Northern Wind Aikido Judo Jodo

Get away! Okay, come here! No, get away...

2012-01-23T07:13:00.000-08:00

Come here, dammit! No! But I wanna throw you!

I couldn't help but notice an odd sort of paradox in my aikido and judo training. It seems to me that, in aikido, we spend our time trying to keep the guy off of us. He's trying to come at us, towards us, and we're looking to either maintain an arms-length distance, or get behind his arm so even though we're in close proximity, he's not facing me.

Then we get into judo and now I'm trying as hard as I can to get close to him, to connect our centers so I can throw him, and he's trying to keep me out (while trying to do the same to me).

In other words, it seems like my budo practice is either a game of "get away get away get away" or "come here come here come here."

And I can't help but wonder, why am I trying so hard to do the opposite of what the situation is giving me?

If uke's trying to get to me, why am I trying so hard to keep him at a distance?

And when uke's trying to keep his distance, why am I trying so hard to get closer?

. . .

Does aikido by nature afraid of getting in tight, closing and joining centers?

Is judo by nature only interested in something decisive—the throw, the great, spectacular IPPON! that wins the match?

. . .

If he insists on keeping distance, why don't I just work with it, and deal with his wrists and elbows?

If he insists on coming at me, why don't I just let him, and join my center and dump him right there?

. . .

Hmm. Just thinking out loud today...

Thoughts on space

2012-01-06T07:22:00.000-08:00

My thoughts lately are on the subject of space. I'm still working out the best wording to describe it, though.

I want to say "controlling the space," but for some reason, using the word "control" feels a tad unsettling. It sounds as if I'm trying to make something go, trying to force something that I want to happen, as opposed to remaining open to the flow of things.

But they are intentional, and they do serve a purpose. When do I do one thing over another? I suppose that's the flowing part.

At any rate, there are moments when I want to occupy some of uke's space. Uke is like a stream, flowing down his predetermined path. I am a large stone placed in that path. I'm not trying to stop the stream, like a dam, but interrupt it, send it veering off on a path it never intended to follow.

At other times, as uke flows like a stream and I dig a narrow trench in the dirt. Again, his path is diverted, this time drawn into my space.

Sometimes I rise up, like a hill. The stream cannot flow upward, and it cannot flow around, so it simply tumbles onto itself, creating a stagnant pool, trapped with no way out.

Or, I may simply drop off, like a cliff. The stream cannot stop itself, cannot change course and flows off the edge helplessly and crashes below.

The stone and the hill are one side of the coin, the trench and the cliff on the other—yin and yang. It is in versus out, up versus down. One of many natural dualities—e.g. dark and light, female and male, low and high, cold and hot, water and fire, air and earth.

I've spent most of my time until now being more like the trench or the cliff, the negative as opposed to the positive. Not "negative" in the sense of "bad or unfortunate," but in the sense of a void, a vacuum; of receiving rather than giving; of inward rather than outward; of catching the ball rather than throwing it.

I think we all start like that when first learning an art. But just as the back of the hand cannot exist without the front, we must eventually explore the "positive" side, the stone and the hill. It's being a planet—rather than the void of space—around which even light must bend. It's giving rather than receiving, outward rather than inward.

On the surface, one might think of it as being more aggressive: having an attitude tending toward unprovoked offensives, attacks, invasions, etc; being militantly forward or menacing.

I prefer "proactive", which can be defined this way: "tending to initiate change rather than reacting to events." Or even this way: "serving to prepare for, intervene in, or control an expected occurrence or situation, especially a negative or difficult one; anticipatory."

Standing now, as I am, from the position of something of a teacher, looking at the students with only a couple of years under their belts, this seems to be the one thing I feel is lacking from their budo. It's not necessarily about individual techniques; it isn't so much about putting the foot in the right place, or positioning the hand the right way.

I suppose being the positive, the fire, the light, the high, the male requires a certain amount of confidence that can only come from starting in the negative, the water, the dark, the low, the female. Perhaps.

Such is the depthless beauty of budo!

Other meanings of "balance"

2011-12-11T07:41:00.001-08:00

It occurred to me a little while ago that the term "balance" as I have always applied it to budo might have another meaning. My definition fell along the lines of "a state of equilibrium or equipoise; equal distribution of weight." Standing up without falling down.

So when it came to "breaking use's balance," I assumed my job was to make my uke physically unstable, tipped over in one direction or another, on the verge of gravity pulling him down to the ground.

But then I started thinking about other dictionary definitions of "balance" I realized those could apply as well.

Balance between objects
Balance also means "to arrange, adjust, or the proportion of parts symmetrically." In other words, when two otherwise separate objects equal each other in some way, be it weight (as on a scale) or size or position, etc.

When we begin in budo, tori and uke face each other. Both have all their proverbial weapons (arms, legs, center, etc.) pointed at the other. Generally, neither one has any tactical advantage over the other. We are in effect balanced.

Then uke attacks. Even if all we do is step slightly off the line of attack, without ever touching uke, we have created a form of "off-balance." All of our weapons are still pointed at uke (arms, legs, center, etc.) but all of his are pointed out into empty space. We now have more of a tactical advantage than he does. We can strike, while he must now re-orient on me first before he can do anything. In fact, you could do all of that without uke attacking first.

Let's say we're both moving together in rhythm, in sync with each other. I can change that rhythm: take two steps in the time it takes uke to take one, or take a larger step than normal; I can change my grip; I can change direction, and so on.

What other ways can you see yourself "balanced" with uke? How can you disrupt it?

Mental balance
Another definition refers to a person's "emotional stability, a calmness of mind."

When we begin, both of us are mentally in balance (hopefully!). We are ready, poised, focused on and aware of our partner. Let's fast forward to a point where, in aikido, I'm holding uke's wrist in kote gaeshi. I may or may not have his physical balance, and even if his weapons are still pointed at me, we have somewhat of a relational imbalance. But there's also the chance of an imbalance in focus.

Uke may now be worried about his hand, wondering how to extricate it. I, meanwhile, can hold that hand without much thought, and maintain my focus on all of uke: what his other arm is doing, where his feet could move next. His focus is diverted, at least in part.

On the other hand, given that same situation, I myself could place too much of my attention on the kote gaeshi I'm trying to apply, while uke could be keeping his focus broad, on all of me and what is going on, and easily counter the technique.

Or how about judo? Have you ever grappled with someone that you just couldn't pin or arm bar or choke, even if they didn't necessarily do the same to you? Maybe they trapped your arm, and they're just laying there, letting you flail around trying to get out. You get frustrated, right? Getting frustrated usually makes us speed up, get angry, make rash decisions. If our partner is still calm, open and rational, he has created a distinct off-balance.

What other ways can you create a mental or emotional imbalance in your uke? What other ways are the two of you balanced?

The power of a pre-turned foot

2011-12-07T06:23:00.001-08:00

There's a section of our "walking kata" or tegatana no kata in aikido that I find very, very useful in judo. After stepping forward and back diagonally, the side to side, there's the part where you turn 90° by pre-turning your foot. It looks a little something like this:

You step to your right first, then return to the start, then repeat the same action on your left side. Be sure, of course, to step with your hip still over your lead foot. In other words, don't put your foot over there, then move your hip over it. The two should move together.

Here's how it applies to nage waza. First, I do the pre-turned step to my right (for example; you could start on either side). Uke will find that he's no longer facing me, so he'll turn as well in order to square back up again. As he's doing so, or just as he finishes, I make the same pre-turned step to my left.

Doing just that creates such a wonderful kuzushi with all kinds of possibilities. This morning we worked on sasae tsurikomi ashi. Here's a few videos for your viewing pleasure.

The embedding was disabled on this one, but watch it on YouTube, and even though you can't really understand him, he talks about the same pre-turned step.

First we did static uchi komi practice. Uke just stands there the whole time, both of you with your traditional grips. Tori takes a pre-turned step to his right, but uses his trailing left foot to prop uke's far (right) foot. Tori should also lift his left elbow to make uke pitch his shoulders forward slightly.

From that position—and this is important—tori should put his left back down on the mat pre-turned, pointing at uke's toes so that he goes right back to position #1 above. Then do the same thing to the other side. Get a lot of reps and then switch roles.

Because taking a pre-turned step is not just important to entering many throws, it's also very important to setting up a number of secondary throws, or renraku waza. Learning to move with that pre-turned step will also help you to be able to dance out of your partner's throw attempts, and immediately find yourself in a position to counter.

Variations on the "envelope drill"

2011-11-28T06:03:00.001-08:00

Friend and fellow judoka (and aikidoka) Scott Weaver had a pretty good idea a while back to try and use the old "envelope drill" in judo similar to the way we use the "walking kata" (tegatana no kata) in aikido. It could just be something we do as a part of our everyday class at the beginning of the ne waza half of the hour. If you're not familiar with it, take a moment and watch this:

Our problem was, our little morning class didn't know the envelope drill. Soooo, we've been breaking it down into bite-size chunks and practicing those. It's actually opened a few doors to other little "sub drills" if you will that I think are kind of fun. Here's one we worked on this morning:

Part 1

1) Begin as you would with the regular envelope drill: uke lying on his back and tori in kuzure kesa gatame.

2) Uke rolls toward tori, who then transitions into mune gatame.

3) Uke rolls away from tori, and tori transitions back to his own side, this time facing uke's feet in ushiro kesa gatame.

4) Now, uke rolls toward tori again, but instead of moving on to the next part of the "envelope drill" (which would be kuzure kame shiho gatame) he transitions back into mune gatame.

5) Uke rolls away from tori, and tori transitions back to kuzure kesa gatame.

So, basically, we're taking the first three positions of the "envelope drill" and having each partner repeating them back and forth several times, both sides.

Part 2

1) Proceed through the first three steps from above, moving from kuzure kesa gatame to mune gatame to ushiro gatame.

2) This time, when uke rolls toward tori, tori reaches to the far side of uke's knees (so if tori is working on uke's right side, tori will reach over to uke's left knee) and pulls uke's knees towards himself. Tori can then step over with his right leg into tate shiho gatame.

3) Now, it's uke's turn to drive the bus. His job is to do the standard escape, which in turn allows him to roll his partner over and for him to hold tate shiho gatame.

4) From there, uke (who, I guess, is actually tori at this point, but I don't want to confuse you...) "swims" one arm over so that both of his arms are on the same side of his partner's head, moving clockwise (it would be counter-clockwise, of course, if you started on uke's left side). Uke swings his right foot over and back until he's sitting in ushiro kesa gatame.

5) From there, the roles continue to be reversed, so tori is now on his back and rolling toward uke, who then transitions to mune gatame.

6) Tori rolls away and uke transitions to kuzure kesa gatame, and guess what? We're back to the beginning of the drill—but you've switched roles, so just keep going! Be sure to work both sides, though.

Part 3

1) Start as you have in the previous drills, with tori in kuzure kesa gatame.

2) In this version, uke should be keeping his elbows in, his hands close to face in the classic defensive position (if he hasn't been doing this already). When he rolls toward tori, tori will switch to his stomach as he would normally do for mune gatame, but—presuming tori started on his right side—uses his left hand to catch uke's left wrist. This will create an immediate torque on uke's elbow and shoulder that will make him really, really want to roll to his back again.

3) As he does, tori remains flat (stomach down) and proceeds to snag an ude-garami, or coil arm bar, or "Americana."

There's probably more one could do in this area, but hey, class only lasts so long! I have a few other drills for the other sections of the envelope drill, and hopefully I'll get around to posting them.

A day to think

2011-11-26T17:34:00.001-08:00

This has been an odd day. Not because I did anything odd, per se, but mostly because I did very little at all.

I ate, I did a load of dishes, took the trash out. But out of an entire Saturday to myself, that's about as productive as I've been (outside of this blog post). All that nothing left me with a lot of time to think.

Mostly, I thought about my health and well-being. You see, while it might seem surprising for someone who does aikido and judo, I'm just a tad overweight by at least 50 pounds. I know it's not good. I know how bad it is for my health (mental and physical). I want to change, and not just so I can look better. I'm not so much concerned about sporting 6 pack abs as I am avoiding heart disease. Yes, I'd like to be able tuck my shirt into my pants again, but I'd also like to have the energy to keep up with my kids.

I've done it all before—twice, in fact—so I know it's possible to eat right, exercise and loose the weight. So why am I having such a hard time getting going this time around? I also want to include more meditation and relaxation into the mix.

The odd thing is, I understand more than ever how much a person's psychological well-being can impact every other aspect of their life. I feel like I've learned a lot over the past year about hidden, unhealed childhood wounds and all of the ways we mentally sabotage ourselves, leaving us constantly mired in depression. I'm happier now than I ever have been.

At the same time, something is keeping me from progressing, from becoming my best self. My mind is getting straightened out, but my body is still stuck. And that's a problem. I think many of us move through life like "walking heads" with this insufferable body attached. Mental health is great, but it can only do so much without physical, spiritual and emotional health.

That's it, really. I don't have any answers at this point. I just felt the need to put it out there.

Lessons from cooking a roast

2011-11-17T06:08:00.001-08:00

I heard a story once about a woman—let's call her Jill—who was preparing to cook a roast as her little girl watched. Noticing that Jill cut off the end of the roast before placing it in the pan, the little girl asked why.

Jill paused. "Actually," she admitted, "I don't know why. That's just they way my mom always did it."

She had assumed it had something to do with how the meat needed to be prepared, but now that she thought about it, she couldn't figure out what purpose it served.

Out of curiosity, Jill later called her own mother to ask why she always cut the end off of the roast before cooking it. Oddly enough, Jill's mom also admitted she didn't know the reason, either. It was just something her mother had always done.

Now even more curious than before, Jill called her grandmother, a very old, frail, but happy lady. "Grandma," Jill began, "mom and I were just wondering—why did you cut the end off of a roast before cooking it?"

The old woman chuckled to herself as she reflected on some long ago memory. "Well, dear, when I was a young newlywed, we didn't have much money, so I couldn't afford to buy a bigger pan. I had to cut the end off so the roast would fit!"

. . . . .

I love that story. Over the years, I've found it applicable to so many areas of my life. Budo is one of them.

Much like Jill, we start out in a martial art learning to simply do what we're shown or told. We spend years focusing on and learning what to do. Put your foot here, hold you hands like this. We memorize the choreography, the steps in a complex dance.

Many folks become very accomplished "dancers" in their art: they look very graceful and polished doing it. I'll admit, I've been mesmerized by that kind of performer before. It just looks so COOL!

At some point, however, we come to a crossroads. A point where we discover our technique doesn't always work. It's disconcerting, because it usually happens at a time when we've been involved with the art for some time, and have come to believe we should know how to do this stuff by now.

When I reached that point, I think I did what a lot of people do: I assumed my uke wasn't doing something right. He wasn't committed in his attack; or, if he did react, it was the wrong reaction for the particular technique we were practicing.

I suspect a lot of schools, and the teachers who run them, fall into that mindset and never climb out. "This is how it's done, how it's always been done for generations!"

A little further down the road, however, I learned a very important lesson outside the walls of the dojo that has in turn profoundly impacted my approach to aikido and judo. The lesson was this: "I have absolutely no control over other people or what they do and say, nor do I have any control over most of what happens in my life. What I do have control over, is me. I have control over how I think or react."

In other words, I had to stop blaming everyone but me. I couldn't blame other people or situations for my own frustration and unhappiness. Likewise, I felt I could no longer blame my uke if something didn't work quite right.

Which brings me back to the story of the roast. It was at this point that I began to ask myself why am I doing what I'm doing? Why am I placing my foot here, why am I doing this with my hands? Why doesn't uke fall down when I do it? I can't blame the roast for being the wrong size! The roast is what it is. My concern is what do I need to do in order to cook that thing.

Don't get me wrong, I think we all need to start out only having to worry about the choreography. But at some point, in order to really transcend, we need to begin to understand the why.

The funny thing is, we discover that there are actually lots of pans we could use, lots of ways to prepare and cook a roast. We talk to other grandmothers and discover each one has her own recipe. It's when a cook moves beyond following recipes and understands the food itself and how cooking actually works that he becomes a chef. He creates his own recipes, he works with whatever's in season or available at the market that morning and creates something unique and wonderful.

To think, Jill was cutting off and throwing away a perfectly good piece of meat simply because she did what she was taught and never stopped to think about why.

Danger Check! or, Managing Fear

2011-11-02T07:13:00.000-07:00

One of the most difficult things to deal with in grappling has nothing to do with pins or chokes or hold downs, oddly enough. It's panic.

For all the Hitchhiker's Guide fans out there...

Grappling—unlike standing judo or other standing arts—has a nasty tendency to trigger some very real, very powerful feelings of fear and panic when someone else is baring down on top of us. We're trapped, the ground is behind us, preventing us from having the option to just turn around and run like hell.

That panic doubles when our ability to breathe effectively becomes compromised, whether it's because we're being choked, or because a 250 + pound gorilla is lying on our chest, or we're used up all our gas fighting fruitlessly and now we just have to collapse.

It's a problem I still deal with, for sure, even after all this time. But there are things you can do to help.

In general terms, we need to get comfortable with being down there. The more principles and techniques we learn, the more "tools in our toolbox" we have, so to speak. And part of the fear comes from simply not knowing what the heck to do when someone jumps on top of us, which most beginners don't. So knowledge helps us relax a little; we're not totally defenseless.

Another big part of feeling more comfortable on the ground is learning your escapes. I mean, really learn them, inside and out, over and over. Not from arm bars or chokes, necessarily, but from pins. Remember, loosing your ability to breath is a big factor in generating fear, but if you're fairly confident you can escape most holds, you won't panic much when you find yourself in them. Learn to escape from the gutter, the worst possible places first. After that, the rest is gravy.

This last point, however, is not one I understood for a long time. And I'm beginning to think it's worth turning it into a sort of drill to help younger students internalize it. I refer to it simply as a routine "Danger Check."

Think of it like chess. Now, bare in mind, I know extremely little about chess, but enough, I think, to illustrate the point. Let's say, for example, you're this knight piece:

In grappling, at any point, you have options of what to do or where to move, just like this knight. But a good chess player will think about the possibilities before he moves. For instance, if he decides to capture the white pawn on E5...

... he ends up in a dangerous position because the white pawn at D4 can capture him. However, if the knight moves to D4...

... he not only captures a pawn, but puts himself in a place with relatively fewer dangers. But here's the thing: why should you move the knight? You see, another critical aspect of strategy is to also be constantly aware of whether or not any given piece is in immediate danger and needs to move. The knight in this case was not in any immediate danger, so you have the luxury of leaving him there and moving another piece.

So what do I want you to take away from this? Grapple like a chess player and get in the habit of making constant DANGER CHECKS:

Am I in danger right now, where I'm at?

Just because you're on the ground and in the middle of a "fight," it doesn't necessarily mean you're always in danger. Take a moment —literally ask you partner to stop and freeze where they are—and evaluate your position.

Can he arm bar you? No. Can he choke you, even though he may have one hand in your collar? No, he really doesn't have the leverage he'd need. Are you pinned? I'm not pinned, but I am entangled in his legs...

So if he can't arm bar or choke you, and even though you're entangled, you're not pinned, then guess what? You can breath. You can slow down, breathe deep and take your time. In other words, don't panic.

If anything, get in the habit of doing that much—always do a Danger Check to make sure you're not in any immediate danger, which means you can relax. Then...

Foresee the consequences.

Even if you're relatively safe, think about your next move. If I move to my right, I'll put myself in a position that will give my partner the necessary leverage to finish the choke. What about the left? Well, my leg is trapped, and if I try, he could possibly sweep me. Sounds like you need to worry about getting out of the legs first...

Just like the chess player, we have to develop the ability to quickly foresee the consequences of our moves. We need to develop the instinct to know when we're in danger, and how not to move into danger.

And that, my friend, tales time. A lot of time. So spend some practice sessions playing the "Freeze—Danger Check!" game. Both of you pause every few moves right where you are and talk to each other about what's happening, what you're options are. If you don't know what will happen if you do something, try it. If it works, great. If not, go back to where you were and try something else.

Either way, you just learned something new.

Sometimes the simplest answer is the best answer

2011-10-30T08:19:00.000-07:00

There's kind of a kind of funny paradox in grappling.

It starts with a very basic, straight-forward technique. Let's say for example that uke is on his back and you're baring down on him. A relatively new or unskilled grappler will almost always try to push you off, to "bench press" your weight, right?

When he does that, he's presenting you with a straight arm. Naturally, you secure it and step right into juju gatame, end of story.

Consequently, most students learn or are taught very quickly, "Don't straighten your arms." Which now means you're rarely presented with the opportunity to use that juji gatame entry anymore. Which is great, right, because when your uke upgrades, you're forced to upgrade, and you both make each other better.

But then you realize no one's teaching that original, basic juju gatame entry anymore.

Or let's take the guard position. There's lots of fun things to do to your uke when you get him in your guard and he doesn't know to stay "south" of your belt and keep his posture upright: chokes, arm bars, turnovers, etc.

Consequently, most students learn or are taught very quickly, "When someone gets you in their guard, immediately posture up." Which means you're rarely presented with the opportunity to use all those fun techniques that require uke to be forward and "north" of your belt anymore.

But then you realize no one's teaching those original, basic arm bars and chokes from the guard anymore.

To be honest, I've skipped over teaching these sorts of "easy answers" myself. But I've started to ask myself the question, Why not?

Granted, straightening the arms or bending forward north of the belt is a rookie mistake, but hey, no matter how many students your school or any other has, the world is still chock full of rookies. And whether you meet them on the mat or "on the street," you're still going to run across people who make those kinds of mistakes.

I also can't help but think that you have to learn and practice the basic, "easy" entry in order to help understand what juju gatame (for instance) is and how it works. After all, just because your uke upgrades and doesn't straighten his arm for you anymore, doesn't mean you'll never use juju gatame again. You'll just upgrade your methods of finding or even creating it.

Sometimes I suspect we—in whatever learning endeavor, whether it be judo, aikido or piano or painting or surgery, or whatever—tend to eschew the simplest answers once we get to even an intermediate level. Perhaps we assume we're "too advanced" for it.

But really, how did we get advanced in the first place?

By practicing the basics, by mastering the simplest answers.

What I've learned about "kuzushi" (so far)

2011-10-20T12:22:00.000-07:00

First of all, I'm learning not to spell it "kazushi." I suspect my pronunciation of Japanese words is, regrettably, somewhat tainted by the accent native to this particular geographic area.

Outside of that, one of the first things I learned is that kuzushi refers to "unbalancing your opponent." This is, by far, the most common definition of the concept I've heard over the years.

The next thing I learned is that there's more to it than that.

