Martial Discipline

At the Okinawan Fighting Art, "Ti" blog, there was a recent post on martial arts training and discipline. And excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

The Secret in Martial Discipline

Turning Intention into Prepared Self-Defense

Mind sees the pathway
Hands repeat what thought has shaped
Calm arrives through skill

Wish is not armor
Practice gives intention form
Awareness stands guard

A conversational essay on intention, visualization, confidence, disciplined practice, and reality-based self-defense

Introduction

Rhonda Byrne’s The Secret presents a simple and attractive proposition: what we consistently focus on, believe in, feel, and expect can influence what we experience. Its best-known formula is “Ask, Believe, Receive,” supported by practices such as visualization, gratitude, intention, affirmations, and deliberate management of thoughts and feelings. Taken literally, The Secret goes further and describes these practices as working through a universal “law of attraction.” That metaphysical claim is controversial and is not established by mainstream scientific evidence. Yet several of the practical habits wrapped inside the philosophy can be translated into useful methods for teaching and practicing martial disciplines for civilian self-defense.

The key is translation. 

In a dojo concerned with self-defense, “attraction” should never mean believing that a desired outcome will simply appear. It can instead be treated as a discipline of attention: decide what kind of martial artist you intend to become, mentally rehearse appropriate behavior, build confidence through competent practice, notice opportunities to improve, and repeatedly act in ways consistent with the desired result.

In that form, The Secret becomes less a promise that thoughts control external reality and more a reminder that thoughts can influence attention, motivation, emotional regulation, practice quality, and behavior. Those factors genuinely matter when a student is learning to protect himself or herself.

1. Ask: Define the Desired Outcome

The “Ask” principle begins with clarity. In self-defense training, a poorly defined goal often produces poorly organized practice. “I want to be good at fighting” is vague. A more useful intention is: “I want to recognize danger early, avoid unnecessary conflict, remain composed under pressure, protect myself or another person when necessary, and disengage safely.”

That distinction is important because civilian self-defense is not primarily about defeating an opponent. It is about managing danger. The desired outcome should therefore include awareness, avoidance, verbal boundary setting, positioning, escape, proportional physical response, and post-incident judgment—not merely striking or grappling ability.

An instructor can apply the Ask principle by having students identify specific capabilities. 

• One student may need to improve balance and movement. 
• Another may freeze when confronted verbally. 
• Another may possess strong technique but make poor tactical decisions. 

Clear intentions allow practice to become purposeful rather than mechanical.

In traditional martial language, this resembles giving direction to shugyō—disciplined training. The student is not merely accumulating techniques. He or she is deliberately shaping character, perception, judgment, and physical capability toward a defined end.

Tension and Relaxation in Karate

At the Budo Journeyman, there was an interesting article about excessive tension, as well as relaxation in karate training, which applies in my opinion to all martial arts. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

No sports coach has ever said to his protégé, ‘you need to have more tension’’. If anything, it’s going to be the complete opposite.¹

I have seen this so many times. It’s a bit like driving with your foot on the brake and the accelerator at the same time.

It’s not just a matter of agonistic and antagonistic muscles (like the paired cooperation of the biceps and triceps) it’s more than that. It’s about the body’s ability to create perfect concert in movement, without unnecessarily burning energy that would be better employed doing something else. This is what highly trained martial artists should be trying to achieve.

In this piece I want to:

· Explain how this is locked in to karate culture.

· Describe how it manifests itself at individual level.

· Outline what a headache it can be for instructors desperate to help students eliminate the problem.

· Have a look at some possible solutions.

Karate styles across the spectrum.

From my observations, some karate systems appear to have totally bought into the strength and tension hegemony. If you speak to representatives of those styles and ask some searching questions about this, they have answers that make sense at an expert level, but sadly the erroneous image is out there, well ahead of any logic they want to apply to it. Look at Sanchin kata in Goju Ryu and related systems.

The image of the sweating, panting tension-ridden karateka has seeped into the public consciousness; isn’t that what you guys do? That and yell ‘Oss!’ at each other?

Not really.

In Wado?

Some branches of Wado karate made efforts to escape the stranglehold of ‘strength/tension is good’. Others, seldom think about it and carry on as if the conversation doesn’t need to happen. In Wado, here we have the curse of ‘just making Wado-like shapes’, only stronger. It’s very low down the evolutionary ladder.

