Morihiro Saito Demonstrating Irimi Nage

Morihiro Saito was a senior Aikido teacher who ran the Iwama branch of Aikido.

Below, he is demonstrating Irimi Nage. Enjoy.

The Aikido of Gaku Homma

Gaku Homma, 9th Dan, is the last of Aikido's founder, Morihei Ueshiba's uchi deshi. He resides and teaches in Denver Colorado.

Why Didn't Samurai Use Shields?

 

Steven Seagal Fight Scenes

Say what you want about Steven Seagal. His aikido is authentic and he is as smooth as glass. Below is a compilation of some 20 fight scenes from his movies. Enjoy.

 

Cutting Incorrectly

I stumbled onto the Shugyo blog, where the author is tracking his progress in iaido and jodo. I happened to read an old post that I found quite interesting, about cutting incorrectly. There are several short videos that you'll have to follow the link to watch. The full post may be read here.

So I am now approaching the one-year boundary to taking my 7th dan grading in Iaido and achieving Level 10 Paladin status (with a +8 vorpal blade to boot). Naturally this means I now have to focus on the important things in life to prepare:

• Watching more Youtube
• Starting to write more blogs
• Procrastinating about finishing them
• Doing the washing up

 So in this theme of avoiding doing any training at all costs, I thought I would spend some time in the dojo filming my students and commenting about how they are "still doing it wrong, you never listen, why am I even here if you don't listen, I told you this last week etc, etc, etc" so I ensure that they feel that they are properly valued.
I decided to turn my focus on Kesagiri, a form that somehow gets little attention compared to other Seiteigata so by my reckoning probably means that we (I mean me) are missing out some essential bits.
Let's start at the beginning with the translation of the ZNKR instruction on the most important part in this path to spiritual perfection - hacking your opponent in two...

1. While facing the front, begin walking with the right foot; when the left foot is in front quickly place both hands on the sword. Rotate the saya left and down while drawing the sword; at the same time that the right foot moves forwards, with a right-handed grip cut the enemy in front from their right wakibara in a reverse kesa cut. Note - when the sword has cut up, the sword should be rotated when the right fist is above the right shoulder.
2. With the feet in the same position, with the left hand bring the saya back to it's original position, release the koiguchi and grip the tsuka; without stopping the sword from the rising cut, cut the enemy from the shoulder joint down through the kesa. Note - at the end of the cut, the alignment of the left fist and the kissaki should be the same as Kata No. 3 Note on Point 2.*

* This refers to the kissaki being slightly below horizontal and slightly to the left with the left hand in front of the navel

I'm going to stop there because I don't want to get into how to make hasso kamae etc.

In the chakuganten (critical points for examination and judging) the significant one of the two is asking whether the rotation of the sword is made above the shoulder or not.

So these are the bits which are "decided"; we also receive various bits of advice and instruction from our Japanese patron teachers over many years including:

• The two cuts should be joined into one
• The initial draw should make a pressure to the enemy's face
• The distance to the enemy for both cuts is the same

I think these are generally inarguable as they have been instructed by a very wide range of teachers, both from official delegations to private invitations.

Imperfect Practice

It is said that practice makes perfect. That has been updated to perfect practice makes perfect. 

But we are imperfect people. There was an article on Thoughts on Tai Chi regarding how we imperfect people can progress through our imperfect practice. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

So, what about Tai Chi? What is the value of imperfection, and how can you apply these ideas? First of all, some traditional Tai Chi teachers argue that striving for perfection while practicing Tai Chi creates more obstacles than it does improvements. I agree with this, especially when it comes to trying to perfect every detail.

Focusing too much on the “perfection” of the final posture in each movement, trying to replicate your teacher’s exact appearance, or obsessing over how things should look points to a shallow mindset and indicates that the person is focusing on the wrong things.

