their attack will disappear and they loose focus on their own ukemi. It’s as if they are done with the attempt and are now waiting around – or not – for their own turn.

Competitive reaction is also alive and well in many people. Taking every interaction on the mat as an opportunity to “win,” they are incapable of giving ukemi properly in their obsession with tricking nage up. Such people are better off doing MMA (mixed-up martial arts). One of the unfortunate results, seen more in some schools that in others, is that they will tend to do a lot of stopping of the movement, as if that makes them superior to nage. They need to be shown how dangerous that can be for them. I don’t mean that stopping should never be done: if there is no intent in nage, where should I, as uke, go? If my unbalancing is sending me one way and nage is fighting that to push me another way, nage is the one doing the stopping, not me. But, a lot of the time, stopping the movement is just ego.

On the other side of the spectrum, an all too common attitude in the Aikido world today is expressed in: “Aikido is a spiritual art, not a martial one.” People who have this attitude, even in the slightest, don’t know what an attack is. You see pictures of such people doing a fist strike with bent wrists – this would break their wrist were there any contact! Or worse, they strike at the air near the atemi point with neither focus nor intent, almost as a pro-forma part of their dance move. They grab weakly. Their ukemi tends to be over-obliging. One of the greater absurdities during training is seeing someone like this smiling happily while doing a strike – as if attacking someone is meant to be fun! Another symptom of this attitude is evident in many videos (of sometimes very beautiful Aikido movement with uke’s who seem eager to please): it is obvious that the nage has never been hit in his or her life. Otherwise they would not place themselves in the vulnerable positions that become obvious in their movement.

At an extreme, there is such a thing as becoming the “universal uke,” always ready to please and not taking responsibility for one’s own warriorship. Sometimes they become over-obliging “OK uke’s”, so that their partners end up having no idea whether their art works or not. Consummate artists of pliability, such folk are actually almost there: a spot of real leadership development can do the trick.

I have compassion for each of these attitudes. Each of us will recognize one or more of them as having manifested in our self, at least in our early training. Some of us were fortunate to have Sensei or sempai who put us in situations where we had to confront the truth about ourselves – and change our behavior. But I think it is important to understand that at the root of all these attitudes, there is a lack of trust, and a lack of humility. Ukemi training is humility training, par excellence. It is also the golden route to discovering the highest levels of skill in reversal, or kaeshi waza, and therefore counts as a major – perhaps the major – component of budo practice. But it equally has a lot to do with trust: trust in oneself, to move to safety as the art unfolds. Trust in one’s nages, that they will move smoothly and not roughly to execute their technique: that they will care for the safety of uke (i.e., if uke indeed, regrettably makes it necessary to require such care). Trust in Aikido.

Ukemi Materia Medica

How can an instructor best place students in the attitude-changing situations required to transform their ukemi?

Basic is, of course, lots of repetition of the basic skills of rolling and falling (or, really, “not-falling”) practice. In addition to the standard kneeling and standing rolls, this should include variations in configuration (one leg bent, or one leg straight out); in speed, from exquisitely slow to almost-dangerously fast; variations in height, such as rolling from a handstand, leaping forwards to roll, rolling from kneeling, squatting, fully prone or supine positions; high falls from kneeling solo, going over someone lying down, kneeling or bending over, standing high-falls while being held all the way to freely throwing oneself. Rolling while being pushed in any direction, rolling in any direction from a fixed stance, rolling in tight spaces or on slopes, rolling through other people who are also rolling around: both on the ground and standing. Doing forward and back rolls with a partner while touching hands. Finally, every now and then rolling should be practiced on wood, concrete or asphalt – and, e.g., off of picnic tables.

Now all this can give students a certain confidence in their own ability to land safely. But it is not enough: connection with nage has also to be taught. This is the area where most of the pathologies mentioned above appear. Here the basic skills are two:
· knowing how to attack, and
· knowing how to flow, i.e., to feel nage’s intent – and being able to follow it, however briefly (at least until the inevitable becomes obvious).

Unfortunately, many Aikido schools seem to have adopted the idea that “we never hit,” so their students do not learn four important lessons of budo:

1. How to hold different parts of nage’s body in a variety of ways that can be used to throw, pin or set up a follow-up strike with any part of one’s own body;
2. How to deliver a realistic strike that could cause serious damage (dageki);
3. How to deliver a realistic strike that could energetically affect the partner’s balance (atemi: energy strikes as against the blunt-force trauma of #2.). Again, this should be learned with any body part;
4. How to discover one’s own suki (vulnerabilities, openings): both as uke and as nage.