 

Boys will be boys.

There’s no getting away from it, largely, this is a ‘guy’ thing. Seldom seen amongst female karateka.

The origin of it is quite simple…

Guys have a model in their heads of what the THINK strength looks like.

 

Self-awareness and conscious intelligent engagement.

The default for any instructor, Sensei or whatever, is that you have to consider that you are dealing with intelligent and reasonable individuals, who mostly want to change. I say ‘mostly’ because I have met people who are (educational term) ‘advice resistant’. This just creates an extra barrier.

Based upon my experience, most of these individuals fall into these general categories:

· ‘I’m not doing anything wrong; this is just me showing my strength/spirit/energy’ whatever… If that’s the case, you’ve got a mountain to climb with this person. Plus, they are not really valuing your opinion – another problem that needs addressing.

· ‘Yeah, I know, I just get carried away’. Well have a little self-awareness and just self-regulate!

· ‘I know you keep saying that, I think I get it’ (but deep down you don’t, because you are not aware of what it feels like. There’s a reality gap that needs bridging).

You could apply that old learning trope of:

• Unconscious Incompetence: You don’t know how to do something, and you don’t realize that you don’t know it.

· Conscious Incompetence: You realize you lack the skill and notice your gaps.

· Conscious Competence: You can do the task, but it takes hard work and focus.

· Unconscious Competence: The skill becomes second nature and easy to do.

That would all be nice, but it’s never as simple as that. (Above definitions courtesy of AI Gemini).

Ultimately, it’s all about how you converse with your own body, often coupled with an inability to see yourself as others see you (particularly your teacher). On that last point, I have noticed than when a video recording is used for feedback, it can help to bridge the reality gap, but it’s not the magic bullet.

Martial Arts Forms Applications

Below is an excerpt from a post that appeared at Applied Methods. It addresses a topic that I find quite interesting.

When teaching an application from a form, is it "the" application, or an example of the principles practiced in the form? Both?

The full post may be read here.

 

Following my recent article on kata applications, a familiar response appeared. The essence of it was simple enough:

“My instructor taught me the bunkai.”

Fair enough.

Before going any further, it’s worth acknowledging that while bunkai technically refers to the process of breaking down and analyzing a movement, most karate practitioners use the term when discussing applications. For the sake of simplicity, that is how I will use it here.

The interesting question is what conclusion should follow from the statement, “My instructor taught me the bunkai.”

When I suggest that kata movements may express principles rather than single fixed applications, some people hear something very different. They assume the argument is that nobody knows the bunkai. That is not what I am saying at all.

A more accurate way of expressing the idea would be this:

Even if we think we know the bunkai, that doesn’t necessarily mean it is the only valid expression of the principle.

That is a very different claim.

The interesting thing is that many practitioners unconsciously equate “I was taught this application” with “this is the application”. That leap is precisely what I like to challenge.

Let us assume for a moment that an esteemed instructor taught a specific application for a kata movement. Fine. That tells us he believed the application represented the movement. It may even be an excellent application. It may have been passed down through several generations of practitioners.

What it does not automatically tell us is that it was the original application, that it was the only application, or that the kata creator intended the movement to be restricted to that one use.

Those are different claims.

If we think about how martial arts are actually taught, the picture becomes even more interesting. Even instructors who believe in a correct bunkai will often demonstrate variations based on height, distance, timing, resistance, or circumstance. The moment that happens, we have already moved beyond a single fixed application and into the realm of principle.

When an instructor tells a student, “If your opponent is taller, change your angle”, or “If they grip you higher, drop your weight”, they are no longer teaching a fixed technique. They are proving the point without even realizing it.

A principle can produce many applications. A technique is only one expression of that principle.

What I suspect is happening is that many people see only two possibilities. Either there is one correct bunkai, or nobody knows anything and we are in to guesswork.

I do not believe the situation is nearly that simple.

Two Different Ways of Teaching the Art

There was an interest post at Applied Methods regarding the teaching karate formally in a school, and also outside of a commercial school. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

When I first arrived in the United States, I was struck by the sheer scale of the martial arts landscape. Coming from the UK, my formative years of training and teaching were spent in the tradition of the rented hall instructor. We packed our gear into the boots of our cars and drove to drafty church halls, local sports centers, and sometimes schools. We set up, we trained, we packed up, and we went home. A permanent, dedicated facility was a rare luxury.

