Bujinkan Taka-Seigi Dojo San Diego

So we train

~This Week’s Focus
Ken Nagashi

~Student Quote of the Week
“The correction might seem negative or insulting, but it’s actually the truth that the correction is right that bites.” – Terry

~Training Highlight of the Week

This week’s highlight came from something as fundamental as our dive rolls.

Everyone learned the movement and performed it well. There were no injuries, bumps, or bruises, and everyone was comfortably clearing the stationary obstacles placed in front of them. Then we changed one small thing, the obstacle started moving. Instead of diving over something stationary, a sword or staff was now moving toward their legs. Suddenly, some of the same people who had just demonstrated that they were physically capable of performing the roll began struggling. The skill hadn’t disappeared, nor did their bodies suddenly become less capable. What changed was their relationship with the situation. Hesitation appeared. There are several lessons in this, but three stood out to me: fear, trust in yourself, and trust in your sensei.

The first is fear.

When we think about fear, we tend to imagine its most extreme forms. But we encounter smaller versions of this same experience throughout our lives: giving an important presentation, speaking to someone we’re attracted to, taking the game-winning shot, sitting through a final exam, or stepping forward when everyone is watching. Hours of preparation suddenly converge into a single moment in which we are asked to perform. Martial arts simply gives us a very direct way of confronting that experience. The goal isn’t to become incapable of feeling fear. Courage exists precisely because fear exists. What we are trying to cultivate is the ability to act despite it, and one of the strongest foundations for that courage is confidence. But genuine confidence must be earned through competence. You have performed the roll; you have trained the movement; you have already demonstrated what your body is capable of. Now you must learn to trust that ability when the circumstances become uncomfortable.
That brings us to the second lesson: trust yourself.

When fear appears, doubt often follows. We begin questioning whether we can actually do what we’ve trained ourselves to do. Sometimes that produces a half-hearted attempt. Sometimes we freeze completely. Sometimes we become so concerned with failing that our hesitation becomes the very thing that causes us to fail.

The first step forward is simply to try. Every sincere attempt gives us experience, and experience begins transforming uncertainty into competence. Competence creates confidence, and confidence gives courage somewhere firm to stand.

Martial arts should regularly take us beyond our comfort zones. Growth happens when training carries us beyond what we already know we can do and gives us experiences that expand our understanding of ourselves. Those difficult training sessions may be mentally and physically exhausting, but they can also provide some of our greatest opportunities for growth.

This leads to the third lesson: trust your sensei.

Sensei carries the meaning of “one who has gone before.” In the context of training, your teacher has already traveled farther down the path you are currently walking. When a good teacher presents you with a difficult challenge, it should not be because they want to watch you fail. They have observed your training, understand your current abilities, and believe you are ready to attempt another step forward. And sometimes you will fail. That can be one of the most valuable moments in the relationship between student and teacher. When you stumble, make a mistake, or fail the challenge, the sensei has an opportunity to pick you back up, help you understand what happened, and provide the guidance necessary to realign you toward the path forward. Failure does not mean the lesson has ended, because sometimes failure is the lesson.

There is responsibility on the other side of that trust as well. A sensei must recognize that the development of their students is, in many ways, a reflection of their teaching. The student’s strengths, weaknesses, habits, and understanding will inevitably carry something of what has been passed down to them. Because of that, the teacher bears a responsibility to help each student as best they can: correcting when necessary, encouraging when they struggle, challenging when they become comfortable, and eventually helping them become capable of walking farther down the path themselves.

This relationship cannot be demanded. Trust must be earned in both directions. The student gradually learns that the sensei can challenge them without recklessly exceeding their abilities. The sensei, in turn, learns the student: when to push, when to correct, when to encourage, and when to step back and allow them to struggle. When that relationship develops properly, something much deeper than coaching can emerge, but that in itself is a topic for another day.

And that brings us back to the dive roll. The moving sword wasn’t really the lesson. Everyone had already demonstrated that they could roll. The lesson was discovering whether they could still access that ability when fear, uncertainty, and hesitation entered the equation. That is where training becomes something greater than learning physical techniques. We discover the walls within ourselves that prevent us from moving forward, and then, little by little, we learn how to move through them.

Keep pushing forward! Trust your training, cultivate competence, earn confidence, develop courage, and when you stumble, learn from it and take another step.

