when it rains in HK, photo by rocksee

I read a curious poem this morning in a story from Saigyō.

The Japanese poet Saigyō (1118-1190) was a Buddhist monk and lived most of his life as a traveling mendicant and hermit. His poems often relate the tension he felt between renunciatory Buddhist ideals and his love of natural beauty.

In the story I read this morning, he was caught in a rainstorm during his travels through Osaka. He tried to take shelter at a brothel. Yet he was turned away by a prostitute. But this was no ordinary prostitute. In the legend, she was an incarnation of the Bodhisattva Fugen who symbolizes meditation and practice. Knowing this, Saigyō was frustrated that someone so enlightened would  force him back out into the rain. He wrote:

How difficult I suppose,
    to reject
This world of ours.
    And yet you begrudge me
        a temporary stay.

In his frustration, Saigyō could get angry at this teacher in disguise and miss an important lesson. Do you ever get angry at your teachers? What happens after the storm fades?

I have been angry at my teachers. Or at least, thought they were wrong about something. The worst is when someone shows me something about myself I do not wish to see.

In Bujinkan training I have seen many students get angry. I have seen them quit training over it. I have had my own students angry at me. And Hatsumi Sensei has had many critics and ex students who got stuck on some point of contention.

When we get angry at our teachers, an inflection point occurs where learning stops cold. Or, if we are ready, learning explodes forward from that point to even greater understanding.

Anger at teachers happens for many reasons:

• The teacher is flat wrong or in error.
• You think teacher is wrong even though he is right.
• You want your teacher to be wrong because you don't like what he is showing you.
• You don't feel acknowledged for how well you are doing.
• Your teacher focuses only on how badly you are doing.
• You don't like the way a teacher runs his class or handles other students.
• Your teacher sets a bad example.
• The teacher fails at something.
• What the teacher is teaching doesn't match your view of reality.
• The teacher reflects something in you that you don't wish to see.

If you get angry at your teacher, first look at these reasons and decide what they say about YOU before you dismiss the teaching. And then, if you still think your teacher is bad, you should try to consider your history with them. Is it a history based on trust and respect? Has the teacher taught you well in the past, and is there hope of learning and growing more in the future?

For Saigyō, the prostitute in his poem responded in this way,

Having heard you were one
    who rejected this world,
My thought is only this:
    Do not stop your mind
        in this temporary stay.

A deep lesson if Saigyō was ready to hear it. Admittedly difficult to hear in the middle of a rainstorm. But the most profound lessons often show up when we are most uncomfortable.

The rainstorm symbolizes something temporary that will not last. In Japanese there is a play on words: a rainstorm - 嵐 arashi, but it will not stay あらじ araji.

For us Bujinkan students, in our training, this means we can't let our minds stop or get stuck on technique. But also, don't get stuck on points of disagreement with teachers. If you stop to argue you might miss the learning that never stops. Keep going.

It doesn't matter if you think your teacher is wrong, because your only teacher is yourself. 

Infinite Dots - elevator ceiling, Fujisawa. photo by randomidea

You may have heard about 万変不驚 Banpen Fugyo and how it has emerged to be part of this year's theme along with Kihon Happo. This arose partially because of the earthquake and other events in Japan, but this is also how Hatsumi Sensei seems to explore every year. Soke says,

"To be able to survive and live in the midst of this constant change, it is important to comprehend that which is the essence. To this end, I believe it is important to vary this theme of change every year."

Maybe you have a teacher who reminds you of 万変不驚 Banpen Fugyo all the time. You get the idea of "Ten thousand changes, No surprises", but how to put it into practice?

There is a poem from the 22nd Buddhist Master 摩拏羅:Manorhita,

心隨萬境轉 the mind follows the ten thousand circumstances and shifts accordingly;
轉處實能幽 It is the shifting that is truly undefined.
隨流認得性 Follow the current and recognize your nature;
無喜復無憂 No rejoicing, no sorrow.

How do you recognize your nature and what is it exactly? Manorhita asked one of his teachers this:

“What is the original nature of mind?” Vasubandhu answered, “It is the emptiness of the six sense bases, the six objects and the six kinds of consciousness.” And hearing this, Manorhita was awakened.

