Protective Arts

THE TRUE TIMES

In our lineage, weapons training derives from Kazuo Chiba Sensei (February 5, 1940 – June 5, 2015) who learned the systematized forms from Morihiro Saito Sensei (March 31, 1928 – May 13, 2002) at Iwama (see below). The details of the connections are better kept as kadensho, but suffice to note that others have influenced the nuances of our weapons and I am catholic in my learning – always eager to steal from the best.

One of the most important concepts to learn in Aikido is that of ki-musubi (to tie spirits together). Ki-musubi is a wonderful gestalt term referencing the entirety of the encounter but perhaps too broad for my reductive methods of understanding.

So how does a reductive-pragmatist understand the concept? I look in part to those who lived by their skill. George Silver (ca. 1550 – 1620s) wrote a manual called Paradoxes of Defence wherein he discredits the rapier as an inferior weapon but more specifically references the use of “true times.” [1]

There are three specific “times” – the time of the hand, the time of the body and the time of the foot. It is worth taking the time to read and come to understand Silver’s concepts. As always it is far easier to convey in person and in class, but the principles are as follows: the hand moves more quickly than the torso which is again quicker than the foot. Think of the amount of mass each element must move and it should become obvious – the foot must move the entire body mass, the torso must move all the mass from the waist up, but the hand only need move the mass of the arm.

These lessons are still readily observed in modern fencing where the principle of a lineal thrust is still taught in the sequence of weapon, hand, body, foot. Watch any well executed lunge and notice that the tip is first extended to the target (acquisition) then the arm is extended (keeping the threat moving first and forward), then the torso leans in (giving added mass to the weapon), and then finally the front foot moves forward extending the entire body toward the target (adding momentum). While this sequence describes a lunge, the principles are the same for any action.

It is easy to see the intentions of an inexperienced practitioner because they typically move the feet first, telegraphic intent well before any threat is presented. As a simple example, focus on shomenuchi where uke delivers a descending overhead strike to nage’s head. If done in the time of the foot, uke will move the foot first thinking it necessary to plant the weight to then deliver a powerful stroke with the torso and arm through the weapon. The sequence is therefore, foot, body, hand. Nage will be able to easily enter with a straight thrust (time of the hand) because uke has telegraphed intention and not presented a convincing threat to nullify nage’s ability to respond. Silver calls this “false time” because uke has started the action with the wrong sequence, allowing nage to enter without fear. If this description isn’t clear – it will be easily shown in class.

A simple table – expanding Silver’s concept of “times”:

Weapon beats hand

Hand beats body

Body beats foot

When uke attacks in true time, the shomen strike starts from the kissaki – the sword tip is moved first (weapon), the hand/arm accelerates the sword (hand), the tanren is engaged (body), and finally the foot moves uke toward nage (foot). Because the weapon is presenting the threat and simultaneously guarding uke, nage must respond to the weapon in the same time – i.e., because uke has attacked in true time (hand first) nage cannot defeat uke simply by using a superior time.

Because there is no superior “time” that nage can employ, in Aikido we look to perfect the encounter with a unification of “times” – both uke and nage are responding in true time, equal sequences of movement, that then lead to the harmonization of movement, ki-musubi. This is most readily shown in the sixth kumi-tachi which is also known as otonashi-no-ken (the sword of no sound) or more commonly in our dojo simply as ki-musubi exercise. The importance of the exercise, once the basic kata (sequence of movement) is internalized, is to move beyond the rote pattern and to actually harmonize in time. And most importantly, the harmonization should not be the result of well scripted choreography but rather because of the binding of each other’s intentions – each discrete motion must be a targeted kill stroke that is then neutralized in concert then leading to the next sequential action.

Please understand that this exercise, I believe, represents Aikido’s ultimate goal – the beauty of the encounter (because there should always be an aesthetic element in an art) is the instantiation of silent and seamlessly integrated intentions.

Learning to be able to create that ideal encounter does require the polish from constant training, but also of what Silver would call “perfect understanding.”