Once these skills are acquired, it becomes realistic for the partner to simulate, even at lower speeds, the desire to survive and move away from the attack in a way that justifies the particular technique’s progression. Only then – not before.

This means that real atemi needs to be an integral part of our curriculum. For many Aikido practitioners, items 1., 2. and especially 3. above seem to be undeveloped. One reason for this is that students have not had a chance to confront their own fear of actually striking someone or something. [This is both a fear of hurting the other and a fear of hurting oneself.] Some Karate people spend a lot of time on makiwara overcoming this fear while developing striking skill; boxers attack focus mitts. I think some serious portion of our training should include learning actual strikes too. However, I feel that practice on firm makiwara boards or on heavy bags is not good for the wrists and other joints. So what to do? I would venture that a certain amount of time spent attacking focus mitts with men tsuki, shomen uchi and yokomen uchi is well spent. Tanren uchi training with swords is, properly taught, also a good practice. Knuckle pushups – on a hard surface – are excellent. In the end, the best way of learning to hit bodies is: to hit bodies. Alarming as this may sound, there are detailed and non-threatening drills in such arts as Systema that can both train the attacker to attack with proper atemi as well as help the receiver to dissipate the effects of a blow that actually lands. In Aikido we generally want to avoid the outcome in which a blow actually lands – this is indeed an excellent way of dissipating the blow! But what will you do if it does land? We need to practice to get beyond the tension of such situations.

Once the practitioner starts feeling confident in both giving and receiving blows, a whole world opens up. The enhanced effect of training in tachidori, tantodori and jodori starts to inform our empty-hand training instead of, oddly, staying separate (as it does too often).

As far as item 4. above is concerned, the best way to discover one’s suki while being nage is to have them pointed out: not in “cuchi waza” (talking-instead-of training) but in being struck: or in being surprisingly reversed in a pin or throw. The first, uke striking through nage’s opening, anyone can do. The rule would be to 1. Not to do this while suddenly (and sneakily) changing the speed of practice; and 2. not do this to hurt but to instruct (when this happened to Tom Cruise’s character in the “Last Samurai,” I’m sure the pain, though not ultimately destructive, was very instructive!). I don’t know why most Aikido Dojo today frown on such an entirely helpful behavior, other than the preservation of ego. A light bruise today could save your life tomorrow…

It is because they don’t get hit more often that we see uke’s glomming on and settling during randori in tests. Nobody has pointed out to them how crazy that can be in a real situation. And that’s easily done, with one strike. So, yes, I am advocating actually striking one’s partner: out of love, not aggression, and only with enough force to make the somatic point without severe injury.

The other suki-self-discovery, of having one’s efforts reversed, is something that needs to be done very carefully in training. I recall Saito Sensei refusing teaching kaeshi waza to mudansha at a San Diego seminar (and even having the windows papered over before that session!). I can certainly understand that this comes from a desire to not aggrandize the egos of immature aikidoka, which can easily happen in kaeshi waza. In most kaeshi waza training that I have participated in, the particular kaeshi being taught are turned into techniques themselves, so that it’s not really kaeshi: nage is meant to attack a certain way and uke reverses it this way. It just means that nage was actually uke and uke was really nage from the beginning, as against a spontaneous disappearance of their roles in the middle. I think kaeshi waza training, while starting that way, needs to grow realistic: show a range of possible responses to nage’s given technique, and then let the students see if any of them make sense – or if something else does. Moreover, if nage’s work is not ill-designed but is actually working, notice that and take the ukemi without argument! This kind of advanced practice requires close supervision by the instructor lest it turn into brute fighting. The key is that both uke and nage need to remember to be as relaxed as possible throughout the exercise.

Why is kaeshi waza training important?

Technically it is useful in refining the precision of one’s movement and connection, and so sealing suki. It is one of the major ways in which Aikido training can refine the spirit through the difficult forging process of burning up ego. There are some schools, such as Kobayashi Hirokazu ryu, which train kaeshi in every class, so this idea is not new. Most importantly, kaeshi waza is essential in developing the relaxed non-contention of pure ukemi, because it is only this pure ukemi that makes Aikido kaeshi possible.
In kobudo it was traditional for the teacher to take ukemi from the student, at least for the first few years of the student’s training. This has been reversed in many modern budo, including the way Aikido is practiced. I have heard of at least one Aikido shihan stating that there is no point in taking ukemi from the students because they couldn’t throw him anyway. Why not? Or, to put it another way, what happened to his choice? On the other hand, I once trained at a seminar in L.A. taught by Abe Seiseki Shihan when he was 81 years old and vividly remember how he came over to me when we were practicing kata-dori kuzushi and took ukemi from me – helping me immeasurably!