The six sense bases are seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, and so on. The six objects are forms, sense, sounds, and so on. The six consciousnesses are the acts of hearing, seeing, tasting, touching, and so on.

What does it mean for these to be empty? This word emptiness in sanskrit is Śūnyatā. It can also be translated as void, or relative or contingent. Roshi Gerry Wick describes it this way:

"Śūnyatā is really a wonderful, tender, limitless embrace. It’s always complete. It is without having to strive, without having to not strive. Another implication of emptiness is empty of any fixed position or state of being."

While this is an important lesson for life, the ten thousand changes in combat are the actions and strategies of your opponent. If you pay attention to every punch, kick or technique, your mind gets taken and trapped in following each thing. The same trapped mind occurs when you focus on performing your own technique or style. You will be surprised when something unexpected happens. This will lead to your defeat.

If instead you allow the mind to dwell in emptiness, for example - looking at the opponent's eyes but not focusing on them (some suggest looking at the spot where the lapels of the gi cross) - you will react naturally as the situation dictates. Anything your opponent manifests will just appear to be part of the natural flow and not surprising.

By paying attention to the non existent, you will be able to see the existent quite well.

Empty Mind photo by DerrickT

How do you know where to strike? This is a question I often hear from students. It seems like it should be obvious. And sometimes it is. Strike where you find an opening… or where it will do the most damage. But as simple as that sounds, it is not easy to find those spots.

Many of us have had the experience of watching Hatsumi Sensei strike someone at a particular spot or kyūsho and the strike causes a dramatic effect in his uke's body. It sends the guy flying, or he is writhing in pain. Then we try to hit the same spot on our uke, and nothing happens. Even if Sensei told us what kyūsho he was striking.

This is frustrating indeed. Some people blame their Uke for resisting. Or they think, if I "really" hit him with damaging force he would react. Sometimes people just shrug and say that of course Hatsumi Sensei does it better because he has way more experience. And while that is true, shrugging it off doesn't help us understand what is actually happening.

One way to understand how to strike effectively is to learn that when you strike your opponent's body, to have maximum impact, you should be striking his mind as well. That sounds strange so let me explain a little.

We can find a clue to this in the Bōjutsu Gokui:

"Thrusting into the space with the tip of the bō staff, if you feel a response with your hands, this is the gokui."

There are many subtle lessons in this verse. But let's consider the Japanese word for space or void used here. It can have a double meaning which can help us understand where to strike.

This word is kokū 虚空. We usually think of this as meaning empty space or empty sky. But this word is sometimes used to refer to the mind (which has no form or color) of your opponent. Kokū 虚空 can be read as emptiness or even "false" emptiness. Another way to write kokū is 真空, which is a true emptiness. Or even kokū 心空 emptiness of mind.

So what does this mean for striking? When the mind does not move, it is Emptiness. When Emptiness moves, it becomes mind. For example, When your opponent's fists grasp his sword but do not move, and you quickly strike his fists - this is called striking at emptiness空をうて.

So you strike him where his mind is not moving, or in other words: frozen, stuck, or even trapped. If you hit in this place, the strike pierces into the void and expands outward to have an effect much more profound than the actual physical strike should have on its own.

Sensei seems to have a genius for finding these spots on his uke. And we all witness the profound effects as we watch his uke's go flying or yelp in pain.

How does he do it? Maybe with bōshin 棒心, or I've also heard Sensei refer to Shinbō 辛棒. I don't know because I'm still working on these two ideas myself. But maybe Sensei just has way more experience…

At any rate, I do know that if you strike into the emptiness of your opponent's mind, you will be surprised at the results. This I have experienced and can attest to.

Dusk, Moon with Sunset Reflected in a Bubble. photo by arhadetruit

What have you been studying for the Bujinkan yearly theme of 2011? It seems that every year we start out on a journey of exploration. At the beginning of the year our minds seek something concrete to study. And Hatsumi Sensei puts something out there for us to consider. But as the year goes on, the theme evolves so that by the end of the year it feels like something else entirely.

However frustrating this may be for those of us who don't live in Japan to try to keep up, this is a very natural way of learning. And it is a lesson in itself. This year started out with Kihon Happo, but has transitioned to also include 万変不驚 Banpenfugyo and Juppo Happo.

