From Gendai Budo to Koryu

Over at his substack, Peter Boylan had an interesting article about the transition one must make from a modern budo (judo, karate, etc) to a traditional martial art (kenjutsu, etc). An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

The vast majority of people practicing budo today are training in gendai budo. These are loosely defined as schools that were founded after the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate in Japan in 1868. The first gendai budo, Kodokan Judo, was founded by Kano Jigoro based on his training in the Tenjin Shin’yo Ryu and Kito Ryu jujutsu schools, and then refined through a tradition of fighting open challenge matches against all comers.

Kano Shihan molded his Kodokan Judo to be suitable for teaching in Japan’s new public education system as a way of preserving and handing down the teachings of classical jujutsu to future generations. This required tremendous reworking of how the jujutsu was taught and transmitted. Kano was inspired by Western ideas about education, and, as a result, he transformed the old school jujutsu into a system that could be taught to large groups with a clear ranking system that is as objective as he could come up with. Kano’s system starts with techniques, then adds randori (sparring), a system of competition, and finally kata for learning the more subtle aspects of the art, as well as those many parts that aren’t suitable for use in a sporting environment.

Budo schools in Japan up to Kano Shihan’s time were generally small and focused on personal instruction. Their culture discouraged the open teaching of their skills and required loyalty to the school. Transmission in these schools is primarily kata based, and the skills are practiced with lethal intent rather than any thought of fair competition, where everyone goes home healthy and whole afterwards. Gendai budo generally take a sporting view of things - everyone is equal and equally armed.

Learning koryu isn’t like learning gendai budo. Instead of a sporting environment based on fair play and safety, koryu assume that everyone is heavily armed and that “fair” means a big gathering where people often drink too much and get in fights. This makes all the difference in the training atmosphere. There is nothing sporting going on. It’s serious learning, and making mistakes can hurt. Students coming to koryu budo from gendai budo have some mental adjustments to make. They have to get over the idea that a “fair fight” is in any way a good thing and start thinking in terms of maximizing every possible advantage.

The oldest koryu, arts like Takenouchi Ryu, come directly from battlefields. Others come from more peaceful times. But, even during the Edo period, Japanese cities were filled with people carrying weapons who were happy to use them. All koryu work hard to transmit hard-won understanding of what it takes to survive fights that are usually asymmetrical. There is no assumption that things will be fair and everyone will have the same weapons. In fact, outside of kenjutsu schools, the assumption is generally that things are not fair and that your training partner is not armed the same way you are.

Starting with the assumption that things aren’t equal changes the nature of training tremendously. It’s all two person kata, which sounds easy because you know the techniques ahead of time. It’s anything but that. In Shinto Muso Ryu, you start out with a 128 cm (roughly 4’) staff, facing a swordsman with a sword that is a little more than a meter (40”), and the person with the sword is a senior teacher who is cutting to hit you. They’re not cutting somewhere in your vicinity. They are cutting 7 cm (3”) into your head. If you don’t move, it’s going to hurt. All of the training is like this. The margin for safety is always tiny. If you don’t move enough, you’ll get cut. If you move too much, you’ll leave an opening that the teacher will exploit and cut you. 

 

 

 

 

Northern Tai Mantis Kung Fu and Sifu Paul Eng

Over at Zen Sekai's blog, there was a recent post where the author described Tai Mantis kung fu and recalled his instruction under Sifu Paul Eng. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

Yesterday was the Anniversary of the the birthday and passing day of my Tai Chi Mantis Shifu. Paul Eng. He was my second Tai Chi Mantis Shifu, the First was Kam Yuen. They were related. He passed away Ed a couple of years ago go. Eng Shifu was about 10 years ago. I first started with Kam Shifu and received my teacher certificate from him. (Northern Shaolin Tai Chi Praying Mantis)

My training included Northern Shaolin, Lohan, Seven Star, Tai Chi Mantis, Ba Qua, Hsing Yi.

Later I trained with Eng Shifu received advanced training and admission into the inner circle of Tai Chi Mantis Society via him. This post is in Honor of him.

Historical Context of Tai Chi Praying Mantis

Praying Mantis boxing (螳螂拳) developed in northern China as a family of related systems rather than a single, uniform style. While popular narratives often trace all mantis boxing to a single founder, historical evidence suggests a gradual evolution, shaped by regional methods, battlefield experience, and individual refinement.

Within this family, Tai Chi Praying Mantis (太極螳螂拳) represents a principle-oriented expression rather than a purely technical divergence.

Relationship to Other Mantis Systems

Seven Star Praying Mantis (七星螳螂拳) is the most widely known branch and is often treated as representative of all mantis boxing. However, Tai Chi Praying Mantis differs in emphasis:

Seven Star favors: Direct aggression Strong percussive force Clear, decisive striking combinations Tai Chi Praying Mantis emphasizes: Listening and sensitivity Adhesion and redirection Lighter contact leading to control

Both are aggressive systems, but their methods of arriving at dominance differ.