I am not saying that the current system should be reversed again. There is a good reason why it is the way it is: it takes, in my opinion, usually at least until nidan before a student can start taking sophisticated ukemi as described above. It is therefore, however, very important for teachers to take frequent ukemi from their students: both in order to enhance the student’s learning of technique, as nage, and also to model good ukemi for them. And, if occasionally kaeshi emerges, and it is done through love: well, that’s what good parents and teachers do

 Nage and Uke an expectation…

A small section, taken from an article written by Tres Hofmeister sensei called Ukemi.  The link to the whole article can be found under ‘Training tips’ in the ‘Aikido’ menu heading or follow this ‘further reading’ link.

 

Uke

In actual physical conflict, there are of course no fixed roles, and no rules. In order for the kata method to be effective, uke and nage must both understand the distinction between actual conflict and what goes on in the dojo. When uke resists unreasonably, he has forgotten that nage is constrained to the technique being practiced only by their mutual agreement. Often people resisting a technique do so from a fundamentally weak position with no apparent awareness of the martial alternatives available to their partner.

Nage

When nage throws with unreasonable force, he has forgotten that uke is offering an opening, and has foregone any attempt to counter. No reasonable person will give someone an open opportunity to injure them; uke receives the technique in a spirit of trust. Conversely, nage trusts that uke will attack appropriately. Nage too can then practice with confidence that he will not be injured by an unexpected attack. In this way, we develop confidence and trust in one another, and the intensity of training can increase.

Extract taken from this original article

Guillaume Erard: So you owe your views on Aikido to Kisshomaru Ueshiba Sensei and Seigo Yamaguchi Sensei don’t you?

Olivier Gaurin: These two Sensei were indeed my humble basis of work but I tried to follow every teacher, particularly Osawa Kisaburo Sensei. Like many old Sensei, I think that very few people understood what he was doing. It was an interesting Aikido, very flexible, but in a rigid mentality, all of that behind a very sympathetic mask, as is often the case here in Japan. Osawa Kisaburo Sensei was a bit like a peach with a big stone in it (laughs)! Of course I also particularly liked the classes of Arikawa, Watanabe and Endo Sensei and I think that their influence on me is still visible today.

Basically, there are three ways to learn in Japan. The first one is to follow one particular Sensei and to become a sort of doppelganger. The second one, also called here the “way of disgrace” ["Fuhyô no Michi" (不評の道) : "the way of impopularity"] is about learning from everyone, without particular affiliation or allegiance, and of course without recognition. This is the way that I have chosen but it is a quite tedious and thankless task, you have to build yourself using all the conflicting information that you are exposed to. The third way is a mix of both, one choses a Sensei as main mentor but goes to put his knowledge into practice at other people’s classes.

For me, the “way of disgrace” is the most interesting, both in ethical and technical terms, because one has to follow contradictory teachings and therefore, it keeps one on the tangent of what I call the flow of appropriation. It prevents discourses that are in essence “I am right and the others are wrong”.

By F.J. Lovret – March 20, 2011

Original link

Daito-ryu is a Japanese core style from which many modern variations have sprung. Shorinji kenpo, hapkido, Kodokan judo and aiki are martial arts that were originated by disciples of daito-ryu that have since splintered into numerous modern variations of their own.Daito-ryu aikijujutsu is one such splinter style that has somehow managed to adhere to the traditional teachings of its core style forerunner (daito-ryu) and its predecessor (aiki). But because of its adherence to tradition—and its insistence on retaining most of the more painful and deadly self-defense techniques—the martial art has remained relatively obscure.

Although there are several thousand disciples of the art in Japan, daito-ryu aikijujutsu is almost totally unknown in the United States. Most senior students of modern aikido know that their art descended from daito-ryu, but many are under the impression that the daito system became extinct several generations ago.

Aiki’s Many Branches

At the present time, there are more than 40 different styles of aiki in Japan, with most of them emanating from the modern branch started by Morihei Uyeshiba. While modern styles are widely taught in the United States, the older forms are little known, leaving many people with the idea that there is only one style of the art. Actually, old densho (teaching scrolls) are full of mention of aiki.