There are many ways to look at Banpen Fugyo (Infinite change, No surprise). But how do you train on this? A very simple but profound example can be found in nature when we observe the reflection of the moon. I wrote about this before in my post "Ninpo and Mu: Waxing and Waning Like the Moon" but with this year's theme I think there is more to consider.

In Japanese there is an idea that can be expressed as utsuru 移る. This word has many interesting meanings for training, Like: shift;  move;  change;  drift;  catch (cold, fire);  pass into or to change the target of interest or concern. Or written another way, utsuru 映る - to be reflected;  to harmonize with.

"The mind is like the moon on the water
Form is like the reflection in a mirror

This verse suggests that the mentality proper for the martial arts is that of the moon’s abiding in the water. It is also the reflection of your body abiding in the mirror. Man’s mind moves to an object like the moon moves to the water. How spontaneously this happens!"
Yagyū Munenori translated by William Scott Wilson

The light from the moon can be considered like our shifting focus. If the water is disturbed (or changed) the reflection does not disappear, it rides on the ripples of change and as the water settles it remains pure and clear. Our focus never falters, only the water was disturbed.

Whether in everyday life or in a fight, no matter what happens, our focus should remain clear and undisturbed.

The moon can also be reflected in more than one place. Here in a puddle, in a cup of tea, and there in the lake… all at the same time. Our attention can shift but take in anything. It comes out from it's source at the clear center to be reflected everywhere.

"Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water.
The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken.
Although its light is wide and great,
The moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide.
The whole moon and the entire sky
Are reflected in one dewdrop on the grass."
Dogen (1200-1253)

Violence in a fight happens very fast. But this does not have to present any problem for us. Our minds can move as fast as light from the moon. Yagyū explains that "… man’s mind moves to an object as quickly as the moon pierces the water." If you cover your teacup with your hand and then remove it, how quickly is the moon reflected?

What we train with our taijutsu is the ability to flow with this natural state. As natural as a moon's reflection. As Yagyū describes, "When the mind moves, the body will move there as well. If the mind goes, the body will go. The body itself follows the mind."

Of course if your heart and focus are unclear, then the movement of your body will be unnatural and slow. Please look at the moon tonight and consider that people in Japan have the same moonlight reflecting in their eyes. Try to catch that feeling in your training!

Chikuhō no kodomotachi (Chikuho’s Children) by Ken Domon

Hatsumi Sensei writes that sensing the true nature of things (消体 shotai) like budo and nature, shows that they are connected and cannot be divided. He explains this by way of photography:

"The mon 門 (gate), or shumon 宗門(religion), and bumon 武門(martial), are captured beautifully by the shutter of the famous cameraman Ken Domon."

Ken Domon, in advocating realism, said: "Realistic photography in the true sense brings us directly to reality. Photographic expression is an attempt at a truthful presentation of reality — in other words, it is a crystallisation of man's anger, his happiness and his sadness."

Domon famously defined his goal as a photographer as "the direct connection between camera and motif."

Domon's method of photographing temples was to stay at the location for some time before taking the first photo. He would then begin photographing based not on a systematic, scholarly approach to the subject, but based on how his feelings towards the subjects moved him to record them.

Profile of Ken Domon (土門 拳, Domon Ken, 25 October 1909 – 15 September 1990):
One of the most renowned Japanese photographers of the twentieth century. He is most celebrated as a photojournalist, though he may have been most prolific as a photographer of Buddhist temples and statuary.

Born in Sakata City, Yamagata Prefecture, in 1935 Domon joined Nihon Kobo, an organization that produced news photographs. He later worked as an independent photojournalist recording the tremendous changes taking place in Japan until he was stricken by cerebral thrombosis in 1979. During his career he produced many photographic collections including Bunraku (1972), Hiroshima (1958), Fubo (1953) and Koji Junrei (five volumes, 1963-75). Reflecting on the inadvertent role he played during WWII producing propaganda photographs, he became a main proponent of the postwar photographic realism movement that focused on society and the lives of ordinary people, and his powerful works influenced many amateur photographers of the age. Declaring his love of Japan and the Japanese people, Domon changed his focus and attempted to capture the essence of his photographic subjects. The photographs he took of Buddhist images both prior to and during WWII remain among the most highly acclaimed of his works and are thought to exemplify his photographic aesthetic. Before his death in 1990, Domon donated the entire body of his works to the city of his birth, and in 1983, the city of Sakata honored him by opening the Ken Domon Memorial Photographic Museum.