The word itself, according to Wikipedia anyway, "comes from the intransitive verb, kuzusu, meaning to level, pull down, or demolish. As such, it is refers to not just an unbalancing, but the process of getting an opponent into a position where his stability, and hence ability to regain uncompromised balance, is destroyed."

Well, that's certainly a good reason to think of kuzushi in such terms. But based on the myriad of things taught to and shared with me over the years by budokas far more advanced than I (or even will be for several more decades), I've come to realize it can include much more.

For example, kuzushi also seems to mean:

Forcing uke to take a step or make an action he didn't intend to make

Perhaps I simply step off the line of attack, even without touching my uke, and now he has to reorient himself on his original target (me) in order to continue his attack. Therein lies an opportunity for me to do any number of things.

If in judo, perhaps I give a quick little tug on my uke's collar, causing one foot to step forward, and as it does, I sweep it out from under him.

Or all I may do is lean a bit on the collar grip, loading a little weight into my partner's back foot. When I release that slight pressure, he can't help but "bobble" forward a tad. That unintended forward momentum, however slight, is an opportunity for me.

Limiting uke's options

If budo randori were a chess match, these sorts of applications would be the "check." The game isn't over, but the King had better do something, or he's going to get "got" in the next move.

For instance, while it may seem like a "dirty trick", there really is something extraordinarily effective about stepping on someone's foot and keeping it there. Suddenly, your attacker can't go anywhere, and he's now down to three appendages instead of his customary four. And if I happen to be standing more to his side than in front of him when I step on his foot, he will also have a difficult time reorienting his remaining weapons in my direction. Sucks for him, but yea for me.

In my early days of aikido training, I would very often find myself in the same position over and over again when practicing randori with a more advanced partner: him standing behind one of my elbows, with his hand just behind the notch of my elbow, and me, completely unable to turn around.

Or think about kote gaeshi as less of a "throw" and more of a sort of hold. There have been many times in randori where I've held my partner's wrist in kote gaeshi, but without them ever falling. I didn't, however, just abandon it—why should I let him off the hook? His posture was crimped, and his free hand was limited in it's effectiveness, because he knew (or sensed) that whatever force he applied with it would come back to the hand held in kote gaeshi. In which case a fall would be the likely consequence.

Forcing uke to focus on something that occupies his attention

One of the most infuriating things you can do to an opponent in grappling is to grab a hold of him somewhere, say his arm, with two hands in one spot, bring your hands to your body, and simply let uke spend all kind of energy just trying to get his dumb arm free.

Or maybe you casually slip a hand inside the collar of his gi. You're not in a position to choke him, mind you, but many less experienced grapplers will nonetheless feel threatened, and begin to worry about that hand. Meanwhile, you proceed to nab an arm bar, and before he realizes what's happened, he's tapping.

It can even be, I believe, an action as silly as pointing over uke's shoulder and exclaiming, "What the hell is THAT?!?" and when he turns his attention away from me for even a split second, again, therein lies an opportunity. Now, some may think that's some form of cheating, or just not "proper budo," but really, when it comes down to two people trying to kill each other (it's a martial art, right?) I'm willing to bet you'd use whatever tool you had at your disposal to make sure you lived through the encounter.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

What do you think? Did I leave anything out? Is any of that kuzushi to you? Or would you define any of it as something else?

Defend by attacking

2011-10-17T07:05:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago, friend and teacher Kyle Sloan dropped by one of our early morning judo classes. There was one thing he mentioned to me that has stuck with me, something that I think I was beginning to understand on some level, but when he said it out loud, a lot of things—in both judo and aikido—snapped into focus.

We were speaking specifically about grappling, and how, when you're being held down, or your partner is attempting to choke or arm bar you, one really shouldn't simply defend. Rather, defend by attacking back.

When we're first taught, say, kesa gatame, we're taught certain "escapes"—how to break the hold. But that's just the beginning, I realized. Don't just break the hold, but seek to get myself into a position from which I can choke or arm bar him, or at the very least, put him in a hold down.

It seems like a small difference, but really internalizing it has made a big difference.

The thing is, I think most judo players will eventually arrive at that mind set anyway. Something about the nature of judo that tends to foster an "attacking" mindset. Aikido, on the other hand, has always felt like a purely defensive endeavor: how do I survive this onslaught and get the hell out of Dodge.

For beginners, that's probably not a bad idea. If you don't have the skills and training to do something, don't try to do it. If I just started guitar lessons, I'm not going to go down to the crossroads and duel it out with the Devil. Simple enough.

But eventually, I think aikido ought to follow that simple mind-set: don't just defend (or "escape"), defend by attacking back.

I don't just get off the line of attack to avoid being hit; I move to a more advantageous position, a position that will give me the upper hand.

When grabbed, I'm not just looking to break his grip—"Get off me, you brute!"—I want to change the dynamics, the relationship between us, so that I, again, am in a more advantageous position, so that I'm driving the car now, not the other guy.

I don't want to simply deal with what his attacking hand is doing, and how to keep it off me. A very myopic approach. I want that hand; it's mine now. Then I want to progressively take away as many of uke's options as I can. I don't even want to "throw"— I want to systematically break down his posture to the point he can't stand up any longer, till he has nowhere else to go, but down.

Enter. Own him. Collapse him. Never let him off the hook.

Is that too aggressive to be "aikido"? Does that sound more like retribution and malice rather than the proposed spirit of aikido, of love, peace and harmony?

To me, no.

Rather than unleashing the hounds of hell and raining down pain and punishment on the poor fellow, I think of it as putting out a fire—of smothering the flames until they extinguish and the threat of the whole house burning down has been safely snuffed out.

But fire is dangerous, you can't be timid with it. It takes a fire hose, not a squirt gun. It takes buckets and buckets of sand being dumped on it until no oxygen remains to feed it. Waving at it just fans the flames. Hesitate, and the flames will engulf you.

A little "street judo"

2011-10-11T10:46:00.000-07:00

I've been pondering for some time the idea of how to approach many of the judo throws from the standpoint of a sudden, unexpected attack. You know, like "on the street."

Okay, honestly, by now, I hate using that phrase, but for lack of a better one, there you go. I've always been somewhat troubled by one aspect of judo nage waza: the grips. Or to be more specific, the idea of walking around with your hands holding on to your partner and his hands holding on to before either of you attempts to throw.

What about the a-hole who's just trying to punch, kick and otherwise beat the living snot out of me? Can I launch a throw right at the moment he attacks? Or at least avoid the initial attack (get off the line) and then pull the trigger? I don't want to dance with the guy, and he damn sure doesn't wanna dance with me, frankly. The whole "grip fighting" concept seems to me, then, to really only apply to competition judo, and has little or no relevance to actual self-defense, in my own humble opinion.

To that end, I've taken much of what I've learned from the Merritt Stevens approach to aikido (some of which can be found here) and experimented with applying the same sort of "attack & evade, then throw" model to judo nage waza.

I'm hoping to play with it some more tomorrow, and if I get a chance, I'll elaborate here later.

Circles

2011-10-09T19:22:00.000-07:00

It's really strange how often I find new ways of doing old things. Like hiki taoshi from junana no kata.

It's really difficult to describe in words what I'm been experiencing lately, but in essence, there's a circular movement in there that's so light and sweet, but incredibly effective. In fact I've notice the same thing about tenkai kote hineri. Even big, stout, clunky, muscly guys seem to bobble like rag dolls.

The funny thing is, there's nothing about that flies in the face of any principle I've ever been taught. Since my background happens to be in art and design, I wonder if this is akin to the idea of the principles of painting being universal, but the style of each individual painter is as unique as fingerprints?

Where is you mind?

2011-09-20T07:33:00.000-07:00

It wasn't long ago that a critical aspect of different sections of junana hon kata, or randori no kata, finally dawned on me. I realized that, with the second section, or hiji waza, I was focusing on what I was doing to the arm or elbow, and with the third section, tekubi waza, I was focusing on what I was doing to the wrist.

Which would seem natural since that's what their names mean: "elbow techniques" and "wrist techniques". The epiphany, however, came when I finally realized that I'm not doing something to the arm or the wrist, but rather I'm using the arm and wrist as a means of affecting uke's center line. The first section, or atemi waza, deals with going after the center line directly. From there, we move outward to using the arm to affect the center line, and then move even further out to using the wrist the same way.

This realization has, in turn, affected my perspective of the rest of not only aikido, but judo as well. Now, I'm much more focused, not on throwing uke, but on continually, progressively crumpling his posture, breaking him down bit by bit.

For example, I would approach each technique this way:

1) Step in the right place, with my support foot pointed in the right direction, with my hands in the right position. It was a bit like posing an action figure, as if all I had to do was do was these specific things, and everything will go smoothly.

2) If judo, then suck up the distance between us.

3) Pull the trigger. Do some sort of action or another that would launch uke into the air or send him hurtling to the ground, be it a wrist crank, a definitive step, a reap, a hip action, etc.

While it's important to step here and move your hands there, I never thought much about why. "It's about kuzushi—off balance," you say. And you're right. But what did the kuzushi look like? I began to wonder. What did it feel like—for tori as well as uke—when it was really happening?

In other words, I stopped thinking about kuzushi from the perspective or what I was doing, hoping uke would just magically fall down. I began to think more along the lines of what was happening to uke. Not just his elbow or wrist or leg or whatever—his whole body. I took my mind out of my own Self and put it in uke. In him, around him, around us both.

So, back to aikido's elbow techniques. Oshi taoshi (or ikkyo) is a good example. I noticed myself and others primarily focused on pushing on the elbow. When that didn't get uke to magically jump to the ground, it naturally became a game of pushing harder. As a result, we tended to push on uke's elbow out in space, somewhere to the side of his head.

But it wasn't working, or at least we could make it work as long as we were stronger than uke, or uke was just cooperating. The funny thing is, I'd been originally taught, years ago, to imagine I'm trying to put uke's elbow through his own ear. But I suppose I got lost in what I thought oshi taoshi or ikkyo was supposed to look like, and I never understood the meaning of that instruction: use the elbow to affect his center line.

The wrist techniques were no longer about uke jumping because I stepped in some specific place, or he was simply responding to pain, but rather, is the turning or twisting (which does not involve being strong or cranking, by the way) doing something to his posture?

I also found that focusing on a thing like the wrist or the elbow often caused me to stop. "Okay, I'm holding a proper kote gaeshi now. Your turn to do a flippy fall." But while we were always taught to keep our center moving, it never occurred to me that my hands and arms should often continue moving in their respective arc as well (I think I interpreted the "unbendable arm" principle to mean I keep them stuck out in front of me like two planks nailed to a tree). Again, not in a way that cranks on uke (that would be force against force, now wouldn't it?), but that moves smoothly with how uke's body is naturally built.

Ah ha! This is what is meant by all those words and phrases like "blending, joining, be light, be in harmony with uke," etc. Now, I'm discovering all sorts of little nuances here and there that have a seemingly magic affect on uke's posture without strength or cranking.

Building a Better Uke: Grips

2011-09-19T08:16:00.000-07:00

Over the years, I've seen countless students, both senior and junior, become frustrated with a technique failing to work. The vast majority of the time, the problem lies with uke.

Most of the time, uke is not truly committed and is just walking through the motions, in which case, tori rarely gets the off balance or throw he's looking for—which in turn lead tori to think he's not doing something, and uke (particularly new students) think, "Well, this stuff doesn't work."

Not to be hard on uke—it's a tough job.

I first talked about "commitment" in an earlier post. But commitment is, admittedly, a fairly broad topic. So I started with a simple drill to help students practice the initial shomen ate attack with genuine commitment to the point where we actually knock the other guy down.

That is, of course, only one way of attacking. Uke can also begin his attack with a grip.

I tend to see two basic sources of frustration when it comes to grips. The first, and by far most common, is a grip that's

Too weak
We have to think back and remember what it was like to be the new guy. You don't know anyone, you have no idea what to expect, what you're in for; you're just following along as best you can. And it can be very intimidating to be asked to grab (to touch, in other words) a relative stranger.

We all have certain built-in "rules" when it comes to social interaction, especially with personal boundaries. Think about how many people you've know for a long time, co-workers, professors or students, etc. How often do they get to touch you? Rarely if ever, certainly among men. For guys, you'd have to be either our mother, our wife or girlfriend, or our kids (young ones) to be allowed that kind of closeness.

I wonder sometimes sensitive enough of that. We've been doing this a while now, so we don't think anything of just reaching out and grabbing a guy, such as with judo grips which are even further inside the new guy's personal space.

Consequently, the new guy's grip in the role of uke in aikido is probably going to light and tentative. And that means you probably won't get quite the right reaction you're looking for, the kuzushi you know should be there. Be patient and understanding. Know that his comfort level with gripping and this kind of unconventional contact will come in time.

And if he seems skeptical of the efficacy of what you're practicing, kindly explain that for now, you're just concerned with learning the proper movements, of introducing the principles, and not with "making it work."

I've known senior ranks to remain frustrated by that idea. I guess they just really want to do a successful technique, that they've assumed there is one singular outcome and purpose for what they're doing and when they don't get it, they feel they've somehow failed, or at least aren't doing "proper aikido." Or maybe they've fallen in love with the seemingly "magical" ability they have of making someone fall down, and it's become something of an ego trip.

Please don't be deluded into believing either.

As the senior student, now is the time to think about your movements, about your principles, and let go of the big, spectacular "finish." Maintain ma'ai, keep moving, notice what you're spare hand is doing, are you feeling uke with your hands or are you relying solely on what you see with your eyes? There's plenty for you to learn, even if what you practice won't exactly make the "highlight reel."

All that being said, the flip side of the gripping coin can also cause it's fair share of consternation, a grip that's

Too strong
Occasionally, I'll see a student come in whose grasp is startlingly strong. Big guys, guys that work with their hands all day, tough-as-nails military guys, whatever. Oddly enough, they have no qualms about touching a total stranger. They'll reach out and snatch your wrist in their iron grasp without hesitation.

Now, aikido still works when that happens. But it still takes many folks by surprise, even higher ranking guys. Why? I suspect because we've become used to grips that are too weak, even among higher ranks.

Even after we've been practicing aikido for a while and we're no longer the new guy, we continue to work with a grip that's actually too weak, largely I think because we've been told over and over and over again to "be light." While I understand the intention in saying so, I'm afraid there are occasional downsides. One being the idea that I should barely touch tori when I grip him (or when gripping as tori).

But that's not helping anyone. Uke's not truly able to deliver energy that way, and tori is practicing a technique under false pretenses. So when someone really grabs him, suddenly his release won't work.

All of that being said, what grip is "just right"?

To answer that, I'll direct you to the following video, which explains what we're after better than I could here.

Building a Better Uke: Commitment

2011-09-09T17:34:00.000-07:00

More often than not, if a technique isn't working quite right, the first place you should check is not necessarily yourself—but rather your uke.

Why? Well, with much of what we do, particularly aikido, the efficacy of a given technique often depends on an uke who is doing his job properly. Which begs the question: what is uke's job, exactly?

To just attack? To simply take the fall for tori?

Yes. No. Sort of. It's a broad subject, really. One I hope to explore over the next few posts.

There are a number of factors that make a good, effective uke. And the first, and perhaps the most obvious, is "commitment."

True, honest commitment is probably the most common fault on uke's part, even among senior practitioners. For one thing, within the confines of the dojo, we're really only pretending to attack; we don't really want to inflict any harm on our partner, not like the proverbial thug "on the street." We're friends, we're just practicing. It takes a certain amount of skill to truly act like you want to knock the other guy's block off, even though he or she is actually an innocent stranger at the least, or at the most, a close personal friend.

For another thing, we often get stuck in a rut. Especially after a number of repetitions. We "go through the motions," knowing full well what's coming next. But really, that's cheating. And it's certainly not doing tori any favors.

So considering all that, how can we keep ourselves focused and honest?

I have, over time, come up with a few drills or exercises to help with this particular issue, but please, by all means, feel free to share your own insights.

I'll start with just one for now.

Shomen ate / ukemi practice
Every once in a while, I think it's a good idea to drag out the crash pad during the opening ukemi practice, and do a little uke practice along with our falling practice.

Have everyone form a line (or two or three if you have a big class). Have one student stand at the edge of the crash pad, with his back to it. Have everyone in line take turns doing a shomen ate attack, pushing uke back onto the crash pad. When everyone has had a turn knocking the guy down, it's the next guy's turn.

This little exercise helps in two respects, actually. One, it helps each student learn to absorb an attack, and fall with it, rather than resist being thrown. Which not only helps prevent injury, but flowing with an attack is as much a part of learning and internalizing the precepts of "aikido" as anything you might do as tori.

And two, it gives each student a real feel for what they're actually trying to do when they attack tori during kata practice.

Stay tuned for a few more tips and exercises!

Grappling with the Swiss Ball

2011-08-31T16:37:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been a while since I've posted, eh? Sorry about that. I know I say this a lot, but life's been really, really crazy. Hopefully, I'll be back into the swing of things now.

One of the things I'd love to make a video about (or, more likely, a series) has to do with doing judo grappling drills with one of those big Swiss Balls.

Yeah, one of those things. Now, I'm not the one who started the whole idea. I believe friend and teacher, Greg Ables, was the one who started all this. He does, incidentally, have a video on the Kaze Uta Budo Kai YouTube channel, which is pretty mesmerizing to watch.

Over the years, I've taken much of what I've learned and, in an effort to teach other judo students, especially lower ranking ones, have spent a lot of time breaking it down into bite size pieces.

Ultimately, the working on the Swiss Ball has amazing effects on a judoka's grappling game. For starters, it helps train your body what any other exercise on the ball would, which is balance and fine motor-muscular control.

It also teaches you where exactly to place your center of gravity without being rolled over (if the ball can roll you, so can a grappling partner).

It teaches you to keep moving, without getting "stuck" or sucked into the trap of "by golly, I'm going to make this hold-down work!"

It teaches you to maintain constant contact, and with pretty much every part of your body. Always following, and knowing where the ball is in space (and you, for that matter).

And, as a side benefit, it will work you OUT. Seriously, it doesn't take long before I'm winded working on this thing.

I've actually got a number of things (naturally) I'd like to film, and hopefully I'll get to them soon (I've picked up some YouTube subscribers lately, so I'd better keep up with content!)

2011-06-27T06:56:00.000-07:00

Have you ever watched a magician perform tricks right in front of you? Not the David Copperfield type of magician, standing hundreds of feet away on a huge stage filled with smoke and pulsing lights and scantily clad assistants, the kind who make cars disappear or miraculously escape cages filled with tigers.
No, I mean the simple kind of magic, the kind done right in front of you, with you standing within touching range of the magician, the kind where the simple, yes, but nonetheless the impossible happens before your very eyes.

How does he DO that? you think to yourself.

The answer being, as you may know, something called "sleight of hand."

But what does that mean, exactly? Well, one way you might think about it is, the magician gets you to focus on one thing, to think about what he wants you to think about, while he does something else at the same time without you being aware of it.

Now let me ask you this: have you ever watched a really high ranking budoka, be it judo or otherwise, do things so slick, so quick and seemingly so effortless, you were left with only one inevitable conclusion: it's like magic!

How does he DO that? you think to yourself.

The answer being, you might say, something to do with decades of practice. And sure, that does have something to do with it. Magicians practice their movements every bit as much to the point of razor sharp smoothness.

But I'm willing to bet something else is going on when that red-and-white belt makes you fall down before you realized what was happening: he got you to focus on one thing, to think about what he wanted you to think about, while he did something else at the same time without you being aware of it.

Among magicians, it's referred to, I believe, as the art of misdirection. In budo, it's often referred to as kuzushi.

For most of us, the term kuzushi has meant "off-balance." Which it does—in part. But it also refers to the idea of making uke take a step or make a movement he didn't intend to make. And the reason we do that, my friends, is to give uke something to think about.

Here's a little demonstration you can try with your class some time:

1) Have two partners stand facing each other, about arm's length apart.

2) Tori is going to reach out and poke uke with a finger, either hand, anywhere on the chest or abdomen. Use whatever combination of hands you want, but go SLOW. Yes, you can do this fast, but seeing this work even though you're going slow makes the point that much more profound.

3) Uke's job is to bloke tori from poking him, simple as that. Again, don't go fast, there's no need to do it roughly by slapping your partners hand. Just brush it aside.

Pretty easy for uke to keep tori from poking him, right?

4) Now, at some random point, have tori raise one hand (doesn't matter which one) right in front of uke's face and wave at him. Don't touch him, don't even get within a threatening distance; just in front of his eyes, and wave hello.

5) While you're doing that, poke uke with your other finger.

What happened? You finally got to poke him, I'd bet. Why? Uke was focusing on the hand right in front of his eyes for a split second. And that was long enough for you to poke him easily.

Of course, the longer you play this game, the more uke is going to be prepared for what's about to happen, and he'll be able to tune out the waving hand long enough to defend himself from your poking finger. That's natural; humans are made to learn and adapt like that (those of our ancestors who didn't learn that lesson are no longer with us...).

But in the larger scheme of things (the art of judo) there's lots and lots of ways to misdirect uke. He may wise up to one or two, maybe three. But when shot at him in rapid succession, his subconscious mind will, inevitably cave, and focus on what he shouldn't.

Think now about your judo randori. How often are you successful when you just try to step in and throw the guy? Not much, huh? Yeah, me neither. Not that I'm suggesting waving at the guy before you throw (although, heck, try it, it just might work once or twice!), but find something to occupy uke's mind for a second. Catch his foot in a foot sweep, even if you don't throw him. Now he has to deal with that, he has to try and keep his balance and try to get his foot our of danger.

While he's doing that, there's a window for you to do something else, I promise you.

The misdirection / kuzushi can happen in a number of ways:

• Attempt a throw. When uke fights out of it, use his recovery motion to step into the next, and if that fails, immediately to the next one. This is renraku waza, or combination techniques, and I think you'll find the best players make very good use of it.

• Subtly load uke's weight onto one foot. Once that foot is pinned, there's really only a couple of things he can do with his other foot. And if you've got an answer to those possibilities...

• Make uke take a larger than normal step. You can do this in a number of ways: raise your elbow and draw his lead foot out; take a larger than normal step yourself (with your center under you, of course), which will require uke to take a large step to catch up. I've also seen folks use one foot to push uke's foot away, spreading his legs out a bit.

• Take a deep entry step. Take a shorter than normal step. Change your grips. Start to move one direction, then suddenly turn the other direction. Clamp his elbow to your belly button and don't let him have it back....

Frankly, the possibilities are probably endless.

Oh, and here's one more "finger poking" exercise:

1) Start out exactly as before, facing your partner.