Long a secret art, aiki was first openly taught by Takeda Sokaku in the early part of this century. Takeda Sokaku was a man of frightening spiritual power and one of the last of the old swordsmen. In addition to being the 24th-generation headmaster of the daito-ryu, he was a master of itto-ryu kenjutsu (sword) and hozoin-ryu sojutsu (spear). He was one of the most influential and least known of the great Japanese masters of the 20th century. Among the more famous daito-ryu disciples were Morihei Uyeshiba (founder of modern aikido), Doshin So (founder of shorinji kenpo) and Yong Shul Choi (founder of hapkido). Another great was Shiro Shida, immortalized in such films as Sanshiro Sugata, who played a major part in the founding of Kodokan judo. Many people are not aware that he won many matches for the Kodokan, in the early days when it was struggling for survival, using the daito-ryu technique of yama arashi (mountain storm).

Modern aiki has gone through many profound changes during the past 50 years, primarily because of the efforts of Morihei Uyeshiba. A man of tremendous physical strength, he is the most famous disciple of Takeda Sokaku. He started teaching daito-ryu aikijujutsu but soon began making changes in the art. As he changed techniques, he also changed the name of the style, using successively daito-ryu aikijutsu, kobukan aikijujutsu, kobukai aiki budo, tenshin aikido, takemusu aiki budo and finally aikido. This last change came at the end of World War II. The bu was dropped because of the Allied occupation ban on practicing martial arts. As Jigoro Kano did with judo, Morihei Uyeshiba eliminated many dangerous techniques and modified others for safety. This allowed aikido to be practiced by a much wider range of people than the more violent aikijutsu styles, thus greatly increasing its popularity.

Daito Ryu Aikijujutsu vs. Modern Aiki Styles

The first thing that one may notice when practicing daito-ryu aikijujutsu is the power of the attacks. In most of the modern aiki styles, the attacks tend to be rather soft. If your training partner resists the technique, he does so not with his arms but by motion of his hips. However, in daito-ryu aikijujutsu training, the attacks are full power. When your partner grabs your wrist, he does so with the intention of trying to prevent even the slightest motion of your hand. He grabs hard, locking every muscle in his body, as if he was trying to crush the bone in your forearm. Proper practice should result in a mass of finger-shaped bruises on your forearm the next day.

The spiritual differences are equally evident. In the old days, masters used the terms aiki and kiai interchangeably. They thought of aiki as a method of spiritually overpowering an opponent, and it was a part of many arts, especially kenjutsu (fencing). While most modern styles think of aiki as a process of gently blending with an opponent in order to control him, daito-ryu aikijujutsu adheres to the traditional approach and treats aiki as a powerful blast of spiritual energy, little different from the karate kiai.

Falling for Daito-Ryu’s Techniques

Technically, the differences between traditional and modern aiki are very obvious. Although there are exceptions, almost all the modern aikido’s techniques stress the use of very large circles. Daito-ryu, on the other hand, tends to use very small circles. While the small-circle techniques are much more combat efficient, they are much harder to practice. You can use large circle techniques on even a beginning student without breaking him, but the daito-ryu aikijujutsu technique will require a very good ukemi (falling technique). The modern aikido technique will twist your arm, forcing you to the mat. The old-style technique twists your arm in an effort to remove it from your body. You are often required to throw yourself into a rather spectacular fall in an effort to keep the arm from being dislocated.

Most modern throwing techniques will result in large, circular rolls, while their older counterparts cause hard, judo-style falls. This sudden, painful action is a characteristic of all old styles and illustrates a key factor of traditional martial arts. Modern martial arts dilute their self-defense techniques in order to allow a beginner to practice safely. Traditional ryu however, takes the attitude, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the fire.” If a few beginners get broken, that’s their own problem. Techniques are not altered for the student’s benefit.

When you practice a self-defense technique, if your partner smiles, it is modern aikido. If he screams, it is daito-ryu aikijujutsu.

Daito-Ryu Aikijujutsu

Although the traditional forms of aiki lack much of the fluid grace of their more modern cousins, they more than make up for it with combat realism. The daito-ryu aikijujutsu idea of a good training partner is someone who weighs about 300 pounds and has a grip like a hydraulic vise. If they can manage to throw someone like that, after he has been allowed to plant both feet and hold as tight as possible, they know that the technique really works.

