Martial Arts and Aging

As I grow older (I'll be 68 in a couple of month), this topic becomes more and more important to me.

Below is an excerpt from a post that appeard at  Zen's Sekai - Japan 2 @ 70. The author has a deep and broad martial arts background and has shared some thoughts. The full post may be read here.

 

䷹ – Hexagram 61: Inner Truth (Zhōng Fú)a

Theme: Harmony between heart and action. True strength flows from sincerity, not force.

“When the heart is open and the mind clear, even the smallest effort carries great weight.”

Evolving the Way : Zen, Martial Arts, and Age

Trying to train at seventy-five as if you were thirty-five…or even fifty-five…is not only unwise, it is a quiet rejection of the very teachings we claim to follow. In Zen, we speak of impermanence. In martial arts, we speak of timing. Both point to the same truth: all things change, and to resist that change is to create unnecessary suffering.

But impermanence is not an excuse to stop. It is an invitation to evolve.

Youth and Power

In youth, practice is often a celebration of raw strength and boundless energy. We want to push our limits, to test what the body can endure. Whether in the dojo, on the archery range, or walking the circle in Ba Gua, every session is a chance to go faster, strike harder, or hold a stance longer. These are valuable years, building a foundation of skill, resilience, and discipline.

Maturity and Refinement

By middle age, we begin to see the art beneath the effort. Movements that once relied on muscle now draw on structure and timing. In Kyudo, the draw is no longer just about power, but about the settling of the breath and the stillness of the mind. In Tai Chi or Hsing Yi, our strikes and steps carry the weight of accumulated awareness, and we learn that conservation of energy can be as effective as explosive release.

The Gift of Age

At seventy-five, the practice changes again. The goal is no longer to prove what we can do, but to express what we have become. Breath becomes our ally, economy of movement our strategy, and patience our greatest strength. A shorter training session, done with full awareness, can be more profound than a day of youthful exertion.