Tempo

Tempo is not well explained in Aikido – ironically because of the focus on ki-musubi, or matched times. Because Aikido’s goal is that unified movement, most students never learn the tempo of combat. The concept of a beat and a half-beat are as critical in combat as is the feint to draw the opponent off time. In class, I demonstrate the concept of tempo and beats by moving away from a kihon presentation of technique by showing it as a bunkai (application) or with a different rhythm – breaking Aikido’s smooth lines into a staccato found in Karate and other arts. My intention is to expand the understanding of the movement patterns so that they are perceived as what they are – universal lines of motion. Most recently in class I demonstrated how ikkyo omote is the same when applied from shomen, or tsuki, or ai-hanmi katatedori. But I also demonstrated how ikkyo omote is the same movement as what a Karateka would know from one-step kumite as a chudan block followed by a chudan tsuki or what in sword and dagger play would be a sombrada followed by a dagger thrust. The lines of movement are universal, just played at different tempos and ranges. The single biggest problem in learning a martial art is understanding the art as a collection/compendium of techniques. This of course is fostered in the hierarchical nature of the testing requirements, each rank requires cumulatively more techniques to be mastered and demonstrated for proficiency. Perhaps there isn’t a better method to transmit the art, but I think it can lead to years of myopia (or, worse, anal glaucoma). We perceive the encounters as discrete techniques and rarely progress to the universal lines. Universal sounds grandiose, but I steal that term from Master at Arms James A. Keating (MAAJAK). “Universal” in his presentation is not to imply an arrogance of understanding, but to key us to the fact that given the limitations of the human body, there are a highly delimited number of ways that humans move. Every culture may put important flavors on the methods but given the way the human body is constructed we have universal limitations and therefore will all move through space and encounter each other on the same planes of action. It is an amazingly liberating and productive concept to re-frame the skills you have been learning and mastering for years. For me, I am trying to steal as much from his conceptualization of a universal framework and show the connective links – presentations from Karate or Kenpo for the staccato rhythms, sword and dagger for the integrated (wheeling) planes of engagement – to illustrate the concepts that may otherwise remain hidden in the art of Aikido.

Returning to the basic 8 cuts

Recall that this diagram is illustrative of the eight universal planes showing lines of engagement from the viewer’s perspective on the vertical axis. This same diagram is also constantly on the horizontal axis. Specifically, at the center of the circle is nage’s body and its perimeter is described by one sweep of nage’s extended weapon (shikko).

The lines now represent angles of engagement – so, as an example the basic line of return for shomen uchi ikkyo would be (using the labeling of the diagram) uke attacks on line segment AE and nage returns on the line segment EA – both play the same line just different vectors. As a generalization, I submit for your consideration that all basic techniques (kihon waza) are played on the 180 degree line – irimi or ura – both are played 180 degrees in relation to the original line of attack. Think gyaku-hanmi tenkan, irimi entries: both place nage parallel to uke (180 degrees from nage’s original position).

Now the more advanced line of play tends to be 45 and then ultimately 90 degrees to uke’s initial line of engagement. I have demonstrated this from ai-hanmi katatedori ikkyo as a progression in arc of movement. So uke attacks on vector AE and nage returns on FB or ultimately on GC. The reason for the 90 degree angle as the more advanced is uke cannot “take ukeme” from that line (come to class if you don’t get what I mean here).

These diagrams can become increasingly esoteric in their presentation (almost becoming a fetish) but I remind you all of them to help visualize the universal planes of action and engagement, as a visual mnemonic or framework to help organize your techniques. And you have seen this before.

The perimeter therefore defines nage’s space of action defined within the time of the hand. Our ability to act and re-act is extended in space by changes in weapons (e.g., the empty hand is the shortest radius, then the leg, then a dagger, then a short sword, etc.) but typically extensions of action in space limit our ability to act in time.

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[1] More on George Silver and the Paradoxes

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If you haven’t already read this – Chiba sensei’s article on weapons training in Aikido is a seminal piece. I have re-posted it below to ensure it remains readily available:

The Position of Weapons Training In Aikido

A Consideration of the Unity of Body and Sword

By T.K. Chiba

Many people have asked me about the relationship between body arts and weapons training in Aikido. Most of those questions were influenced by the opinion (either positive or negative) towards weapons training by professional Aikido teachers, both those who positively incorporate weapons training in their Aikido practice and those who do not. These opposing practices inevitably create confusion among Aikido practitioners in general. I reluctantly acknowledge that the tendency to discuss right and wrong, or better or worse, stems from ideas about whether weapons training or body arts is the basis of Aikido practice.