2) This time, hold your hand up and poke uke with only one hand, and only poke in one spot on uke. Keep your hand held up where uke can see it, and do it over and over and over again, exactly the same way each time.

3) Allow uke to block it, or sweep your hand away, over and over and over.

4) At some random point, poke uke with your other hand, anywhere on his torso you like.

Did uke block it? Maybe. But he was probably late, at best. I think you'll find it surprising how easy it is for humans to fall into a pattern, to get used to a groove. And conversely, how suddenly veering from that pattern has a tendency to take us by surprise, and maybe uke didn't block quite as well as he did with first series of pokes.

All of this, of course, applies equally well to grappling. But what about you? What's your favorite way to get uke to focus on something, while you perform your magic?

The (chemical) bond between budoka

2011-06-21T06:56:00.000-07:00

Once again, I've let this blog get quite lonely over the past several months, sorry. Life has been tumultuous, to say the least. And in the face of all that turmoil, I couldn't help but notice that the people who were the most natural for me to reach out to, the people who in turn genuinely cared the most, were those friends I had made through the dojo.

I've always thought it was interesting how I was always able to make such a close bond with "dojo folk", a bond that I've never really made with coworkers, fellow church members, or even my own family!

I've had a couple of theories over the years, but here's one link I had never considered. I read a few articles recently dealing with "oxytocin", a mammalian hormone that also acts as a neurotransmitter in the brain. Now, I know, you're thinking, "Isn't that the so-called 'love hormone'? The one they give women to speed up the birthing process?" Yeah, yeah, but wait. Take a minute and read this description carefully:

In humans, oxytocin is thought to be released during hugging, touching, and orgasm in both sexes. In the brain, oxytocin is involved in social recognition and bonding, and may be involved in the formation of trust between people and generosity.

Now, obviously, while in the practice of aikido or judo or any other form of budo, we're not not exactly hugging or snuggling (and I hope to God no one's having any orgasms...), but if you think about "touching" in general, well, we certainly do a lot of that. We're almost always in physical contact with another human being for much of the class, several times a week. Some of us don't touch our spouses that much!

It turns out, physical touch in general can and will release this subtly potent hormone. You can even release oxytocin by getting cozy with your dog.

When I consider my relationship with many of my dojo friends, the concepts of social recognition, bonding, and the formation of trust and generosity would definitely describe it pretty nicely!

Obviously, if we were being touched in a bad way—in someone were really, honestly trying to inflict serious harm or heaven forbid molested or raped—I seriously doubt any oxytocin is being released. But despite the fact that we are indeed practicing methods of combat, of inflicting harm on another human being, deep down, we don't really mean it. I don't want to hurt my partner. (Okay, sometimes, the occasional jerk walks through the dojo doors and we may be seriously tempted, but otherwise...)

What we're really doing is helping each other learn something. It almost doesn't matter what that something is; it could be ballroom dancing, I would imagine, as long as there's contact. The touching has an underlying motive that's positive, to help someone, and to allow them to help you.

You could even take it a step further. Oxytocin has also been shown to increase trust and reduce fear, as in this example:

In one study... 29 pairs of male college students played an investment game with tokens in which one member of the team acted as an investor and the other as a trustee. Half of the participants inhaled an oxytocin spray and the other half a placebo.

Of the investors who whiffed oxytocin, about half gave all of their tokens to the trustees, and most of the rest handed over the majority of their tokens. By contrast, only a fifth of investors on placebo parted with their tokens, while another third proffered most of theirs.

In another study, "participants who inhaled either oxytocin or a placebo were asked to decide how to split a sum of money with a stranger. Those who received the hormone offered the stranger 80 percent more money than those receiving the placebo."

I continue to find it astonishing how I will trust my dojo-mates enough to throw me on the ground, to lock up my arms and get within a hair's breadth of choking me unconscious. Yet I do, constantly; and they, God help them, trust me in return.

And undoubtedly, should fear be removed from a relationship, then I think every other positive emotion of which humans are even capable will have ample room to flourish.

. . . . . . . . . .

More information:

http://psychcentral.com/lib/2008/about-oxytocin/

http://www.apa.org/monitor/feb08/canoxy.aspx

On and Off (and On Again)

2011-05-31T06:17:00.000-07:00

A couple of weekends ago, Patrick Parker Sensei form Mokuren Dojo in Mississippi held a clinic at our dojo focusing on Koryu Dai Ichi Kata. For various reason I won't even attempt to go into here, our school (and our former organization) largely ignored the first and second koryu katas, so this was all fairly new to me.

One of the prominent themes in that kata, it seems, is the idea of encountering (or even creating) pressure or resistance, then releasing the pressure (disappearing basically) and then turning the pressure on again. Which may not be the best way to describe it, really.

Pat described it as your arm(s) going from being like a stick, to being like a rope, to being like a stick again, which is a good way to think of it. I've also heard it referred to as "on, off and on again." Now, while that basic concept is not entire new to me, my eyes are slowly opening to all the places in can and does occur, both in aikido and judo.

So while I've been going over the kata in our morning classes, I also want to carry the concept over into our judo classes.

One thing, though, that I asked my aikido folks to think about is that, when doing Tegatana no Kata (or "The Walking Kata"), to think more about the "rope" concept. In other words, after all of the places where we engage our arms and either step forward, to the side, or turn around, simply allow your arms to just drop to your sides. Exaggerate it, even, for a while. Pretend someone just flipped a switch and your arms suddenly turned into limp noodles and just let them plop down to your sides. Then when you engage them again for the next part, let it feel like someone flipped the switch back on again.

After doing that for a while, then go through the whole of Randori no Kata (or "The Seventeen") and look for places where you could allow your arm to just turn suddenly into rope and then turn back into a stick again; on, off, then on again.

I think you'll find it does some spectacularly crazy things to your uke.

Judo kaeshi waza & renraku waza

2011-05-10T15:04:00.000-07:00

I'd like to work a little over the next several months on some kaeshi waza in judo. There's a series of 5 videos from Mike Swain that highlight a number of nice ones, plus several combination ideas. Below is the first:

Back in the swing of things

2011-05-09T06:48:00.000-07:00

Boy, I haven't been very good at posting lately, have I? For one thing, a relentless case of bronchitis has kept me a bit out of it, but now that that's cleared up mostly, I'm able get back in the dojo.

Hopefully, now that I'm back into the swing of things, I can film some more of the junk that's rattling around in my head. I start to write about a lot of them, but I find words and even a few photos just don't capture it.

Let me leave you for now with this video of a bit of judo randori from 1922. There's actually a series of 5, and I would recommend heading over to YouTube to watch the rest of them. I think it's interesting how the purple belts below throw each other pretty well, but the higher in rank you get the harder it is for the judoka to get each other.

How "Angry Birds" is a bit like budo (No, seriously)

2011-04-17T15:27:00.000-07:00

I've never, ever been the kind of kid who liked to play video games. Still don't care for them, frankly. But somehow, some way, I've become absolutely hooked on a game called "Angry Birds" on my iPad.

After a while, I began to pick up on certain common... I don't know, themes or approaches to the game. If you're not familiar with the premise, it's basically about flinging little birds through the air in an attempt to destroy all the little pigs. The challenge is, there are a lot of objects that stand in your way. You have a set number of birds to kill all the pigs on each level, so you have to use them very strategically.

I know, what in the world does this have to do with budo (particularly aikido or judo), right? First of all, if you're not familiar with the game, take a look at this short how-to video to get a better idea:

Right. Now—here's a few points on how to succeed at the game.

Don't aim for the pigs, aim for making the structure fall.
Most of the time, you don't have near enough birds to take out the pigs one by one. It's far more efficient to knock out the weaker points of the structure and let the collapsing structure kill all the pigs for you.

Sound familiar? Rather than aim for a specific technique or throw, think about collapsing uke's structure by capitalizing on the weak points, and let the collapse do him in.

The first shot rarely does the trick.
Most of the time, it take two or three shots at least to pass the level. Just because your first bird only got one or two pigs, you don't reset the level and start all over, do you? No—you keep firing, progressively wearing down the structure until it all comes crashing down.

Same with aikido and judo: sometimes the first attempt works, but not always. That's no reason to reset and start all over. Keep firing, never let uke get his act together and eventually, he'll crumble.

Aim for the weak points.
The structures that the pigs are hiding in are made up of a lot of different materials. Glass is naturally the most fragile. A little tougher, but still breakable, is the wood. The concrete, though, is tough. It usually takes several passes to do anything to it, but by then you've wasted too much ammo and time.

Humans are built much the same way. We have weak points, and we have strong points. Very rarely, if ever, do we rely on our muscle to beat uke's muscle, our size to overcome uke's size, or our stamina to outlast uke's stamina. Everybody's different in those regards, so you're gambling by relying on them. But in terms of architecture, pretty much all human bodies have the same weak points, and physics, well, ain't nobody immune to the laws of physics.

Many times, you take out the base first.
Then you let everything it was supporting crumble and crush everything left, simple as that.

With budo, however, I don't know that this is always true. I think it applies to judo a lot, particularly with ashi waza, and in ne waza when you're on your back (take out uke's base to sweep, etc.). But even with hip throws, I don't tend to think of placing the pivot point at uke's hips and then lugging his top half over it so much as I do displacing his lower half (via my hips, and maybe a leg, too) and let his top half rotate over and toward the ground.

Other times, the very top needs toppling.
With aikido, on the other hand, it seems like one tips the top half over to create the instability we need. Which, of course, you also do sometimes with Angry Birds. You merely have to tap the top of a tall structure, even with the weakest of birds, and slowly but surely it leans further and further until it comes crashing down, taking everything with it.

And lastly, sometimes you fail.
Sometimes, as hard as you try, you just can't pass the level. You try five times, ten times, twenty—and you still can't get it! One of two things finally happens: 1) You learn each time you fail, what works and what doesn't, by trying different things and applying what you've learned previously, and eventually you succeed. Or, 2) you can go on YouTube and find a video that helps you figure things out, which you in turn assimilate and use to your advantage in all future levels.

Budo is no different. Sometimes, we get "got", sometimes we "tap out." In fact, we do it a lot for a looooong time. But each time, we're learning, adapting, picking up new ideas, applying old lessons. And if we get stuck, there are always those with more experience happy to help us. We just have to be humble and admit when we can't do it alone.

. . . . .

So there you have it—the Tao of Angry Birds! Okay, not really. But I have enjoyed how the way the universe ebbs and flows tends to echo through virtually everything we do, and if we open our eyes and pay attention, we see glimpses of singular truths in everything. Even in unlikely places.

Especially in unlikely places.

Happy training!

A twist on Ude Garami (Americana)

2011-04-17T10:59:00.000-07:00

Very interesting twist (pun sort of intended) to this classic Ude Garami arm lock from kesa gatame. I kinda like the leverage, but I wonder if it's possible to get the switch when adrenaline is running high.

kuchiki daoshi

2011-03-25T08:11:00.000-07:00

I really want to look more at and practice a throw (and all its variations) called kuchiki daoshi. It's not one we've ever looked at much in our school, although I think in randori it can pop out spontaneously even without training! It starts around the 5:20 mark.

Space and entering with judo

2011-03-23T06:28:00.000-07:00

Again, sorry it's been a while since I've posted. Lots of things on my mind, naturally. Here's a few:

To my recollection, it seems like I've always been told in aikido (I wonder if any of my teachers would say, What? I never told you that!) to maintain ma'ai, to maintain a certain distance at all times. I've tried to follow that over the years, and really, it's worked pretty well.

But lately, I've been thinking more and more about changing the distance. Specifically, about creating space, or creating a kind of vacuum that sort of sucks uke in, and about entering, or closing in. This goes hand in hand with my earlier thoughts on likening our movements to a wave: not just the crashing down part, but the drawing in, undercurrent part as well. That concept has, of course, overflowed into my judo work as well.

I also noticed an interesting secondary throw to hiza guruma this morning. (Here's a lovely competition example of hiza for your own enjoyment =)

Anyway, we were working on try to do hiza, but uke steps through it, and we were supposed to follow up with okuri ashi harai (double foot sweep). But I noticed many of the students ended up placing their sweeping foot too high (as newer folk are want to do sometimes), which put their ankle behind uke's calf. I suppose it then just felt naturally to throw uke back from that position and unwittingly found themselves doing kosoto gake.

It follows suit with the sort of "space and entering" idea I've been so fascinated with. We tend to approach hiza as somewhat of a separating throw, creating space between tori and uke. Now, should that fail, there's naturally the opportunity to close the distance, or enter, which is were the kosoto gake came in.

It just goes to show, no matter how far along you get, you can still learn something from beginners!

Things to think about

2011-03-03T11:32:00.000-08:00

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I was out of town for several weeks taking some time off, and have been super busy since then. Not that I haven't been thinking about budo, 'cause I have—I just need to find more hours in the day to write them all down!

There's been a number of things I've been thinking about and that we've been focusing on more and more in morning class. First off...

Where is your "other" hand?
While many, if not all, of the techniques in aikido involve both hands, there's usually one dominant hand, one hand that's doing the main thing, executing the throw or performing the lock. Spend some time thinking about the other hand and what it's doing, what it's job is. Sometimes it's helping or supplementing the first hand. Sometimes it's just in uke's face to keep him off you. Sometimes it simply lies in wait.

But always ready, alert, involved; never limp, casual, neglected.

Think about it with these in particular (I'm referring to the versions as they appear in junana hon kata): aigamae ate, gyakugamae ate (as in the image above), ude hineri, hiki taoshi, kote gaeshi, and tenkai kote hineri.

I promise it won't be as long before I post again (because I just know you've missed me!)

Hard to fight what you've never seen

2010-12-31T08:00:00.000-08:00

One of the greatest potential weaknesses of any martial art is the fact that it's hard to fight what you've never seen before. The Gracie family proved that quite effectively when they took every kind of fighter who signed up for the UFC and took them to the ground. Virtually no other style ever spent time on the ground, so the jiu-jitsu folks had a field day once they got down there.

Aikido is like that. No ground game whatsoever. Our particular school or ryu or whatever has a supplementary system of very basic, self-defense ideas for aikidoka because our organization historically has also been involved with judo as well. It works pretty well against people without much training should things degrade to a ground fight. Against a trained grappler, however, you're more or less toast.

But even in judo, which of course has a grappling component, has left out certain aspect of the ground game, namely in the interest of sport. There's no wrist locks, for instance, no ankle or knee locks. If you climb on top of someone, a judoka naturally tries to establish tate shiho gatame. We have an escape or two for that. But what about a guy who just wants to mount you and punch your face? Would a judoka, especially one trained for the sport, know what to do?

I guess this all depends on why you're studying whatever you're studying. Is it sport, or spiritual enlightenment, or self-defense? If it's sport, which sport? Which set of rules?

All of this has made me take a good long, hard look at what I've been training to do, namely in respect to judo ne waza. Our school doesn't focus on tournaments, and yet we still abide largely by tournament rules (no knee bars, or wrist and ankles locks, etc.) So what what happens when we're forced to deal with someone operating outside tournament rules? Sure, principles will help us deal with a lot of things, but even still, there's something about the human mind that has a tendency to pause when it encounters something new or unfamiliar. And that pause, I fear, may be long enough for someone to do some serious damage.

Take this video for instance. Putting the knee on the stomach. Never see that really in our dojo (that I'm aware of). But that's just one example among many.

All in all, it makes me wonder if I'm missing something. Am I living in a bubble, a sort of imaginary "judo ne waza" world that can be easily shattered when someone who doesn't play by the same "rules" comes along?

Looking back, looking forward

2010-12-30T07:03:00.000-08:00

Well, it's that time of year, isn't it? Time to look back at and reflect on the previous 12 months, and then to look forward to the next 12. I've been doing as much in my overall personal life, but I thought I might share a few thoughts as they pertain to my budo Path.

Looking back at 2010

♦ I missed quite of training this year, but fortunately not due to injury or illness. My wife, on the other hand, had the misfortune of undergoing 3, count 'em 3, operations: a C-section, a hernia and a tonsillectomy (which is a much more difficult recovery than one would think).

Which meant I spent a lot of time off from working staying home and taking care of the kids and missing some budo. It's a tough thing to go without training, but I tried to at least keep my mind in the game as I thought and pondered and watched videos. And since I used all my time off, I never got a chance to participate in either the shochugeiko or kangeiko intensives.

♦ I feel like I might several strides in my aikido. Mostly small details, but with large implication.

♦ I couldn't help but feel like my judo stagnated. I'm still trying to figure out why, exactly. I made a few realizations in terms of nage waza (throwing) that I think were good and helpful, but my intentions of focusing on ne waza feel miserably short. I did pick up a few things that I brought to class and worked on, which is good, but I never got in as much "rolling around" time as I need.

♦ I got a few blog posts promoted on Aikido Journal, which was marvelous and humbling all at once. The thought of anyone of advanced skill level reading my ramblings has put my perspective of what I say into a new focus. I definitely don't want to sound like I'm any kind of expert, like I'm preaching "this is how it is, people." In the grand scheme of things, I'm still a relative youngster, and my thoughts and ideas I hope do not come across as pronouncements as much as discoveries.

♦ I've done some filming, which I really wanted to do, but couldn't help very self-conscious about, mostly for the very reasons I stated above. But there are some things that words just can't handle as well or as accurately as words with sound and visuals.

♦ I continue to be fascinated by Henry Kono Sensei's statements about yin & yang. I saw more of it this morning, and it's very intriguing!

♦ I've been increasingly fascinated by the chin and the elbow. My catch phrases for the year have been "the chin is magic" and "the elbow is magic." Again, this morning, I saw even more applications.

♦ It's been a most enlightening year as I've continued to open my eyes to other schools and teachers of aikido and judo and jiu-jitsu. I've discovered some wonderful things from all these perspectives and I'm grateful for them.

♦ I've been a mad man with all these dumb little drills and exercises that I sit around and dream up. I wonder sometimes if it's overkill, or helpful, so I try to keep them a "once in a while" sort of thing.

♦ I spent a lot of time earlier in the year thinking about aikido ura waza (thanks largely to Nick Lowry Sensei), which was a lot of fun, and of course eye opening.

Looking forward to 2011

♦ I'm hoping every one is healthier this year, and I get a few chances to take time off and attend some special events, be it play days or intensives. I worry about myself, being the highest ranking person in morning class. I still need as much teaching as I can get!

♦ I'd really like to focus on ne waza more. It will be a struggle, I know. It's not my favorite thing, but I want to like it more. So I won't only be thinking about newaza itself, but thinking a lot about how I personally approach it.

♦ I'd like to make more films. I don't know if they're helpful to anyone, but I like being able to get the thoughts down so that they stop haunting my head =)

♦ I definitely want to continue to learn from other schools, arts and teachers. Time to empty the cup, abandon preconceptions and be filled again.

♦ I'd kind of like to incorporate weapons into aikido a little more. There's something about putting an object in people's hands that has a way taking their mind out of "a technique" and thinking more about the principle of the thing.

Otherwise, as far the future goes, I don't know that I have too many goals. I suppose I'd like to remain fairly open to whatever comes my way. And as the past goes, I'm grateful for anyone who happens to read this little blog of mine, if anyone.

Many deep, humble bows to my teachers, to my students, to my peers, to my dojo, to life, to art, to failure, to success, to friends, to antagonists, to you.

Sensitivity

2010-12-30T06:14:00.000-08:00

A lovely demonstration of sensitivity, touch, and a bit of the ol' "on/off" principle.

Breaking balance with shiho nage

2010-12-28T07:08:00.000-08:00

I've discovered that, after all these years, I was never really getting the balance break for shiho nage quite right. The same goes for mae otoshi, or any other technique that begins the same way.

I think it comes from starting our training looking at a technique from the stand-point of choreography: step here with this foot, put your right hand here, step there, turn, etc. etc. I think that's the way we need to start, working on ourselves first. But after a while, we find that, though we have the movements down (kind of), the technique still isn't quite working right, or maybe only works some of the time.

That's the point I think we all make a transition from thinking about what I'm doing, to thinking about what's happening to uke. We move from an inward focus to an outward one. We think less about how to do something, and more about why we do it.

Shiho nage, for me, is one of those techniques about which I'm starting to make a number of realizations. (Not that I've mastered it, mind you, but I'm learning!) The entry, for one, is interesting to me. I thought so long about where to step, and what to do with my hands, that I never really considered what I need to do to uke. Take a look at this video and see if you can spot what I mean.

Not only is tori getting off the line and getting the grip, but he's causing enough of an imbalance in uke that uke's leg can't help but swing back and away from tori. Which—huzzah!—makes the motion for doing shiho nage come so much more natural.

Oddly enough, I don't think I truly understood what needed to happen until I had enough students try and do shiho nage to me in recent years, and I realized I could totally counter it if I wanted to (and often did in randori). I had to really think about what was happening—or rather, what wasn't happening—to allow me the chance.

Another interesting element that I've noticed some aikidoka do (although not the chaps in this video) is using one hand to intercept the strike (say the left if uke is attacking with his right) and put my other hand (my right in this example) in uke's face, basically as an eye threat (similar to the entry for kubi guruma from owaza ju pon). It seems like this causes even more of the turning reaction I talked about earlier as uke flinches his head back; plus, it also serves as a bit of added insurance against uke's other hand.

Is it necessary? I don't know, but I think it's interesting. I will say that the idea of reaching over to uke's attaching arm with both of my arms makes me a tad nervous. If I fail to get his balance, uke is behind my elbow, a place I don't really want to be.

Fun stuff. I look forward what else I will discover as I continue to look outward.

The oft neglected mae ukemi

2010-12-27T07:30:00.000-08:00

I have noticed recently that there is one element of ukemi at our school that I frankly think is somewhat neglected, or at least skimmed over too much.

Different people refer to it by different names, but it is essentially mae ukemi or "front falling". In some circles, this term refers to the forward rolls so common in aikido, but I think the terms mae kaiten ukemi ("front rolling fall") or zenpo kaiten ukemi ("forward rolling fall") are more descriptive and therefor clearer. Here's what the fall looks like:

For the most part, we have practiced only one piece of mae ukemi, as part of our opening warm-up, which is taking the fall from our knees. Unlike this video, however, we don't do the "worm" sort of movement, just reach out and slap the mat with our forearms, pulling ourselves a little forward, chin up. I'm not sure why, but while we would practice all the other falls from both a low, close-to-the-ground position as well as from a standing position, we only ever did front falls from the knees.

And for some reason, some classes over recent years have inexplicably decided to skip altogether some of the ukemi sections we all used to do (namely, yoko ukemi or "side falls" and mae ukemi) and only do ushiro ukemi and then the forward rolls. That baffles me.