When I eventually became part of a storefront dojo here in the US, it felt like a significant milestone. In a culture that often values a commercial footprint as a visible marker of achievement, having a permanent mat and a sign on the window felt like validation that I had finally “arrived”.

A few years later, the disruption of the COVID-19 pandemic forced a total re-evaluation. Like many instructors, the financial realities of that period eventually led me to close our doors. Today, my teaching happens on a much smaller scale - with a number of dedicated students training in a home garden dojo.

It is easy to view a shift like that through a negative lens. When you look around and see thriving commercial schools on every other street corner, modern metrics can quietly trick us into measuring our worth as educators by square footage, student rosters, and profit margins.

But as the dust settled, I began to see the transition differently. Losing the storefront did not diminish the transmission of the art. If anything, it returned the training to something closer to its historical roots.

 

The Cradle of Karate

 Below is an interesting documentary on the history and development of karate on Okinawa.

 

 

Kata and Flow Drills

There was an interesting post over at Budo Journeyman about distilling drills from kata. The full post may be read here. Below is an excerpt.

Chiefly about Naihanchi, but can apply to other scenarios.

Introduction.

It could be argued that any kata sequence can be turned into a useful paired drill, but it depends on how contrived and prolonged it is.

Back in the 1990’s I had an itch I felt compelled to scratch. It was all about Naihanchi kata. I just found it perplexing and frustrating; I honestly didn’t get it.

Clearly, in Wado karate it held a very important position. It wasn’t just an add-on, an oddity, but instead had a central position in the wider curriculum. However, anything beyond ‘just do it, then do it again’ was just not delivering for me.

I pushed into every available corner to try and figure it out. I consulted experts from other systems (I still have a box file of letters, printed out email replies and photocopies sent to me by the then leading scholars). But, the pieces still didn’t sit together easily.

It very quickly became apparent that any explorations in the direction of how the techniques from Naihanchi actually functioned at a practical level, just led me into a quagmire of reverse engineering.

Reverse Engineering.

Definition: ‘Reverse engineering (also known as backwards engineering) is a process or method through which one attempts to understand through deductive reasoning how a previously made device, process, system, or piece of software accomplishes a task with very little (if any) insight into exactly how it does so’.

I had a very interesting and honest email exchange with an expert in the field of kata interpretation (I won’t name him here). I asked him about his published applications of Naihanchi (Tekki Shodan)? He was very open with me; he admitted that he used the process of reverse engineering and said he had applied a ‘bunch of stuff he learned from Aikido and Judo’ to come up with some of his conclusions.

The problem seems to be that, apart from the above-mentioned researcher, nobody wants to admit to reverse engineering, because in doing so they lose any claim to a timeline that goes all the way back to 19^th century Okinawa, or maybe beyond. With reverse engineered kata ‘authenticity’ starts and ends with the instructor who created it.

Oldest version?

In the process of my research, I came to the conclusion that the nearest I was ever going to get to an oldest original version of Naihanchi was from Okinawan Shorin Ryu. But even there, nobody seemed to be prepared to put forward an explanation of what was really going on with kata. (Motobu was an interesting case, but my feelings about his interpretations was that they were idiosyncratic to him).

To continue the story. Curiosity got the better of me when I stumbled across an explanation of Naihanchi that was just too intriguing to ignore…

Nathan Johnson and his book, ‘Barefoot Zen’. Naihanchi as a flow drill.

I read the book first, before I visited Nathan Johnson’s Dojo in Southampton. The actual trip down was the first weekend in June 2001.

(His organisation is ‘Ko-do Ryu’ or ‘Zen Shorin-Do’, a synthesis of different stylistic approaches).

I had previously spoken to Nathan on the phone before I decided to drive down from Essex to Hampshire and experience this for myself.

 

 

 

 

Just Show Up

At the Applied Methods blog, there was an insightful post about the standards we apply to ourselves. Below is an excerpt. The full post may be read here.

 

Every dojo has its own rhythm, its own expectations, its own way of doing things. Mine is simple: if you train here, you show up. Not perfectly, not endlessly, not more than your life allows - just consistently.