I have responded to these questions one by one as they have been posed to me. However, I have begun to think that I have not been fulfilling my responsibility in presenting these fragmented responses. Therefore, I have decided to clearly describe my position and my beliefs on this issue. Let this be my comprehensive response to all those who have sincerely asked these questions in the past.

The questions that have been put to me fall into the following categories:

Does Aikido base its training on body arts or weapons training?
What is the importance of weapons training in Aikido?
What was O-Sensei’s position and point of view on weapons training?
Why, among the professional shihan from Hombu, do some train in weapons and some not?

Since these questions are closely related, I would like to first respond in a general way and then touch on the foundation of these issues, instead of responding to each individually.

First of all, let me state that I have not seen any historical or technical documents which clearly indicate that body arts in Aikido was based on weapons training, nor did I hear such an assertion from O-Sensei himself.

However, there are some passages from books I have read that slightly touch on this concept. One such passage can be found in the first Aikido-related book, published by Kowado in 1958. It is titled Aikido, and was written by Kisshomaru Ueshiba under the supervision of Morihei Ueshiba. In this book, Kisshomaru Ueshiba Sensei says: “All the movements in Aikido are exactly the sword movements. There are many areas [in Aikido] that can be understood easily by explaining sword concepts…”

A second passage in Aikido states that “. . . [Aikido] movements are based on the concept that the sword is an extension of the body. Therefore, if one holds a sword in one’s hand during [Aikido] movement, the movement becomes a clear case of sword-handling body movement, and therefore basically expresses the unification of body and sword . . .”

Further evidence comes from a book which is not a technical book on Aikido, but rather a memoir written by the former Sumo wrestler Tenryu, who challenged O-Sensei and was defeated by him. In the memoir, Tenryu recalls, “I was at the pinnacle of my career. I had nothing to fear in those days. Now that I think about it, I was quite conceited, until I encountered an incident that made me understand the depth and fearsomeness of real Japanese martial arts. This brought me down from my conceited state.”

After describing his state of mind before he challenged O-Sensei, Tenryu further describes O-Sensei’s Aikijutsu: “… this [Aikijutsu] is the ultimate martial art, which embodies the concept of swordwork in body movement.”

Unfortunately, I do not have a copy of Tenryu’s memoir with me as I write this, so I cannot quote him word for word, but the above is essentially what he recalls.

I recognize that the examples presented above do not clearly and systematically describe the unification of body and sword in Aikido. In the context in which they are placed, they are not conclusions drawn from systematically structured technical evidence, but rather they are statements based on an individual’s experience, feelings or impressions. Strictly speaking, they lack the logical grounds to withstand technical and historical criticism. We need to wait for further research.

However, to speak frankly, arguing about which came first, body or weapons training, is like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg. It does not contribute positively or constructively toward our practical training.

I am a practical person. I base my decisions on actual situations. It seems clear to me, based on facts derived from my own years of training, that at its very root, Aikido expresses the unification of body arts and weapons training, both philosophically and physically. This is an empirical truth. Thus, as it is, it does not require historical documentation or evidence. At the same time, as a practitioner viewing the whole issue from a practical point of view, I can state that professional Aikido teachers – those who practice with weapons and those who don’t practice with weapons – express inevitable and necessary aspects of the continuing development of Aikido.

On one hand, if you stand by the premise that Aikido is a martial art in which body arts is the ultimate completion and the end stage of weapons training, you may logically conclude that body arts is therefore the ultimate form of martial arts. Thus, the interpretations of those teachers who pay most of their attention to body arts certainly make the most common sense.

On the other hand, as I will attest from my own experience, if you stand by the premise that Aikido fundamentally presents a unification of body and weapons work, the study of weapons as an expansion of body training becomes a natural and necessary step in the development of Aikido. These positions need not be compared as to which is more legitimate, or which is better. Both should be accepted as inevitable and necessary aspects of the development of Aikido.