Anyway, outside of that little section of practice at the beginning of class, it seemed like hardly anyone ever gave front falls much thought. Maybe one or two really athletic guys might perform the full version of the fall when they got to training in koryu dai san kata, but that was it.

The problem is, there are a couple of places within randori no kata where you should be able to take this fall as well (such as oshi taoshi), but I seriously doubt anyone under shodan (maybe even higher) knows how to do it. My only assumption is that we all (myself included) got into the habit of, when uke, falling to our knee first, and then doing a forward slap (like we do in warm-ups).

But here's the problem with that: at any reasonable speed, doing so will kill your knee. I know, because it happened to me the other week. And we were even on a nice, padded dojo mat, but man, my knee was sore for more than a week! I can't imagine what would've happened if that had happened to me on a hard floor or concrete! Bad, bad, bad...

Afterward, I thought I recalled someone, a long time ago, telling me that I could hurt my knee if I got into that habit, but obviously I, and I think many of us, has let the comfort of slow play and a padded surface cause that fact to slip our minds. Granted, some of our older students may not feel up to this, but then again, if they can do a forward roll, I don't see why they couldn't do this?

Needless to say, I think I'm going to spend a little time on it with the morning classes in the next week or so. Maybe I'll save a knee or two.

Tying loose ends

2010-12-22T06:44:00.000-08:00

For whatever reason, my frequency of posting has dropped off considerably of late, sorry. Not that I don't have a lot to think about, a lot that I'm learning, a lot that intrigues me. I definitely have a nice list of things to address for the coming year, if I ever get around to it all.

I also have a list of topics I've started but never finished, and hope to in 2011:

The chin is magic
This concept has been fairly pervasive in my aikido and is starting to creep into judo as well. I've only gone so far as to look at the first technique of aikido's randori no kata, shomen ate, but there's soooo much more. I tried making a video that glazed over many of the applications I've been thinking of, but I left some things out and it's too quick. Maybe next time I try, I'll bring a check list.

Practicing budo while killing time
I have a need to isolate and organize and categorize that borders on OCD. One of the things I really enjoy doing to creating drills. I made a few posts about walking drills for judo, but I have a few more little stepping exercises for aikido as well.

Renraku waza
We spend a lot of time in aikido working on combining techniques, stringing several together, but not as much in judo. I've covered some here, but I'd like to spend some more time working on ideas I've had and researching other's ideas.

The tall and the short of it
I started talking about approaching aikido with slightly different strategies depending on whether you're taller/bigger or shorter/smaller, but never got around to addressing it with judo.

In addition to all that, there's stuff I've been thinking about, but haven't started yet.

Hands
It's funny, when we start, both in aikido and judo, we're typically told not to think much about the hands. The reason being, without proper training and experience, using the hand will generally lead to bad habits, namely a kind of ikioi, or trying to use muscle and strength to force a technique to happen. But I'm at a point where I'm beginning to be intrigued by certain subtle uses.

Little details
I'm constantly reminded of little things, things that I've no doubt been told before, but have forgotten, little things that will make all the difference in the world. Once in a while, I'd like to jot one done, without a whole lot of explanation or fanfare, but a quick tidbit.

Grappling
Mostly, I'm really behind. Seriously behind. I don't spend nearly as much time on it as I should have for the hours and rank. I have sort of a love/hate relationship with it, frankly, but I'd like to get a little more friendly with it over the next year.

And probably a lot more than that. I bet ya can't wait!

In the meantime, have a very merry Christmas, a happy holiday season, and a wonderful, prosperous new year!

More stuff

2010-12-15T05:18:00.000-08:00

On the subject of minimalism, George Carlin's classic bit on "stuff". Which is, in my opinion, good... stuff.

Are you REALLY moving from your center?

2010-12-07T07:16:00.000-08:00

We say it all the time—move from the center—but, truth be told, a great deal of the time, when something isn't working, guess what the culprit is?

And I don't necessarily mean "moving" in the sense of your center traveling over a certain distance, but just about every action (aside from some ikioi ideas) needs to have the hips engaged and zeroed in on the target.

We've been focusing somewhat on that concept in both judo and aikido in the mornings, and I thought I'd share a few drills/exercises I've pulled out of my bum to help illustrate it. The first set is...

THE BELT TESTS
Have everyone pair up, and give each pair an extra obi. There are two experiments each pair can do.

#1 The Truck Pull
Have tori stand stationary facing one end of the dojo. Have uke stand behind him, facing the same direction but several paces back. Wrap the belt around tori's waist so that uke is holding either end in each hand, and there's no slack.

The object here is for tori pull uke and for uke to try and resist being pulled. First off, have tori move incorrectly. Try going forward by stepping with your foot leading. You probably won't move uke an inch. Now, try leaning forward with your torso. Again, uke probably won't budge much.

Now, tori can move with their center. Pick up a foot and drop into the step, leading with the center. Suddenly, even small a tori can drag a bigger uke!

#2 The Karate Kid

Start just the same as before. This time, uke's job is not to prevent tori from moving anywhere, but just to keep the slack out of the belt, pulling just enough to establish tension.

First, have tori stand with their weight on their heels. Okay, remember the Karate Kid (the original) standing on that pier in the ocean, lifting on leg and both arms in the fabled "crane style"? Well, tori doesn't need to raise their hands like that, but try to lift just one leg like a crane. I think you'll find that, even though uke isn't necessarily pulling on tori, but merely with enough tension to keep out the slack, tori will stumble backwards.

Now, have tori stand with their weight on the balls of their feet, knees slightly bent. Try and raise one leg like a crane. Here's the thing—you still might find yourself falling back if your posture isn't quite right, if your shoulders and hips and feet aren't quite in the right alignment. You'll feel it when they finally do settle in; your body will feel so much more stable and strong (and despite the slight tug of the belt, you won't fall). It was surprising to me how much so.

. . . . .

Indeed, it's amazing what we can get away with when moving about casually through the world and still keep upright. There's lots of ways to "cheat" and to stand or move with the least amount of work possible!

But when it's time to do a job—be it aikido or judo, construction work, playing sports, operating tools—our body needs to move in the most efficient and powerful way it can in order to do that job effectively.

And "moving with your center" is easy to practice outside of the dojo. For one thing, start thinking about how you open doors. Rather than push or pull with your arm, open them with your center (the hand as merely a connection point). Or how about when you mow the lawn? I try to keep only a very light grip on the handle with my hands (to do a bit of steering) but actually do all the pushing with my hips. Sure, I probably look silly, but I haven't cared what people thought about how I look since high school ;-)

Or the pushing/pulling of a vacuum cleaner. Image your elbow (of the arm with the hand that's holding the handle) is glued to your side, and move the vacuum with your hips, dropping into the step forward and dropping back (sometimes an under-utilized aspect of budo movement, in my own humble opinion, by the way)

Getting better as you advance, not worse

2010-12-01T07:13:00.000-08:00

I've noticed an unfortunate tendency creeping into my training the longer I do all this budo stuff. It's most noticeable when I'm the one leading class on a regular basis.

Basically, I stop doing things correctly.

Which seems odd, doesn't it? You'd think that the more advanced you get, the more correct your technique would be, right? Well, yes, it should, darn it.

But the truth is, when I'm the most senior rank, I have a bad habit of getting lazy. Why, I ask myself.

For one, I can get away with it with lower ranks. Because they're not as skilled, I only need to get most of the pieces in place to make a technique happen, and they typically don't know enough to take advantage of it to counter it.

And frankly, deep down, sometimes I'm showing off a little. Look how easily I did that technique, aren't I smooth? Check it out, I'm not even looking at the guy...

Sigh. Not good.

Even then, I'll botch something on occasion, and frankly, that just tarnishes my credibility as a teacher in the long run (and likely makes the wonderful people who taught me look bad, too). Also not good.

I may also be mimicking what I see really, really high ranking people do. You know, the guys who have been doing this stuff since before I was born? Now those guys make it look effortless! Some part of me is probably just trying to copy what they do, the same way my four year old son might copy what he sees me do.

Are those high ranks lazy or showing off? I don't know, maybe. Then again, maybe they've done a thing for several decades the correct, proper way, and after all of that they know full well exactly when they can cut corners. Or maybe the way they do it has become so small and subtle, it only appears to be simple from my limited perspective.

It doesn't really matter. Regardless, I need to refocus my efforts, double check every piece, practice slow and as precisely as I can. And do that for a couple more decades.

Not just the throwing leg—the support leg, too

2010-12-01T06:35:00.001-08:00

There's always lots of little things to think about on any given throw or technique, and this is a nice one. In this video, Yamashita Sensei talks about o soto gari. He starts off emphasizing the idea of pointing the toe, which is a pretty common pointer, but it's one of the things I see people get lazy about far too often.

The other interesting thing I think is worth noting starts around the 3:35 mark, where he talks about what the support foot is doing. It's true for a number of throw entries and worth the reminder.

Another hiza guruma tip

2010-11-24T06:14:00.000-08:00

Funny how I never stop finding things to talk about when it comes to hiza guruma. Today's piece of advice? Take notes, kids. Here it comes.

Your job is NOT to STOP uke's leg or knee with your foot.

But that's exactly what everyone tries to do, and that's where we get two guys kicking each other and beat-up shins and all kinds of frustration. Think about it: if his leg is coming forward and I'm trying to STOP it, that's force against force! And that, my friends, definitely ain't judo, is it?

Look at this picture:

Where is tori's his foot? In FRONT of uke's knee? Nope, it's curved and cupping the FAR SIDE of uke's knee.

After years of having people throw me by trying to stop or impede my forward step in uchi komi or a very acquiescent session of nage komi, I noticed my fall was a typical tobi ukemi—which is more of an otoshi type of fall. Where was the guruma, the turning?

Try this: instead of stopping uke's knee, reach out with your sneaky little monkey foot, cup the far side, and re-direct it's forward motion by adding a sideways vector, tucking it closer to his other knee (while doing all the other appropriate stuff, of course). I think you'll find the fall, as uke, is a little different; there's more of a roll to it, and the ground comes up to greet you a lot faster. I think you'll also find you do a lot less kicking and smacking.

And remember, it's gotta be the knee, not just below the knee and certainly not the calf or shin. The knee.

What used to be one of my most frustrating throws has become on of my favorite, if only for the sheer fact that I'm always learning something new about it. Many deep, humble thank you's to all the sensei I have had the pleasure and privilege of working with, for sure.

The "speed and power" monster

2010-11-17T06:58:00.000-08:00

There's nothing like an occasional class of randori to bring certain issues to light that would be good to work on.

We did a little light randori in judo this morning, mostly just trading throws, rotating partners with every bell (which I believe lasts about 3 minutes). When we were done, I asked everybody what their thoughts were, what went well, what didn't go so well, etc.

A handful of issues came up, which is natural, and it should prove amble fodder for future classes. One thing that I thought might be worth mentioning here was the problem of controlling escalating frustrations. We've all been there, where something isn't working, the guy's not going down, so we get stronger, faster and more desperate.

So how can you deal with that in your practice? The temptation is usually to stop, to quit, to just go sit down until you cool off. Like you're punishing yourself. "How could I loose control like that? I know better than that!" are the kinds of things that echo loudest in our head, while thoughts of "I'm a bad judo player, I suck," are often the less noticeable, though utterly damaging, undertones.

That's a downward spiral, a negative creating a negative. (This goes back to the yin and yang principle I mentioned a while ago). The balance, the yin to the yang, is to learn how to take a negative situation, negative energy and turn it into something positive.

Well, I've come across a few ways, but I welcome comments from anyone who's has other ideas.

Let yourself get thrown.
Sounds silly to suddenly turn into a doormat, almost as bad as giving up. But you haven't given up, you're still in there. Notice I didn't say jump for the other guy; keep your balance, your posture, and don't fall if he doesn't get it (I'm not saying resist, but keep moving). Take plenty of falls from good throws. For one thing, you're learning those throws from the inside out, learning what works and what doesn't, and for another thing, it will give you a chance to calm down while still being in the game.

Start shooting.
I think of those old cowboy movies where the bad guy points his gun at someone's feet, says, "Dance!" and starts shooting, making the other person jump up and down to avoid getting hit. Sometimes the "strength and speed" monster rears it's ugly head when we get fixated one one single throw. So just start shooting, try one throw after the other after another, bang bang bang. You don't care if they don't work, you're moving on to the next one.

Yes, you may very well get thrown in the process. But you may also get a throw after about 3 or 4 or 5 shots (it's hard for uke to keep up). We need to be good at flowing from one thing to another anyway, this is just an extreme form of it to shake you out of the power game.

Open up your palms.
Many times, having a grip on the other guy's gi can make using strength very tempting. Try opening your palm, fingers and thumb all tucked together like a sloth and use them like hooks: behind elbows, necks, lats, etc. Shift your hands around. This is more or less how you'd have to operate if you faced someone without a gi anyway, so it's not a bad thing to practice anyway. For me, releasing the grip goes a long way to relaxing the rest of me.

Slow way down.
Pretend you're in one of those movie scenes where the camera has slowed way down while the hero does something dramatic. Be that guy. Move ridiculously slow, but keep moving. Funny thing is, this has a way of fooling the other guy into lowering his defenses. When he doesn't feel speed and power, he doesn't suspect anything dangerous is happening and you can walk right into a throw. It will also make sure you're getting all the pieces.

Focus on just the kuzushi.
Don't even worry about throwing. Don't even worry about fitting in. Just play with different ways to cause off balance and that's it. Maybe after a while, add the tsukuri, but leave the gake or throw out of it. If they fall down, fine, but if you just get their balance, hurray!

. . . . . . .

The important thing is learning to turn your frustration into something positive and beneficial, without giving into it and without beating ourselves up about it.

What about you? What helps you control the "speed and power" monster?

Isolating a thing

2010-11-09T11:14:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I like to take one singular aspect of a technique and think of a way to isolate it as a way of helping others (and myself) learn a concept, or at least broaden their view of it.

This morning, while going over ushiro ate, I felt something very interesting. So here's what I had everyone do.

Have a person just stand there, feet even, in balance, in good posture. Have a second person stand right behind them (you might refer to him as the tori in this situation, I suppose). Have tori simply place his hands on uke's shoulders. Not hard, but not necessarily light either. Just the weight of gravity.

Chances are, uke won't notice much.

Then have tori remove their hands, and put them back down on uke, but this time, with the palms further forward, so the heel of his palms sits just below uke's clavicle bone (palms and finger covering more chest surface area). Again, not hard, not pulling, just the weight of gravity.

It was interesting to feel, as uke, how your weight instantly shifts to your heels, your shoulders dip ever so slightly, and your hips jut forward just a tad—without either of you ever taking a single step.

I always knew how I should place my hands but for some reason, isolating a thing like this really opened my eyes!

The impact of waves

2010-11-06T06:26:00.000-07:00

While working on various sections of the koryu no kata, and I couldn't help but notice that there are on occasion certain techniques that involve entering right as uke has started to commit his energy forward. The effect feels somewhat jarring, and comes as close as I've ever felt aikido come to any kind of force-against-force situation.

And since aikido largely eschews the force-against-force approach, these occasions puzzled me somewhat. I had always thought of the movements of aikido in terms of poetic devices like water, flowing around, over, behind, never struggling or fighting but blending with its environment.

But then I thought of a wave as it smacks against a rock. If you've ever had the opportunity to stand before a sizable wave as it comes crashing into you, you'd know that it hits with considerable force! But the interesting thing to me is, immediately afterward, it dissolves, it flows around, over and behind again, slipping past as smooth as ever.

Those techniques I mentioned feel the same way: a momentary impact—sudden, jolting, disorienting—followed by tori immediately "disappearing" around, over or behind uke. A smacking against a rock—then nothing.

The "L" shape

2010-10-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

The "L" shape

One of the principles or concepts I've heard about from time to time over the years is the "L" shape. Specifically, we're talking about making a movement starts in one direction, and then at a certain point, changes direction, usually 90 degrees or perpendicular to the first line.

It's a wonderful principle, really, and while the reasoning behind it is simple enough, it still feels like magic when someone applies it to you. Uke feels energy going in a certain direction. Typically, he reacts by resisting, even just a little. A moment of tension is established. He can deal with that singular line of force or energy pretty well, his body structured is set to withstand it.

But when that line suddenly changes at a right angle, uke isn't prepared or his structure isn't set to deal with that line so he's very weak. A simple concept, but hard to internalize!

Kata gatame

The first place I remember learning about had to do with a particular escape from kata gatame. Let's say uke is hold you on your right side. After you've "answered the telephone" and managed to get your right fist by your ear (between your head and the guy holding you) to create a little breathing room, you start by bridging with both legs and hips straight back (or up, I guess, toward your head). You can't half-ass it, either. You really have to drive.

Once you get as far as you can go you make a hard right turn as it were, turning toward uke. It tends to grind knuckles into the mat, so be nice. From there, you can weasel your way out any number of ways that I won't go into now.

"Look at your watch"

Another place I just discovered the other day is with hiza guruma. Man, I don't know what it is about that specific throw, but it seems like I'm always learning new insights on it! My fellow judoka Scott and I were just moving around the other day, and I don't know how we really came to it, but he was the one that started us down that road.

Let's say I'm trying to throw uke on his left knee, meaning I'm propping with my right foot. I'd always been taught to lift the right elbow, or "look at your watch." Lately, I've been playing with other options with that hand (namely based on something Bob Rea once mentioned about what he did, but now that I think about it, I may have misunderstood him all this time).

Now we were going back to the old elbow up/look at your watch method. What we found was once you do that, you've establish a certain line of force or energy, one that, if uke were trying to resist the throw, he could sort of brace against. But then we just yanked our hand straight down. Both of us would end up practically diving into the mat.

Basically, we were creating an "L" shape. If we started off pulling straight down to the floor, of course, we would be stabilizing uke, putting his weight into his own feet. But if did "elbow up" first, got uke's shoulders just a hair out in front of his hips and got him used to one line of force, and then pulled straight down, whoooooo-weeee.

Although, I did notice that it didn't exactly create the typical tobi ukemi, or flying, flippy air fall that hiza guruma usually does. Rather, uke would get somewhat vertical and then roll sort of sideways. I guess that's still technically a guruma, I don't know?

At any rate, it certainly was slick. I'm definitely going to be keeping an eye out for more "L" shaped instances, judo and aikido!

Past the point of comfort

2010-10-19T07:50:00.000-07:00

There's a point in many techniques (heck, maybe all of them if I thought about it more, but I'm thinking of some specific recent examples here) when uke reaches the end of his range of motion. We talked somewhat about this with kote gaeshi, when a handful of people were struggling to make it "work".

They had the hand position, they kept their centers moving as we're so often told, they maintained ma'ai, all of that. Uke was slightly off balance, or at least his posture was a little bent, but didn't fall. He just continued to stumble along.

If that sounds familiar, try taking your partner and just stand there, not moving around, but facing each other. Take his hand in a kote gaeshi grip, and without moving around, just arms, go from the starting point moving your arms in an arc until you get to the "end", the kote gaeshi. If you're tori, you should be able to feel all of the slack is taken out of uke's arm, everything's tight, and his arm just stops moving. He's moved his arm to the very edge of his range of motion. And even though his wrist is somewhat contorted, he can tell you he's actually still fairly comfortable.

I actually see that a lot with many techniques, and in fact, is exactly what I did for the loooooongest time. Oshi taoshi, ude gaeshi, and shiho nage are good examples, too. I would get uke to the point where all the slack was taken out, where I felt everything tighten up, where uke wants to stop, and I stopped too. Posture slightly broken, but no fall, no throw.

Well, I thought, I'm always told to keep my center moving at all times, don't stop, so maybe that will finish it for me.

Unfortunately, uke never fell (unless he was just being compliant) but just continued to stumble after me indefinitely. Finally, I realized I'm just making things convenient and comfortable for uke by stopping when his arm is ready to stop.

Go back to that little exercise I was describing earlier: standing still, moving uke's hand back and forth in that arc, from beginning to end, to the point where you feel you've taken out all the slack and uke's arm just naturally stops. Do that a couple of time, and then at some point, take uke's hand just an inch or two beyond that point.

Even standing, I think you'll find uke's posture goes into catastrophic failure and he drops pretty readily. I didn't force it, I didn't crank on it—you don't need to. Whatever uke does, you don't resist, you follow, and keep following, and when he stops, you keep going and take him a little further than where he expected to stop, right? Sounds pretty obvious, but I still missed it and I still see it happen still. Do the same stationary drill with oshi taoshi, ude gaeshi, and shiho nage.

So where does the bit about keeping a constantly moving center come in, if you can clearly create the conditions necessary for a throw while standing still? The main reason I can think of is that if I stop my ass, and uke continues to move his, and uke knows what he's doing, he can very readily reverse it and dump me on my head. I suggest doing this while standing still as merely a drill, to isolate the one thing we want to focus on, so students don't have to try and think about their feet, etc., too.

Stopping, I believe, will also "lead to the dark side" so to speak, and the temptation to use strength and crank on a wrist, or ikioi (arms moving independently of the center, and many times implies the use of muscle strength) which has a spotty success rate (little ladies trying to do it to giants, or guys who just don't respond to pain and believe me, they're out there) When we take uke's wrist (or whatever) past the point of uke's range of comfort, we still need to have our moving centers behind it.

Like I always say, this probably isn't news to many of you, but it was a critical realization to me!

Yin & Yang with Jo Nage

2010-10-13T17:00:00.000-07:00

Ever since I heard Henry Kono Sensei talk about understanding "yin and yang" in aikido, I've been searching for it. Below is an interesting little piece of yin and yang with jo nage (techniques that involve tori holding the jo staff).

Lightening the load

2010-10-13T12:30:00.000-07:00

Leo Babauta of Zen Habits:

"Minimalism is lightening your load so you can soar, & land lightly if you should falter."

Space

2010-10-13T08:00:00.000-07:00

I've been fascinated lately by two aspects of "space" in aikido.

There's the sort of movement that creates space, or in other words a vacuum, when uke finds himself drawn into this emptiness.

Then there's the sort of movement where you occupy space that uke either used to occupy (displacement) or wanted to occupy but couldn't (interrupting).

For example, the first technique in this video demonstrates to me the idea of creating a vacuum, while the second and third technique involve occupying uke's space and displacing him.

The chin in magic

2010-10-12T07:16:00.000-07:00

One of the phrases folks in the morning class have been hearing from me more and more lately, in both aikido and judo, is this: "the chin is magic."

There's another phrase they're probably tired of hearing that falls along the same lines: "the elbow is magic."

I'd like to film some video on my thoughts relating to both of those statements, but for now, I'll share this bit about the chin as it relates to aikido (then judo in a future post, and hopeful both and in a little more detail in video).