I hope you can find inspiration in photography and art as well as budo!

Hiding Dog - Sapporo, Japan. photo by MJ/TR (´･ω･)

We have a profound strategy in the Bujinkan which often goes unnoticed. I think it is not obvious because the name creates a certain idea. Mutō Dori 無刀捕 (no sword capture). People hear that and they already have an idea in their head about dodging sword cuts.

Hatsumi Sensei makes reference to this strategy not just when he is unarmed facing a sword wielding attacker, but also during unarmed taijutsu, and while using all manner of weapons.

So forget the sword for a moment, and let's discover some hidden layers in Mutō Dori.

First, relying on any weapon or technique is a trap. If you become an expert, your mind will get stuck there. Use your weapons or techniques with the same mindset as mutō dori. This is a natural, everyday mind.

In avoiding a sword, if you think about avoiding, you will be cut. If you think about not avoiding, you get cut. You should think about nothing and when the sword cuts, naturally get out of the way. Wherever your mind stops is a trap.

Second, don't try to take your opponent's weapon or defeat him. Use 虚実 kyojitsu. If he responds to the 虚 kyo (illusion), give him the 術 jutsu (true form). Or if he has decided not to be fooled by your misdirection, and his mind stops there, determined not to be faked out, the kyo becomes real. It becomes the jitsu. You win by not attaching to either.

Third, Don't let your own weapon or technique be taken. Don't get cut. Makes sense at a basic level- of course you don't want to get cut. But this only occurs when you know the mind or intentions of the opponent.

Hatsumi Sensei says that he was told this by Takamatsu:

"In the instant that the opponent creates a Kiai, you need to avoid the attack."

This is not when you hear or notice the Kiai, but the instant it is created. You must be open and connected enough to the spirit of the opponent to recognize that moment when his mind or intent has shifted (or he has decided) to attack.

So to explain these three strategies in a slightly different way,

You must handle weapons freely, yours or his, no matter what kind of weapon and without being attached.

Understand and master the mindset of mutō dori. Not only in your own mind, but the opponent's mind also.

Be able to win without using a weapon.

Make a connection in the kukan without being cut (or cutting the opponent).

Wait, WUT? a connection to what? That is a whole other topic, one that I am just starting to explore in my own training, but don't know how to share yet. Sensei has been talking about these connections a lot the past few years.

Hatsumi Sensei quotes Zeami,

"秘すれば花  Hisureba Hana" (That which is hidden is beautiful)
and then Soke goes on to say,
"Those that live within kyojitsu and uncommon sense (秘常識 hijoshiki) possess a hidden sense."

When I glimpse that in training… or I am lucky enough to experience it myself, I definitely find it beautiful.

Silent Hill, photo by Jon▲

What's with all the clapping when we bow in?

One of the first strange things a new student in the Bujinkan has to do - after putting on a hood and tabi to scale the castle wall on a moonless night to sneak into the dojo - is learning and performing the bow in before class. Hopefully it only takes them a few mumbles to learn the phrase "Shikin Haramitsu Daikomyo," while they clap and bow, even as their face shows the strain of a beginner sitting in seiza.

We all went through this. No matter our age or rank. For me, I remember just trying to fit in during the class. Saying nothing at first, hoping to time my claps with the rhythm of the group. I first learned about one translation of the words when I was trying to learn to pronounce them. I won't go into that now (another post maybe). But what I will say is that the bow in process turned into a habit that lost what little meaning I could give it.

Many years later - maybe when I first had to lead a bow in myself - I gained a deeper understanding of that process.

So how does it go?

Sanpai sahō 参拝作法 The usual way to worship in the presence of the kami (at a shrine) is to bow twice, clap twice, and bow a third time.

This is like a secret for how to jump start 心伎体 Shin Gi Tai.