Katsumi Yonezawa, a Daito-Ryu Aikijujutsu Master

One of the most prominent practitioners of the art, Katsumi Yonezawa of Hokkaido, Japan, annually visits the United States to teach this ancient art. From the headquarters of the American branch of the Daito-Ryu Kodo Kai in San Luis Obispo, he travels throughout California giving lectures and seminars.

A small man, Katsumi Yonezawa is a schoolteacher, and if you fail to notice the very thick wrists, you might think that’s all he is. He has a very disarming smile and gentle manner that tends to relax people in his presence. His disciples have learned to ignore this, for they know that he is still smiling while busily at work tying their arms into complex knots. Katsumi Yonezawa’s students have also learned to pay particular attention to how he acts before class. If he sits at the edge of the mat waiting for class to start, there will be only the normal amount of pain. However, if he starts doing stretching exercises, students start looking at each other and quietly groaning in anticipation of some brutal throws. When Katsumi Yonezawa actually goes so far as to practice his ukemi, students start looking for a place to hide.

Daito-ryu aikijujutsu is not for everybody. It is just too physically demanding to ever be practiced by the wide range of students studying modern aikido. But to those who are interested in the foundations of the martial art, it offers both a window into the past and a gate to the future. Daito-ryu aikijujutsu is an unchanging path, straight down the middle of all of the modern variations of aiki.

(F.J. Lovret is the head instructor of the San Diego Budokan and the owner of Nippon-To, a shop specializing in the sale of antique Japanese swords.)

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Original Article

A test or ranking is not just for the person taking the rank test. It is as much for the rest of the Dojo, the Sensei, and newbies who don’t know the people in the Dojo.

There are several reasons for testing. One of these reasons is to show newer people what they need to learn, to provide a standard for them. Another is to show the Sensei how you perform under stress. Another is to give a belt rank that allows newbies to know what rank you are so that they can go to you for help. These are just a few of the reasons.

Why should someone NOT stop taking tests? Well, it becomes very embarrassing for the people who have taken rank tests to have someone who is lower ranked be technically and conceptually better than them. However, if a person hasn’t taken rank when then should have, then the person does not deserve it yet since the person does not yet understand the importance of ranking for the benefit of the whole Dojo. Interesting, if a person will not take rank tests, then they don’t deserve the rank yet. I have recently had to deal with this problem here in Hong Kong. The person thought they were being very humble but after looking deeply into his motivations, he realized that rather than being humble, he was being very arrogant. All those of you who are not taking rank test to remain humble, please review your motivations carefully, they may not be as pure as you think. I know since I once looked at things in the same way myself.

In Hong Kong, we give tests in front of a Board. As a member of the Board, I am not concerned only with how the individual performs in the exam, but their long-term performance in day-to-day practice. I think all of us have had instances when we are at seminars and a Sensei is standing next to us watching our technique and there is no way that you can do the technique correctly even though it is normally your favourite and best technique. In fact, you were probably doing it quite well while the Sensei was not looking but you foul up as soon as you feel his or her eyes upon you. This is why our tests are usually at the end of a period of practice during which I have a chance to watch the testees practicing their technique.

Second, the spirit of the Aikidoist is important. Does the person help others? Does the person understand the principles behind the techniques? Does the person have good Dojo Reigi? Will I be embarrassed if this person visits another Dojo? Does the person have good ukemi? Does the person practice vigorously with commitment? Do they have good zanshin? What is their mindset as they test? Will the person keep going even when the chips are down?

Third, what is the person capable of? Are they working to their limits (part of the spirit question maybe)? How is their progress?

Fourth, will conferring the higher rank improve their Aikido through improvement of their confidence? Maybe the person needs some help to stop worrying about the test so they can get on with their practicing and learning?

Fifth, what is their commitment to Aikido? How often do they come to practice? How often do they ask questions? Are they thinking about Aikido all the time.

Sixth, what is their potential? Am I wasting my time on this person? Are they only looking for rank or are they truly interesting in getting a chance to learn more advanced techniques? Why are they testing?

Seventh, how is this person’s Aikido relative to the others in the Dojo with whom they practice? This is the equity question relative to others in the Dojo or association or federation. This question should not be answered only in terms of technique but also time spent in Aikido, the amount of work the person does for Aikido (including administrative work), and the visibility of the person in the Dojo.

Eighth, how is the power of this person’s techniques? After all, this is a MARTIAL ART! What is the martial competence of the person?

