In Part I of this article, I wrote about how I became involved in Japanese martial arts and the reasons for my growing interest in all things Japanese. I arrived in Japan in August 1990, the 45th anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. My 1st month in Hiroshima was a time of adjustment – and many social faux pas (which continue to this day!).  In time, I took over the majority of English classes offered by the small English school where I was working, which was run by an American Christian missionary and his family. In fact, I myself had come to Japan on a “religious activities” visa, sponsored by an American missionary organization and the small country Baptist church in which I spent most of my youth. The church had a history of almost 200 years–and I was its 1^st ordained missionary.

I still hadn’t realized at the time what a monocultural environment I had come from. Most of the people who lived in the rural Canadian province where I was raised are of Anglo-Saxon descent-there were very few people of other ethnic and cultural backgrounds (although that has changed a lot in subsequent years, from my understanding). But for me in the 80′s, I knew almost noone who wasn’t a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant. There was one Black girl in my elementary school (who had been adopted by a Caucasian family), and the 1^st Asian person I met was when I was around 15 years old. The 1^st Japanese person I met in my life was when I was 19 years old, a few months before I left to go to Japan. She had married a French Canadian man in the city where I started college, and keen to talk to our anthropology class about Japan. When she found out I was about to go to Japan, they invited me over to their home for dinner. Wow–a real-life Japanese person! How exotic! (And Buddhism, wow – you mean there’s more than one way to look at the world??   )

Now I was on Planet Japan. People still had 2 arms and legs, but so many things were so very different from the small country town where I grew up. But I was open-minded and hungry for knowledge and experience -I began to carry around a dictionary and notepad with me wherever I went. When I heard something I did not understand but sounded useful, I would either look it up on the spot, or make a note of it to look up in the dictionary later. I would try to do this with at least one or 2 words per day, and then use those words in real situations as many times as possible that same day. This is how I learned Japanese. I never studied the language in school.

The summer in Hiroshima is unbearably hot-especially for Canadians. I grew up playing ice hockey on frozen rivers. Here, temperatures were in the high 30s centigrade, but the worst thing was that humidity. By 8 or 9 o’clock in the morning, you were already covered in sweat. I got used to walking around with my clothes sticking to me like what felt like “saran wrap.” Not the easiest thing to get used to. The weather very slowly began to improve by September, and since I was now into the swing of things with my work schedule, it was time to get my Japan martial arts training under way.

Through my karate instructor back in Canada, I got the contact details for the closest instructor in my style (Chito Ryu). Kanao Sensei lived 2 hours away by train, in the city of Fukushima. Since that was too far for me to travel in time for regular weeknight classes, he agreed to meet me on a weekend. His cousin spoke some English, and was the facilitator for our 1^st meeting. Kanao Sensei was a 4^th Dan at the time, which in our style meant that he was a senior instructor. There were no easy black belts in our style. In fact, if you weren’t Japanese, you weren’t even allowed to get a black belt in Japan in Chito Ryu.

Kanao Sensei graciously agreed to teach me on the weekends. I would take the train two hours to Fukushima and he would teach me at his home, in the garden behind his house and in his car garage if the weather was bad.  Sometimes I would stay overnight and we would train both days. We did a lot of Kata training, and a lot of Makiwara training, which involves punching a target over and over, and over and over, and over and over, hundreds of times. For untrained fists like mine, the target, a post or tree, was wrapped with rope made of rice straw (Maki = to wrap; Wara = straw – sometimes thin boards were substituted, as shown in the photo below). After a few dozen strikes, my tender knuckles would split and begin to bleed, and after a few hundred repetitions, the straw rope would be covered with blood. Sometimes this was followed by knuckle push-ups on the concrete floor of the car garage. Kanao Sensei didn’t seem to mind getting my blood on the floor of his garage, and I would often go back to Hiroshima with my knuckles covered in bandages, which made for great conversation in my English classes the following week. Call it masochistic if you will, but it certainly did foster a spirit of determination, focus, mental control, and perseverance.