While I've always sort of known that displacing uke's chin (or in general, his head) can have a potent effect on the rest of uke's body, I'm only recently beginning to see how wide spread the application is. Or rather, could be. Or perhaps should be.

Of course, like anything else I post here, the things I talk about are probably old news to you and your school or system, but it's not necessarily the way I was "brought up" in the art, or I'm just now noticing it after all this time, so it's fascinating to me!

Let's start here: as long as uke's head is lined up with the rest of his body, with his spine, he has optimal control of his entire body and over his balance. But once the head gets bent out of alignment (backwards, forwards, to the side), posture and control seem to deteriorate rather rapidly. It's also very difficult to recover from that loss of control, for in many cases, once you've moved the head out of alignment, it's fairly easy to keep it there.

The most obvious place for me to start was with the first technique of junana hon kata (or randori no kata) shomen ate. Most of the forms I saw it practiced in my neck of the woods, and the way I was taught, involve placing the palm on or around uke's chin level and pushing straight ahead. For the most part, we've always practiced this as lightly as possible, where you might imagine uke has a short beard and your palm is just barely grazing the hair.

You can certainly throw uke with that sort of light touch IF you have the timing right and IF you have a committed attacker (not someone who's just standing there, waiting for the technique, but someone actively engaged in coming after you), and IF they have a fairly normal nervous system. It's a great feeling when you catch uke at just the right moment and, without even touching him, he jumps out of his jockey shorts and falls to the ground like he's been shot by a sniper. You feel positively magic.

But maybe you're like me and you've found yourself in a situation where you've put your hand in uke's face (probably in randori) and nothing happens. The two of you walk around until the other guy does something to get your hand out of his face or you give up and try to make something else happen. Or you get some hulking neanderthal who just doesn't have the same "oh crap!" reaction that most of us have when something flies in our face and they don't move an inch when you do it (believe me, they're out there).

Or let's look at it from a different scenario, one based a more in "real life." There may very well come a time, "out there", when the situation is going downhill fast, or perhaps a third person's safety is in question, and you need to be more preemptive. I know, I know, that goes against the whole defensive, reactive philosophy of aikido, doesn't it? Sure, but bringing peace out of chaos, I believe, is a higher principle. Sometimes you may need to bring things under control before it starts and gets out of hand.

I've found that if you were to just push on uke's face in these sorts of circumstances, you may get him to walk backwards, and you may even get his spine bent back—but he never actually falls down. That's frustrated me and others I know for a long time.

One way to look at it is, Well, at least I've put uke in a compromised situation where he'll need to react to get out of it, and then I'll just do something with whatever he does. That's certainly true, but we have another option.

Lift his chin.

When you place your hand in uke's face, you might notice that the bump of his chin fits very nicely in the concave part of your palm, and the heel of your palm, the fleshy bottom part of the thumb, tucks nicely under his chin. Just shear your angle from a straight forward push to a forward and slightly up push, lifting uke's chin. Once his posture is broken, you can let your hand begin to sink downward as the level of his head sinks downward. I found that uke has a much harder time staying standing up.

You'll also find that your fingers can easily drop and the tips find their way into uke's eyes, as well. Good to keep in your back pocket, but be nice in practice, and be extremely careful with that, too.

Once I looked around at the rest of the aikido world, I began to see this sort of approach to shomen ate a little more often, but I don't think it's as common around here.

All that being said, there are more applications of manipulating the chin or the head that have been rarer still to me. Stay tuned, and I'll have a video of the rest of the applications I've been thinking about!

Do you need the hands? Yes and no.

2010-10-01T11:17:00.000-07:00

One of the things that has fascinated me of late is the use of hands in aikido. By way of example, I'll talk about kote gaeshi.

Last Saturday, I attended part of a godogeiko, or dojo "play day" (a sort of informal gathering of various schools and styles of aikido getting together to play and experiment without any real formal teaching). One of the things we played with was performing kote gaeshi without ever getting what you might think of as the "classical" grip or twisting uke's wrist. Instead, uke clasped both of his hands together, outstretched in front of him. As tori evaded in a tenkan, turning, fashion, he simply laid his hand on uke's. When it came time to change directions and apply the throw, tori simply put his other hand on uke's forearm.

I've also seen many other very subtle, high ranking folks throw it as they separate from uke, with little more than a pinky and ring finger lightly hooked on the base of uke's thumb. Not a lot of contortion there, either.

That might seem antithetical, considering the name itself means "wrist reversal" and as far as Tomiki systems go, it's part of a section of junana hon kata, or randori no kata, called tekubi waza, or "wrist techniques." So why would we even bother with trying to execute it without doing anything to the wrist?

But that's not all. You can look at many techniques the same way. There's a point in mae otoshi, for instance, when tori will usually coil uke's arm prior to the through, or there's a certain amount of wrist control involved with shiho nage.

I think the point, the question we ought to ask ourselves is this: even though there are many times and situations where uke's wrist is available for contorting and controlling, is it necessary to make the throw happen? While wrist control is great and all, are we too fixated on it, rather than on basing our aikido in our centers (hazumi) and on timing?

Now, all that being said, I've made a particular focus lately of what exactly my hands are doing when I've got a hold of uke, and I've noticed some amazing, albeit subtle, things, things that many of my peers don't seem to be aware of to the fullest extent. Is it necessary? Obviously not. But I think it's important to study the big picture as well as the details, to master the broad strokes and the minute details.

The critical thing to remember is that I'm not manipulating the wrist just for the sake of manipulating the wrist. I'm certainly not in it to cause pain, to rely on discomfort to make uke voluntarily jump on his own head just to alleviate it. Believe me, I've seen enough people who are immune to it (plus I don't see many tiny women inflicting much pain in a larger, refrigerator-shaped uke).

Wherever I'm connected, be it the wrist or the elbow, or whatever, my ultimate aim is to break uke's posture, to break his alignment down (good alignment and posture is shoulders over hips over feet; we want to disrupt that somehow). The wrist or the elbow or the chin, etc. are merely ways of affecting that alignment. It all involves a moving center, but you also gain an eerie degree of control when you know how to manipulate a wrist.

Let's go back to kote gaeshi. I know of one lady who used it as a means of control when a gentlemen tried to get a little frisky with her. She held him prone on his knees with it until security came and escorted him out of the building. No one ever got thrown, but she was able to bring a situation under control and prevent anyone from getting hurt. That strikes me as a good a definition of harmony and "true budo is love" as I've ever heard.

If I simply take uke's wrist and start contorting it, it may break his posture; if the guy is bigger and stronger than me he can easily resist, and certainly if he's skilled enough, he can reverse it. But once uke's posture is broken, I find you can keep it broken with those wrist controls. Rather than a big air throw, you can set uke down gently. And it's amazingly difficult for even the biggest and strongest people to deal with those joint controls from a broken posture.

To get into the specifics of some of the things I've been playing with, I think I'll have to make yet another one of my fine videos =)

Caught in the undercurrent

2010-09-24T11:22:00.000-07:00

I've thought about the concept of a wave in relation to aikido or judo before, but in the past I only ever considered the crest of it. The crest of a wave is the top part, the part that comes crashing down on you (or in this case, uke).

But that "crashing down" is only the end of the whole cycle. I'd been missing the other aspects of what makes a wave happen. Now, I'm no physicist, so my science is going to be pretty sketchy here. Spend a minute watching this nifty animated GIF I swiped from Wikipedia. Watch the red dots and watch their path.

Notice how, after riding one wave, they actually start drifting backwards for a bit. If you've ever spent any time on a beach, you might notice that the water retreats back into the ocean before the next wave comes crashing down on the beach. You've probably also felt how surprisingly strong that undertow can be.

It's the undertow that I think I've been neglecting. Just walking up to uke and trying to "crash down" on him isn't nearly as successful or potent as creating the whole cycle, starting with the undertow that "pulls" or "lures" uke forward and toward you a little, even down somewhat. Then we get a rise, and then the wave crashes over him.

It feels more natural and more pronounced in aikido, where uke is presumably trying to come and get us the entire time. But still, there's the temptation to jump to the technique or the throw, rather than wait, and create a flow of movement for uke that will topple him all on his own: draw in, rise up, and crash down.

In fact, in sounds an awful lot like kuzushi, sukuri and gake. But here's the thing: the people who have thrown me the best, the absolute smoothest, even with judo, didn't come to me. They suckered me in to them.

Real freedom - Seishiro Endo Shihan

2010-09-24T07:19:00.000-07:00

Seishiro Endo, 8th dan Aikikai

"There is no such thing as a freedom just like that. It is an aim to become free. Freedom is often referred to as being free of something. But that kind of freedom, to be free, for example, of a duty or a person, is not real freedom.

"So what is? That is an important question. It certainly is nothing you get just like that. There is no easy-going freedom. I think in order to become free you must restrict yourself at first to a very unfree form. By practicing within that form you will learn to be free, step by step. You practice within a restriction.

"But in the course of the repetitions, within that restriction, it may happen that the restriction rids you off itself. And then the whole practice suddenly becomes egoless, light—and free. Practicing a form thoroughly will, at some point, rid you of the form. To reach that state in a practice means to have acquired freedom."

Back in the saddle again

2010-09-16T15:29:00.000-07:00

Holy smokes, it's been a while since I've posted anything! My latest excuse has to do with the lack of a car. We sold one, and until we bought another I had to bum rides to work, which meant that I couldn't get to morning classes for a while. And if I don't make it to class, I guess I don't have much to think about regarding budo.

Now, we have another car finally, and I've been back to class for a couple of days. But even from those couple of days, a couple of things have popped in my head.

1) Everyone has something to teach you.
I've probably said it before, and you've probably heard it before, but never, ever, ever let your rank, whatever it is, make you think for one split second that you don't have something to learn from every person you meet.

On Wednesday, my first day back in a while, I worked with a brown belt (the only other person to show up) who had once trained under a very, very accomplished judoka. I let him do most of the talking, and picked up a lot of new, interesting info. He has a different background, and had a lot of experience working with really big, heavy weight tournament players, and he clued me in to some nice nice tips and tricks for handling that sort of thing. (Since I'm 6'2" and about 240, usually I'm the "big guy" but sometimes, I work with really heavy dudes, or I need to teach people how to deal with guys like me.)

2) It's amazing what you learn when you teach.
I've also said this before, but you learn so much by teaching others. But just today, stuff came out of my mouth that I didn't even know I knew. Of course, I just act as casual as possible, like I knew that all along. But still, I don't know if I would learn half as much as I do if I didn't try answering questions that lower ranks pose to me.

3) Never be too certain.
I've decided that I probably shouldn't say anything like, "You should do it like this." More often than not, I'm wrong. Or only partially right. Or I wasn't taking into consideration the whole picture. Stems from being the teacher, the attitude that I know what's best, now do what I tell you. Dumb.

I think from now on, I'll say something like, "Try it like this," and then just listen. It's almost like being a doctor: the more I talk, the less likely I am to be able to help a patient, but the more I let the patient talk, the more likely I'm able to help them.

Anyway, looking forward to getting back into the swing of things. Hope your training is going well!

The key to the dojo

2010-08-26T12:25:00.000-07:00

I don't know how it works at your dojo, but at Windsong Dojo, there has always been a policy that everyone ranked shodan or above (or yudansha) is given a key to the dojo.

You see, there are no teachers assigned to teach given classes. Here, whichever person attending class that day has the highest rank by default leads that class. In many cases, that's usually the same person, but not always. And many times, the regular class leader won't be able to make it, which means someone else will have to run the show. And as long as a black belt is present, class can be held.

So, rather than have a bunch of students standing around outside waiting for one or two people to show up, each black belt has a key to let everyone in. It's an amazing display of trust on the part of the dojo cho that, as far as I know, has yet to be broken or abused.

The other week, we promoted a student to shodon in our morning aikido class. He now has a key, and being an early riser, no longer has to wait for anyone else to let him in. It got me thinking about the transition most of us go through from the "color" belts (the kyu grades, or mudansha) to the black belt ranks. The key that we are given, it seems, is rather symbolic.

Becoming a black belt gains you certain privileges, but it also entails great responsibility.

You are not only entrusted with a key to something that does not directly belong to you, you are entrusted with all of the dojo's resources: the mat, the weapons, the books, the open space, the training partners, the heat and air, the coffee or tea. You are now responsible to a degree for their condition, care and upkeep.

You are all entrusted with the education of other kyu grades.
Even if you're not called upon to lead class very often as a shodan, you will still be placed in the position of a teacher and mentor with someone for that class. You are responsible that their questions are answered (by you or by you finding someone who knows). If you see a kyu grade struggling while practicing their ukemi, for example, it's the responsibility of all the black belts to help them and to always remain aware of those needs (which often go unvoiced). If a kyu grade is coming up for promotion, it's your job to make sure they're prepared and either to promote them yourself, or notify a senior grade. It's your job to make sure visitors are welcome; do not ever assume it's not your job, and think "Oh, so and so leading the class will handle it." Stretch out your hand and make everyone feel welcome.

You're entrusted with the safety of the kyu grades.
If an accident happens and someone gets hurt, the reality of the situation is that the black belt is accountable, the one working directly with the injured individual as well as the one leading the class. It's your duty to keep your eyes peeled, to be ever aware of what the younger and less experience players are doing; and if it isn't safe, you are the one to put a stop to it.

You're entrusted with continuing your own education and training. To a certain extent, we all are ultimately responsible for our own progress, but there's only so much a kyu grade can do on their own. As a black belt, you now have the basics, and no one is going to hold your hand now. Ask questions, study, read, explore, experiment, practice and teach. The training wheels are off, the learner's permit gone. You have a long way ahead of you but the Path is yours to travel.

You're entrusted with being an example to the kyu grades.
Whether you realize it or not, the kyu grades are watching you. Even if you're the newest shodan among dozens of yudansha, you still represent a goal the mudansha are currently striving to attain. Do you stand around and chat during ukemi practice while the kyu grades do their rolls? Constantly late for class? Joke round most of time, forget to bow, treat your weapons casually? What message are you sending? As a father, I'm constantly aware of my own children watching me and imitating what they see. You are the lens through which the next generation sees the art—do you sharpen the picture, or distort it?

You're entrusted with being an example to the world at large.
Like it or not, you are a representative now of your dojo, of your organization, of the art itself to the rest of the world. Your words and actions in your day-to-day life will, whether it's fair or not, influence other's opinion of the art and the school where you train, as well as those with whom you train. If you're a jerk, the natural assumption will be that birds of a feather flock together, and your school must not be a very pleasant place to train. If you're cruel, impatient or intolerant, people will assume that martial arts in general supports or even breeds those attributes.

Last of all—and this just may be the most unexpected aspect of earning your black belt, this is the metaphorical "key" to real advancement and blossoming—it is not a matter of the peasant becoming the lord. It is quite the opposite, in fact: you, now, are the servant.

You serve your students—you don't tell them what to do, you help them learn and grow, and tend to their needs.

You serve your dojo—you keep it clean, make sure it's secure and open to those who need it, and help to repair it.

You serve the art—if you believe the art exists to make you great, both will flounder; if you believe you are there to make not only the art greater, but by extension the world, all will flourish.

You are not a king on a throne, but a gardner on his knees; your privilege is not the absence of toil, but the opportunity to give all that you have.

A key is given to every shodan not just for practical reasons, but because the same responsibilities are given to every shodan. You might even consider it a symbol every bit as meaningful as the belt itself.

That being said, congratulations and welcome. Now, let's get to work.

Lessons from junior high

2010-08-19T08:02:00.000-07:00

On the radio this morning, a DJ was asking listeners to call in and share some valuable life lessons they learned in school growing up, since today is, for most kids, the first day of the new school year. I didn't call in, but I started thinking, what did I learn from a teacher?

I don't know that I remember a whole lot of what I actually studied. Even the experiences that the DJ himself recalled had nothing to do with classwork; just solid advice from a teacher to a student. But one piece of advice I got actually had to do with the class, but it has definitely applied to much more than that since.

When I was in junior high, I played the saxophone in the symphonic band. We were working on a particularly challenging piece of music, but there was one short refrain that the whole saxophone section was having trouble with.

Our teacher, Mr. King, told us to go home and practice just those couple of measures. When doing so, he wanted us to do three things:

1) Play them very, very slowly, at half or even quarter speed.
2) Play them as precisely as possible. Use a metronome, make every note pronounced, etc.
3) Play it over and over and over again.

Since then, this lesson has served me well in just about every other endeavor, including budo. First of all, Mr. King taught us not to skim over our weak points, but to focus on them, to strengthen them. Is there a throw or technique you "don't like" because, truthfully, you're just not as good at it as you are your tokui waza? Mmm-hmm. That's what I thought.

But playing only with the things that come naturally to you, that come easiest won't help you grow and develop near as much as polishing the rougher edges. Pick one thing, and spend a week or so focused on it. And when working on it, do it slow, do it precise, and do it over and over again.

And later on, when it pops out, and it works like magic, don't thank me, thank Mr. King.

Been missing my budo

2010-08-18T08:18:00.000-07:00

My wife had her tonsils removed last week (third surgery this year, after a c-section and a hernia!), so I've spent my mornings getting the kids ready and taking them to various friends who have been kind enough to watch them while Amy recuperates. Which means, of course, I haven't done any budo, and boy am I missing it.

I've sure been thinking about it, though. What have I been thinking about? Lots of stuff, really...

In aikido:

Aikido hand change drills
Not just the "wave" but the "undercurrent"
The shiho nage / mae otoshi entry
Finally demonstrating the sections of san kata & yon kata I've been working on with Scott

In judo:

No-gi nage komi / ne waza
Certain throws no one seems to know very well
More about the "undercurrent"
Forms of morote gari
Lots of ground work

The only problem is, deciding what to play with first when I get back!

Promotions galore

2010-08-04T07:11:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy couple of days in the morning class. We had a shodan demonstration yesterday in aikido and then in judo today, we handed out a yonkyu and a sankyu. This morning's judo class in particular was a pretty fast-paced affair =) Let's just say I like to run the boys through the ringer when it comes time for judo promotions [cackles evilly]. (Okay, truth be told, I never turned up the volume quite as much as I might normally, but we still got a lot done).

Rank demonstrations in both arts are always interesting and for a variety of reasons.

Everyone's different
For example, with the aikido shodan demo, the uke was over 40 and the ikkyu demonstrating was over 50. Yet, while neither are exactly spring chickens, I'm always surprised at what someone can accomplish at any stage in life. I was proud of both of them for their skill and commitment.

The two judo advancements, meanwhile, came from a couple of young fellows. I'm amazed at how quickly the younger students assimilate material, even things they've seen only once several weeks ago. Plus, they're just fun to throw around =)

You learn what's being taught well
As a teacher, you can't help but take a little personal pride in the accomplishments of your students. It's almost patriarchal, really. Even though some of the students may be older than me, I'm almost feel fatherly when it comes to their progress: I want them to do their best, and I'm thrilled for them when they succeed; I'm proud when they not only internalize what I've tried to teach them, but also when they come up with something I'd never thought of, "outsmarting their old man"; I also empathize when someone struggles or gets frustrated, and I want nothing more than to comfort and encourage them.

And you see what needs to be taught a little better
Seeing students demonstrate what they have learned thus far will also, obviously, show you what they need to work on. And when the same weakness crops up with more than one student, then it becomes glaringly obvious what I need to work on. For a moment, I feel bad, like I haven't been doing my job. But then my determination is usually rekindled and I set about devising a way to fortify those weak areas.

A palpable sense of brotherhood is suddenly very evident
When all is said and done, the demonstration is over, everyone is sweating, students are holding their new belts, it's time to begin the process of congratulations. Emotions are running high, for sure.

Tori's are extremely grateful for their uke's, who allowed themselves to be thrown around just to make the other guy look good. Arguably, his has the harder job, and he is not the one who benefits from it (not directly, at least). And a wise tori, despite earning a higher rank, is usually humbled by it; rightfully so. Interestingly, this kind of selfless act cannot help but strengthen bonds between not only the participants, but the class as a whole. It's amazing to me how everyone in a room can benefit from one person's sacrifice, even without participating in it, just by witnessing it.

And somehow, I think everyone feels proud when another person accomplishes something. It's a tribal sort of feeling, I think, or like a sports team in one of those feel-good, underdog movies. Even though what we do is not team-oriented, our training is largely self-directed, I think everyone's attitude, progression and the overall spirit of the dojo and the art improves when we approach it as a team.

In judo, we have an interesting little tradition where everyone in class gets to throw the person who has just been promoted. I suppose this sort of hazing might sound somewhat mean, but I have never, ever seen it degenerate into something ugly. On the contrary, it has always been good natured and ultimately builds on the camaraderie. Chalk it up to the same reason why men can never say "I love you" or give a hug, but just punch each other on the shoulder. It's our silly macho way of saying, "Good job, I'm proud of you." I won't go so far as to say it means "I love you", because guys would bristle at the mere idea, but I will say that it is, in the end, a big part of the reason why Ueshiba said "budo is love" and leave it at that.

I rather wish we had a similar tradition in aikido. Instead, our reaction to promotions remains almost Victorian by comparison. Sure, we're pretty fond of each other, and we'll shake hands afterward (or maybe some will do the ol' shake with one hand and do the half-hug with the other). I'm not too worried about it. But there is something about that congratulatory throw that brings an extra little dimension of brotherhood.

At any rate, I am happy for these fine men and all that they do, I am happy for the dojo, for the arts, and for The Path.

Good job, boys. Now hit the showers.

Kosoto gari from a failed hiza guruma

2010-07-30T06:58:00.000-07:00

I finally got a few moments to record the kosoto gari follow-up to a failed hiza guruma that I mentioned previously. From the same "foot inward" set-up, you can also catch a nice harai goshi.

More aikido koshi nage

2010-07-29T06:20:00.001-07:00

One of these days I'm going to start introducing more of this into aikido class. We have a lot of folks who do judo, too, so I wouldn't think it would be that much of a stretch.

Doing what doesn't come natural

2010-07-22T11:04:00.000-07:00

Like most Americans, I took my son to watch fireworks this last 4th of July. He's four, and it was his first time to see fireworks live and in person. Outside of the mugginess and the residual heat, we had a pretty good time.

Until it came time to leave.

As you might expect, or as you might have experienced yourself, when the show was over, everyone wanted to leave at the exact same time. Which makes for quite a traffic jam. In my case, the fireworks were held on the north side of town, which meant that everyone also wanted to head south.

We sat in the parking lot without moving an inch for about 20 minutes. That's an eternity to a tired 4 year old. Even when things did start to crawl, it still would've taken another hour to get anywhere.