The body (deeds), mouth (words) and consciousness (thoughts)- are made one and equal in one instant while the concentration is undisturbed.

In the practice of esoteric Buddhism the body becomes the symbol or mudra, the mouth expresses the mystic sound or mantra, and the mind is absorbed in meditation.

So just what does the clapping symbolize? For me it is like light and sound coming together in an instant of Daikomyo! But in Shinto it has different aspects:

It is used to get the attention of the Kami. And to purify with 言霊  otodama - the spirit present in sound or language.

According to the Kojiki 古事記 (Japan's oldest surviving text complied around 712 AD) and Nihon Shoki 日本書紀 (Japan’s second oldest book, compiled around 720 AD), the sound made by clapping hands is the same sound that divided chaos into heaven and earth and gave birth to Japan.

It could be the sound made by the closing of the cave door after the sun goddess Amaterasu came out of the cave where she had been hiding)

Hand clapping is distinguished by the number of claps, such as "short clapping" one to three times (tanhakushu) or "long clapping" of four claps (chōhakushu). 

There are also distinctions based on the manner of clapping, which includes shinobite, raishu, renhakushu, and awase hakushu.

Shinobi te involves silent clapping and is performed at "Shinto funeral ceremonies" (shinsōsai) and other occasions.

Raishu is performed, for example, when presented with a cup of sake. At Shinto ceremonies, "two hand claps" (nihakushu) is generally common. Moreover, according to the conventional explanation for kashiwade as an alternative word for hakushu, kashiwade is a popular name derived from confusion between the character for "oak tree" (kashiwa 柏) and the character haku 拍. Another theory suggests that the name kashiwade is related to the raishu etiquette of hand clapping before "food served on individual tables at a banquet" (kyōzen) following a Shinto ceremony as well as to the fact that both kyōzen and "food served on individual tables" (zenbu) are called kashiwade.

— Shimazu Norifumi

So what does all this mean for you? If you are not a practicing Buddhist or Shintoist, maybe not too much. Maybe it's just one of those odd things you have to do before you start punching your buddies. But I think if you consider it in terms of unifying and bringing together your thoughts, words, and actions - it may develop into something more powerful for you.

Water Sunset, Tokyo. photo by xxspecialsherylxx

I don't spend a lot of time in front of a mirror. Those of your who know me may think, "that's obvious." But when I do get in front of a mirror, after I get over the shock of my appearance and really look to see what is reflected there, it makes me smile. The smile comes from a recognition of my own spirit reflected back at me. Thankfully, that is a happy reflection.

In training it is said that we are polishing each other's hearts so they are clear like a mirror. If we get this natural clarity we will have 平常心 heijōshin and reflect the hearts of our training partners (or opponents) back to them.

One of the songs of the gokui says,

"If you possess a heart like clear water, the opponent is reflected as though in a mirror." 

This state of mind is like 無念無想明鏡止水 munen muso meikyōshisui,  "Without worldly thoughts, clear and serene as a polished mirror or still water."

This is very powerful advice. Reflecting your opponent's technique, rhythm, and spirit is a strategy that has many rewards. Not just for battle. It works in sports, business negotiations, and your own personal communications.

One of the primary ways to achieve this is through heijōshin. Just like the cat in the Neko No Myōjutsu story who defeats the furious rat by mastering this principle of life and death.

Hatsumi Sensei wrote that:

"Gokui means to live an ordinary life, to possess an "everyday mind" (heijōshin), and it is naturalness epitomized."

A mirror reflects everything because it has no form of its own and is completely clear. So with heijōshin, If your mind is formless and clear, whatever stands before you is reflected. This will allow everything you do to be effortless.

How can we get to this clear state? Well, it is both simple and easy, yet profoundly mysterious. One answer comes from Zen: 渉念無念、渉着無着 Shonen munen, shochaku muchaku - "Use thought to arrive at No-Thought; use attachment to be nonattached." 

Or, as I heard Hatsumi Sensei suggest to us once in 2009, right after he had dropped three guys into a tangled pile on the floor,

"Humans get caught up in thinking. throw that away, release yourself from it. Cultivate this reflection of life (生命反射 seimei hansha) in your taijutsu."

I guess the strange character staring back at me in the mirror is just a reflection of my life... and I have to smile.