Kanao Sensei worked at the Fukushima City post office, and without really realizing what was happening, before I knew it I was postmaster-for-a-day, and was interviewed by the local media, appearing in the local newspaper (photo below – Kanao Sensei is on the far left). There weren’t many foreigners around those parts in those days, and it appeared that they found me to be just as exotic as I was finding everything about this new country to be. It was quite an experience for a 19-year-old with only half of a college education, from a town of 3,600 people on the other side of the world, and as life goes, it was shaping my future much more profoundly than I could have guessed at the time.

Having now become used to my work schedule, and having established a relationship and training regimen with Kanao Sensei, the next thing to do on this great adventure was to track down Masaaki Hatsumi, the legendary ninja master. I say “track down” because it was still before the Internet, and ninja masters were not advertising. I had no address, no phone number, no connection with anyone who was training with Hatsumi Sensei. All I had was a couple of books by Stephen Hayes, and the only location mentioned in the particular books that I had was the historical region of Iga, currently known as Iga-Ueno, in Mie Prefecture, about 6 hours by train from where I was living. And so, once my schedule allowed it, in October of 1990, I set out for Iga in search of Masaaki Hatsumi.

February 9^th was the 20th anniversary of my first day of training in the Bujinkan. I mentioned it on Facebook, but was encouraged to write a series of blog articles about a bit of my martial arts history and how I found the Bujinkan and made my way to Japan to train with Hatsumi Sensei – to approach the heart of the flower that is Japanese martial arts, budo. I’ve always found it fascinating to hear stories of the adventures of my Sempai here (Mark Lithgow, Michael Pearce, Mark O’Brien, Andrew Young, and Mike L) and, now in my 17^th year in Japan myself, I thought it would be fun to look back over the years, and in remembering, share some of that with the readers of my blog.

Like many of us in Bujinkan, I was originally attracted by the ninja image. It was 1984, the same year that I started karate practice. In the small town of 3,600 where I grew up in Eastern Canada, there was a Chito-Ryu Karate club, which I joined after 9 years of ice hockey. I quickly came infatuated with Japanese martial arts and would frequently go to the magazine rack at the local gas station to check for the latest issues of martial arts magazines. It was on one of these visits that I found Black Belt Magazine, Feb 1984 issue. I was young. I was impressionable. I was hooked.

But how was a young New Brunswick lad supposed to access this ninja training? I was in junior high school. I couldn’t go to Japan. I couldn’t even go to Dayton, Ohio. But I could join the Shadows of Iga Society and Robert Bussey’s Warrior International as a correspondence member, so that’s what I did. I also got hold of some Japanese split-soled tabi boots and shuko hand claws and spent a lot of time running around in the woods climbing trees and sneaking up on unsuspecting neighbours and making blowguns from copper pipe. Luckily, I survived. Sometimes that rather surprises me.

I kept up with my karate practice quite seriously, entering and coming home with trophies from a number of provincial tournaments. I was invited to go to the Canadian national championship tournament, but it was held in Vancouver, 4,000km away, and I was in high school. I entered a local college and took liberal arts courses, and in my second year was presented with the opportunity to take a year off my studies and go to teach English in Japan. It was a dream come true, needless to say, and in August 1990 at age 19, I got on a plane and flew to the other side of the world, from a town of 3,600 to a city of 25 million.

I somehow managed to find the people that were meeting me at Narita airport. They had come by car to pick me up, and I remember that traffic was absolutely gridlocked all the way back to Tokyo. A trip that would take an hour by train took us six hours by car. After having already traveled through a 15-hour time difference in 24 hours, it seemed to take forever. We finally arrived at the organization’s Tokyo headquarters in Shinjuku, where I stayed for the first 3 days for an orientation program. Shinjuku is one of the major Tokyo metropolitan centers and one of the biggest train stations in the world, and having come from such a small town it amazed me that I had to look straight upwards to even see the sky. There were so many skyscrapers and so many people and so much concrete and so many wires and lights and sounds – I was at first afraid to even go exploring outside alone because I thought I’d get lost and never be able to find my way back (most of the streets in Japan don’t have names). The city seemed to go on forever. This wasn’t like visiting another city, or even another country. It was like visiting another planet entirely. Planet Japan.