Recently someone suggested that expecting this might be a “privileged stance that lacks empathy”, or that speaking about commitment somehow conflicts with the values of karate. The ‘dojo kun’ was mentioned.

That tells me something important, and it has nothing to do with training schedules.

It shows how easily a standard can be mistaken for a judgment.

In the dojo, commitment isn’t measured by how many classes you attend. It’s measured by what you do with the time you can attend.

I’ve taught people who could only train once a week because of work, family, or life pulling in every direction. They were some of the most dedicated students I’ve had. They showed up, stayed connected, and kept moving forward. There was nothing lacking in them.

But that is not the same as the student who could train but doesn’t, or the one who never shows up when injured to watch from the sidelines, or the one who talks about wanting to improve but never takes even the smallest step toward it. Those patterns aren’t about circumstance. They’re about choice. And instructors see that difference immediately.

 

Karate Day Demonstrations

Below are some Karate Day demonstrations held on Okinawa.

 

The Four Standards of the Sanchin Kata

 

The Fundamental Practice of Karate

 

Traditional and Modern Karate

An excerpt from another insightful post at Budo Journeyman is below. It discusses just what is "traditional karate," "modern karate," and points in between. An interesting read. The full post may be read here.

‘Traditional’, call it a label of convenience; call it a handy pigeonhole to categorise what is done. You can even use it as a hallmark of quality, if you want. But how helpful is it, and who cares anyway?

Clearly some people care, or they wouldn’t keep using it. Some wear it as a badge of honour. To the detractors and critics it becomes yet another thing to take a swing at, a convenient target, their favourite strawman.

What does ‘traditional’ mean?

A key part of my college training was to look at the early history of advertising; selling through the message and labels were important. We were told that if you wanted to sell something to the Americans you attached the words ‘New Improved’ to it; but if you wanted to sell to the British you were better off using the word, ‘Traditional’. (‘Traditional Marmalade’ gets my vote every time).

I was listening to a political podcast recently in which ex-politician Nick Clegg was asked what it was like working in Silicon Valley (he has a top job with Meta). Clegg said that the interesting thing about the Valley was that everything is focussed on the future; because the industry has no past. He contrasted that with the UK where he was of the opinion that some of the Brits from the hard right were so sucked into a mythical image of Great Britain’s past (one that never existed in the form they assumed) that they seem unable to develop any forward-thinking future ambitions; other than turning it into some kind of warped image of a fictional England.

The past is not only ‘a foreign country’ (as L. P Hartley said) but it’s also inclined to be a toxic swamp.

So why, in martial arts, do we give ‘tradition’ so much kudos?

In the martial arts we make an assumption that it’s because the product was tried and tested, like some historical Darwinian quality control exercise. There is one obvious flaw with that idea; the assumption that the process is continued forward in an unbroken line.

The great crucible that was the hundreds of years of Japanese civil wars is a prime example. For the development of martial skills this wasn’t the steady civilised and disciplined refinements found later in the Edo Period, no this was a total meat grinder. (The battle of Sekigahara in 1600 had an estimated body count of 30,000). It was closer to chaos than it was to organised tradition.

What we know of the surviving Koryu (Old School Budo/Bujutsu), the majority of them were developed and coalesced in the later periods of peace, when they had the luxury of evolving their lineage and traditions, uninterrupted by warfare. This doesn’t lessen their fighting ability (unless the lineage is allowed to drift into decay, as has happened), if anything it gave them scope to really refine the skills and imbue them with a greater humanity – which is always paradoxical in martial arts.

The specific case of karate.

Karate as it is consumed in the West (and in Japan) is a modern thing. Can we attach the word ‘tradition’ to something that is so recent?

In Japan it’s classified as ‘Gendai Budo’, 現代武道 ‘Modern Martial Way’. A line is drawn at 1868; in the years before that it’s ‘Koryu’.

Karate jumped from the rural domain of Okinawan to mainland Japan in the 1920’s and underwent many changes; including elements of militarisation, modernisation and westernisation (consider the influence of the Olympic ideas of Baron De Coubertin which spread across Japan). So, although you might talk about the ‘Olympic tradition’, it would be odd to start referring to ‘Traditional Olympics’ because it would sound so retrograde.

Cobra Kai.