Whether a practitioner holds to one or another of these two positions is not necessarily the result of reason or logical thought. It has more to do with an individual’s human tendencies or sensitivities. There is an undeniable force working deep inside our consciousness. One might even call it destiny. It is similar in nature to the working of that force which leads to another most fateful encounter – that between a man and a woman. We interact with many people, but we finally end up with one spouse.

As far as my 40 years of Aikido life is concerned, I must say that my first encounter with O-Sensei and my lifetime association with Aikido can only be described as being of the same kind of encounter with destiny as that between husband and wife. My progression toward expanding Aikido body arts into weapons training is akin to the expansion of the same fateful encounter.

In order to more fully explain this progression, I must describe an incident that occurred in the early days of my training as a martial artist. I was studying Judo. I thought I was progressing fairly well in my Judo training. However, in 1956 I was challenged by a Kendo practitioner to a duel. We fought in a field. I was completely defeated, beaten all over my body. I could not do a thing, despite my Judo skills. With all my knowledge of Judo, I had no defense against a sword.

I realized then that no matter how much I trained and how far I progressed in Judo, I would never be able to fight against a sword. I also recognized that, in the same situation, a Kendoka without a sword would be no match for a Judoka, given Judo’s unique ability to deal with an empty-handed condition. This incident filled me with despair and confusion, and led me into a very dark time.

I decided that I had to abandon my Judo training, which I had thought would be my lifelong path. It seemed quite clear that Judo and Kendo represented completely different dimensions, and that under their own rules and conditions it would be impossible to fight in the same arena. Judo is excellent in hand-to-hand combat and Kendo is excellent for cutting and lunging with a sword from longer distances (ma-ai), but neither of them contains both characteristics. I was looking for an ultimate martial art that contained both elements.

In my profound anguish and confusion, while I was still unable to find my future direction, I was like a thirsty man looking for a drop of water in the desert. I wandered about the streets of Tokyo, looking for something that might not even exist. Then, in a bookstore, I found the book mentioned earlier written by Kisshomaru Ueshiba. There was a small photo of O-Sensei on the back of the front page. When I saw it, I instinctively knew: This was the man I was looking for to be my lifetime master. I made my decision then and there: No matter what it took, I was going to be his disciple. It was the moment of my destiny.

However, since I had absolutely no knowledge of Aikido, the book did not make any sense to me no matter how many times I reread it. Given my knowledge of martial arts at that time, Aikido was beyond my comprehension. The only passage in the book that gave me slight hope was the passage I cited above, regarding the relationship between body and sword. The passage was a short one; however, instinctively I was able to perceive the possibility that Aikido contained the answer to my despair. I decided right then that Aikido was the art I was looking for, the one to which I would devote the rest of my life. My direction in life was clear.

As far as I remember, O-Sensei never talked about the relationship between body arts and weapons training. However, I had no doubt in my mind by observing his daily life that he embodied, and clearly showed, the unification of body and sword, both in his very presence and in his Aikido. As far as my own experience of it is concerned, O-Sensei’s instruction in weapons training had no obvious structure. It was always natural and self-contained, flowing from him freely.

One of the very important characteristics of O-Sensei that I recall, which has not been paid much attention to, was that O-Sensei himself, while certainly a path seeker and practitioner, was never a teacher in the present-day definition of instructor or teacher. He manifested his own inexhaustible spirit toward seeking a deep Way, and that was the only method he used to guide us. He never looked back at his followers. He was always out there freely communing with the gods. In his attitude, in his daily life and in his high devotion to the gods, he showed us the Way. He paid no attention to mundane affairs.

Time after time O-Sensei told us, “If you progress 50 steps, I will be ahead of you 100 steps.” These seemingly conceited words galvanized us, energized us to follow him. But more importantly, in his mind it was really true. His spirit was in such a high place that he freely communicated with gods in his daily life. His attitude and the way he carried on his life appeared to me to manifest an extraordinary, almost supernatural beauty. There was no need for interaction to be based on ordinary language used in daily life.