As Marcus Aurelius observed in Meditations, what stands in the way becomes the way.

Gambatte! See you on the mat!

The choice is yours or rather you train your reaction. There’s still a choice there.

~Student Quote of the Week
“Crap, I’m sorry, I kicked you in the gibblies…” – Tyger

~Training Highlight of the Week
This week’s highlight comes from our training in sutemi waza, particularly Tomoe Nage.

As uke, Tomoe Nage will definitely test your ability to adapt and change in an instant.

Sometimes tori holds on a little too long and there is no beautiful roll. Instead, you’re suddenly flipped over and scrambling for a solid side breakfall while hoping you don’t pancake into the mat.

Other times, tori pushes a little too enthusiastically with the foot and suddenly you’re flying much higher and farther than expected. Now the comfortable roll you were planning has disappeared, and you have a fraction of a second to decide how you’re going to meet the ground.

And sometimes tori accidentally discovers exactly where that foot is supposed to go and your entire universe suddenly becomes centered around the immediate and undeniable reality of your squished eggs. Somehow, shortly afterward, you discover yourself lying on the mat wondering how your life arrived at this particular moment.

All joking aside, there is an important lesson here.

Sutemi waza are not easy. I consider them advanced techniques because they often arise when your position is already being compromised. Rather than continuing to fight against what is happening, you sacrifice your own position and use that moment to reverse the situation and throw your opponent.

Because that opportunity can appear and disappear incredibly quickly, uke must also be capable of adapting at a moment’s notice.

There isn’t always time to think, “Which ukemi should I use?”
Your body simply has to respond.

That response comes from embodied ukemi developed through years of deliberate training. Rolling, breakfalls, body awareness, relaxation, timing, and adaptability gradually stop being separate things you consciously choose and begin becoming natural responses to whatever situation your body suddenly finds itself in.

This is why learning to be a good uke is an art unto itself and such an important part of Bujinkan training. Uke isn’t simply the person who gets thrown. A skilled uke gives their partner an honest problem to solve while possessing enough awareness and adaptability to safely receive whatever develops from that exchange.

Our ability to grow is deeply connected to the ability of our training partners and, ultimately, to the culture we create together in the dojo. We improve because the people around us are improving too.

So when you occasionally pancake after unexpectedly discovering yourself five feet in the air, or receive an unfortunate kick to the gibblies, don’t become discouraged. Learn from it, adapt, and continue developing your ukemi.

Fly higher and land softer!

See you on the mat!

~Training Highlight of the Week

This week's highlight came from our kenjutsu training.

The technique we studied was particularly challenging because it demanded that tori move into the attack at the very moment the deflection occurred. Rather than retreating from the cut, the body must drive forward off the back foot toward the sword. Doing so increases the power of the deflection while simultaneously closing the distance, allowing the counterattack to happen immediately.

One of our students found this especially difficult. Every time the sword came toward him, hesitation crept in and prevented him from entering. We spoke about how hesitation is often born from overthinking. Overthinking comes from unfamiliarity or insecurity, and insecurity often finds its roots in fear or anxiety.

I noticed his attention was fixed on the sword.

I told him, "Stop looking at the sword."

He replied, "I'm not. I'm looking him in the eyes."

My response was, "Then you might as well be looking at the sword, because your mind is still attached to it."

He paused for a moment and asked, "Then what should I be looking at?"

It's a fair question the sword is the obvious danger and it's moving quickly so it must be dealt with before the technique can succeed. Many years ago, my teachers taught me not to become attached to the source of power, but instead to perceive the whole person. Miyamoto Musashi describes this idea as Enzan-no-Metsuke, "gazing at the distant mountain." It is the ability to perceive what cannot be seen by focusing on any one thing alone. Rather than watching the sword itself, observe the opponent as a whole. The cut is only the final expression of a movement that began with posture, balance, intent, and body mechanics. By seeing the entire person instead of the weapon, the correct timing naturally begins to reveal itself.
There was a long moment of silence as he processed the idea. Then everything clicked, he was able to perform the technique well, and he immediately began helping his training partners who had been struggling with the same problem. The entire room improved because one person's understanding became everyone else's opportunity to grow.

Let's continue to train with hungry minds, open hearts, and a willingness to see beyond what first captures our attention. See you all next week!

~Notes & Reminders

Bring your bokken and kodachi!

~This Week’s Focus

Hon Gyaku and Take Ori