After the 3-day program in Shinjuku finished, I boarded a Shinkansen high-speed bullet train bound for Hiroshima, where I had been placed to work as an English teacher. The ride took around 5 hours from Tokyo back then, I think (it might be a little quicker now). The train sailed along so quickly and smoothly it felt like I was riding in an airplane. I was going to be one of the first occupants in a newly-constructed apartment building that was going up near the place I’d be working, 30 minutes out of central Hiroshima by bus. Since construction wasn’t finished yet, I stayed in an apartment in downtown Hiroshima for the first month – right across the street from Peace Park, ground zero for the atomic bomb that had been dropped there 45 years before. I could see the famous bombed dome monument from my kitchen window, and would often go walk through the park to sketch, practice my haiku, or just people and pigeon watch. When I saw something interesting, I’d sketch it or write about it in a journal. (I didn’t blog it. I didn’t Facebook it. I didn’t Twitter it. It was pre-Internet, and life was good.) Peace Park also had an international cultural center where I could get travel and tourism tips in English, and also watch news on TVs with English subtitles. I remember taking the 30-minute bus ride in to Tokyo to keep up with the first Gulf War (the Bush’s first attempt at Hussein) on their TVs. They also had a library with a lot of English books about Japan – but you couldn’t check them out, you had to read them in the library. It was here that I discovered Japanese author, poet, playwright, actor and film director Yukio Mishima, and with my interest in Bushido, the way of the Samurai, I was fascinated to discover that his failed coup d’etat and suicide by ritual disembowelment occurred literally 2 hours before I was born. (The things that fascinate 19-year-old Bushido enthusiasts!) The library also had a copy of Yoshikawa’s Musashi, the life story of the famous samurai warrior. It was quite a thick book, and since I couldn’t take it home with me, I went back again and again, gradually working my way through it. I was completely enamored with bushido, the samurai code of honour.

One of my first memories in Japan, while settling into my English teaching schedule and still living across from Peace Park, was of one of my neighbours – an interesting American guy named Richard (no, that’s not him in the photo, that’s me, trying to teach English). After I’d been there some time, Richard announced that he was going on a trip to China and asked me if I’d look after his place while he was away. Turns out while he was in Hong Kong he found out that there was a film production looking for extras and he applied and got a part in the film. The movie was Kickboxer with Jean Claude van Damme. (Richard is the reporter who interviews “the champ” after the match right at the beginning of the film.) I wasn’t much of a movie buff and didn’t realize what a big film it was until later. I later moved out to my apartment in the suburbs and we eventually lost touch, unfortunately. I should look up his name in the movie cast members and see if he’s on Facebook. That would a riot. (I wonder if he signs autographs…) Another interesting memory was the time that he told me that he was going to be away for a couple of days to go talk to someone regarding a misunderstanding that he was having with a gangster who thought he was seeing his girlfriend. I was supposed to call the police if he wasn’t back in 2 days. I hadn’t even been in Japan a month yet and already I was making such interesting friends.

I soon got into the swing of things with my weekly schedule of English classes – class size varied, but I think overall I had 90-100 students per week. After the work schedule was sorted, I started getting to know my way around my new neighbourhood bit by bit and began to explore the wonderful, exotic treasures of Japanese culture: go, (the board game), sado (tea ceremony), shodo (calligraphy) and, of course, budo, Japanese martial arts. The first thing on my list for that last activity was to make contact with my karate sensei – and the next was to track down the ninja master Masaaki Hatsumi.

(To be continued in Part II…)

I was asked today to write something about Kaname in advance of a seminar I’ll be giving at Bujinkan Manitoba on May 26/27. The following are some thoughts I put down based on my experience of feeling and hearing what Sensei has been teaching on this subject this year.

Kaname (要) is a word that means “essence,” or “essential point.” It refers to that which is necessary for a thing to be what it is. For example, each technique from our Nine Schools has something about it that makes it unique. For Ganseki Nage to be Ganseki Nage, and not Omote Gyaku, there are things about it that make it distinct. Those things are the “Kaname” of Ganseki Nage, the things that make it what it is, distinct from other techniques, the things that comprise its essential character.