Instead, your focus should be internal. You should aim to feel and become aware of your movements and internal state. Your mind-body connection is what truly matters for developing internal awareness. You will be able to sense where your movements have “gaps” and “weaknesses,” but what you feel won’t always directly impact the visual appearance of the form. Developing smoothness and balance in the movements certainly will, but again, these real qualities are brought forward by focusing on the internal state and maintaining awareness in each moment – not by external corrections of the form.

Another aspect of focusing too much on imperfection is that it can make your Tai Chi feel “double weighted” or “double heavy.” In Tai Chi Chuan, it is crucial to separate Yin and Yang. But what does this mean in practical terms? It means that one side of the body leads, while the other follows. One side is “weak” or empty, while the other is “strong” or full.

This separation should also influence your focus and awareness of movement and posture. If you try to balance everything equally or maintain the same focus on both sides, you will block yourself. Your movements will become forced, and you will prevent yourself from moving smoothly and freely.

In fact, we could say that a certain imperfection in the balance between the two sides of the body creates smoothness and freedom in movement. Because of this aspect of practice, it becomes easier to let your body make decisions by itself and move more naturally, as it wants. This is also what the masters refer to when they speak of developing “natural movements”—something impossible if you try to force yourself and your movements.

The Five Striking Energies of Taijiquan

Over at Thoughts on Tai Chi, there as an interesting article about the five different striking energies used in Taijiquan.An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

This article explores five distinct types of Jin (trained force) used in Tai Chi Chuan’s striking methods. While Tai Chi Chuan includes the concept of the “five fists,” referring to the five punching techniques in the traditional Yang-style long form, the actual repertoire of striking methods within the art is far more extensive. Here, however, we will not focus on these “five fists” but rather on five unique qualities or flavors of Jin, which operate independently of specific striking techniques.

Toward the end of the article, I will delve deeper into the nature of Jin, its underlying principles, and share insights into my personal approach to developing and applying it.

An introduction to Jin in striking

In Tai Chi, the term jin is commonly used and often translated as “energy.” However, in my opinion, “refined strength” is a more accurate and appropriate translation. When discussing attacking power, the term fajin is frequently used. This is a general term encompassing various types of power based on the principle of storing and releasing energy. Most often, fajin refers either to a quick, explosive release of power or a whole-body shaking movement, which can produce a notably powerful and impactful expression.

In general, when discussing striking in Tai Chi, the focus is more on differentiating various types of “refined strength” (jin) rather than specific punching or striking techniques. These different qualities of jin can be applied across a wide range of striking methods, using different hand shapes, fist forms, or even the elbow or shoulder. This versatility allows practitioners to adapt the same refined strength to diverse techniques and applications.

However, the terminology for different types of striking jin – “energy” or refined strength – in Tai Chi Chuan varies greatly across styles, lineages, and individual teachers. There is no universal standard. Some teachers emphasize only the general term fajin, while others use a wide range of terms to describe distinct qualities of power. These qualities reflect differences in mechanics, body structure, and movement organization, highlighting the depth and variety within Tai Chi’s approach to striking.

Through my study, reading, and practical experience, I have concluded that there are five basic types of jin used for striking power in Tai Chi Chuan. To clarify, although the different names of each jin is explained by various teachers and authors, the concept of “five jins” is not something I have encountered in any specific text or tradition, nor do I know if others use the same categorization. This is simply my own way of summarizing the most common terms that various teachers from different styles use to describe their striking methods.