As far as actual techniques of weapons training were concerned, he taught me only two methods. One was yokogi uchi, where you place a bundle of live branches horizontally on a stand and strike it with a bokken. The other was spear-thrusting training, where we thrust a jo into a Kendo torso-protector wrapped around a large pine tree. Even at that, it was not really instruction, as we speak of instruction in the normal sense. He demonstrated attacking these targets with all his might, and we just tried to copy his moves.

Saito Shihan, after many years of effort and research at Iwama, organized a weapons training system: Ichi no tachi through to go no Tachi and kimusubi no tachi, which was the basis for Sho Chiku Bai swordwork. Through necessity, out of a sense of responsibility as O-Sensei’s uke, and because I traveled with him in my early days of training, I learned these forms independently from Saito Shihan.

Before my time (i.e., before 1960), Tamura Shihan and Nishiuchi Shihan were O-Sensei’s ukes for weapons. I tried very hard to steal their handling of weapons and trained by myself. It was vital, and my primary responsibility as O-Sensei’s uke, to not make blunders. At that time I was merely a shodan, with only a year and a half of Aikido training. This tortured me psychologically to no end. I struggled all alone in those days. None of my sempai at Hombu offered to teach me weapons work.

My strongest fear was that I might dishonor O-Sensei’s fame because of my lack of proper weapons skills. I did not want people to look at O-Sensei, who was then a highly regarded martial artist – one in a million, established in an indisputable position as such – and say, “He might be a great master, but look at his student. Is that all he has?”

Also, as an attacker, I did not want a situation to arise where O-Sensei could not show all his capabilities because of my lack of skill. My trips with O-Sensei to seminars around Japan might last four or five days or up to five weeks. What I recall fondly today is how many nights I lay sleepless, recalling how I had seen O-Sensei move that day and thinking about my seemingly impossible task, which was to understand his movements in order to improve my attacks, so that O-Sensei’s fame would be kept intact.

As I think about it now, what I see most clearly is the deep affection that O-Sensei showed me by putting me in this situation. He gave me no choice: He made me face an impossible task. By doing so, he taught me a lesson: to accept my natural level of skill as it was, and to recognize that the fundamental concept of a martial artist (Budoka) is that one must be ready to accept any circumstance with one’s whole self, leaving regret behind. Through his action O-Sensei taught me the fundamental attitude of a martial artist.

The major difference in teaching methods between the martial arts and the contemporary education system is that in martial arts, the teacher throws students into a seemingly impossible situation. There they must struggle by themselves, and search for a fundamental truth by themselves, given their capacities and abilities. There is no verbal instruction, no discussion of detail. This is a unique method of training within traditional Japanese culture. It is a completely different world from the present-day education system, including contemporary martial arts.

I do not feel any contradiction in acknowledging the fact that my weapons training method differs from that of O-Sensei. What I am or what I do today is based on the “cause,” in the Mahayanist Buddhist sense of “cause and effect.” There is a “cause” that makes me who I am today and that is based on the accumulation of my life experiences and on the manifestation of my personal development. At this point in my life, I have been seriously seeking the Way for over half a century. Everything I have and everything I am, including the entire creative and latent potential of my Aikido life, exists at this point in my life.

There are two elements I would like to emphasize in discussing the practical effects of training with weapons in Aikido practice.

The first element is that of the ideal body constitution. This is the “Aikido body” that I always talk about, and its realization in one’s body through the stages of Aikido training. This body constitution can be more easily observed through the handling of weapons rather than through observing body work, especially in basic weapons maneuvers, such as suburi and basic jo exercises. There may be many reasons for this.

One important factor is that in the case of body arts, the observer often pays more attention the relative effect (impact) created by the execution of technique, and to the dynamic and flowing movement realized between the practitioner (tori or nage) and the receiver (uke). (If we analyze the movement in terms of cause and effect, where the practitioner is seen as the “cause,” and the relative outcome that appears to be the result of the execution of the technique is seen as the “effect,” often the observer can only see the “effect” and not the “cause.”) In focusing attention on impact or on fluidity of movement, the observer often fails to observe the body constitution and its use by tori.

