KogenBudo

Author: Ellis Amdur Page 11 of 12

“I train for the ryu”

Jeffrey Mann wrote a response to my last post: “If I understand him correctly, he sees the reason for training in a koryu to be for the sake of the koryu itself, not the people in it or for the sake of historical archiving. However, our actions on behalf of an entity (like a nation) are usually for the sake of the people who live, or will live, in that entity. Doing something good for the entity itself, when it becomes the telos itself, seems misdirected. My contributions to a company, university, or nation are for the well being of its members and, hopefully by extension, the world. This seems to be the model of modern budo folks like Kano, Ueshiba, Doshin So, etc. This is more than pursuing the “Way” for myself alone. I don’t get what Amdur perceives to be the telos of the person who says, “I train for the ryu,” as he does.

What are the alternatives Mr. Mann offers to ‘training for the ryu?’ Let us first address ‘historical archiving.’ Without a doubt, this must be part of one’s involvement in any traditional martial art; otherwise, why train in culture specific, archaic combative methodology with weapons that will, perhaps, never be used again? However, to regard this to be the primary role of the ryu and its members, as exemplified in the phrase mukei bunkazai (‘intangible cultural treasure’), is problematic.

Studying More than One Koryu

This essay is prompted by the following note from Mark Tankosich: A while back, I saw a Facebook post/response where you wrote something like, “I’m either Araki-ryu 24/7, or I’m not Araki-ryu at all.” First, perhaps I am mis-remembering or misunderstanding, so I’d ask you to elaborate. Secondly, and more my question, what does this mean for someone like yourself who does more than one koryu art?

Why study a koryu? Many, if not most, view it as a mukei-bunkazai (‘intangible cultural treasure’). It is envisioned like a mammoth, frozen under tundra ice, that somehow is revived and exists like it did millennia in the past. As soon as this concept is voiced, the endeavor fails.

Why the ‘unrealistic’ targets in modern kendo?

A question was recently raised in a discussion group where I participate: why, from a combative perspective, does modern kendo target areas for victory which are not congruent with those necessary for victory on a battlefield? Here are the point-scoring areas: let us consider them in turn, looking at the armor of a classical warrior, viewing one version linked here.  To be sure, there are myriads of variations of armor, worn in different periods of Japanese history, but some general principles can be derived, even from more limited armor such as this kogusoku here. The head, protected by a helmet, or even a reinforced band, is not really a viable target, whereas the sides of  neck, eschewed in kendo (and in older kenjutsu schools) certainly is. The throat is certainly a target, but note that even light armor often had a protector for the throat. And even in light armor, the outer surface of the wrists (unlike the inside) is well protected. And finally, the sides (do) are certainly well guarded with heavier armor, unlike the hips or backs of the legs.

The Use of Weapons in Aikidō Training

 It is obvious that the sword is a thing with which one strikes and the spear is a thing with which one thrusts. . . . The cut has its rules, and thrust has its rules, and if a person does not know their function, then he will not do full justice to them. Even though the heart may be strong, if the form is not appropriate, then the stroke will fall where it should not fall. If one deviates from the principle of technique, one will not attain what one desires.

—from Tengu Geijutsu Ron

We should stop doing tachi-dori and jō-dori in public demos. There are lots of real swordsmen in the audience, people who’ve really trained with weapons, and they know that we can’t really take swords and staffs out of people’s hands when they are attacking us. We are making fools of ourselves.

—Kuroiwa Yoshio, Aikikai shihan

Therapeutic Self-Defense: Training for Survivors of Violence and Abuse

This essay was originally published several decades ago, and I used to maintain it on my Edgework website. I don’t think that this was ever the best place for it. Rather than an essay for therapists who wish to teach self-defense, it is really meant for martial artists and self-defense instructors who either happen to be therapists, or who need to work in tandem with a counselor, because you are attempting to teach protective skills to victims of abuse and violence. Teaching survivors requires humility: just because something is easy for you, or seems to be something anyone would want does not mean it is so for someone who is wounded. All too often, self-defense classes for traumatized individuals can be likened to being asked to run a hundred yards on a broken leg. Surely, the runner desires to reach the finish line, but all the attempt provides is failure and pain. Hence this essay.

The Importance of Paper in Japanese Martial Traditions

This small essay, written for the website discussion group BudoSeek has kind of gone viral. It is frequently used in various internet discussions to counter claims that lineage doesn’t matter, and it’s acceptable if a teacher is a fraud or liar as long as he or she is charismatic, graceful or a good fighter.

Log on any Internet martial arts site, and sooner or later – no, constantly – there will be a debate about the legitimacy of one school or another. Nowhere is this more common than in koryu (Japanese martial traditions). These debates usually revolve around whether historical documents are needed to substantiate claims of antiquity and authenticity – particularly concerning systems that are little known, presumed lost, or never  heard of before. Essentially, the same rationalizations arise in each and every such discussion.

Akuzawa Minoru: The Body is a Sword: Revised – Ellis Amdur & Rob John

Preface

My original essay, which the reader will see below, was published about ten years ago. It was written subsequent to a visit I made to Akuzawa Minoru’s dojo. Rob John, one of Akuzawa’s senior students, sent me a commentary, where he pointed out several areas where I did not fully perceive or well describe what Akuzawa sensei was teaching. Rob gave a richer, more detailed description of things. Last year (2019), I visited with Akuzawa sensei and Rob again – we’d not spent any time in each other’s company for many years. We spent a wonderful afternoon comparing and contrasting our respective training regimens, and my appreciation for what the Aunkai (Akuzawa’s system) is doing is all the greater, particularly as it is different from my own. One of the most valuable training experiences is to find something different, and rather than trying to re-contextualize it based on one’s own knowledge, appreciate it on its own merits.

To Get Beyond Love and Grief: the Education of the Warrior

 Many children come upon a question, an inquiry around which their life turns. For me, a young Jewish boy in a safe, mostly American suburb, that question was – “If the Holocaust comes for me, can I face it with integrity?” I did not imagine winning, destroying my enemies in some adolescent Rambo fantasy, but simply, “Could I remain a living soul in the face of the worst?” As life began its inexorable erosion upon my innocence, I found that the tinder of Holocaust lay stored away, dry and ready — within myself.   My only salvation was either willful ignorance, hoping no spark would light upon me, or mindfulness, a close caring attentiveness that might keep me strong and resilient enough that I not catch fire.

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