The five types of jin for striking

After studying a wide range of texts, both historical and contemporary, I have identified the five most commonly mentioned types of jin as described by various masters and teachers. These five terms encapsulate the most essential types of power developed in Taijiquan. The five types of jin are:

• Toujin, 透劲 – Penetrating Jin: refers to a force that is focused and directed inward, passing through the opponent’s external defenses, and transmitted deeply into the opponent’s body, to target the core or internal structure of the opponent.
• Danjin, 弹劲 – Elastic Jin / Spring Jin: refers to a jin generated by compressing and releasing energy in a controlled manner. It is a springy, rebound-like energy that resembles a stretched rubber band snapping back into place. Or maybe rather pressing a spring together and releasing it.
• Doujin, 抖劲 – Shaking Jin: refers to a sudden, whip-like force generated through a whole-body wave or vibration. The force starts from the ground (rooted in the feet), travels up through the legs and waist, and is amplified by the spine, eventually reaching the point of contact.
• Zhenjin, 震劲 – Vibrating Jin: involves delivering a rapid, oscillating energy that shakes or vibrates, sending shockwaves into the opponent’s structure.
• Hanjin 寒劲 – Cold jin/Freezing Jin: refers to a sharp, sudden, and unexpected force that feels chilling, both physically and psychologically, to the opponent. Although a physical attack, it can also disrupt the internal balance or psyche.

Vintage Goju Ryu Karate Video

Senior Goju Ryu Karateka Teruo Chinen settled in Spokane Washington in 1969. From that base, he taught his version of Goju Ryu all over the world. Below is a vintage video of him and his practice.

 

Some Chinese Influences on Japanese Martial Arts

Below is an excerpt from an interesting article that appeared at Ellis Amdur's excellent Kogen Budo blog, describing Chinese influences on some specific Japanese martial arts. The full post may be read here. You'll have to follow the link to the article to see the videos.

I am prompted to revisit this topic after viewing this video of Tada Hiroshi, a remarkable 94 year old aikido instructor. For those who like order, you are in trouble. I will live up to my promise of ‘casual’ – this will go all over the place. I’ve got no final point to arrive at–this essay is more like a jazz improv on a basic theme, the latter of which might have been insipid to begin with.

Tada explicitly states that the idea of using this as a training tool came to him when he found this (or a similar) length of wood in his garden, a scrap left over from his gardener trimming posts to prop up trees. He doesn’t reference any other inspiration. Clearly, he is using it to contribute to the away he does aikido, yet one more training tool.

If we just look at the bang, the Chinese name for the thick short-stick training tool, it would be easy to claim that Tada Hiroshi obviously derived his training implement from traditional Chinese practice. Even if this is true, Tada is clearly doing something very different from Feng Zhiqiang and Chen Yu. The latter two men clearly show exemplars of 六合 (Six Coordinations): the first three being a balancing of forces throughout the body (wrist & ankle, elbow & knee, hips and shoulders) and the latter being jin (intent-driven, whole body coordinated movement, utilizing gravity & ground forces), qi (a method of expressing power through the use of trained connective tissue and no rigid, localized tension in the muscles, cultivated through specific exercises that incorporate the breath) and tanden (the use of the midsection of the body – not “one point” – to distribute the force of the body through the limbs in perfect measure – imagine the tanden as the head of a “quintipus” – with the arms of this imaginary beast extending through the four limbs and the head). This way of using the body is sometimes referred to as Heaven-Earth-Man, although this term is also used to describe a myriad of other ideas. At any rate, if this subject is of interest, particularly regarding its relevance to Japanese martial arts, then, (ahem), I have a book for you. (with translation in French and a new versions in German and Portuguese pending in 2025).

Tada is doing something different. Quite admirable, but different. Tada has always been an athlete, with a body that, even as a young man, reminds one of whalebone: flexibly stiff is the best I can describe it. He is known to have run for miles, and done thousands of suburi with a bokuto, and rigorous chanting/breathing exercises in the Ichiukai, a spartan method of training that combined misogi no kokyū-hō (a Shintō-derived chanting practice) and Zen-style meditation. Its main focus seems to be overcoming human frailty and lack of will: the spirit dominates the body. Tada also trained in Nakamura Tempu’s Shin Shin Toitsu. Nakamura was a bigger-than-life character, with more than a bit of Baron Münchhausen in his personality. The dubious aspects of his own autobiography aside, he was one of the first to bring concepts of yoga to Japan, before orthodox systems were accessible, and he developed a very effective method of breathing for health that influenced the famous aikidō instructor, Tohei Koichi as well as Tada Hiroshi. A comparison of the way Tohei and Tada moved, however, will quickly show that they incorporated the lessons of Nakamura and the Ichiukai (which Tohei also studied) in quite different ways.