In contrast, the body constitution and the qualities of use (unification of body, harmony, centeredness, totality, etc.) of the tori can be clearly seen by his or her handling of the jo or bokken. It is unfortunately the case that in the practice of body arts that the movements of uke can often contain certain elements of artifice. However, in the basic handling of weapons, there is no room for conscious elaboration or showmanship in body movement. Tori must expose the entire naked self, a totally independent body, to an observer.

The most important aspect of Aikido is its unique ability to enable practitioners (tori) to see their own body constitution (which is the personification of the state of mind) as it manifests on the receiver of the technique (uke), through the relationship between practitioner and receiver. A practitioner sees in the mirror of uke’s body movement the presence of his mind and his fundamental characteristics. Because of this unique ability, Aikido emphasizes the development of the spiritual foundation in practitioners. Therefore, it is vitally important for Aikidoists to be able to observe their body constitution, and to see the way it works.

The second element I would like to emphasize is the relationship between Aikido training and age. As biological beings, we face the inevitable challenge of aging and its acceleration and imposition of many physical constrictions. Many of us are reaching an age where we must balance the ailments of our bodies and our Aikido training in order to extend our training lives. It has been almost half a century since Aikido was introduced to Europe and the U.S., and the pioneers who contributed to the initial stage of its introduction are between 50 and 80 years old. It is very sad to see these people, whom I consider my training mates and comrades, dropping out of Aikido. It is a great loss to the Aikido community if we lose the accumulated experience and knowledge of these people.

What can we do? What can we prescribe to remedy this situation? We can certainly tell young people, who are the art’s future and its potential, that it is vitally important for them to condition and strengthen their bodies so that they will be able to extend their training lives.

However, this advice cannot apply to all practitioners. As we all know, because of the philosophy and nature of Aikido, it tends to attract a relatively older generation of people. There are many cases where beginning students have already passed the age when basic body conditioning should have taken place. We can of course discuss the importance of nutrition and recommend body conditioning according to age, or to introduce yoga. However, generally speaking, we must leave this up to the individual’s judgment and selection.

It is very important to practice ukemi in Aikido training. However, the damage to the body from the accumulated impact of ukemi practice, when it is done in excess, cannot be disregarded. Therefore it is very important to master ukemi as an independent art. This is a pressing issue for older students. Suwariwaza training, which is such important basic training in Aikido, is also very difficult for members of older generations. Especially in Western culture, where the predominant habit is to sit in chairs, the weakness of the lower body is more manifest in older people. Suwariwaza is thus more difficult for them.

I think that weapons training can potentially overcome the tendency to fail to observe our body constitution, and to remedy the difficulties experienced by older students. In basic weapons training the techniques are done standing, there is little or no ukemi and there exists sufficient ma-ai (distance) so that the degree of influence of power or weight which one sees manifest in body arts is limited. (The degree of influence of power and weight changes in relation to distance, or ma-ai.) Thus weapons training – using weapons as an extension of the body – allows students to study and train in the principles of Aikido relatively free of age differentials. One of the reasons that there are more old Kendoka still actively training, in contrast to the number of older Judoka, is that working with weapons frees the body from some of the more severe constraints imposed by aging.

The position of weapons training in Aikido should be reviewed in terms of these conditions.

Ultimately, I am convinced that the fundamental principle of Aikido is found in muto no kurai – the state of “non-sword” or being unarmed in a superficial sense. The principle goes beyond being armed or unarmed, which are relative terms. At this stage, however, suffice it to say that it does not negate our weapons training. The technical and philosophical understanding of muto no kurai is a basic and important element of my life’s work.

It has not been an easy road. But Aikido so far has not betrayed my expectations. Nevertheless, the highly polished techniques, unified with the profound philosophical principles at the foundation of this art, have made my quest incredibly difficult. I have been in deep despair many times because no matter how much I trained, or how far I traveled along the path, I have been unable to grasp its totality. But at the same time, a glimpse of something noble that I catch from time to time through my daily training makes me feel that I am alive and encourages me to continue on this path.

Aikido is a noble art. Because of its nobility, it is very fragile and easily damaged. But because of its very fragility, Aikido has never ceased to be precious to me.