Hatsumi Sensei used to talk a lot about Kyusho. Early on, he talked about how important it was to know the Kyusho points, and about how important it is to practice hitting them accurately and effectively. People were taught the names of fixed Kyusho points found in various Ryu Ha, and diagrams of the locations of these points on the body appeared in books. Later, Hatsumi Sensei emphasized that it is important not only to know where the fixed Kyusho are, but to realize that other people also know where they are, so they can be protected or used against you. Being fixed in place, they become common knowledge, something that is easily referenced by anyone with an interest in the human body. Later on, Sensei would emphasize that it’s important to be able to create your own Kyusho at will, rather than being tied into a fixed idea that a Kyusho is a fixed location on the body. The idea of Kyusho became more to do with taking advantage of openings that the opponent gives you, or that you create, regardless of whether or not the openings happen to coincide with a set “pressure point.”

Now we are talking about Kaname, and in this I think Sensei is taking the Kyusho idea one step further to apply to any factor in any situation rather than any point (fixed or not) on the body. So not only are there Kyusho on fixed points on the body, and not only can new ones be created on an as-needed basis, but any of the factors in a given situation, in a given moment, can be used to create the optimal outcome. In Budo techniques, these factors generally fall into what I call the Kihon No Goshin (基本の五心) – the 5 Essential Basics: Distance, Timing, Angling, Balance, and Force.

When working through a technique, at any given moment in that process, there is a key essential factor (which is likely one of the Kihon No Goshin, or a combination of two or more – but it could also be something else, like the placement of an elbow, or that a hand is in a certain position at a certain point in order to guard against a potential attack at that point) that must be employed in order to produce the optimal result. The more this does not happen, the less efficient and the less effective things become. It’s the same thing in life.

Shiraishi Sensei often says, “Constantly ask yourself, ‘What is the most important thing that I could be doing right now?‘” At any given moment in our lives, there is Something that we could be doing that is most in line with who we are and what we need to be doing at this moment (both at this moment in time and at this time in our lives) in order to accomplish that which we are here to do. That Something is the Kaname of that moment, and the less often we do that Something each moment, the further away we grow from being Who we are meant to be. In Taijutsu, the Kaname is the essential point that makes a movement work, its functional essence, and in life, the Kaname is the Essence of Who-You-Are – your true inner self, your ultimate identity.

In Taijutsu, the Kaname is dynamic, always changing, always flowing from one point to the next. It is not optimal to do the same Something each moment. It is not optimal that every technique be the same. It is important to be able to constantly adapt with the Kaname, to be able to recognize it when it appears, and follow it where it goes. In everyday Japanese, the word “Kaname” is often used with 2 other characters to read, “Kanjin Kaname” (肝心要), “the essential point.” When the characters are changed to 神心神眼 (normally read as “Shinshin Shingan”), they can also be pronounced “Kanjin Kaname,” but with the meaning of, “divine mind, divine eyes.” In other words, divine mind and insight reveal what the Essence is.

In training this year, we are looking at ways of recognizing the Kaname in Budo, at ways of seeing where it is going, and at ways of learning how to learn to ride with it as it constantly flows and changes. Taking the lesson beyond the walls of the dojo, there is always Something optimal that we can be doing to grow and evolve with the changes that Life presents us, the essential point of every moment.

Shikin Haramitsu Daikomyo – May each moment bring you Great Light!

I’d like to start this blog by thanking the readers who have expressed their appreciation for the posts I’ve made thus far. Thank you for your feedback and letting me know that you’ve found what I’ve written to be helpful to you. My intention was to make one entry per month, but last summer became very busy, and that continued right through the end of the year, so that whenever I would prepare to write an article, I’d think to myself, “Is this really the most productive thing that I could be doing right now?” The answer most often was, “No.” And so the blog went quiet for a few months – but in the meantime, I’ve kept an active list of interesting topics that I want to write about, so these will gradually be coming out in the next little while.

