There are so many obstacles one must navigate in order to train.  I think about the distance to the dojo, the traffic, the outside obligations that must be fulfilled, the body’s readiness, and mental attitude.  Making training a priority is at times a challenge.  Izawa Sensei reminds us of a hierarchy from time to time when we miss class:  Health is number one, followed by family, then career/job, then training.  Training of course can have a very positive effect on our overall health, so number one and training are connected.  For Furuya Sensei, his dojo was his family after the passing of his parents, and he was a full-time Aikido and Iaido teacher, and, sadly, all of those things combined, eventually, cost him his health.  The dojo became his everything.  He put his students and their growth before everything.  This dedication to his students is very admirable and was palpable.

I remember on several occasions turning around and going home an hour in traffic after sitting an hour in traffic to get to the dojo if I knew I was going to be late to class.  I didn’t want to disrespect Sensei and the other students by arriving late.  Sensei was serious, and I wanted to make sure he knew I was serious as well.  What I didn’t know is that he would have rather had me come and train even if I was a little late than to have me miss.  It was my shame of being late that prevented me from training, but slowly I got over that shame and realized that any amount of time spent training, was time spent that would move me closer to the ultimate me.  If my heart was in the right place and an unavoidable obstacle was in the way, Sensei would understand.  I remember a student once cut into the trim on the bottom of the second floor with his sword and Sensei said nothing because the student’s heart was apologetic.

What he did not understand was people who habitually arrived late, or arrived with a laissez-faire attitude, or arrived late to an early morning weekend intensive practice.  He knew there wasn’t any traffic between 5-6am on a Saturday morning.  He knew that the student had been out late, or over slept, or had been drinking the night before and was too hung over for practice.  These things were inexcusable to Sensei, because the heart was not in the right place, and the scoldings Sensei unleashed for that were epic and unforgettable.

Every teacher is lucky who has one student who is eager and ready to learn.  O’negai shimasu.

To live a life that is disconnected from technology is very difficult.  Author Daniel Quinn discusses how it is our nature to develop air conditioning and computers and all the screen time, after all, technology can be employed by a primate that uses a stick as an eating implement; as the ants walk up it, the primate eats the ants off the stick.

I recently had a very strange experience.  It is probably very common today.  My wife and I decide to buy a car.  We have purchased several cars before, but this experience was totally different.  For those of you who have purchased a new car recently, it might not be that shocking, but for me it was unique.  We went to a dealer after some initial comparisons and research.  A salesperson greeted us in the typical “Sharks in the Water” method, but he was respectful of the distance I required to feel comfortable, he showed us a car, got the key, and turned on the car so I could hear it and see the engine running.  He offered and encouraged a test drive, but we didn’t have the time, and we left after a handshake, exchange of a business card, and I articulated that I would return.

Pretty normal so far, right?  I returned to the dealership when I told him I would, but he was busy with another customer and a hand off was made so that we could take the test drives we needed to make a more informed decision.  It was good that we did, because we were able to settle on one of the models because of the test drive.  Typical back in the showroom to look at the numbers and negotiate, but we knew we would not be buying a car that day in spite of the sales team’s efforts to have us sign then and there.  I like to think about things and do a little more investigation after I’ve done my initial research.  I like to sleep on it and see what my dreams tell me(nothing exciting.)  The next morning I woke up, and, over coffee, my wife and I discussed the price and purchase options and strategies for negotiation.  I did a little more research and searched what people in the area were paying for the model we were considering.  Within an hour I had been contacted by two dealerships and the original dealership asking me for my business and trying to beat each other’s prices.  It felt like a feeding frenzy!  I was the chum, and the sharks were attacking, but I also felt like some type of celebrity.  Emails, phone calls, quotes, incentives, there were so many from which to choose.  I felt so important.

I suppose a water buffalo that has two lions on its hind quarters and one on its back could feel important and desired, of course, the result of that is probably not very positive for the water buffalo.  I think it is seductive to be desired.  We all want to be admired and wanted, but this is not the path.  The path is work.  My desire for the learning is what keeps me bowing in and training, not so that I can be called Sensei or feel strong and use my skill and knowledge to subjugate others to my will.  Instead, I am happy to have a few students and teach traditional Iaido.  I don’t run after and chase my customer celebrities.  It is quite the opposite, I practically run them off!  They are students, not customers.

We train because we must; it is the way.  O’negai shimasu.