Ninth, will conferring the higher rank do anything for Aikido as a whole or for the Dojo or association/federation? Will the person be a good ambassador for Aikido to outsiders? Will be person help to make Aikido grow?

There are probably a few other issues I have forgotten at present. The list is not in any specific order, especially since depending upon the specific case-by-case circumstances, which issue is most important will differ. All of these issues, though, must be balanced off. No one issue ever disappears off the list. Things just change in weighting and there is no weighting of zero.

Please note that these are my own personal criteria and are not necessarily that of any others.

By the way, these criteria hold whether the ranking is for Mudansha or Yudansha.

Rock

by Judy Ringer

Original Article

Sometimes it seems that the energy has been drained from much of our communication. We try to do the right thing, say the right words, and be safe instead of real. And while our intentions are noble, we often leave the meaning out. It stays hidden behind carefully constructed technique that actually doesn’t say very much.

While I am not in favor of reactively blurting out whatever comes to mind, unfiltered and potentially harmful, I am in favor of being real. Of saying what we need to say so that we can engage in meaningful dialogue.

What prevents this meaningful exchange of thought, perspective and energy?

Fear of Failure and The Art of Ukemi

When the stakes are high, we often hold back because we’re afraid we’ll make a mistake, look foolish, hurt others, or get hurt ourselves. Using the Aikido metaphor, we’re afraid of falling down because we don’t know if we can get back up again.

When I teach Aikido applications in workplace settings, I sometimes demonstrate “real” Aikido with a partner. For about a minute, my partner attacks with a variety of strikes, grabs and punches, and I blend and redirect by throwing him into a backfall or forward roll. It’s fun. And it’s a lot of fun for my partner, too, who receives the power of the throw in much the same way I receive his attack– by channeling it into a graceful fall.

In Aikido, falling is an art form–the art of ukemi (receiving). We don’t see falling down as failure, because we don’t see what we’re doing as a contest. We’re playing. We’re staying in relationship as we give and receive and play with ki (energy). Falling is one way to handle the thrower’s powerful ki.

At any given Aikido practice, we fall down and get up again at least a hundred times or more. Staying present with the energy, taking care of ourselves in the process, we become more resilient, flexible, and fearless.

Conversational Ukemi: Lessons from Aikido

Learning the skills to hold conflict conversations provides similar benefits. When you know you’ll be all right regardless of what happens in the conversation, you are freer to engage. You begin to understand that:

#1) Safety is a mindset.

There are no guarantees about what might happen. It’s not about trusting the other person. It’s about trusting yourself to catch their ki and be artful with it. You learn to trust your ability to flex and be resilient no matter what comes your way.

#2) True power lies in relationship

And in your willingness to stay in the conversation, to talk, listen and solve problems. You may get hurt. There’s no bubble-wrap, as colleague Melisa Gillis says. And, you reframe what the hurt and pain and falling down mean. Have you failed or have you learned something? Your choice makes the difference between crumpling and getting up off the mat to re-enter the conversation. You don’t have to get it “right” the first time. You just have to be willing to stay with it.

#3) Relationships are not about one conversation

They are a continuous journey. As mentor and colleague Tom Crum says: “We are always and everywhere in relationship.” We may try to avoid this reality, but we are connected. Knowing this, we see the question as not whether but how to be in relationship.

The final safety net, if there is one, is learning to reframe our notions about conflict. We all have it. Let’s figure out how to use it, transform it, and benefit from it.

by James Williams (An excerpt from an article published in the Aikido JOURNAL)

“Nature knows but one kind of justice, the inevitable conformity of results to causes.”

In modern language we use the term martial arts for a number of disciplines that are based to some degree or another on various Samurai methods of war and personal combat. There are differences in the interpretation of the term martial art depending upon whether the art is Budo or bujutsu. Although Aikido has its technical base in the Daito ryu Aiki ju jutsu of Takeda Sokaku, it is most decidedly a Do art in it’s philosophy, application and execution of technique. Spiritual, moral, and physical edification are esteemed as higher priorities than absolute combat function. This very much reflects Ueshiba Sensei’s personal philosophy as well as the prevailing political and social climate of Japan following World War ll.