Author’s notes:

1. To support the position expressed in this article, I would like to mention the relationship between Aikido and Iai Batto Ho training. It is important, while training with bokken, to understand the concept of cutting, since an actual sword cuts when it is properly handled. This sense of cutting is difficult to attain solely by bokken training. Iai Batto Ho allows a student to understand correct sword-handling methods. Also, the person who introduced me to the path of Iai Batto Ho was O-Sensei himself.

2. I would also like to state that though it may appear that I criticize Judo and Kendo in this article, I have no intention of doing so. The evaluation of these arts as expressed was a conclusion derived by a 16-year-old boy who had a serious experience and an impression. Through this experience, I met my lifelong master, Morihei Ueshiba, and my path was clarified. There was no criticism intended. I know exactly what real Judo and Kendo are like, and I wrote this essay with full respect for those arts.

INTERLUDE – Suggestions on Training Method

Aikido is perhaps unique in its training method: Once a beginning student is familiar with the basics of safe falling they are thrown into an interactive environment. Training is therefore always dynamic and contextual – training is in movement and with a variety of partners.

There are distinct advantages – students learn early that contextually dynamic encounters are by their very nature messy, requiring quick adapting to the partner’s speed, angle, size and mass. The deep lesson, not always explicitly imparted, is that because technique is always somewhat catch-as-catch-can to make it effective, one must focus on principles. Principles of physics (applied kinesiology), the principles of proper targeting (applied anatomy and physiology), the principles of deception (applied psychology), and the principles of spatial relationships (timing, tempo, and distance). Again, in my experience, traditional training methods do not well explain (in pedagogical fashion) the principles being shown because of the veneer of Japanese – words like “ki,” “ma-ai,” “kimusibui,” etc. This smattering of Japanese with its semantic vagaries is problematic – subsuming details because of lexical poverty or worse, mystical aspirations.

And because understanding (hopefully) both expands and is refined as one continues to train and develop, the terms like “ki” or “kokyu” can themselves come to mean different things even internally – so again, the same terms applied as labels or explanations at different times in different circumstances uttered by different practitioners can only continue to muddy the water. So let us refine the terms.

I forget where I first heard the analogy, but it is a memorable image: if Tai Chi is masturbation, then Aikido is sex because you always need a partner. Unpacking the analogy points back to a training method – Aikido is dynamic and partner based. Although there are advantages to training in this way, the quick acquisition of clear movement is not one of them. Most of the time I watch even advanced practitioners have sloppy control of their own body (kinesthetic awareness). Sometimes it is a lack of athleticism (i.e., poor physical development) but it often belies a general lack of clarity of understanding (i.e., what is the essence of the movement). Weapons training is supposed to be the panacea – meaning the movements of the sword and spear should inform and inculcate precision in the body art – but the link is difficult for most people to follow. Therefore, I would argue for a solitary training method (and Tai Chi is an excellent example of this) to fix proper form and fluid motion. Because Aikido always has a feedback mechanism (the partner) – improper feedback can stifle the development of good form – and worse, lax, limp or choreographed feedback (ukeme) leads to false confidence and vacuous understanding. But “fixing” the relationship between nage and uke is a complex (multivariate) problem, so let us isolate the challenge to nage – the practitioner executing a technique.

Most martial arts are first taught as a solo form – a “kata” – that allows a student to perfect a specific movement pattern: to learn perfect choreography. Of course the challenge with solo forms is that they are devoid of external feedback mechanisms – the work is all internal: the student must first learn the form, then seek continued refinement. Refinement could be reflection on the efficacy of technique when applied in the course of normal practice – “I moved thus, yet my partner did that” – a post hoc diagnosis of the encounter, or perhaps (albeit often frowned upon) a conversation among equal partners (here the archaic hierarchy of the system and general ego fails us all…) in real time to discover why a movement failed to achieve its intended result. Hence an argument for solo forms.