There is a temple/shrine in Shinjuku is on the way to Hombu Dojo.  I passed it every morning on my way to train in 2011, and I made a little meander there this past winter.  It is one of the most peaceful places, and, yet, it is surrounded by one of the most populated areas in the world.  There are many temples and shrines all over Tokyo, it just takes a little walk off beaten paths to find them.  That’s the first step.  We get away from what everyone else is doing, and then look around.  Then we have to climb the steps, wash our hands and mouths to purify, and then we are ready.

It is the same in the dojo.  Learning requires effort.  Learning requires the preparation of our bodies for the actions we will perform, and our minds for the thoughts we will confront.  This is one of the things that turn “jutsu” to “do”.  O’negai shimasu.

The Snow Monkeys in the Yamanochi region are really something else.  The first time I saw them was in a film, Baraka.  It was very calming to watch the monkeys soaking in hot springs.  The hot springs, as it turns out, were built by the Japanese of the region for the monkeys to keep the monkeys out of their fields and from raiding food stores.  The Japanese decided to feed the monkeys near the hot springs and the relationship was formed.  In the United States, ranchers and farmers usually hunt and destroy the pests that would pick on their livestock/crops, but in Japan they created and support a space for the monkeys.  Now, the Snow Monkeys are a tourist attraction in the Winter, and subject of documentaries.

One of the behaviors that I observed was in the grooming habits of the monkeys.  The monkeys groom each other without concern to social structure.  There are relationships within the monkey group, and a social hierarchy, but the alpha male will groom any and will be groomed by any.  They don’t view the task as being burdensome nor as beneath themselves.

There is a social hierarchy in the dojo, but I have seen Izawa Sensei down on the mats wiping and cleaning just like everyone else.  The chores in the dojo are a part of everyone’s tasks, not just white belts.  The tasks in the dojo are just as much a part of the training as suburi, or tenkan exercise, and they create a community of mutual respect.

We were training some years ago and Furuya Sensei said something like, “Don’t drop the tip,” to a fellow student, and the student’s response was, “I am?”  Sensei’s response was not aggressive, or frustrated, but it was matter-of-fact, “Duh, I wouldn’t have said it if you weren’t doing it.”

When the teacher corrects us, we need to implement the correction immediately, yet many times we have an automatic response, physical, vocal, or mental that indicates that our mind is not on the training.  This particular student’s ego thought it was doing the technique correctly and uttered the comment in line with its discord.  His response required Sensei to say that he was, indeed, dropping the tip.  This is a second correction on the same moment.  This is inefficient in training, but it happens very frequently.

The goal of the teacher is to get the student to learn the content, and when the ego is an obstacle, it must be addressed.  Though the response was not indignant, it did require a follow-up.

In batto, the right hand follows the line of the sword so that sword and saya may work together.  The right hand should never cross the center line over to the left side of the body.  This movement creates an opening for attack and puts the sword in an inefficient position creating a reduplication of movement.  Reduplications create gaps in timing that a trained opponent will exploit.

I was teaching someone how to do the initial batto as part of our noto practice, and I told him and showed him how to do it, and then he tried to do it, moving his right hand to the left side of the body and he said, “Like this?”  I said, “No, like this,” and showed him how to do it again; he tried again and said, “Like this?” again taking the right hand to the left side of the body.  I said, “No.  Like this.”  I again showed him how to perform the movement and added, “The right hand follows the line of the sword and never crosses your centerline to left side of the body.  He tried again, “Like this?” again crossing the right hand to the left side of the body.  “No, like this.”  This interaction continued in a similar fashion and I am sad to say that I’m not really sure if the student ever got it right because his mind and body were not connected.  His mind/ego, was too busy focused on getting affirmed, with his repeated, “Like this?”  He was looking for me to say, “Yes, very good,” so that he could feel good about himself instead of thinking about doing it correctly.  When the body and the mind are disconnected there is no point in training.  Mindless exercise is not the purpose of a Do.  Had I confronted his ego, I might have gotten him to learn it then.  This is a failure of mine as a teacher, just as much as it is a failure of his as a student.

Somehow we must get past the ego’s defenses so that we may learn together.  O’Negai Shimasu>

There are a lot of gyms out there.  I think there are even some martial arts that market themselves as a sort of gym.  A gym is where there are weights and equipment that any member can use as long as that member puts them back.  There are even some gyms that have people to clean the used equipment so that the members don’t have to bother themselves with such a task.  The management of the gym doesn’t care how often its members come or if they are getting more or less fit as long as membership remains high and people pay their fees.  It’s probably better for them the more people they have on automatic withdrawal who don’t show up; then there is less for them to clean!