What I wanted to write about today is the latest DVD set from Hatsumi Sensei. Last summer, I received a handout at Hombu Dojo that asked Bujinkan instructors in Japan to speak with their students and see what questions they would like to ask Hatsumi Sensei. The questions could be about anything – directly related to training or not – and we were told that Sensei would discuss the questions received on a DVD. This DVD set (2 DVDs, 2 hours each) was released for sale at Daikomyosai 2011, and is entitled, “Hitsumon Bujinden (必問・武神伝): Wisdom Necessary for Quest.”

In evaluating this 2-volume set, my opinion is that although the production quality is lacking in some aspects, the content more than makes up for it.

In speaking of production quality, I’m referring to the spacing and punctuation of the English text on the DVD case, as well as in the subtitles in places. Simple things like having a space after a period can make a big difference when it comes to the impression of the quality of the product. The quality of the translation is also not 100% in some places. The production company was on a tight timeline to have the product ready for sale at Daikomyosai, but were behind schedule, so the Japanese text (transcribed from the video by a Japanese native) was sent to the translator later than originally planned, and the video content was not sent to the translator until the day after the translation was supposed to have been completed. When the translator checked his translation of the text against the video, he realized that the Japanese transcriber had made a number of mistakes and omissions, leaving out things that Hatsumi Sensei had said, misunderstanding things Sensei had said, and using incorrect kanji characters for words that sound the same (for example, using the kanji for Banpei (番兵, sentry), when what Sensei actually says on the video is Banpen Fugyo (万変不驚)). The translator made recommendations for changes in these cases, but not all of these were implemented by the production company, ostensibly because they were too strapped for time in regard to their target release date. The result is that the English subtitles appear a bit disjointed in places (and in a couple of places even include numbers, where the video editors mistakenly copied in parts of the time-stamp code from the original video).

All that being said, the content of what Sensei talks about in these DVDs makes them well worth having. Sensei discusses many things related to training, as well as many teachings and philosophical ideas. Some things he talks about he hasn’t spoken openly of before, to my knowledge, like details of his family background and upbringing, which was not always smooth. It struck me how well he processed his own background, and how he turned it all into positive, into good. Sensei refers to this as using bad experiences as fertilizer with which to foster a positive life. It occurred to me how essential this processing of negative experiences in our lives helps us grow spiritually. Aside from any considerations of enlightenment, perhaps it is the degree to which we process negative life experience and turn it into good that is an indicator of spiritual advancement. Sensei seems to have answered the big questions of his own life. Each of us have our own questions that need to be answered as well.

Although Sensei is in interview mode, the DVDs don’t just show him speaking – there are still shots and video footage of his early life, training with Takamatsu Sensei, and his work as an advisor for film and TV programmes, in addition to scenes from training seminars, Taikai, and Hombu Dojo down through the years. I feel that the photos and video give a wonderful overview of Hatsumi Sensei’s martial arts career, and that what he talks about in the interviews provides valuable teaching and advice for life – both for training in the Dojo and in living daily life.

This is one of my favourite DVDs with Sensei to date – highly recommended.

Shawn

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_KZm5bHKnl8

1980 - US Embassy demo in Tokyo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSlU7XmyPTM

2008 - Bujinkan Kashiwa Demonstration

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nhv4x5xdHSQ

1989 - München Taikai

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chmbgrhkGB0

1991 - Daikomyousai Japan

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQkIIDNCyyQ

Why we don't break boards

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.

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!

I. Recap

In the first part of this article we looked at some early uses of the term “demon” in the West in order to help us more fully understand some of the things that Sensei refers to when he talks about the demon motif in connection with the Bujinkan martial arts tradition of Kukishin-ryū (九鬼神流). We also looked into some psychological principles derived from the demon idea and how those principles can be used to make our lives happier and more balanced. In this final part of the article, we will look at principles of Japanese geomancy (fuu-sui, 風水) related to the demon motif, and give some very brief hints as to some ideas for application of these principles to the Kukishin-ryū taijutsu techniques Kimon (鬼門) and Ura Kimon (裏鬼門).