Sugimoto-dera temple, Kamakura. photo by Flowizm

I took the concept of In and Yo for granted. I had heard about this idea since I first began studying the Bujinkan in the mid '80's. But my mind always glossed over it. I was like yeah, yeah, In Yo - dark and light, yin and yang, positive negative - i get it. They are opposite but the same. Now show me that cool sword draw again!

But I didn't get it.  Maybe I needed more life experience to understand. Maybe I needed a teacher who could do more than just talk about the concept but one who actually lived it. Whatever it was, I now find myself feeling like a beginner being inspired by this concept as if for the first time.

One of the songs of the Gokui that Hatsumi Sensei has shared with us:

"The two guardian gods take the form of In and Yo. The movement of their fists, and also the breath."

Hatsumi Sensei changes the kanji to help us understand that this sacred song (seika 聖歌), can only be understood if we make it a living song (seika 生歌).

How do we make this idea come alive?

To begin with, don't get lost in the philosophy. The symbolism in our art also has a real physical manifestation. I mean, you can use it in a fight.

陰 (In) can be shown by tranquility and inaction; and 陽 (Yo) can be shown by movement or action. Before fighting, you should have a calm exterior(In). While your mind remains active and alert (Yo), flowing yet fixing on nothing.

When attacking, your body goes into action (Yo) while your mind should stay calm and quiet (In). These flow from one into the other.

"... I do not fight for gain or loss, am not concerned with strength or weakness, and neither advance a step nor retreat a step. The enemy does not see me. I do not see the enemy. Penetrating to a place where heaven and earth have not yet divided, where Yin and Yang have not yet arrived, I quickly and necessarily gain effect." - Takuan Soho 

In the Gokui song the two guardian gods are the Kongou Rikishi or the Niou 仁王尊, shown in the temple gates in the photo above. They represent the use of overt power and latent power. Naraen is also called Narayana. As a pair, the Niō complement each other. Misshaku (aka Agyō 阿形) represents overt power, baring his teeth and raising his fist in action, while Naraen (aka Ungyō 吽形) represents latent might, holding his mouth tightly closed and waiting with both arms tensed but lowered.

The one opens his mouth, in the "agyou 阿形" position (the shape of mouth saying "a" あ ) and sometimes holds a thunderbolt, while the other closes his mouth, in the "ungyou 吽形" position (the shape of mouth saying "un") and may hold a large sword .

They may appear different, but we must understand the connection and flow between these two. As Soke said some years ago,

"Life & death are connected. Like in-yo (yin-yang). This is my teaching theme for the year. Like a magnet and metal, life and death are attracted to each other, always getting closer. If you are born and given a life, death is inevitable. When death comes do not be surprised or shaken. Get on the rhythm of life. Get in balance with it."

This connection is like a rope or a spider's thread that you don't want to break. If you try to unravel In and Yo they dissolve and harmony dissolves with them. One is necessary for the other.

In fighting, If your body is active (Yo) and your mind is also in motion, you can become uncoordinated and easily defeated. This is like lashing out with a mind clouded by anger or fear. Conversely having an inactive body (In) and inattentive mind is like being caught off guard or being helpless and incapable of fighting.

Better to have one connected to the other so that as one shifts the other shifts in harmony.

Hatsumi Sensei recently described the Godan test as having a connection from the Kami above down through the upraised sword and heart of the person cutting... connected down to the heart and spirit of the person sitting. Neither person should sever that connection if they want to live through the test.

In class, Sensei told us to go further than even that:

"No technique or form, no yin or yang, or kyojitsu. Go beyond this. Do Kamiwaza. I teach things you shouldn't be able to understand."

This gets us to the real secret of InYo. As in the picture of the temple above, you have to pass THROUGH the middle and beyond In and Yo to get to the true meaning inside. Don't be frightened by the fierce expression on the temple guardians' faces. Just walk through the gate.

I've been exploring this in my life and in my taijutsu. Allowing the inside and outside to be as one. Keeping this connection from above alive and fluid has made for many wonderful techniques in my training, but also creates moments of wonder and surprise in my life. But it's not me doing it. It's just part of the natural flow.