A dojo is not like this.  It is a “place of the way”.  “The way” is a path of self-development and enlightenment, and it is not bound by a specific location.  The goal is to where every moment is in the dojo.  Many people treat the dojo like a gym.  They want to come in and have idle chit-chat so they can fulfill their social interaction quota, or they want to come in and sweat and get their heart rates up so they can meet their fitness goals.  A dojo is not like this.

Dues in the dojo go to cover the overhead of the space.  The dues cover insurance, air conditioning, the cost of mats, electricity, and the rent/mortgage.  Dues go to supporting the travel and lodging of guest instructors.  They do not go to the lavish lifestyle of Sensei. Furuya Sensei slept in a recliner for the last thirteen years of his life.  He didn’t even have health insurance.  O’Sensei lived in even more meager conditions and his family suffered so that he may pursue Aikido and its development.  Dues are just paid to cover costs.

A dojo requires its members to pay dues, but it also requires them to pay attention.  If the teacher is showing something, the student should copy it exactly the way the teacher shows it.  Timing, spacing, extension, posture, balance,…everything the teacher shows should be copied so that the student may internalize the movement and learn.  The teacher does not come in willy nilly and think, “Hmm, how am I going to fill all the time we have today?”  This is a waste!  No, the teacher is trying to figure out how to get the technique to manifest itself accurately through someone else’s body.  A student of a martial art must be able to see the technique one time and be able to catch it, steal it, copy it, repeat it, and master it.  How many times did a samurai get to see his opponents’ techniques?  Once.  The opponent either died because the samurai’s technique was better (probably because he paid attention to his teacher!), or the opponent killed the samurai.  A dead samurai cannot see anyone’s technique, he is dead!

I remember Furuya Sensei scolding a few students one day because they repeatedly cut the inside of their sayas and continued to train.  He made a rhetorical comment asking them that if their lungs made that sound would they go see doctor.  He wasn’t upset about them cutting their sayas once, anyone can make a mistake, it was the repetition.  The students weren’t paying attention.  The students hung their heads and gave the abashed look, but Sensei didn’t stop there.  He pointed out another student and asked them to watch.  The students watched.  Then Sensei spoke, “Do you see how __________ uses and moves his saya?”  They nodded.  “No one taught him that.  He watched and copied.  He is paying attention to the movement.”

This is the same in Japan.  No one talks in the dojo.  The teacher demonstrates, and the students practice and try to copy.  Please, pay attention when you are training and try to copy the technique exactly as your teacher shows you.  If you don’t, you are disrespecting your teacher and dismissing what is trying to be communicated.  Instead, what is communicated is that you know better and that you don’t need the teacher.  This is very bad.  This behavior does not belong in a dojo.  I am actually not sure where that willful behavior belongs, maybe when trying to lift weights.

Movies are so wonderful.  They provide us with an opportunity to indulge our imaginations and see what may be possible in reality.  They are not reality, though.  It is common for me to see people hold a sword or bokken and they are busy playing out a fantasy in their minds.  I suppose this type of catharsis is important so that we don’t look for opportunities in society to live out these fantasies; that would be terrible, but on the mats or training halls of dojos, there is no place for these types of fantasies.  To learn how to really use a sword, one must train in reality and focus on the sword’s movement, one’s partner, spacing and timing, balance, and relaxation.

I was watching a video on a traditional Ni Ten Ryu School.  The video was in Japanese, so, sadly, I didn’t understand anything that was being said.  This is a great tragedy in my life, that I haven’t studied the languages of my greatest passions.  It did make me focus on what was being shown and the movements of the techniques.  The one benefit of not knowing the language is that my mind is not cluttered with trying to process both visual and auditory information that may not connect.  They school’s headmaster produced, what I assumed was, a very old bokken with kanji carved in it.  I believed it must relate to the legitimacy or transmission of the art.

The piece that was an echo of Furuya Sensei was that when they demonstrated the partner techniques, there was an initial strike and then the decisive counter move.  One, two, or three movements was all it took, and that’s reality.  A committed attack that would be effective in dispatching an enemy will either be successful or it won’t.  In the event that it is not successful, there has been a counter move that has rendered it ineffective and thus the result is an attacker’s end.  There aren’t long exchanges of sword clashes that go on with a crescendoing soundtrack.  Instead, there is an opening or there isn’t.  When there is an opening there is an attack, and since the counter to an ineffective attack is a counter attack, the stakes for effective attacks are much higher than those in a fantasy, or movie.

We must train the effective attack through thousands of suburi.

If an engagement is more than three movements, both participants are ineffective, not masters.  A true master would not even be in the fight, he would probably not even be watching the fantasy of fools.