II. Geomancy

Geomancy is an ancient earth-based system of divination. The most commonly-known Eastern method of geomancy is the Chinese system of Feng-shui (pronounced fung-shway). The Japanese equivalent, known as “Fuu-sui” uses the same kanji characters as the Chinese system – the character for wind and the character for water (風水). The topic of geomancy as a whole goes far beyond the scope of this article, but in very basic terms it refers to the use of geography (both directions and location/placement of geographical features) in divination.

A) SouthWest to NorthEast

One of the geomantic aspects which is connected with Kukishin-ryū is the cardinal direction known as Kimon (鬼門) – “Demon Gate.” This term originates in the Sengaikyo document, which was written in China during Japan’s Warring States Period, the Sengoku-jidai, “a time of social upheaval, political intrigue, and nearly constant military conflict that lasted roughly from the middle of the 15th century to the beginning of the 17th century”. Most Bujinkan practitioners are probably more familiar with the pressure point (kyusho, 急所) of the same name, which is located on the chest muscle structure a few centimeters above the nipple. This pressure point actually derives its name from a direction, or trajectory, on the Fuu-sui compass - the direction of Kimon (鬼門), which is associated with the Northeast. Traditionally, the center of the Fuu-sui compass is located at the political center the land. In the case of Japan, from the Edo Period onward, this was Edo Castle (Edo, 江戸, is the old name of Tokyo), so the direction of Kimon in this case would be a line drawn in a Northeast direction from Edo Castle. Moving along the line North-East, one moves towards the Kimon. One interesting point to note before moving on is that Hatsumi Sensei’s weekly Tuesday classes at the Tokyo Budokan are in Ayase, which lies in the Northeast direction from Edo Castle, as does the Bujinkan Honbu Dojo in the town of Noda if you move farther out in the direction of the Kimon, as does Hatsumi Sensei’s home in Mitsukaido if you move yet farther out from the center along that same Northeast line. (This is not an exact straight line of course, but close enough to make it interesting.)

B) Geopolitical Expansion of the Early Japanese

Another interesting point comes when we look at the overall geographic orientation of the Japanese islands themselves – they are generally oriented in a Southwest – Northeast configuration. One image comes to mind of the early invaders of these islands (the ancestors of modern Japanese) fighting the native Ainu population back up to their retreat in the northern island of Hokkaido as they fought their way up from the Southwest corner of the island chain up to the Northeast – a procession from the Ura Kimon to Kimon. Yet another image that comes to mind is that of the red-faced, big-nosed Tengu demon which, according to one theory, may originate from early skirmishes with or sightings of the long-nosed, red-faced peoples of what is now Russia as the Japanese invaders moved up into the Northeast end of the island chain. The reason that the Kimon was drawn from SouthWest to NorthEast may have been because, to the ancestors of the modern Japanese people who settled the islands, expanding from the SouthWest to the NorthEast, their rivals and enemies would have been the Ainu and the inhabitants of what is now Russia, to the far NorthEast. This is the direction from which their enemies would have attacked, and the direction in which the ancient Japanese had to expand in order to secure the islands for themselves. Another, more modern, example of the term is used in relation to the general Northeast direction of the Joban Line, a Japan Rail train line. This line is sometimes referred to as “the railway Kimon” because of its extension out from central Tokyo in a Northeast direction.

C) Sensei’s Garden

During a visit to Sensei’s country home in 2004, he treated me to a tour of his garden, pointing out the significance of each object not only in and of itself, but in its relationship to the objects around it and its position in the garden as a whole. One of the impressive features of this garden is an imposing stone monument located at the Southwest corner. Engraved into the stone are the characters for “Kuki”, and mounted upon it is a large demon mask. This stone demon monument stands at the Southwest corner, as a guard of the garden. Conversely, at the Northeast corner of the garden, almost hidden away in the grass behind a greenhouse, sits a rather unimposing rock with a couple of terra-cotta figurines standing in front of it. When asked if I understood this, I had to scratch my head and admit that I didn’t really see the significance. Sensei then made a joke related to the shape of the rock, which I then realized bore a striking resemblance to female genitalia. The clay terra-cotta figurines had exaggerated genitalia as well, marking this corner of the garden as a place of fertility and creation. Sensei said that traditionally, when a child was born to a family, they would fire off arrows into the Northeast in celebration. The juxtaposition of the opposing corners was quite striking – on one side, the ferocious guardian; on the other, the generative forces at work.