To highlight the clash between traditional and new; modern western culture has set up a cartoonish karate model as a framework to attach a storyline to, which began in 1984 with the springboard of the ‘Karate Kid’ movie franchise and has been warmed over like turkey dinner for the streaming platform generation.

For those of you who know it (and those who don’t):

In a nutshell; Cobra Kai = modern progressive karate, American style, strip mall Dojo, all noise and thunder and no morals.

Miyagi Ryu = Old-fashioned (traditional) karate, clear link to a Japanese/Okinawan figurehead, high moral standard, set up as an antidote to the above. Looks a lot like Goju Ryu (deliberately).

Cobra Kai leader, John Kreese, All-American military guy, Mr ‘No Mercy!’, ‘No fear!’ The cinema-going audience know this is ‘black hat, white hat’ stuff, they are supposed to be repelled by this version of ‘modern karate’.

Miyagi Ryu master, Mr Miyagi; unassuming handyman dude, reluctantly acts as karate mentor to teenager Daniel LaRusso. Indeed, for most of the story Daniel is his only student. The writers have fun with Mr Miyagi’s unorthodoxy, e.g. “In Okinawa, belt mean no need rope to hold up pants”. Miyagi is so traditional, he’s beyond traditional.

Cobra Kai is shown as what the west has done to the noble Japanese tradition, not only have they sportified it, they have taken the humanity out of it.

 

 

Classic Japanese Martial Arts Documentary

In 1978, Budo: the Art of Killing, a documentary on Japanese martial arts was released.

 Despite it's unfortunate title, it remains a classic and may be viewed below.

Enjoy.

 

The Ego in Martial Arts Training

Below is an excerpt from a post at Budo Journeyman, regarding the ego on display (or not) in martial arts training. The full post may be read here.

 

Way back in the late 70’s or early 80’s on a bleak Saturday afternoon in Yorkshire I was attending a seminar in Wado karate with a Japanese instructor, who, for the sake of this article, I will call ‘Sensei N’.

He was pretty much fresh out of Nichidai university and had been in the UK a short while. I hadn’t had much exposure to him on the larger courses, as, being one of the more junior Japanese Sensei, he was usually relegated to teaching the lower kyu grades; while we spent all of our time with Suzuki Sensei. But for this course in Yorkshire, it was just him on his own.

(In the near future I will use Sensei N. as a springboard for another piece to be released at a later date).

He did a really comprehensive, well-constructed lesson and his English was good enough to get across what he needed to communicate and he always did it with a smile. His own techniques were crisp and assured, as you would expect from his years of university karate.

At that time, he had a particular thing about footwork, and drilled us in stance-shifting, up and down the room and explained how important it was for Wado karateka to be light and smooth in movement.

But, on this day there was one incident that for me was to have a big influence on how I viewed what we were doing with our karate and how we related to other people. Something bigger than just a set of technical notes.

A model of humility.

Towards the end of the session, he called us up one at a time to spar with him. Bear in mind that this was in front of the entire class. I watched closely as he very calmly out-manoeuvred his opponents, who were, to some degree, being slightly deferential towards the Sensei, not that it would have made any difference, he was more than capable of dealing with what they had to throw at him.

Then came my turn.

In my mind I felt it would be disrespectful to not present myself in the best possible light; not because my ego demanded it, but because the situation demanded it. There was no space for ambiguity.

In a sparring situation like this, it is important to dig into your reserves and you also have to draw upon your toolkit. At a basic level, here was a problem that had to be solved – respectfully and appropriately.

The fight started out well enough; some good solid exchanges flowed both ways. Then, I must have spotted that he favoured a left stance, and so I went for a footsweep (ashibarai). It wasn’t a full-on take-down sweep, more of a calculated tickle; something I had used many times before, a set-up, if you like.

I honestly thought he would read it, (was he laying a trap for me?) But no, temporarily he was wrong-footed and the sweep tipped him ever-so slightly to his left, and for a nano-second he locked up to readjust his balance; to which I saw my chance and connected with a gyakuzuki; right distance, right timing – but, what had I done?

I had less than half a second to come to the thought that can be summed up with, “Oh no, I’m in for it now!”

I expected him to power up the gears and turn me into mincemeat. (After all, I had been brought up on stories from my seniors where certain Japanese Sensei had broken bones if they thought for a moment that the Westerners were getting uppity).