A feudal era Samurai military art, such as the Yanagi ryu Aiki Bugei taught by Soke D.J. Angier has a classical perspective. Yoshida Kenji, Soke Angier’s teacher, came to the United States prior to World War ll. Kenji was the son of Yoshida Kotaro the man who introduced Ueshiba Morihei to Takeda Sokaku and then sponsored Ueshiba into the Daito ryu personally vouching for his character and sincerity. Yoshida Kenji was raised in a family where the Samurai tradition was still practiced in the old manner. His father Yoshida Kotaro, a long time compatriot of Takeda Sokaku, had strong emotional ties to his Samurai past and this was reflected in Kenji’s training and outlook. Because Yoshida Kenji came to the United States prior to World War ll his samurai philosophy was unaffected by Emperor Hirohito’s edict concerning the teaching of arts of war and the devastating effect on the Japanese psyche of two nuclear explosions and absolute military defeat. Unencumbered by the effects of these events Kenji taught a true expression of a classic feudal era samurai art in its original usage as a military science.

In a classical Bujutsu, weapons ability and technique were of prime importance and most of the training centered on this. The empty hand techniques that come down to us from the classical era are for the most part based in weapons movements primarily those of the sword. These techniques of striking, throwing, grappling, strangling, joint locking, and escaping were learned to facilitate the use of the sword or other weapon when the bushi was encumbered by his opponent in such a way as to prevent the free use of his weapons. This also applied if the bushi for some reason did not have access to those weapons. The classical warrior needed a wide range of military skills and did not limit or narrow his training leaving out valuable knowledge that would hinder his victory in combat.

Soft in a feudal era Aiki bujitsu was defined by how a technique was applied and in the mental attitude with which combat was approached. The soft was evidenced in the subtle application of the technique to prevent the opposing warrior from detecting and countering. This subtlety of physical movement facilitated the proper use of a mind state that tricked or deceived the adversary through the use of various voluntary and involuntary physical and psychological mechanisms. It was the search for ever more efficient methods of combat that spawned the development of Aiki. This method of combat to the samurai mind however had nothing to do with what happened to the opponent outside of the fact that it facilitated his demise. Blending and harmony meant aligning oneself with physical reality and the movement, physiology, and psychology of the adversary to defeat him. The awareness and sensitivity that came from the study of an Aiki based military science was valued because of the increased ability it gave the warrior to successfully perform his prime directive, victory in mortal combat. For those Samurai fortunate enough to belong to a clan that taught an Aiki aspect of bujutsu the art was practiced not for spiritual edification but because it was the most efficient method of combat. These hidden, secret techniques, were only taught to highly placed family members in the clan and were kept from those of lower rank.

Classical bujutsu has been distilled from the most absolute of human physical conflict, close hand to hand combat with edged weapons. For the Samurai this combat ultimately meant killing or dying and his military training, by necessity, reflected this grim reality.

A feudal era Aiki ju jutsu is not Aikido with Atemi and joint locks thrown in. It is also not just hard rough Aikido. Neither is it a conglomeration of various other arts such as judo, karate etc. This outlook on Aiki ju jutsu by practitioners of Aikido is prevalent because there is so little true Aiki ju jutsu practiced in this country. It is amazing in the last 15 years how many Aiki juu jutsu schools and masters have appeared. When Soke Angier first began teaching Yanagi Ryu Aiki Ju Jitsu in Los Angeles in 1955 even the Japanese Budo instructors there where unaware that there was such an art and told him there was no such thing. The lack of proper Aiki ju jutsu training in many of modern proponents has led to hard, leverage oriented techniques with Atemi and strength added due to the inability to perform the techniques in an Aiki manner. True Aiki ju jutsu is a very sophisticated principle based art that is not defined by any particular techniques but by their method of application. Thus it is softer, more subtle, in its application of technique than modern Aikido. For this to be true takes extensive training and extreme skill that is attained by few people. Becoming harder in your application of technique and adding Atemi does not make Aikido into Aiki ju jutsu and in the attempt you may well compromise your Aikido.

The result of the soft, subtle, application of an Aiki ju jutsu technique as felt by the opponent or training partner may be very unpleasant, even dangerous, however it is the application of these techniques that defines the art. Atemi, joint locking, or strangulation techniques are applied in specific situations depending upon what your opponent offers you, not because you cannot execute a particular technique and need to soften him up. It is the opponent who determines what technique will be used.