Finally, I decided to try something. Instead of pushing relentless down the two main streets that everyone else was going down, I decided to drive north. No one was headed that way, so I had the roads to myself. I drove up a block, went east for a bit, then went south again on a parallel road that was largely empty. In the end, I probably got home a lot faster than everyone who insisted on driving south because that's where they wanted to go.

Along the same line, I'm also somewhat puzzled by parents at the playground who don't allow their children to climb up a slide. On the face of it, I can understand their concern: if your kid is climbing up, and another child starts sliding down, then there's a chance your kid could get hurt. As is true in much of polite society, the "rules are there for your protection."

But at the same time, I want my son to be able to think creatively. So many people get stuck in ruts, in a singular line of thinking, that even when safety isn't even an issue (such as with the 4th of July example), they simply can't think of a new way to approach a problem. By golly, that square peg will fit into that blasted round hole!

As for the slide, I tell my son that he can climb up, but he has to keep an eye out for any kids who want to come down. If there is, then he has to turn around and slide back down. Most of the time, the playground just isn't that crowded anyway. I also remember, when I was a kid, the point where I discovered I could climb onto the jungle gym on the outside, rather than take the steps built into it. Sure, it's not as safe, but I have a strong suspicion that our collective fear of getting sued has made us too afraid to try anything. But that's another post for another time.

So how in the world does that relate to budo? Plenty. Have you ever tried to snag on osoto gari in judo, but the other guy won't let you in? Try stepping away from what you want. Uke has to take a step. When he does, turn him a little and throw your osoto gari.

A good chunk of aikido is based on doing things that don't come naturally. When someone grabs you, the natural reaction is to try and pull your hand free. A struggle ensues. But when someone grabs and you go with it? They eat their own energy and fall down. Most of us aren't born reacting like that.

Any time you get stuck in a paradigm, be it in budo or life, you not only become limited but often stuck. Learning techniques and principles are just the beginning; the best players I know come up with weird movements and strange combinations all the time, often on the fly, stuff that shouldn't work, but does. Students' eye grow wide and they ask, "What was that? Can you teach me that?" But the instructor has no idea what happened.

And just because you study under one teacher or in one school, that doesn't mean you can't learn anything from another. Just because you study one art also doesn't mean there's nothing to be gained from another. Frankly, the applications are endless.

So, tomorrow, try driving a different way to work. Watch a TV show or movie you'd normally never watch. Attend the services of a completely different religion. Travel to a country on the other side of the world. Eat something you've never tried before (especially something from the other side of the world). Make friends with someone you have little in common with. Climb up a slide.

If you see everyone going one way—especially if they're not making progress—go the other way. See what happens.

Playing judo like an old man

2010-07-21T07:06:00.000-07:00

In general, I've always disliked a lot of lecture and stories during class, and much prefer to keep things moving. We have an hour or an hour and a half, two maybe three times a week to do this. That's not a lot. Let's make the most of our time and be productive. (I have a very influential college professor to thank for that, I think.)

But once in a great while, the course of a class will turn more to discussion than the practice of technique. And periodically, I think that's a good thing. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if I've prevented myself from doing it too much. There are some things we need to learn that have more to do what what and how we're thinking in MA than what and how we're doing something, and that needs to be addressed sometimes.

Today, for example, in judo, we talked about a certain high ranking judoka (and aikidoka, but we were talking specifically about ne waza) who, despite pushing 60, proved to be more than a handful for a young, fit 30 something brown belt. Many of the elements we addressed had to do with his approach, his strategy.

For beginners, your emphasis should probably be on ingraining basic movement. But as you advance, start thinking about how you're working. Here's a few things we noticed about the "old" man in question:

He worked slow
We teach our escapes in fairly big, powerful movements. And you need to get that down, because there will always come a time when you need to bring out the big guns. But once proficient with those, advanced ranks will get very, very smart about conserving their energy. They move in small, incremental movements.

The other benefit of this is that big, sudden movements tend to put uke immediately on the defensive. With small, incremental changes, however, he's more likely to not notice he's lost control until it's too late.

He wasn't afraid of being on the bottom

This comes simply from doing an ungodly number of escapes. We like to approach things from the gutter. If you can get out of the worst possible position, you can handle ever thing else. That knowledge allows you to relax, which allows you to conserve energy, and to work smarter, not desperately.

He talked while he grappled

Granted, in a real life self-defense situation, you're probably not likely to chat with your attacker while you defend yourself. But in everyday practice, it actually has it's benefits. When I first encountered that sort of thing, I thought it was psychological warfare, pure and simple. Years ago, I remember grappling with Nick Lowry Sensei and being completely thrown off by the fact that he was whistling the whole time. The aforementioned "old man" often talks about the fact that he's "old and feeble" and how his partner is "so strong, oh no!"

That sort of thing has a way of getting into your head. Pro athletes do that sort of thing, too, talking smack to the other team, and that sort of thing. The New Zealand national rugby team will perform a tribal war dance called the "haka" before games as way of psyching themselves up and scaring the willies out of their opponents.

The better I got, I noticed myself whistling while worker with lower ranks. But I discovered that it had other benefits as well. Talking or whistling keeps your breath slow and measured, which keeps you calm and prevents you from burning all you gas.

He never got married to making a technique work
He simply flowed from one thing to another. If he started to get his hand in place for a choke and his younger partner started to block it, he went with it and worked on an arm bar. And then to a hold, then to another choke, and so on.

Sometimes, we can spend a tremendous amount of valuable energy simple trying to make one thing work. Our "old man" didn't care. If it worked, great, if not, he wasn't going to just give up either. He waited for his partner to do something about it, and road that reaction to the next technique.

He worked his own speed
The best judo players, young or old, you'll find will work at their own pace, and play their own game, not someone else's. Of course, the older you get, the less your body can do, certainly, but many of the best young players also worked slow. While we've talked about the benefits of slowing down already, it's important not to get sucked into the other person's game and play their speed.

Part of that comes with simply getting comfortable with being on the ground, which only comes with time spent on the ground. But it also takes conscious thought, just as any of these ideas do. And that's the flip side of the training coin, working on the mental aspects as well as the physical. And there's more, for sure, but I'll stop here for now.

I often think of Helio Gracie, who, as a very old man himself, often told young, fit ju-jitsu players, "I bet you can't beat me!" He never said, "I can beat you," but that you couldn't get him. And no one could.

You might say it pays to fight like an old man.

A little more patience, please

2010-07-19T06:23:00.000-07:00

"Patience. I need more of it—and fast!"

So the old line goes. And as another old line goes, "It's funny because it's true."

In fact, it reminds me of the old "Tae Kwon Leap" skit. And when most of us in the martial arts world think about struggling with patience, we think of Ed Gruberman: the impatient beginner, the guy who wants to know how to trash some bozos now.

It sounds almost cliché, but it's odd, and even a little sad, how often I actually run into students in the dojo struggling with patience. They may not be as much of a jerk as Ed, mind you. Sometimes, they're nice, well-meaning people.

It's just that they're in way too much of a hurry. They always want to move on to the next technique, they want to do what their higher rank peers are doing before they're ready. Or they immediately question what you're trying to teach them. You know, "Well, so-and-so said you do it this way..." or question whether or not something will even work, as in "But what if a guy does this...?" or, once you show them something, they immediately want to know the counter, how to get out of it.

Right. If you've ever taught a MA class, you know what I'm talking about.

The ironic thing is, in those situations, patience isn't solely the problem of the student. As the teacher, it can become very tough very quickly to deal with such a student without wanting to just dump them on their head. Indeed, I've known a few fine teachers who have done just that (myself included). I know a current rokudan who started out a little strong-willed and had the pleasure of getting put through the ringer once or twice by our shared sensei's. Fortunately, he got the hint, and quickly became one of our dojos many great assets.

Unfortunately, I think that kind of result is fairly rare. Many never get the hint, and end up leaving. Do we then justify it? "They didn't have the right attitude anyway."

When it happens to me, I wonder about my own patience. How can I demand more patience of a student if I myself don't have enough patience to tolerate his behavior?

It is, I think, a matter of levels. Much like weight training, you start with a certain degree of weight, and you struggle with it. Over time, your muscles build and it becomes easier. At that point, you gradually increase the weight, and the struggle begins anew. I suppose I made it past the first round or so of "patience training" as it were. I'd have to ask my teachers if I ever asked the same dumb questions I just got finished making fun of, but I think I did what I was told for the most part, trusted my teachers and kept plugging away.

But patience, I find, is not a singular thing to be gained; it's not a literal Holy Grail, an object that, once found and possessed, means the quest is over. Like a muscle, it requires continual exercise to prevent it from succumbing to atrophy, and also requires increased resistance in order to strengthen. And it could always be stronger.

So how do you deal with those students? Surely, patience doesn't mean you simply sit back and tolerate their behavior, allowing it to go on unchecked? Perhaps it means finding a delicate, diplomatic way of explaining to them how their behavior may actually be hindering their progress?

I wish I knew the answer. By all means, if anyone has any thoughts or experience they could share, I'd be more than grateful to hear it.

Ura waza experiments: kote gaeshi

2010-07-17T13:05:00.000-07:00

Here's the last little video I have at the moment. This one talks a bit about kote gaeshi and some of the countering ideas we've come up with, including a nice one at the end from buddy Christian Lamson. He ended up doing this on a hapless, visiting aikido practitioner who wouldn't quit cranking on his wrist, despite the fact that Christian repeatedly tried to explain why it was a bad idea. Pretty sweet =)

One thing I've noticed, though, about these videos is that I only sort of gloss over each technique as I talk about them, and I wish I had demonstrated them (without yapping) several times to give the viewer a better perspective.

Guess I'm still a little self-conscious about putting myself out there into cyberspace.

On one hand, I suppose I've been doing this long enough to have something unique to say, but I also can't help but remember how small my body of knowledge is compared to one of those 25+ years guys.

Just bare that in mind when watching this stuff, and take it with a proverbial grain of salt!

Ura waza experiments: shiho nage, sumi otoshi

2010-07-16T14:50:00.000-07:00

Skipping around a bit, these are a few ideas we fiddled around with regarding shiho nage and sumi otoshi.

Ura waza experiments: ude gaeshi, ude hineri

2010-07-09T14:40:00.000-07:00

Lo, and behold, I've finally put together some of the videos I've thrown together regarding aikido ura waza, or countering techniques.

Bare in mind, that if tori honestly has the technique, then he's got it. But if he rushes it, tries to make it happen, then these ideas may have a chance. This particular video covers ude gaeshi and ude hineri.

How I love to watch the masters

2010-07-05T14:50:00.000-07:00

What I love about watching highly skilled old men practicing their art, be it aikido, judo or whatever, is not just to watch them perform their technique with amazing fluidity and simplicity. After a while, one almost takes it for granted. Oh, he's just doing shiho nage...

It's also fun to watch younger, less experienced practitioners (who may be fairly skilled compared to many others) try to work a technique on the old man, and fail.

Not that I enjoy watching people fail, mind you. It simply serves as a reminder that what looks so simple and so fluid is really the result of mastery, of uncountable hours and years immersed in a thing. Then, when we go from watching the failure back to the smooth, seemingly effortless technique of the master, we are reminded of the true beauty we have been fortunate enough to behold.

Take, for example, this video of Tamura Nobuyoshi Shihan. Enjoy.

[I'm still busy dealing with my wife's recovery, not just from hernia surgery, but an additional infection plus strep throat on top of that! She's doing better now, finally, so I'll get back into the swing of things shortly.)

Still catching up

2010-06-30T11:07:00.001-07:00

Still trying to catch up after spending time helping the Mrs, and may not get to post until next week. I don't know why, but this version of uki otoshi intrigues me...

Been a while....

2010-06-19T06:41:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've posted, sorry. Not for lack of interest, mind you. I was out of town for about a week there, and now my wife is about to have hernia surgery, so I'll be busy keeping tabs on the kids for another week.

I have a couple of videos that I shot not long ago (some aikido ura waza stuff we've been playing around with) that I need to edit and post, so I may have that coming shortly. In the meantime, I've leave you with this little thought on angles.

Practice judo while killing time, part 3

2010-06-04T06:35:00.000-07:00

When I first began learning hip throw ideas, we were always taught doing them as uke is traveling forward. But once you get fairly proficient with that idea, you can start looking at throwing them from a number of different conditions.

Basically, you can throw a person as they're coming forward, as they're going backward, and even going side to side and circling. This particular solo drill helped me practice the fundamental set-up for any advancing hip throw ideas, or reaps like harai goshi (a personal favorite) or uchi mata, or even tai otoshi (another favorite) and ashi guruma.

Ura waza experiments part 4

2010-05-28T06:15:00.000-07:00

Last month, the overall "theme" if you will for all aikido classes was "randori", and I chose to explore the ura waza techniques covered in both the usual forms but also the experimental stuff covered in last year's shochugeiko. This month, the dojo has moved on to koryu dai ni kata, and we're following suit in the morning classes, which means that I didn't get a chance to play with some of the last techniques in junana hon kata.

At least, not in regular class. I've a few occasions no to play around with some things outside of that, and I thought I'd jot them down here to finish out this series of posts and if anything make a record of what we found.

Where did we leave off? Oh, yeah, kote gaeshi. Wee covered ideas regarding tenkai kote gaeshi in early classes and posts, so we'll skip that and move on to shiho nage.

There is, of course, the classical counter of doing shiho nage right back to uke, which works pretty darn well, thank you very much. (There's another slight variation, though, that I've used in randori before, but I have no idea how to explain properly in words. I'll have to shoot a video someday.) But just for fun, I thought I'd poke around and see if I could find any other opportunities that lived there.

Interestingly enough, our work lately on ni kata as well as my own work with my friend Scott Weaver on yon kata over the last several months has apparently sunk in a little deeper than I'd realized. Specifically, I'm thinking of the 15th technique of yon kata (migi gyakugamae ate) and the 6th technique of ni kata (ushiro katate eri mochi gyakugamae ate).

There's a moment, when uke is trying to do shiho nage, that you can make that same sort of balance break. We work off of the condition where uke has stepped off the line of the initial attack and established his "butterfly" grip on our wrist (our right hand). Let's say he doesn't really get your balance here and he starts to do the hip switch in preparation for stepping through and under, turning, and finishing shiho nage. As he starts that first hip switch, we pivot the left foot back behind us with our right hand in our center and it catches uke perpendicular to the line of his feet, just like yon kata and ni kata.

Now, you can do the grip break action and proceed as in yon kata if you like, or you can spin them again as the try and recover and get a number of things: gyakugamae ate with your left hand, mae otoshi (which is strikingly familiar to #8 of yon kata), or kote taoshi; or you could do a #1 release and end up in an oshi taoshi sort of situation and all of the things that live there.

Since we dealt with mae otoshi earlier, we then played with sumi otoshi a little. The absolute best shot we found came from my buddy Christian Lamson. It incorporates, as so many of these counters do, a very very tight turning motion, pre-turning your foot under your hips. So as uke is trying to put your right hand into that back corner, you just keep turning tight, to your right, but here's the thing: cock your right hand, not with the fingers pointed upward like we normally would, but pointed to the right (the direction you're turning); at the same time, let your right hand come down to right thigh.

Yeah, I know, we're supposed to always keep our hands in our center, but this is one of those exceptions to the rule. But this brings up another fairly common method of countering techniques in addition to the tight rotation, which is attaching the arm and/or hand that's being attacked to your body while doing it.

Trust me, we got plenty of eyes going wide and various augh!'s from uke's who suddenly found their head shooting straight to the mat like a lawn dart (luckily, the guys I'm working with have such great ukemi).

Alternatively, I watched Henry Kono Sensei on video, simply go with uke's direction of power (rather than perpendicular to it) and drop to a knee. This also works pretty well, especially if you add your free hand to the inside of uke's forearm =).

I haven't had much time to play with the last one, hiki otoshi, but we did find that when uke is trying to get the arm lock that precedes the throw (the way the KG system does it, anyway; I don't think the rest of the Tomiki world does it with that preparatory jamming of the arm), you can do the very same hand cocked, pointing to the right, turn tight thing we did for sumi otoshi which worked pretty well. If I get a chance to work on it some more, I'll follow up later.

Whatever happened to self-discipline?

2010-05-26T06:42:00.000-07:00

It's almost a cliché, really. Whenever you ask someone why they want to study a particular martial art, they typically give you the same handful of reasons: self-defense, to get in better shape and self-discipline.

I think we can all understand where the "self defense" part comes in to play. For various reasons, many of us at some point feel a basic, fundamental need to protect ourselves. Maybe we live in a dangerous part of town or work in a potentially violent profession (such as law enforcement, emergency services, or even playing music at a raucous hole in the wall) and the threat of violence is ever-present; or, maybe we've always been picked on by bullies, be it physical or psychological abuse, and we want the confidence to stand up to them.

It's a fairly strong motivating factor, one that's probably worth spending a few posts on in and of itself. But it's not what's on my mind.

As for getting in better shape, there are probably much better ways to accomplish that, or at least more direct and efficient, truth be told. And for some people, pumping iron and running 10 miles a day is just fine. But I suspect that, for some people, lifting weights and climbing a Stair Master is just a little too boring. They want physical exertion, but they also want to engage their minds somehow at the same time. Sports (and by extension, martial arts) are a great way to do that.

Now, I'll be brutally honest, here. Our particular dojo is not the most... physically demanding, shall we say. One of the nice things about judo and aikido is that they can be practice at various levels of intensity and at various ages; our dojo has students in their 20s and students in their 60s+ and everything in between. For some reason, though, it seems that most people aren't very interested in working hard enough to break a sweat (which I find rather disappointing, actually), so I suppose for them, they're looking for a more "tai chi" kind of physical activity, which is fine.

Again, another post for another day.

For me, I'm perplexed by that last reason: self-discipline. First of all, while I think I understand the first two motivating factors, I'm not sure I fully get this one. What are people feeling when they think they need "self-discipline"? Are they defining it the same way the dictionary does, "Training and control of oneself and one's conduct, usually for personal improvement"? Is it a deep-seated unhappiness with oneself and the desire to somehow feel better about who we are?

I've often heard this same reason given for joining the military, self-discipline. Do we think of ourselves as aimless, lazy slobs with no direction in life, incapable of achieving anything of note? And that adhering to a strict set of rules, jumping at every command barked at us by a drill sergeant or sensei, will somehow whip us into shape, and "make a man" out of us? Will following rules and obeying orders actually do all that?

I can't answer any of that. Do you know? Any thoughts you might have on the matter I would certainly appreciate.

All that being said, here's what got me thinking about it in the first place. As I watch the other students in my dojo, I can't help but wonder what motivates them. For example, we have a couple of newer students who are attending just about every class they can, morning, noon and night and even weekends. But other students are much more laissez faire about their attendance, especially with the morning class. I hear, Oh, it was too hard to get out of bed yesterday morning, and that sort of thing often. When they do show up, most of the time, they're several minutes late; chronic tardiness in any other dojo, I'm fairly certain, would not be tolerated.

Frankly, I just don't get it.

Back when I first started, I was in my early 20s, in college, and had plenty of time on my hands, so I made every class I could. Even now, I'd go to more classes for sure if I could (career, family, etc. takes a priority, of course). As it is, I don't miss a single class unless I'm out of town, my car has broken down, or somebody in my house is sick (really sick, not just a case of the sniffles). I also do my damnedest to get there on time.

I also take my falls as often as I can. No one else seems to want to, for some inexplicable reason. The older, more physically limited folks, I understand, but even many of the younger, fit guys act like taking a few air falls for a technique demonstration is going to kill them.

I also see a number of people spend a minute or two working on what the teacher presented and then, when bored with that, move on to the next technique ahead of the class. What, did you master that one already? Two minutes, and you've got it down?

Where's the dedication, where's the heart? I don't get it...

I'm not describing everyone, mind you, but a disturbingly large number of folks nonetheless. I've written too much here already, so I'll stop for now. But it continues to perplex me.

Ura waza experiments part 3

2010-05-24T06:36:00.000-07:00

We covered counters to waki gatame (#10) in some of the earlier techniques, and countering kote hineri seemed pretty much the same as oshi taoshi (although, if I've missed something, by all means, let me know!), so we moved on to kote gaeshi.

There are probably as many ways to counter kote gaeshi as there are ukes, but here are just a few that we've discovered.

Before we get into any of them, however, it's important to understand one fundamental element that relates to pretty much all of these (except maybe one). Actually, the first thing to remember is that, with any of these counters, if tori does everything right, you're pretty much toast, end of story. Remember that we're working under the presumption that tori goofed and maybe sped up or tried to force something to happen.

With that little caveat out of the way, let's talk about the base for all of these counters.

Changing the kote gaeshi angle
I like to illustrate this right up front with a little drill. Stand facing your opponent at ma-ai distance. Have one person, uke, grab your wrist in kote gaeshi. Go ahead and get both hands on there for this if you like (or if you have a relatively weak grasp).
Without either of you moving, try to straighten out your wrist. Unless you happen to be big muscle-bound brute and your uke is a petit little waif, you probably won't be able to do it. Even if you can, it will only work as long as you're dealing with someone smaller and weaker, so the probability of success is pretty dicey.

Now, while uke still stands in place, take a pre-turned step to your left side (if uke is holding your right hand). This should put you at about a 90 degree angle relative to uke. NOW try straightening your hand. Much, much easier, right? Just doing that much alone in motion has a very real tendancy to dump people on their heads who aren't expecting it. Establishing that angle as uke is trying to apply kote gaeshi is the key. That being said, there are a number of variations you could encounter.

1) Countering kote gaeshi with kote gaeshi
We'll start with the text book ura waza. This assumes, of course, that uke has both hands on yours and is trying to extend you out over your toes. Once you find that angle and you'll step a little further and extend the other guy. You'll also use your free hand to nab uke's left hand, step around and do kote gaeshi back to him.

2) Countering kote gaeshi with gyakugamae ate
It probably goes without saying that tori does, after all, have a free hand. There are a couple of things you could do with it. First off, let's say uke is trying to get you with more of a converging kote gaeshi, or in other words, instead of backing away or extending you over your foot, he's trying to collapse your wrist and arm back toward you (and a little off to the side). Not a common form, but usefull in certain circumstances. Or maybe, rather than take your balance, he's just trying to wrench your wrist off. In this case, rather than try and break the grip, you'll just go with it and curl your own wrist until your whole arm is sucked up tight against your body. Do that as you turn to the left and stick a hand (or arm) in uke's face and down he goes. The whole thing has a way of stretching uke apart, his hands going one way, his head going the other.

3) Countering kote gaeshi with kubi guruma

For a long time, whenever I felt kote gaeshi coming on in randori, and I had a free hand, it automatically went to uke's face. Which worked for a time, but with experienced players, or anyone who had upgraded, they quickly turned that into a waki gatame. Oops. After a while, my hand ended up, instead, on the side, slightly curled around the back of uke's head, as in kubi guruma from the Big 10 (at the same time, mind you, as the tight turning grip-break mentioned above).