Tohei had the ability to relax his massive body so that, in essence, it was as if, at every moment in a technique the point of contact on his partner received him as if a large sack of potatoes dropped onto that locale. Tada is, exactly like he does with the “neri-bō,” twisting his limbs and twisting you. I never took ukemi from Tohei, but I did from several of his leading followers. And I did take a fair amount of ukemi from Tada, and I can testify from personal experience that my descriptions in this paragraph are accurate. Tohei scratched the surface of what I described earlier as Six Coordinations – in particular, his development of certain aspects of qi (ki in Japanese); Tada used the same methodology to become a magnificent athlete, still moving very well at the age of 94.

As I described in several chapters in Hidden In Plain Sight, the influence of Chinese martial arts principles upon the 17th century development of Japanese arts is undeniable. I won’t rewrite that history here, but suffice it to say that those principles became embedded in Japanese martial systems. However, no Chinese system of martial arts was transmitted, and the principles that were received (in partial fashion), were then adapted to the needs of various Japanese martial arts. The best metaphor is that the original teachings, such as they were, were digested and “in-corporated,” becoming something quite different from the original as the centuries passed. By the 19th century, there was lip-service paid within some Japanese arts of Chinese influence, but for the most part, no one could delineate exactly what was passed on. [The major exception was Akiyama Yoshin-ryū), which preserved a set of training exercises, called nairiki no gyō (“internal power exercises”) that they explicitly assert were derived from Chinese training methods].

At the inception of the 20th century, the Japanese were largely ignorant of Chinese martial arts (not military arts, per se – remember, the Chinese and Japanese went to war in 1895, and there were any number of subsequent skirmishes before full-scale war again broke out with the Japanese attack first in Manchuria and then China itself in the 1930’s. During hand-to-hand combat, Japanese troops certainly got the experience of facing Chinese “big knife” sabres]. Kano Jigoro, the founder of jūdō, in one essay, wrote that the main distinguishing factor between the two countries’ martial arts is that Japanese martial arts focused on two-person training, whereas Chinese martial arts were almost exclusively solo training. It is unclear to me (or anyone) if Kano knew more, and he was trying to brush aside Chinese martial arts as being insignificant, or if his knowledge at the time was this sketchy. At any rate, some knowledge of Chinese arts seeped into Japan. According to Andrea Falk, in Li Tianji’s, The Skill of Xingyiquan, “In 1914, a teacher from his (Li Cunyi) associate, Hao Enguang, was the first to introduce xingyi boxing abroad, into Japan.” [So many questions!!!: Did he just do a demonstration as part of some kind of cultural exchange, or did he have students? Wouldn’t it be a delightful twist of history were we able to find a guest list with some significant Japanese martial artists among his students, who then “stole his technique!”].

The diffusion of information about Chinese martial arts into Japan was patchy. Ueshiba Morihei, the famous teacher of aikidō, deeply resented his students practicing jūdō after hours, and yelled that them to stop practicing Shina martial arts. [A couple of layers here – he’s actually referring to the fact that jūdō is derived from Yoshin-ryū and Kitō-ryū, the two jūjutsu systems that most prominently have accounts of Chinese principles incorporated at their origin. Furthermore, Ueshiba, an arch nationalist, used a racist term (there is no argument about this) to refer to China]. Nonetheless, Ueshiba had some contact with Chinese martial arts: In 1936, he visited Takeda Hiroshi in Beijing, Takeda being a well-known Japanese student of tongbeiquan and he is known to have seen some Chinese martial arts during his visits to the colonialist Japanese-run Kenkoku University in the early 1940’s. [NOTE: rather than revive a dead-horse to flog yet again, these visits occurred several decades after Ueshiba had studied Daitō-ryū and consolidated his own version of that martial art, and there is not one scintilla of evidence of any change Ueshiba made in his methodology due to his visits to China].