Breaking someone’s elbow and throwing them on their head in a manner that precludes them from being able to roll out of it does not make something Aiki ju jutsu. Those in Aikido who are looking to stronger, harder application of technique to make their art more combat practical are moving away from the roots of their art. To deal with an adversary from an Aiki perspective regardless of whether he suffers great bodily harm or death is to deal with him in a calm, emotionally detached, blending state of mind. How you deal with the adversary not what you do to him determines whether it is art or mayhem. To add kicking and punching to your Aikido in order to deal with opponents who are significantly larger and stronger than you, or to use when your technique fails is not going to achieve the desired result. One of the major reasons to learn an Aiki art is to be able to deal with those situations where there is a significant disparity in size and strength. After 36 years of martial arts training including wrestling at high school and college levels, boxing, and kick boxing, as well as confrontations in less controlled environments I can attest to the fact that kicking and punching have some serious limitations. This is especially true as regards to size differential in an opponent. When did the last middle weight boxing champion regardless of his skill defeat the heavy weight champion? The harmony and blending with physical reality of Aiki as well as the counter action use of the opponents momentum and strength are what elevates Aiki ju jutsu into an art form that allows the trained practitioner to deal with larger, stronger, tougher, faster opponents. The art obtains it’s considerable combat function because it is soft in it’s application, when you lose the soft you compromise the function.

My teacher is 61 years old and 5’6″ tall, I am 6’2″ and weigh 220 lbs.. I have extensive training and considerable fighting expertise. He deals with me under duress not with punching and kicking skills, or superior strength and speed, but with his subtle application of Aiki ju jutsu. These abilities have been honed through 48 years of training in a pragmatic Samurai military art where form absolutely follows function. To paraphrase a quote from Yoshida Kenji Sensei, ” I do not look to authority for truth (reality), but look to truth (reality) for authority”. Practical application of the inner principles of Aiki ju jutsu according to the prime directive of victory in combat defines the form of the art.

It has been said that because of the ultimate combat pragmatism of Aiki ju jutsu that it lacks any moral or ethical underpinnings. When reading literature written by Samurai during the feudal period it becomes apparent that for the classical bushi this was not the case. Because there is no moral or spiritual presuppositions placed in front of the prime combat directive does not mean that the adept has no moral imperative. Neither does it mean that the art does not facilitate spiritual awareness. This spiritual awareness, however, takes place because of the substance of the art and how it is applied and is not a lens through which the practical combat function is viewed. Katsujin-ken, the ideal of the sword that cuts down evil gives life to those the evil would prey upon, was prevalent among classical bushi.

Ueshiba Morihei founded Aiki Budo on the highest of moral ideals, harmonizing nature and man in the effort to promote world peace. He modified the Daito ryu techniques in an way that has made Aikido available to the world. It would not be possible to do this with a classical Aiki bujutsu. For the Samurai however no such ideal or desire existed in their definition of Aiki bujutsu. Victory in combat or death for themselves and possibly their clan was the defining principle of their military arts.

Interesting Q and A with Shihan Christian Tissier about KI

Ivan Bel: About natural principles, we often hear about Ki, the energy flow. You don’t speak much about it though…

Christian Tissier: No I don’t. The reason is that it is a very confusing notion. I have seen quite a bit in Aikido, I have met quite a few Sensei and I must say that the ones who speak of it the most are often the ones who have the poorest technique. Of course, this is not true for everybody but Ki is not tangible. Ki is within us. There is Ki everywhere, either we know how to use it or we don’t. The fundamental issue with Ki is its flow. In terms of Aikido vocabulary, we have Ki and Kokyu, which is the vehicle for Ki. The translation of Kokyu is “breathing” but to be more accurate, in reality, Kokyu is the exchange between the two.

The bottom line is that if you practice with your stiff shoulders up to your ears, the Ki won’t flow, any acupuncture practitioner will tell you. As a consequence, until the technique is perfect, there will be no Ki, no natural flow. To me, people who really have Ki don’t feel it because everything happens naturally within them.

We could of course develop exercises such as the ones proposed by Qigong in order to specifically work on breathing. We could also specifically work on flexibility or other things but to what end? I consider Aikido as a whole system that as been well thought. It is therefore useless to concentrate on only one aspect of the art, in particular if it is to the expense of practice time. If we have to specifically work on flexibility, we can go to a specialist, same for breathing but we should not mix everything up.

To get back to the Ki I prefer not to say too much about it as I think the discourses about this topic are often very misleading.

Ivan Bel: Your choice is therefore to focus solely on the technique.

Christian Tissier: That is right because the technique will unlock the body! Once you have unlocked your body and removed all fears, the gesture will be fluid and this will allow more kokyu. If you add an intention to this kokyu, the Ki will naturally occur.