4) Countering kote gaeshi with juji garami

Many times, uke doesn't have his second hand involved in the kote gaeshi. In this case, I like using my free hand to catch under uke's free elbow, which ends up getting his arms crossed like an X in a form of judi garami. (And you can always throw a leg in front of uke, if you're judo inclined.)

5) Countering kote gaeshi with kote taoshi

A form we found pretty devastating for smaller toris to use is, along with the usual grip-break, putting your free hand on uke's throwing forearm. But unlike the usual downward motion of kote taoshi, curl uke's elbow in towards his body as you back away (fairly remeniscent of the 3rd technique from goshin jitsu no kata in judo). If you have the pleasure of having a smaller person do this one to you, I would advise you to reeeeeally tuck your head, because the ground comes up fast.

Ura waza experiments part 2

2010-05-21T06:14:00.000-07:00

We've been having more fore fun with aikido ura waza. We went over what's covered in the KUBK forums from last years shochugeiko in regard to gyakugamae ate and ushiro ate; gedan ate, we sort of covered when we encountered it with shomen ate, and we looked at oshi taoshi conditions with aigamae ate.

Which brought us to ude gaeshi, #7. Now, in the traditional Tomiki ryu randori no kata no ura waza some of the techniques from the 17 (randori no kata) are omitted, namely, 7, 9, 10, 11, 15, 16 and 17. Frankly, I have no idea why (in fact, for various reasons, our dojo has only been looking at this kata for a very short period of time).

But, that doesn't stop us from experimenting!

So on we went with ude gaeshi. With this one, we utilized the same turning of the outside foot as we did in our particular version of the counter to oshi taoshi, but with two variations:

1) A large, extending turning motion. As uke begins to try and coil your arm, you basically do a #1 release movement, which should put you behind uke's arm. In this version, you'll have to step away from uke to create space. This one also works as bodies fall (before uke comes up to put your arm in a coil)

2) A small, tight turning motion. This is more like the oshi taoshi reversal, with one exception. It's basically still a #1 release, but this time, you're working with the bodies rising (as uke is trying to put your arm in a coil), and your palm is up, leading with the fingers. Bring it all the way down to your thigh as you turn and you'll find yourself in a lovely set-up for aiki nage/irimi nage (or of course, ushiro kubi gatame).

That is, if uke doesn't fall flat on his face from the initial turn, which seemed to happen the more determined uke was to make ude gaeshi work. On occasion, uke would be so far along in the process of coiling tori's arm, that he got cross-armed (a la juji garami) and flipped. Evil stuff.

Next, we played with ude hineri (after we worked on the counter for hiki taoshi, natch) and found at least two ideas. Both of these operate at the moment that uke, in trying to do hiki taoshi, has your arm extended and has done his little eye threat. He feels like you're not going to go down for hiki taoshi, and decides to try ude hineri. But as the two of you converge towards each other, you're not going to let him slip past your right hip (if he has your right arm) and get your arm coiled behind you. Instead, you can:

1) Step with a sharp, pre-turned foot to your right (uke's left). Your hand will naturally uncoil and end up palm upward, your arm across uke's chest and under his chin in a form of gyakugamae ate. Or, you can...

2) Go down on one knee, your right arm up and your left hand down, clipping uke's left knee, much like sukui nage from yon kata.

. . . . . . . . . .

Fun stuff. I'd like to get a little of this on video, too, if I get the chance. Next, we spent a whole class on just kote gaeshi...

Some techniques just aren't for everyone

2010-05-19T06:54:00.000-07:00

I like sankaku jime, frankly. Many judoka and BJJ players do. It works pretty well, when everything goes right.

The problem I'm finding is that, as I try and work on it with my class, not everyone is having as easy a time of it. Sure, there's a player's level of inexperience that factors into it, but aside from that, I think there's an issue with their build. Judoka come in a wide range: small and large, young and old, flexible and tight, thin and stocky. And for whatever reason, this crew seems to be all the wrong builds for this version of sankaku jime (no offense guys).

Either that, or I'm terrible at teaching it (I hope that's not the case; I seem to be able to convey other things well enough!)

Upon reflection, I think there are two things that might be getting in the way: 1) not shifting their hips over to the side a little and 2) getting too much of uke's shoulder in the way. Although, with some, they just plain lack the physical "bendiness" for whatever reason.

Hmm. I'm going to move on for now, but I'll be thinking about it.

On Aikido Journal again

2010-05-18T09:41:00.000-07:00

Looks I got another blog post featured on Aikido Journal. It's nice, but at the same time I'm embarrassed because, for the most part, I feel like most of what I write about is stuff everyone else has already figured out by now, and I'm just catching up! Many deep bows...

Practice judo while killing time, part 2

2010-05-17T06:28:00.000-07:00

Here's another little set of drills you can do without a partner when you find yourself out in the real world, waiting around, bored out of your mind.

This time, we're looking at kouchi gari as well as ouchi gari, in both retreating and advancing approaches (you can catch the earlier hiza guruma drill here).

In addition to what I'm doing with my feet, there's also things to think about with your hands, as well, that I didn't go into. For a little further clarification—and you have a ton of time to kill—you might review my little series on how I approach the 4 gari throws:

Lining up the 4 gari throws, part 1
Lining up the 4 gari throws, part 2

Lining up the 4 gari throws, part 3

Lining up the 4 gari throws, part 4

Lining up the 4 gari throws, part 5

Practice judo while killing time

2010-05-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

Some time ago, someone on the KUBK forum asked if there was anything you could do to practice aikido or judo by yourself. Of course, there are a few obvious answers, like tegatana no kata ("the Walk" as many call it), or maybe ukemi (if you have a decent surface to roll on at home). But in addition to that, a few of us have developed our own little drills over the years that I've found pretty beneficial to my training.

There are times when I'm just standing around, killing time, like waiting in line, or hanging around the park while my kid hits the playground, and it can be pretty boring. Plus, I'm kind of a fidgety guy; I can't really stand still, but would rather pace or shift back and forth. These moments turned out to be great times to practice my footwork.

Just for the heck of it, I thought I'd film a few. This one is actually a partnered drill Greg Ables showed me once, but sometimes I would just go through the motions by myself when I didn't have a partner to play with. I also filmed a couple of others dealing with solo drills for kouchi and ouchi gari as well as a general advancing hip throw, which I haven't uploaded yet. (I'm embarrassed by the yellowness of these; I thought I had fixed it in iMovie, but not enough, it seems. There's a setting on my camera that would help, I'm sure, but I keep forgetting to look into it.)

Renraku waza: hiza guruma to hiza guruma

2010-05-13T06:15:00.000-07:00

Hiza guruma to hiza guruma/sasae tsurikomi ashi

One of the slickest follow-ups to a hiza guruma that didn't quite work is a second hiza to the other side. The trick here is to take the foot that you initially put up for propping uke's knee on the first try (let's say your right foot), and put it down pre-turned, inward. If you don't, the angle of the second hiza will be all wrong and plus, you'll miss out on the power that a coiled hip springing into action gives you.

We also found that for smaller players, stepping close to uke at a right angle on the second throw and catching a sasae tsurikomi ashi worked well.

Incidentally, this same action of pre-turning the foot also sets up the nice kosoto gari I mentioned in the last renraku waza post.

2 sweeps for larger opponents

2010-05-12T19:48:00.000-07:00

In line with my recent interest in strategies for tall and short players, here's a couple of interesting sweeps from the guard from the perspective of a female player.

The devil and hiza guruma

2010-05-12T06:09:00.000-07:00

In both judo and aikido, techniques can often prove elusive.

In some instances, just when we think we have a grasp of how something works, it suddenly stops working. It feels awkward for some reason, like trying to write with your left hand (if your right handed), although everyone else, regardless of rank, can get you with it just fine. It's maddening, frustrating. You're on the verge of going down to the crossroad to make a deal with the devil just to make it work again.

In other instances, you may think you've got a pretty good handle on something, but then a red-and-white belt descends like and angel from on high and shows you a slightly different way of approaching it. Your eyes widen, you slap your forehead and think, Oooooh, yeah, why have I not been doing it like this all along?

Hiza guruma is one such technique for many people I know, not just myself. But it's also a technique that frustrates students more than any other, for some reason. In fact, many students will complain that they never felt like they had a grasp of it, however tenuous.

I can empathize. I, myself, have been fortune enough to have experienced a number of revelatory moments with hiza guruma:

Kyle Sloan sensei helped me understand that, 1) when stepping three feet on a line, don't step so deep (as everyone is wont to do), and 2) extend uke out, get his shoulders out in front of his hips. If uke's posture is upright, you can be doing everything else right to the letter, but he won't go over.

Clif Norgaard sensei helped me focus on putting uke's right shoulder over his left foot (if I'm throwing with my right leg). It's a guruma, after all, not an otoshi (shoulder over the foot on the same side). Secondly, he pointed out that my right foot can not just stop his knee, but could actually hook a little around to the far side, and sort of pull his knee inward.

Bob Rea sensei mentioned once after a clinic while playing around with Kyle Sloan (I just happened to be watching), that he liked to pull his right hand down to his navel. I wondered about that, since "pulling down" seemed to just make uke more stable. But, I realized, once he's properly extended (shoulders over past his feet), then you can start going down. Tthink of it as starting with the elbow up, look at your watch, and as uke's natural arc starts to turn him, your hand naturally goes to your navel; you left hand, remember, is also going up with uke's elbow, so the whole thing looks like you're turning him like a big steering wheel.

And, most recently, Greg Ables sensei introduced me to a little drill that really made hiza work well for me. I wish I had a video of it (if there is one, I couldn't find, so let me know), because it's kind of hard to describe. Basically, I walk forward with my right foot (loading a little weight into uke's back foot). Then, I cock or pre-turn my left foot, which is still trailing behind me, rock back and load with my right foot on uke's knee. I then let uke off the hook, step once with my right, then step forward again with my left and load a little weight in uke's other back foot. I cock or pre-turn my trailing right foot, rock back and prop uke' with my left leg. Over and over...

The foot movement is something you can even do on your own, just standing around, which I admit, I will do from time to time. There's a number of budo related things I do while standing around, actually. I'm at an age where I don't care what folks think, I guess.

At any rate, this drill has made a huge difference for me. Fortunately, I'm at a high point right now with hiza, and it's clicking. It has excited me to the point that I want to share with the folks in class, but for some strange reason, it's proving more difficult for people to get the hang of than I thought.

Of course, the flame of that excitement may abruptly get snuffed sooner or later. But the nice thing is—and I don't think we can always see this—that every time something falls apart and we feel like we just don't get it, it comes back (and it will come back, if you keep at it) stronger, smoother, more refined. It may feel like you're taking one step back and one step forward just to break even, but believe me, it's more like one step back two or three steps forward.

You don't need to make any deals with the devil to make progress. The answer is simple, and pretty much the same for almost every hurdle there is to overcome:

Just keep coming to class.

Renraku waza: hiza guruma to foot sweep

2010-05-10T06:14:00.000-07:00

This morning, we worked on another handy little combination technique. or "renraku waza" (to see any other renraku waza I blather about, just click on "judo renraku waza" on the lower right of the page under "labels").

Hiza guruma to okuri ashi harai/harai tsurikomi ashi

We started with the individual components, first working on okuri ashi harai, which we typically do from a "step around", turning entry. Next, we practiced hiza guruma for a bit.

Then, we looked at the condition where hiza doesn't quite work out. When uke steps through it, you catch his trailing leg with a foot sweep. Now, when this happens, depending on certain factors, you may catch both of uke's feet for okuri ashi harai, or push his trailing leg behind his support leg for more of a harai tsurikomi ashi (I'll explain in a sec). Frankly, you don't really care, so long as you sweep the guy's foot.

TIPS TO REMEMBER:

When we do the step around version of the double foot sweep, we would normally like to place the foot that ultimately going to do the sweeping pretty close to uke's foot (three feet on a line, toes pointed at uke). That way, your foot can find uke's easily when it comes time to follow it for the sweep; it also gets you closer to uke so you're not leaning back in order to reach him.

But when you start with hiza, that foot (which is supporting you while the other is doing hiza) is typically quite a ways away from the foot you're about to sweep.

We found that changing the alignment a little of your support foot helps close the distance. You tend to get more of your leg in contact with uke's and even push uke's foot behind his support leg (which would be more of a harai tsurikomi ashi, technically). I'm not sure if I can accurately depict what's going on with these drawings, but I'll try. With the normal step-around version, I'm going to point my support foot perpendicular to the line of uke's feet (which means I'll be sweeping uke's back foot down that line):

In this case, try pointing you support foot angled more to uke's far back corner:

ALTERNATE SECONDARY THROW:

I've also been playing with doing kosoto gari as a follow up to hiza guruma, which seems to work pretty nicely. Basically, I take the foot that I tried to do hiza with and instead of putting it down turned outward, I put it down turned inward. It's kind of hard to describe in words, so I'll try and get a video of it.

THIRD THROW:

Now let's say hiza didn't work and then the foot sweep didn't work, either. If you tried hiza with your right foot and tried the foot sweep with your left, it's now time to put your left foot down. Probably the easiest thing is to put it down across uke's line and step into osoto gari. This tends to work when you made contact with uke's foot for the sweep, but it got stuck on the mat.

When uke sees the double foot sweep coming and intentionally pulls his foot back and out of the way (so you miss altogether), try stepping with your left foot deep into that space, the foot turned outward for a rear corner o goshi (I'm tall, so I throw my arm over uke's shoulder and it looks more like koshi guruma rather than o goshi). Shorter folks, may step in for ippon seoi nage. (Again, I think I'm going to have to put this on video, I think).

Ura waza experiments

2010-05-06T06:05:00.000-07:00

We've been playing with ura waza (counter techniques) in aikido recently. There are, in Tomiki-ryu aikido, at least, ten techniques with one counter each (you can see an explanation of each here on the Kaze Uta Budo Kai forum).

Last summer, during the shochugeiko, however, we all spent much of the time experimenting with additional counters, or rather, counter-to-the-counter-to-the-counter, and so on, which was a really enlightening experience. Fortunately, much of what was developed was recorded and is also available on the forum.

Today, we worked on aigamae ate and mostly what's presented here:

Basically, there's 1) aigamae ate, countered by 2) picking off the hand to oshi taoshi, which is then countered by a sharp turn into 3) tenkan oshi taoshi. After that, we found a few interesting possibilities you might play with.

First off, we had one pair pick the hand off the wrong way. Well, not the "wrong" way, exactly, but maybe a less efficient way. Instead of tori getting his free hand behind uke's wrist and pushing it, he grabbed in front and pulled. This allowed his other arm to turn palm up toward uke's chin in a form of gyakugamae ate.

We had another pair who, instead of doing the second oshi taoshi, began with the same motion and ended up 1) stepping underneath the arm for tenkai kote hineri, or doing a hip switch and catching 2) sumi otoshi.

Following that, we played with a counter to the second oshi taoshi, or tenkan oshi taoshi. As it's coming on, if tori steps reeeeeeally far out with his outside leg, and pre-turns his foot, he can extend tori out. At that point, tori can reach out with his free hand and snag an "short cut" tenkai kote hineri (where you don't spin under uke's arm).

It's been fun and enlightening to play with and I can't wait to explore more.

The tall and the short of it, part 4

2010-05-03T17:00:00.000-07:00

Continuing my thoughts on approaching aikido and judo as a tall person and as a short person, let's look at the last two sections of junana hon kata:

Tekubi waza (wrist techniques)

11) Kote hineri

Tall: Just like oshi taoshi, elbow through the ear, over the top of uke seems to work great.

Short: Just like oshi taoshi, it's harder for shorter people to get the elbow through the ear, so the tenkan, turning version tends to work a little better.

12) Kote gaeshi

Tall: For me, I have plenty of success with extending uke over his toes, but I also do well with a more sideways version, which puts uke's wrist over the side of his foot, or even back towards his rear corner, collapsing him.

Short: Kote gaeshi can actually prove fairly problematic for smaller people, mostly because of the grip. It's hard for a tiny hand to put torque on a big bear paw. I find smaller folks have two options here.

One, if they're keeping with the idea of extending uke forward, drawing him out, you can try adding the other hand to help get the torque on the wrist. Ordinarily, we warn everyone about committing two hands to one spot, because if everything isn't just right (if you don't truly have uke's balance, and he's within reach) he'll likely use his second hand and push on your elbow or face, game over. It's a calculated risk, but when it works, it drops uke like a stone.

Second, maximize the "principle of dynamic reversal". I watched our tiniest class member dump one of our biggest several times the other day like this. Basically, tori uses the tenkan action to set it up. Once the bigger uke catches up and "rounds the corner", tori changes direction and starts going back the other way. In effect, it looks like tori is scooting underneath uke and the big lug just falls over her (much how shorter players do with hip throws in judo).

Again, there's a calculated risk here: you're traveling right towards uke's second hand. But, as I mentioned in a previous post about what I call the "sphere of influence," you can actually negate much of the effect that hand can have by stepping so close to it, it can't get a shot off or deliver efficient power. Again, if done right, it's a heckuva ride!

13) Tenkai kote hineri

Tall: Any time taller folks step under uke's arm, they always assume they should sink low to accommodate uke (if you do, remember to bend at the knees, not the back). But, why accommodate uke at all? Maximize your height by remaining as close to normal height as possible and really extend uke up on his toes!

When finishing this one, I like to turn 180 degrees and face uke, which nearly makes him do a face plant.

Short: Well, you can't extend uke up on his toes even if you tried, so whenever you go under uke's arm take it as far away from his body as you can, turning directly underneath his hand.

When finishing, turning and facing directly at a tall uke may not always work, so stepping down the line of the arm and extending uke out seems to work nicely.

14) Shiho nage

Tall: Placing uke's hand behind his head works well for taller people, but...

Short: ... for shorter people, they end up having to reach too high. I would recommend turning to the side (which some might then call tenkai kote gaeshi), which will keep your arms more in your center and brings uke down to you.

Uki waza (floating techniques)

15) Mae otoshi

Tall: This one seems made for taller guys, extending uke down a line from behind. The thing to remember is that with the initial arm coil, if I put my arm at mid-level, between my naval and my chest, a shorter uke will sometimes follow the upward arc and slip under in a release motion and I'm dead. I have to keep their arm low at my belt level.

With the throw, I find that my center line intersecting uke's center line happens primarily at uke's shoulders.

Short: It's just as important to keep the arm coil low here, too; not because a tall uke will duck under your arm in a release, but you want to bring uke down to you, right? With the throw, your center line will intersect uke's more at his hip level.

16) Sumi otoshi

Tall: Sumi otoshi is actually really ideal for smaller people, because it keeps that hand nice and low. So if you're taller, you might try the turning, more "guruma" version from "the 23" version of the kata.

Short: Sumi otoshi was made for you. Become very good friends with it.

17) Hiki otoshi

Tall: Dropping to the ground in front of uke doesn't alway get the effect I'd like, perhaps because, being tall, when I drop, it doesn't feel to uke like I went very far. Then again, having long legs, I can extend a loooong way away and get something. But, you might as well try the turning "guruma" version (which looks a little like the big 10) instead and save your knees.

Short: For you, the old school Tomiki style where you step back right off the bat and extend uke will yank uke out of his jockey shorts.

. . . . . . . . . .

Next up, the judo side of things.

Previous entries:

The tall and the short of it, part 1

The tall and the short of it, part 2

The tall and the short of it, part 3

Renraku waza: Osoto gari to kosoto gari

2010-05-03T06:03:00.000-07:00

For the next little while (who knows, a month or so?) we're going to start incorporating a few renraku waza (combination techniques) into the morning class. I thought I'd keep a little record of some of my favorites and also include anything cool other folks come up with. And of course, if anyone has any ideas that they like and want to share, toss 'em out there!

Osoto gari to kosoto gari

We're going to start all of these combination practices by working on the first throw by itself. In this case, we took good ol' osoto gari, and did a number of uchi komi (basically, to practice the set-up of a throw without throwing) for several minutes. We want people to get plenty of practice getting the throw as close to correct as possible.

Then, we work off the premise that uke, whose weight in mostly loaded into his right foot, takes a step back with his left. This may because he's trying to step out of it, or simply trying to keep his balance and not fall. Regardless, tori will put his right reaping foot down with a forward step, too, then use his left foot to catch kosoto gari off uke's right (just as uke is trying to walk back with it).

TIP TO REMEMBER:

The important thing for tori to remember is to keep shoulder-to-shoulder contact with uke, and keep leaning forward slightly. The most common mistake I'll see is having nice contact for the osoto to start with, then as uke steps back, tori lets him drift away, creating space. But you never want to let uke off the hook! Just because your osoto didn't quite work, you still have his posture broken, so don't give that up. By keeping the shoulder-to-shoulder contact with uke, and leaning forward slightly, you'll keep him off balance, bent backwards, giving your kosoto the best chance of working.

. . . . . . . . . .

Two is usually enough for beginners to play with, but for brown belts and above, you might try introducing a third throw to the mix.

In this case, we've tried twice to throw uke backwards over his heels, right? If he's fighting being thrown back, where is his main energy now going? Right, forward. Let's take him there.

Remember how I talked about keep that close contact and not let any space in? Well, now you need to do the exact opposite. Step back and create a lot of space, putting your left foot three feet on a line. Your arms should straighten, like taught ropes. Your right foot will then reach up and catch either hiza guruma at his knee or sasae tsurikomi ashi at his foot. If the first two throws didn't put uke down, this will turn his world upside down.

Start with your closet

2010-04-30T14:55:00.000-07:00

Since mentioning my interest in pursuing the art of minimalism, I have to admit, I haven't accomplished much. Okay, anything.

The funny thing is, the first thing I want to do is simple. I remember a couple of times as a teenager, wishing to loose some of my embarrassing flab and get fit, I went nuts lifting weights and just about killed myself. Needless to say, the habit didn't stick. I was in too big of a hurry, biting off more than I could chew.

I look at this, as well as just about anything new, with the same mindset. The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, as the saying goes.

So I decided to start with the smallest space in my house, the closet. Actually, now that I think about it, I should probably start smaller, with the dresser. Every weekend, I swear I'm going to dive in and weed out all the stuff I don't wear anymore.

Part of the problem for me is, I've been fit and overweight both several times in my life. I'm not attached to many of my clothes for any reason other than "I might loose weight again someday and I'll need this!"