The Meaning of “Tai Chi” in Tai Chi Praying Mantis

A common misunderstanding is that Tai Chi Praying Mantis incorporates techniques from Tai Chi Chuan. Historically and functionally, this is incorrect.

In Tai Chi Praying Mantis, “Tai Chi” refers to principle, not choreography.

Specifically:

Using the opponent’s force against them Neutralizing rather than colliding Alternating yin and yang in timing and pressure Maintaining balance while disrupting the opponent’s

These ideas long predate the modern separation of martial arts into named styles and were part of the broader internal logic of Chinese martial culture.

Tai Chi Praying Mantis applies these principles within a mantis framework — through seizing, trapping, elbow control, and rapid finishing — not through Tai Chi Chuan postures.

Northern Shaolin Influence

Northern Shaolin systems historically served as foundational training grounds, providing:

Structure Conditioning Large-frame movement Long-range striking

Tai Chi Praying Mantis emerged and was transmitted alongside this environment, benefiting from Shaolin’s physical discipline while refining it through economy of motion and tactical intelligence.

As practitioners aged or moved into teaching roles, emphasis often shifted away from large, forceful expressions toward principle-driven efficiency — a pattern seen repeatedly across Chinese martial traditions.

Transmission and Refinement

Rather than being a modern hybrid, Tai Chi Praying Mantis represents a refinement process within mantis boxing:

Reducing unnecessary collision Improving timing and sensitivity Prioritizing control over exchange

This refinement made the system especially suitable for:

Smaller practitioners Older practitioners Situations requiring decisive resolution rather than prolonged fighting

Teachers such as Master Chi Chuk Kai preserved this approach by emphasizing principle over appearance, ensuring the art remained functional rather than performative.

Tai Chi Praying Mantis as a Mature System

Historically, many Chinese martial arts evolved toward lighter, more internal expressions over time — not as a loss of effectiveness, but as a gain in clarity.

Tai Chi Praying Mantis reflects this maturity:

It listens before acting It controls before striking It finishes without excess

Seen in this light, Tai Chi Praying Mantis is not an offshoot or compromise, but a culmination — a system shaped by experience, realism, and the understanding that true skill conserves both effort and life.

Naturalness in Martial Arts

At Thoughts on Tai Chi, there was recently a post exploring "naturalness" and what is meant by this in taijiquan specifically, but it applies to martial arts in general. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

 

Introduction: Naturalness in Tai Chi

In Tai Chi Chuan, as well as in several other Chinese martial arts, the concept of being “natural” (ziran, 自然) or of performing “natural movement” is frequently mentioned.

It is therefore surprising that even some well-known teachers question this term, or appear unfamiliar with its actual meaning. Some of these teachers are highly prolific and often speak at length about concepts such as “qi,” yet their dismissal of naturalness suggests a fundamental misunderstanding of what ziran refers to in classical Chinese traditions.

Statements such as “nothing we do in Tai Chi is natural,” “everything is unnatural,” or “if Tai Chi were natural, it would be easy to perform” are commonly heard. Such remarks reveal a lack of understanding of the classical meaning of ziran and of what is considered “natural” within internal martial arts, Daoist body practices, and related Chinese traditions.

At its most basic and simplified level, “natural” or ziran refers to what is originally inherent to the human body – movement and organization as it is meant to function when it is not disturbed or overridden by artificial or forced control.

The Problem of Unnatural Movement

The crucial point is that most of us are not natural in the classical sense. The way we move and use our bodies is largely learned rather than inherent.

Most people walk, sit, and perform everyday tasks while carrying unnecessary tension in the body: a stiff neck, elevated and shallow breathing, and a tense, restless mind. Movements are often clumsy, and awareness of one’s own body is limited.

When people walk, they frequently hold themselves upright through tension in the upper body, maintaining balance by constantly shifting weight across small, unstable points in the feet, rather than allowing the body’s structure to support itself. Speech is often strained and high-pitched, and movement lacks coordination and ease.

Much of the day is then spent sitting, often without awareness of how these habitual patterns of tension reinforce themselves, gradually making movement even more restricted and inefficient. In this sense, what we commonly regard as normal human behavior is in fact artificial: tense, fragmented, and far removed from naturalness.

These patterns are not innate; they are learned behaviors that run counter to what is natural for the human body.

My late Chinese teacher often pointed out that small children are energetic, resilient, and rarely seem to tire. Over time, however, social conditioning teaches children that much of what they do is wrong: how they sit, move, walk, or behave. In schools, they are expected to sit still, remain quiet, and suppress spontaneous movement.

According to my teacher, this process gradually replaces natural movement with artificial patterns. He emphasized that this observation is not new but reflects insights that have existed in Chinese thought for thousands of years. Animals move with smoothness and ease, and young children do as well. Adult humans, in contrast, often do not.