Had I overstepped the mark? I had the audacity to lay a technique against the respected Japanese Sensei, and was I now going to pay a heavy price?

To give a little background on the cultural dynamics.

International judoka Neil Adams, in his autobiography wrote about randori in the Kodokan in Tokyo, when he was only 16 years old, where he came up against an elderly, highly-respected 9^th Dan Japanese Sensei, and for a second, he was absolutely sure that he had the old geezer bang to rights. But… his coach, Brian Jacks, shouted ‘Adams…No!’ and so he held back.

Obviously, I wasn’t there, but part of me wonders about that story. If that oldster was a Kodokan senior, probably someone who had rolled with Mifune Kyuzo, having seen what the elderly, fragile Mifune could do (through films on YouTube), part of me wonders if the hothead Adams would have been humbled by his interchange with this Kodokan master? Adams said that he heard that if you come up against one of these old guys, the tradition was that you let them have their way and almost ‘throw yourself’.

Yorkshire - What actually happened.

I expected Sensei N. to adjust his determination settings, move the dial to 11 and give me a lesson in pain. I had the cheek to strike the respected Japanese Sensei, and was now going to suffer the consequences.

But no… he paused and then said, ‘nice technique’ and continued exactly as before, no change of speed, no great urgency to ‘get one back’. I know, if he wanted to, he could have taken me to the cleaners. Instead, one simple encouraging comment, then business as usual.

I had plenty of time to think about his response and, in my mind, the simplicity and the humanity behind the choice that he made, the course of action he chose to pursue (or not to pursue) proved the measure of the man, here was someone who was comfortable in himself. Total respect from me.

 

Tae Kown Do Knockouts

Deep down, who doesn't enjoy spectacular knockouts?

Keeping it the Family: Aikido and Shorinji Kempo

At Budo Journeyman, there has been an interesting series about martial arts being a family tradition for good or ill.An excerpt from the  final installment, which examines both Aikido and Shorinji Kempo is below.The full post may be read here.

In this final part; keep at the back of your mind these two continuing threads (it will help readers understand the framework of what I am exploring here).

1. The three-generation rule.

2. Iemoto (Family lineage passed on).

Content:

· The adopted son.

· Aikido.

· A brief note about Wado Ryu.

· Shorinji Kempo.

· Conclusion.

Adoption and non-familial transmission.

I don’t want to drift too far off my ‘keep it in the family’ theme but, what if the family pass on the tradition outside of the family; including adoption?

The ‘adopted son’ concept is something found all over the older Japanese martial traditions. Sometimes a promising student will be encouraged to marry into the family to make things easier to pass the lineage on to him. The Japanese do not seem as up-tight as westerners in these things. Modern westerners seem unconsciously aware of blood and genes; perhaps because science has influenced our thinking for much longer than in Japan (there may also be biblical and other cultural reasons).

Also, outside of my current remit, clearly; it’s not compulsory for the traditions to go through the family line, but I want to stay with my theme.

What about the current generations of family traditions in the broader Japanese martial arts?

Aikido.

Aikido seems to have reached its third generation:

· Ueshiba Morihei (1883 – 1969) First generation and founder.

· Ueshiba Kisshomaru (1921 – 1999) son of the above.

· Ueshiba Moriteru (1951 to present day).

Lined up is potentially the 4^th generation; Ueshiba Mitsuteru, born in 1981.

The progression from Morihei to Kisshomaru is an interesting one, something that throws up the issue of generational responsibility.

Put simply; Ueshiba Morihei was a martial artist of almost God-like ability; his son was always going to find that a difficult act to follow. (I would actually say; not ‘difficult’ but impossible). This is an extreme example that appears with other ‘second generation’ family inheritors (see below).

A basic Googling around reveals that there was disquiet when Kisshomaru took over the running of the firm. There were those who said that his emphasis on a particular style of teaching suppressed the idiosyncratic nature of Aikido, and alternative interpretations were not given the credit they deserved.

In part, I am sure that comes from the mercurial nature of the system and its original founder. Kisshomaru was always going to struggle with that.

...

Shorinji Kempo, another example.