Purple Grid - Yokohama, Japan photo by OiMax

Many of you have seen Hatsumi Sensei's purple hair. Everyone wants to know what that is about. Iro 色 (color) is a very important symbol in Japanese culture and martial arts. Let's look at that idea first, then Soke's hairstyle.

In martial arts Iro 色 is something that can be observed. For example: the color of your face, color of your sword, color of your attack, color of your Kamae, etc. The opponent's attack or his desire to win is often times described as Iro.

I describe hearing Sensei refer to this on my blog post, Beyond Striking and Kiai Into the Mysteries of Toate No Jutsu:

I was at a Friday night class with Hatsumi Sensei in the Hombu Dojo when Soke described toate no jutsu as a kiai or projection of spirit (maybe 気迫 kihaku?). Sensei said it was like the color of your heart projecting into space. That color comes from your character or can be that which you decide to project. He said all this with his purple hair and made reference to Kabuki theatre in which a purple scarf on the head denotes death.

The concept of Goshiki 五色 can be 5 colors. Usually we hear this word as 5 consciousnesses (Goshiki 五識). From the Great Buddhist Dictionary (仏教大辞典、小学館) we can learn the following:

"The five basic colors are Green, Yellow, Red, White and Black. They refer to the five Skandhas (goshiki 五識), the five Wisdoms (gochi 五知) or the five Buddhas (gobutsu 五佛) as an expression of the various Buddhist teachings.

In Japan there was the custom during the Heian period to hang a scroll of Buddha Amida Nyorai in front of a dying person, whith a fivecolored string (goshiki no ito 五色の糸) coming from the hand of the Buddha extending to the hands of the person. If you hold it firmly during your last minutes, you were assured a strait passage to the Paradise of the West (Amida Joodo 阿弥陀浄土).

One of the objects in the hand of a Kannon with 1000 Hands (Senju Kannon 千手観音) is a Fivecolored Cloud (goshikiun 五色雲).

The water poured over the head of the statue of Shakyamuni as a child during the festival for his birthday on April 8 (kanbutsu-e潅仏会) is called Fivecolored Water (goshikisui 五色水)."

You can also see these colors in 5 types of Daruma dolls, or Tibetan and Japanese prayer flags (goshiki ban 五色幡) .

These flag colors also represent the 5 elements:
Ku: Blue is the sky;
Fu: White is for the clouds;
Ka: Red is fire;
Sui: Green is water; and
Chi: Yellow is for the earth.
Each wave of the flag by the wind is considered one complete reading of the prayers printed on the flags.

On an ancient battle field,  5 colored flags were used for moving troops.
YELLOW shows the location of base camp or rally point.
When the other flags are raised:
BLUE:    Frontline Troops will GO EAST
RED:     Frontline Troops will GO SOUTH
WHITE:  Frontline Troops will GO WEST
BLACK:  Frontline Troops will GO NORTH

This is where we get the expression "色につき色にしたがふ" (attach to color, follow the color) and even though these ancient battle field strategies have been forgotten, the expression survives till this day in kenjutsu practice.

In a Japanese Shrine, you may find four animal flags in each direction:
East: Blue Dragon
West: White Tiger
South: Red Peacock
North: Black Turtle

So what about Hatsumi Sensei's purple hair? If you ask him you may not get the answer you expect. He told someone I know that it was to protect him from STD's (sexually transmitted diseases). For a straighter answer, here is what he told Doug Wilson: Smoke On The Water.

We can learn a lot about the color Murasaki 紫. In Feng Shui it symbolizes Yin, spiritual awareness, physical and mental healing. A purple Daruma (there are some!) is for a long life and preventing disasters. The pigment Murasaki is taken from the root of the plant  with this name and in Japanese poetry it denotes perseverance.

Murasaki iro 紫色 also suggests high rank and leadership. In the ancient courts of Japan, there was The Twelve Level Cap and Rank System (冠位十二階 Kan'i Jūnikai), established in 603. The highest rank was assoiciated with the highest virtue. At the top was 大徳 Daitoku Greater Virtue and it was represented with purple.

紫の雲にいつ乗るにしの海
murasaki no kumo ni itsu noru nishi no umi

on purple clouds
when will I set sail?
western sea
-Issa