III. Kimon in Taijutsu

The Kimon and Ura Kimon techniques of the Kukishin-ryū tradition come from its Dakentaijutsu section. This section of the tradition’s curriculum deals with grappling in Japanese samurai armour, known as yoroi (鎧). As one can imagine, and as anyone who has actually worn and moved around in it knows very well, Japanese armour is heavy, awkward, and restricting in and of itself, let alone in a battlefield situation where there would have been weapons, opponents, and obstacles all around. Once someone in armour fell to the ground, it was a difficult and dangerous exercise to get up again, and in many situations one was probably considered quite lucky if he were able to get back onto his own two feet alive. Thus, it was paramount for one to maintain his own balance while fighting in armour, and equally advantageous to study the ways of unbalancing an armoured opponent.

In the first part of this article, we discussed the classical (Platonic) idea of demons and how the generic term (daemon or daimon) can refer to a part of the psyche which is neither good nor evil. Long after Plato, in Medieval Europe, several grimoires were written (such as The Lesser Key of Solomon) that describe demons as unbalanced (and unbalancing) forces. From a taijutsu perspective, if we interpret the idea of Kimon (“Demon Gate”) as a gateway for unbalancing force, its application to armoured taijutsu movement takes on a new meaning – both with regard to unbalancing someone else and to maintaining one’s own balance as well. (Also remember to think about this in terms of psychological balance…) The Kimon is an extremely effective point to use when taking the balance of someone in armour. It is a point where, when force is properly applied (right amount, right angle, etc.), the opponent’s balance can be taken quite easily. And as mentioned above, an unbalanced opponent is pretty close to a dead opponent, especially if he is wearing heavy armour.

When practicing in the dojo, the Kimon kyusho pressure point on the chest is often attacked with a painful thumb strike known as a boushiken (棒指拳). However, looking at the technique from a classical perspective where yoroi armour is being worn, the Kimon would be covered by the yoroi and thus protected from the thumb strike. In fact, striking with the thumb to this area in such a case would more likely damage the thumb of the striker than the Kimon of the opponent. Because of this, when looking at the Kimon and Ura Kimon techniques of Kukishin-ryū, it is best to not think only of the Kimon kyusho itself, but to consider the direction, or line of balance, in which the defender enters the attacker’s space and the direction in which the attacker is taken off balance.

Actual taijutsu techniques are much better explored in the physical realm under the guidance of a qualified instructor than in the realm of text on web blogs, so I am not going to go into a description of the techniques here, but if you mentally superimpose the fuu-sui compass directions on either the horizontal or vertical planes when practicing these techniques, you will be sure to notice interesting correlations to the Northeast/Southwest directions and the concepts of Kimon and Ura Kimon. The picture on the right above is one that I took of Noguchi Sensei wearing armour at a Daikomyosai a few years ago. I’ve drawn an arrow on the photo to point out the NorthEast and SouthWest “corners of balance”. If we were squaring off with an opponent wearing armour like this, the Kimon would be at his left chest/shoulder, in the direction of the arrow pointing to the NE. By striking or pushing in this direction, upward against the chest/shoulder, the opponent’s balance would be taken to his left back side – the Kimon direction. Conversely, if we were to take the opponent’s right wrist or forearm and draw it forward and down, in the direction of the SW, the SouthWest direction of the compass, his balance would be broken to his right front side. This would be an example of the Ura Kimon direction. I hope this illustration helps you to understand Kimon vs. Ura Kimon  in this context.

Best wishes in your study of Kukishin-ryū taijutsu, and I hope you have found this two-part article on the demon motif in Kukishin-ryū to have been helpful and informative.

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.