Shorinji Kempo is a kind of hybrid Japanese martial arts system, very difficult to categorise. Founded in 1947, it stands out among the other modern styles. Part karate, part jujutsu and supposedly part Chinese Chuan-fa. Is it a religion, is it a cult (in Robert Twigger’s book ‘Angry White Pyjamas’ a ‘friend’ describes it as such – I couldn’t say). Or is it just a well-marketed business? (Current membership figures says 1.5 million members in 33 countries, that is pretty impressive).

 

 

 

Water and Martial Arts

Below is an excerpt from a post at The Okinawan Empty Hand blog on water as a metaphor in martial arts (and beyond). The full post may be read here.

Mizu no tetsugaku [水の哲学] by CEJames & Alfonz Ingram

Here are some quotes related to the concept of water:

1. Bruce Lee on Adaptability:

“Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless—like water. You put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle. You put it into a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”

2. Laozi on Softness and Strength (Dao De Jing, Chapter 78):

“Nothing in the world is as soft and yielding as water. Yet for dissolving the hard and inflexible, nothing can surpass it.”

3. Miyamoto Musashi on Strategy and Fluidity:

“With water as the basis, the spirit becomes like water. Water adopts the shape of its receptacle; it is sometimes a trickle and sometimes a wild sea.” (The Book of Five Rings)

4. Okinawan Karate and Muchimi:

“Like water, muchimi allows fluid yet weighted movement. Heavy, yet light; firm, yet soft. One moment yielding, the next crashing with force.”

5. The Zen Mind and Flow:

“When the mind is still, it reflects like a calm pond. When disturbed, it is like a rushing river—thoughts tumbling endlessly. Mastery is finding peace in both.”

6. Wu De and Water’s Ethics:

“A virtuous fighter flows like water—seeking the low ground, never contesting strength with strength, yet always finding a path.”

7. Seijaku and the Depths of Water:

“Stillness is not the absence of movement but the depth of water before the wave rises.”

8. Shibui and Water’s Aesthetic:

“Like the quiet stream that carves mountains, true refinement in karate is deep, unpretentious, and effortlessly effective.”

Each of these quotes ties into your exploration of martial arts, philosophy, and self-defense, using water as a metaphor for adaptability, softness, power, and depth.

Here are more quotes reflecting the philosophy of water in relation to martial arts, self-defense, and life:

9. Chuang Tzu on Water and the Mind:

“The perfect man employs his mind as a mirror. It grasps nothing; it refuses nothing. It receives but does not keep. Thus, he can overcome all things without harm.”

10. Issai Chozanshi on Martial Arts and Flow:

“Water, though weak, is never broken. It does not resist; it moves around obstacles and yet wears down mountains over time.”

11. Bodhidharma on Stillness and Flow:

“A disturbed mind is like turbulent water—unclear and chaotic. Let it settle, and clarity returns.”

12. On Ma (Interval) and Water’s Flow:

“Water does not force its way; it moves at its own rhythm. The space between attacks is not empty but flowing like the current of a river.”

13. Fudōshin (Immovable Mind) and the Ocean:

“The ocean is unshaken by the wind; its depths remain still though the surface rages. In battle, be as the ocean—calm in the storm.”

14. Chinkuchi and the Compression of Water:

“Like a crashing wave, the true strike comes not from mere motion but from compression, release, and flow.”

15. Gamaku and the Swell of the Tide:

“Power rises from the waist like the swell of the tide—subtle, fluid, and overwhelming when unleashed.”

16. Shugyō and Water’s Persistence:

“A single drop of water seems weak, but given time, it will carve stone. So too does relentless training shape the martial artist.”

17. The Dragon as Water Incarnate:

“The dragon moves like water—twisting, coiling, flowing without resistance. Its power is hidden, yet immeasurable.”

18. Mushin and the Nature of Water:

“Water does not think; it simply moves. Do not be bound by form, nor by thought—just act, as water does.”

19. Zandaka and Water Retained:

“A cup filled to the brim spills with the slightest touch; true balance is found in leaving space, like a reservoir that never overflows.”

20. Improvisation in Self-Defense and Water’s Nature:

“Water never hesitates—it finds a path instantly, whether trickling through cracks or flooding over obstacles. Adapt like water, and you will never be trapped.”

Each of these speaks to a different aspect of martial philosophy—fluidity, adaptability, stillness, power, and persistence—making water one of the most profound metaphors in martial arts and life.