Well, if you have a relatively healthy salary, you can always buy new clothes, so go ahead and get rid of what you have that doesn't fit. If you're like me, however, and money is tight, you may not have the money to buy a whole new wardrobe every time you drop a few pounds.

But rather than have it sit in your closet, cluttering things up, I think it's worth it to invest in a few large tupperware designed for clothes. Pack it up, store it in the attic and out of the way.

Still, I think there's a lot of stuff that I've been hanging on to that I can give to charity, plus old belts and socks that I never, ever wear. Plus, there's the indoor soccer gear I hang onto in case I ever decide to embarrass myself in public again (that's a hard one, because good indoor shoes are expensive!).

Mostly, I enjoy the feeling of being free of even the smallest amount of unnecessary "baggage." I find it interesting, by the way, that a term like "baggage" or "luggage" is often used to describe unwanted, burdensome emotional attachments. It's strange how closely unnecessary "stuff" is related to unnecessary emotional ties. Let go of physical things is strangely close to letting go of mental things, both of which have a way of weighing us down.

I may not throw out the whole suitcase this weekend, but at least it will feel a little lighter.

Super amazing ukemi! Video!

2010-04-30T10:28:00.000-07:00

Alright, I made another video detailing all the variations of the rolling/flying break-fall with the help of Todd Lannert (and Benjamin Hanby who held the camera). The first one I did just had the side version, largely because I'm an idiot who didn't have my memory card inserted correctly into the digital camera so that was all I could record. This time, I have all three variations that I talked about here.

The video/sound quality is crappy because I'm using a digital (photo) camera to take the video; I don't have a nice video camera, sorry.

The one thing I didn't cover in the video that I mentioned in the post was flipping yourself. Partly because I forgot, but also, I'm not sure I have all my thoughts together on that topic.

The ukemi series:

Amazing ukemi, Step 1

Amazing ukemi, Step 2

Amazing ukemi, Step 3

Amazing ukemi, Step 4

Amazing ukemi, Step 5

The tall and the short of it, part 3

2010-04-29T11:08:00.000-07:00

Continuing my thoughts on approaching aikido and judo as a tall person and as a short person, let's look at the next chunk of junana hon kata, the hiji waza (elbow techniques):

6) Oshi taoshi

Tall: The good ol' fashioned "elbow through the ear" version works well for me, being tall. It goes along with the idea I mentioned of "looming" over uke, or going over the top, and when extending along the side axis of off-balance, being behind uke (whereas shorter folks extend from in front).

Short: For shorter player, trying to do the straight "elbow through the ear" version can be tricky, especially since it usually means tori has to let their hands drift above shoulder level. Not that you can't ever do that, but I like to reserve it for moment when I absolutely have to and the risk is lower. Plus, going "over" uke isn't really a shorter person's strong suit.

Now, starting with a backward balance break to drop uke into a hole, and then doing oshi taoshi helps solve that. But outside of that, they also seem to do well with the tenkan, or turning behind, version, which brings uke down to their level.

7) Ude gaeshi

Tall: Taking uke's arm straight back, their hand behind their head works great, again because we're toppling uke backwards.

Short: For shorter players, however, getting to that position has the same trouble as oshi taoshi. Once again, a backwards break can help that, but also consider taking that arm-coil to the side, by turning, which keeps it more at tori's level. Know, though, that this puts uke's arm in much the same structure as "thread the needle" (tenkai kote gaeshi) which often makes uke take a flip, so go easy.

8) Hiki taoshi

Tall: As far as I can tell, this one seems to work well regardless of height.

Short: It definitely works for shorter people largely because it follows the idea of breaking uke forward and extending him, so it can be quite useful. You'll definitely want to remember, though, that it will help you topple larger ukes by using your free hand to roll uke's tricep forward, which helps break his shoulders forward. Works like magic.

9) Ude hineri

Tall: This one really fits in the tall guys wheelhouse, compressing smaller guys and extending outward from behind.

Short: The hard part about this one for shorter people, it seems, is getting the free hand over uke's shoulder. I would almost rather they do something more along the lines of kaiten nage, with their hand on uke's neck. I don't know; I want to experiment more with this one.

10) Waki gatame

Tall: The standard, straight ahead version works well for tall guys who can use that elbow-to-elbow action to knock uke off balance.

Short: For shorter people, though, getting your inside elbow up over uke's upper arm can be problematic. I like the version where tori steps to the inside, using the opposing hand (tori's right hand on uke's right wrist), then doing the "figure 8" version. This creates a nice up and down, roller coaster motion in uke that brings him down to tori's level nicely.

Okay, next time I'll go over both the tekubi waza (wrist techniques) and the uki waza (floating techniques). Then, on to some judo.

Previous entries:

The tall and the short of it, part 1

The tall and the short of it, part 2

2010-04-28T06:04:00.000-07:00

Time to continue what I started thinking about last time regarding different approaches to aikido and judo for taller and smaller players.

For starters, I realized that I could add another basic dimension to what I've already mentioned. I talked about breaking uke back for taller people, and breaking uke forward for shorter people and then mentioned compressing shorter people and extending taller people. I'm noticing that the overall height of your hands (at least in aikido) seems to have some effect as well.

If you're tall, like I am, and you hold your arms at chest level, this will naturally put a shorter uke's hand at his own shoulder level, or ideally, higher, where they're weaker. However, if a shorter tori hold their hands at chest level, it only brings a taller uke's hand to his navel level. He can still function relatively well there. But, if a shorter tori holds their hands at navel level, it tends to bring a taller uke's hand below his waist, which means he has to bend over a little. So basically...

Taller people—keep your hands at chest level and force a shorter uke to work too high.

Shorter people—keep your hands at navel level and force a taller uke to work too low.

As always, there are exceptions to the rule, but it's an interesting common aspect I've notice with different practitioners that seems to work well.

Okay, so now let's look at junana hon kata from aikido, or at least we'll start with the first section, ateme waza:

1) Shomen ate

Tall: The traditional step to the inside and push at 45 degrees or so to the attacking angle seems to work well enough.

Short: The main problem with shomen ate for shorter people (indeed much of atemi waza) is that you have to reach up to get at uke's chin, often putting your hand above shoulder level. Now, you can do shomen ate to the chest, and it works, but it's rough on uke and even dangerous. Rather, I've noticed that if a shorter tori does the long, turning version, which spins uke 180 degrees, uke's head actually slowly lowers until it's about tori's shoulder height.

2) Aigamae ate

Tall: Again, the traditional straight balance break, turn and push works great.

Short: And again, we have the problem of a shorter tori having to reach up to get at uke's chin. So, for many of the 17 (if not all, really) doing a backwards balance break seems to work really well. It accentuates a taller uke's natural tendency to have to "reach down" for tori, and puts him in a hole. As he rises, his head is right at tori's shoulder level.

3) Gyakugamae ate

Tall: Traditional straight balance break. When it comes to the hand in the face part, however, I've noticed that, being tall means my arms are also usually longer, and I tend to slip rather deep, with my whole arm across uke's top half (lifting the chin palm up, or pushing across palm out). Shorter tori's are better off, it seems, sticking with hand only on the chin.

Short: A backward balance break works marvelous here once more to get uke's chin down to their level. I think it's important to make note to shorter students that the laissez faire "eye threat" method of doing number 3 that so many people are fond of has a much lower percentage of working when a small person tries it on a big person. I make sure to teach them to not be shy, that seriously lifting uke's chin is the key to break his posture backward (which, as I mentioned, is not going to be a short tori's strong suit, but we're making it work for them).

4) Gedan ate

Tall: Straight balance break. Now, when it comes to the fit in, I've noticed that I tend to be rather high, and break uke's balance back. Technically, it's not really a gedan "low" strike but pretty much the same as gyakugamae ate except that I'm under uke's arm.

Short: For shorter tori's, however, breaking uke's posture low at the hips works quite well.

5) Ushiro ate

Tall: The usual.

Short: The backwards balance break works well, of course, but you could also step to the outside and get uke spinning like you're going to enter irimi nage/aiki nage. This also bring uke down low so his shoulders are within reach. Either way, just remember you don't want to reach up to get at uke's shoulders. By the way, you can also hook each hand around uke's waist from behind, and collapse him that way. Unconventional, but it's dropped me more than a few times.

Next, we'll look at more of the 17...

Previous entries:

The tall and the short of it, part 1

2010-04-27T06:20:00.000-07:00

For some reason, we've never had that many female students in our dojo. Which is odd, because our school tends to eschew the sometimes over-the-top, testosterone-fueled, machismo that predominates many other fighting art schools, an attitude that I would suspect turns off a lot of women. On the contrary, although mainly men, we're such a nice, easy-going bunch of guys (heck, our old dojo cho used to, on rare occasions, dress in a pink gi with a black sash around his waist and demonstrate as "the Aikido Fairy"), you'd think women would feel more at home.

I think it's a shame, really, because I think as far as defending yourself goes, aikido and even judo are ideally suited to situations where bigger and stronger are pitted against smaller and—well, I hate to say "weaker", but perhaps "more delicate".

Recently, though, we've had a new student start attending aikido and judo classes who happens to be a girl, and a relatively small one at that. It's been interesting to observe. I also worked with a nidan (male) the other week who is a good foot shorter than me (older, too, with some metal parts implanted in his hips and legs that even further limit what he can do), and half the time, he kept explaining that this is the way he did it because he was shorter and it worked better for him.

That brought up an interesting few days of contemplation on my part, followed by a discussion in class this morning. While aikido (and judo) should theoretically "work" regardless of your size or build, there are different ways to "approach" them that can take advantage of one's size compared to our partner.

At it's core, it has to do with which axis of off balance works best for you. By axis of off-balance, I mean that uke can either bend backwards (shoulders behind hips/feet) or bend forward (shoulders in front of hips/feet) or to bend to either side (one shoulder off to the side of one foot). With that in mind,...

If you're tall, break uke backwards.

For example, take me. I'm six foot two, which is taller than the majority of the people I work with. I find that, for the most part, I tend to use that height to my advantage and get my uke's bent backwards in spine lock, sort of "looming" over them.

If you're short, break uke forward.

If you're short, the singular advantage you have is that uke has to come down to get at you. He's already directing his energy somewhat downward, so you might as well keep it there. Let him come to you.

Whether you're tall or short, break uke to the side.

To the side, or if you think about it in terms of catching uke while walking, down the line of his feet seems to be fairly universal. However, I've noticed that short people tend to do well extending uke down the line from in front (again, letting uke come down to you) whereas taller people, such as myself, do well knocking uke down the line of his feet from behind. I hesitate to put it in terms of "pull" and "push" lest anyone think I'm advocate exerting any kind of undue force, but it at least describes the basic action and direction tori should be thinking in.

I've also noticed that there's also a difference in how taller and shorter players either compress or extend uke's structure. You see, everyone, regardless of size, is relatively strongest when their arms are at about mid-distance from their core. Imagine trying to lift a fairly heavy dumbbell. If you hold it out all the way at arms length, it's pretty tough to lift or curl it. If you pulled your hands all the way to your chest and tried to manipulate the weight, it would be pretty tough, too. But if your hands are out in front only slightly, elbows near your sides, you can affect that weight in a lot of ways. So,...

If you're taller, compress uke.

In general, you compress smaller people, well, even smaller. Wad them up into little balls. More on that later.

If you're shorter, stretch uke out.

Take that length and stretch it out.

I'll elaborate and clarify on all of those ideas in upcoming posts: first with aikido; then, with judo nage waza (throwing techniques); and then, with judo ne waza (grappling techniques).

Now, are there exceptions to all this? Probably. They're not rules, after all. Just some thoughts to consider.

I also plan on grabbing the new girl and experimenting a little, and I'll let you know what we find. Meanwhile, stay tuned for the next installment, where I'll go through junana hon kata and talk about a few variations you might try based on whether your taller or shorter.

Push vs pull teaching

2010-04-22T11:03:00.000-07:00

The Gracie family has a series of videos called Gracie Bullyproof that's designed to teach young kids ju-jitsu. As a father of two young kids who are fast approaching school age, I'm seriously getting a hold of these.

The video below is a sample from the introduction that teaches the parents how to teach their little kids. Frankly, I think this little segment alone is really, really good advice on teaching anyone, young or old.

The elusive sukui nage

2010-04-21T06:41:00.000-07:00

As I work my way through the gokyu no waza, I occasionally come across throws that I don't really know all that well. Getting toward the end of the list, I run into sukui nage, "scooping throw".

Now, the main version (well, the only version) I've done is one where tori steps behind uke and places his arm in front, and then sits down along with uke. It makes for a nice, easy way to learn the throw for sure (although it starts to resemble tani otoshi).

For reference, the sempai in this one does it the way we usually do it:

Still, I wanted to learn a little more about it, so I started to do a little research.

It turns out that there about as many ways to do sukui nage as there are ways to top a pizza. The first knot I had to untangle is that there is actually two different throws often passing by the name sukui nage. There are versions of it that are also referred to as te guruma ("hand wheel") which, to me, are really a subtly different idea that I would prefer to keep distinct. Additionally, I don't like how te guruma variations seem to involve a good bit of lifting, which is fine if your opponent weighs the same or less than you, and you're young and buff enough to do it.

Consequently, I've decided to isolate for now just the versions which deal with stepping behind uke and scooping him backwards.

The video below demonstrates a lot of the variations you might encounter as te guruma. The latter half, incidentally, contains a nice section on variations of morote gari (which turn into techniques involving one hand, even though "morote" means "double hand"). I kind of like many of these because they don't involve lifting the guy. I'd like to look at them in class, eventually, but another day.

Anyway, back to sukui nage. Perhaps one of the biggest reasons we haven't spent much time on this particular throw (the classic version anyway) is the fall. For one thing, the mat at our dojo, while it has a little bounce to it, it's not quite as soft as the typical, pukey green rectangle mats most dojos use. So, if you grab uke's knees and dump him straight back, he'll end up landing square on his back and at the very least it will knock the wind out of him; at most, his head snapping back can definitely ring his bell.

Then I noticed some ukes taking a slightly different fall where they rotate a little and land on their side, more like a standard flipping fall (tobi ukemi). That eases my concerns about uke getting seriously hurt somewhat, but many of the students I work with aren't ready to take that fall, either.

This version, which looks suspiciously like aikido's gedan ate (the arm higher up, etc.), appears to be a little easier for uke to take, as only one leg is really scooped.

This version is another sutemi variation (where tori falls with uke), and looks a little gentler, similar to the sit-down version we typically do, but with a turning action. Uke still drops over the knee, but it seems less drastic (of course, they do have the softer mats).

[On a total side note, while I like many of the videos from this group, I can't for the life of me figure out why the chose blood red mats with crayon yellow walls, trimmed with black and red stripes. It literally makes my eyes hurt looking at it. It would drive me insane working out in that space!]

Ultimately, I'd like to flesh out a version that's both "safe to practice" as well as "effective and likely to find".

Alternate attack for junana hon kata

2010-04-20T13:49:00.000-07:00

The other week I mentioned a little randori experiment we undertook in aikido that involved evading multiple attacks of either yokomen uchi or shomen uchi. I talked a little bit about how the novelty of the kind of attack seemed to take everyone a little off guard, as if they didn't know quite how to handle it, even though their aikido would work just fine regardless.

So, just for the heck of it, I thought, why not spend a few classes doing junana hon kata, the 17, with either a yokomen uchi, shomen uchi or in some cases a tsuki (thrust, like a punch to the stomach) attack. Certain techniques seem to be better suited for one attack or the other, I noticed. Not much changes, really, in terms of how the technique itself is performed; the only real difference is how you start off. This list by no means comprises all the variations you could do, but perhaps it may serve as a starting point.

Atemi waza
1) Shomen ate — uke attacks with yokomen uchi
2) Aigamae ate — uke attacks with shomen uchi (Step to the side, outside uke's arm. As he recovers his balance, lifting his arm as if to strike again, follow it up, one hand on his elbow, the other on his chin)
3) Gyakugamae ate — shomen uchi (Step to the side, outside uke's arm. As uke raises, the left hand goes to the face.)
4) Gedan ate — shomen uchi (Same as above, but as you step to the side, your left hand is caught under uke's arm. Numbers 3 and 4 are a lot like the Merritt Steven's system, incidentally.)
5) Ushiro ate — yokomen uchi (Take a turning step to the inside. "Chop" with the right hand to the inside of uke's elbow. This has a way of spinning him around. As he does, reach up with your left and grab his far shoulder.)

Hiji waza
6) Oshi taoshi — shomen uchi (Just go straight to it, like the initial technique of san kata or the Ueshiba style ikkyo.)
7) Ude gaeshi — shomen uchi (Start oshi taoshi as above, then when uke rises, slip in ude gaeshi. You also go right to ude gaeshi after you step to the outside of the attack without oshi taoshi.)
8) Hiki taoshi — shomen uchi (Step to the outside, get your butterfly grip and proceed as usual.)
9) Ude hineri — shomen uchi (Start as above, then proceed into ude hineri.)
10) Waki gatame — yokomen uchi (Step to the inside, right hand on uke's wrist. Lift his arm up and across his face until you're in the waki gatame position. This is a version students of KG's "23" kata will recognize.)

Tekubi waza
11) Kote hineri — shomen uchi (Go straight to it, like ikkyo.)
12) Kote gaeshi — tsuki (Step to the outside, and either continue in a turning "tenken" action until uke comes around, or allow uke to pull his hand back as in san kata or the Merritt Steven system.)
13) Tenkai kote hineri — shomen uchi (Step to the outside, get your grip and turn under uke's arm as he turns toward you.)
14) Shiho nage — yokomen uchi (Not a long to do different really. This technique comes pretty natural to this attack.)

Uki waza
15) Mae otoshi — yokomen uchi (Same as above. Seems pretty natural.)
16) Sumi otoshi — yokomen uchi or shomen uchi (You can do a long, drawn out version from a yokomen attack, or do a shomen attack, step to the outside and do a very quick sumi otoshi, Old School Tomiki style.)
17) Hiki otoshi — shomen uchi (Just connect and step back, Old School Tomiki style)

The empty cup

2010-04-19T06:42:00.000-07:00

My friend and teacher, Nick Ushin Lowry Sensei, offered the following sentiment on Facebook the other day: "The one who bows an the one who is bowed to are both fundamentally empty, which is what allows for true clear communication."

Another friend responded (in jest): "Emptiness...is usually what in between my ears, sensei... absolutely nothing, nada, zilt..."

To which, Lowry Sensei replied, "Good for you—just don't get stuck on it."

. . . . . . . . . . .

Bare in mind here that I am not a serious student of any particular eastern philosophy or religion aside from reading the "Tao Te Ching" a couple of times, along with whatever odds and ends I pick up by virtue of studying a Asian martial art and hanging around a few folks who are more devoted students.

The concept of "the empty cup" is one of those that has come up a number of times. For the most part, I think I understand the idea behind it. Although I might embarrass myself by trying to describe it, I can only say that this is what it has meant to me, at least.

To me, it has meant getting rid of any preconceived notions when approaching something, be it an aikido or judo class, or working on a design at work, or just life in general. It means not making any assumptions ahead of time, so that when things start to turn out differently, I don't bang my head against the wall trying to make things fit my view of how it should be.

It means remaining open to new insight, new ways of doing a given thing (or thinking a given way), no matter how experienced or accomplished I may be at it. It means remaining teachable, even when it comes from those who are beginners or even my "enemy". It means letting go, receiving all. The cup doesn't try to control the water, it allows it to pour in and fill it completely.

Etc, etc, so on and so forth, blah blah blah. You get the picture.

That's how I try to live my life, on the whole; and on the whole, it seems to work pretty well. But I was disarmed by Lowry Sensei's response: "Good for you—just don't get stuck on it." I've been thinking about it a little lately, and something occurred to me.

Now, this may not be what he had in mind in the slightest, but like I said before, this is the meaning it had for me. What occurred to me was this: Be as empty as a cup, except when it is time to be full.

I know, I know: what the crap does that mean? Well, I'll try and describe it as best as I can, and use aikido or judo class as an example. Let's say I'm working with a partner. For sure, my less experienced partner's cup is empty; he knows less than me, he needs guidance, needs direction, right? In those cases, I find that my cup is actually full. So full, that the "water" I have naturally overflows, and I "pour" it into the student's empty cup.

Heck, sometimes, I don't pay attention, get carried away with my own excitement for the subject (or perhaps my own eagerness to show off what I know), and I pour a little too much. We must always be mindful of what our student needs and can handle in that very moment in time, and pour no more, no less than what he needs or has room for. In time, he will, in turn, pour what he has learned into someone else's cup, and so on.

In other words, a cup that is always empty, that stays empty, is useless. It's a hunk of glazed clay that collects dust. To function, to be of any use, the cup is always filled, poured and emptied, again and again.

So, to me, being "stuck" on the concept of remaining empty does you no more good than if you walked around being constantly "full." By and large, I'm a believer in keeping my mouth shut and my ears open; the temptation to open my trap and demonstrate how much I know about a subject is always looming. As long as I'm busy yapping, I'm not able to hear anything new that will benefit me. Or, as long as I'm always pouring, I'm never prepared to "receive" new water.

But there comes a time, during training and in life, when it's perfectly natural to share what we have. What's the old expression, "Nature abhors a vacuum?" Meaning that if there's an "empty" space, something will naturally flow into it, be it air, water or whatever. I think that harmony flourishes whenever there's an empty cup and there's a full one pouring into it; and where there's a full cup, there's an empty cup to receive it. (Could this be another way to consider yin and yang, in and yo?)

Here's the trick: the nature of this relationship—who's full and who's empty—can turn on a dime. In fact, it is often in constant flux.

Take this morning, for instance. I was demonstrating a method of passing the guard in judo. I was pouring the knowledge I had into empty, eagerly awaiting cups. The young man with whom I was demonstrating, a brown belt in judo, mentioned the placement of my foot at one point in the pass, and wondered if it was vulnerable where I had put it. Sure enough, I had to concede that he was right, and I amended my approach.

In a flash, I had a choice. I could refuse to admit that a "lower rank" has just pointed out a flaw in my technique and BS'ed my way out of it. I would have kept my cup full and any new water that could have come in would have just spilled off to the side, lost forever. Or, I could empty my cup and abandon my pride, my preconceived notions, all that, and be open to learn and to grow. Luckily for me, I chose the latter.

In these circumstances, when I'm truly empty and am filled with water, I bow inwardly and say, "Thank you very much," no matter who does the pouring. But also, when I teach and pour what I know into an eager empty cup, I am also grateful for the opportunity and find I must bow and say, "Thank you very much."

The trick it seems is not about staying full or empty, but knowing, feeling when to be one or the other. Nature, the universe will tell you if you listen.

Of course, if all else fails, I would err on the empty side.