Sawai Ken’ichi studied tachengquan (AKA Yiquan) in Beijing and brought back his adapted version of this art after the end of World War II. [NOTE: He shared the same instructor, Wang Xiangzhai, as Wang Shujin (to be discussed below). Wang was far more well-rounded, having achieved expertise in xingyiquan, baguazhang and the Nanjing Synthesis form of taijiquan. Both Sawai and Wang taught students on the ground of Meiji Shrine at roughly the same time, and friends of mine, who studied with Wang, said that Sawai would occasionally wander over and berate Wang for wasting time on “all that flowery crap; you should just do Yiquan,” and Wang would laugh and continue doing things as he chose.]

 

The Garden of War II

Chris Hellman, over at Ichijoji blog, had a recent post on the War Rake, a weapon from medieval Japan. I excerpted some of the post here.

He followed up with another post, which includes some videos. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

We looked at the military rake (kumade) last month, so now it’s time to see how it fared after the long centuries of war came to an end. Perhaps it was its utility that doomed it in the field of war – It didn’t have much mystique or status as a weapon, did not seem particularly attached to any social or military group (unlike the masakari or long handled axe, for example, which was long associated with yamabushi), and without anywhere to realise its use as a weapon, people forgot how useful it could be, and little more is seen or heard of it…as such.

While it doesn’t seem that the kumade made the transition as a weapon into the relatively peaceful Edo period, several weapons were used in civil defense/law enforcement that involved entangling and immobilizing an opponent. These were the triad of sasumata, sodegarami and tsukubo (there are several alternative names, but these are the most common – the fork, the sleeve entangler and the push pole. Matsura Seizan, for example, calls them the sasumata, hineri and shumoku). They were categorized as implements or tools rather than weapons, but their array of short spikes, partly to deter grabbing, would have been capable of causing significant damage, as well as helping to catch and entangle clothing. If you get the chance to see them close up, there is no doubt that you wouldn’t want the business end of any of them near you. 

In their use, they could very well have replicated the hooking functions of the rake, and perhaps they were more suitable for use against unarmoured opponents. There doesn’t seem to be much in the way of techniques for these implements that have been passed down, though there are several videos online of people using them in more or less plausible ways. 

I would think that anyone reasonably well-versed in the use of pole arms (and jujutsu, perhaps, given their use for restraint) could come up with similar techniques. 

These were not the only tools used to subdue unruly lawbreakers. Anyone who has seen the classic film, Daisatsujin Orochi, starring Ichikawa Raizo, will surely remember the scene where the lone swordsman is confronted by a crowd of constables who attempt to capture him using ropes, doors two-wheeled wooden wagons and ladders (as well was some of the more usual implements just visible in the bottom of the frame below. (This is well worth watching in any case – one of my favourite Japanese movies. it's English title is The Betrayal).

 

Though this approach may seem to be a relic of the past, a modern iteration of the sasumata is still a common piece of equipment in schools (and police stations) in Japan (and also in China apparently – I saw one in evidence in a news report about one of the recent mass stabbing incidents) and has occasionally been deployed successfully. It offers the ability to hold off a knife wielding attacker while remaining at a safe distance. Techniques have been designed to give it more flexibility in use, and it looks as if it could, indeed, be quite effective, especially if it is part of a coordinated effort involving several people.

Choosing a Katana

It has been said that the most important decision that you'll make in  your life is choosing whom to marry. It follows that the second most important decision is which katana to carry. 

Japanese actor Keita Arai helps you to make the correct choice in the following video. Enjoy.