Tree Osensei — It’s not communing with the tree – it’s makiwara training

HERETICAL THOUGHTS* – Kata, or solo form training I have started to introduce isolated forms as a means to guide personal understanding and foster precise movements. Solo training allows one to quickly repeat correct movements. The primary danger is that repetition doesn’t make perfect but permanent: so the emphasis must be on correct movements. So how do we recognize correct movements? First and foremost it requires mental focus. One must be able to visualize an opponent and the specific scene that sets up the particular technique. We are practicing a set encounter, an idealized situation that limits the variables (more on that later), and allows us to concentrate on our own body movements. Once the encounter is clearly in mind, next we must focus on developing the sequence of responses. What do I mean by sequences of responses? As I have mentioned in class, I abhor meaningless movement and if there isn’t a vital target at each point, at each response, then the movement is wrong. By definition it will be inefficient because it is serving no purpose. At best it is ornamental flourish and at worse it is ingrained bad habit (that must now be unlearned). Like sculpture, the art of human movement is refining, cutting away the unnecessary so as to uncover the true, or efficient form. Back to targeting. To understand targeting one must have at least a rudimentary understanding of anatomy and physiology. What hit at what point of the opponents body will elicit the response that sets up the next point in the sequence? This is a logic chain: a series of linked movements strung together based on human responses. In Aikido, the kihon, basic and fundamental, techniques actually contain a good logic chain if one teases them apart. But like most arts, instructors and students tend to dismiss the basic in favor of the flourish of flow – especially Aikidoists, it seems the flow is favored (indeed that may be the goal) but it is favoring the line over the point (more on that later too). To provide an example, let’s unpack morotedori kokyhu nage. And since in kata we are always nage our focus is on that role in the encounter: The opening move is the “presentation” of the arm. Too often this is incorrectly shown as a blasé gesture – devoid of any meaning because it has no combative value. But when we understand what I call proper context, disciplined visualization – or if you need it in Japanese – one must always have shinken shobu, or “Action in dead earnest.” You must put everything you have into your Aikido as if it your life were at stake.

And this should manifest to a properly conditioned and critical thinker as: “What am I seeing and why am I being shown that?” If you cannot answer those questions to your satisfaction, keep looking. There are answers in the forms.

The opening move therefore is an attack – nage is the aggressor. (More on this concept later, but in short there are three primary presentations of timing – nage responding [a startle or flinch response], nage as aggressor, and the ultimate goal – nage as seizing the initiative [neither responding nor attacking])

Again, to set the scene: When holding the sword or knife, the presentation would be a gyaku yokomen (or backhand angle 2) strike and with empty hand it is a reverse back knuckle to the temple (or neck or clavicle). Because uke is threatened with severe bodily harm, they intercept the strike and attempt a control the arm and attempt a counter. That is pause #1: Evaluate. Are you in correct position? Does your striking arm actually have sufficient strength to be effective? Are you aiming at a target? Is it extended too far, are you throwing yourself off-balance? Worse, are you balanced only because you don’t know how to hit? Have you moved to the flank – i.e., is your front foot off-line relative to your opponent or have you remained on-line and subject to a quick snap kick or other stop hit counter?

Pause #1 is the first point. You will be connecting a series of points. Your movement between points will develop the line. The line is what people see as the flow of Aikido but if the lines are not connecting points then your movements are not correct – they are nothing more than rudimentary monkey-see monkey-do. Whatever it is, it ain’t martial.

Point 2 is when nage strikes to uke’s shin. Now there is a good deal a subtlety to get from point 1 to point 2 (that is why we train, to figure that out), but at its most basic: your attack was intercepted and blocked – and perhaps there is a counter being deployed – so you need to move to your secondary target. One needs pay very close attention to posture, etc., while moving from 1 to 2 but that is for class-time refinement. Now that we are at the shin keep the hand there – that is the fixed point that defines the axis of movement. You now spin around that point on a strong 180-degree line (tenkan) to be parallel to uke and at their flank (safe from counter). The goal is to minimize the amount of information (telegraphing) given to uke while gaining positional advantage. Point 3 is going to be raising slightly forward and up – this is to further extend uke’s balance but more specifically it would extract the weapon from a two hand grab – and then quickly snap naturally out and down while the arc of the hand turns blade up to the final target – the femoral artery.

As a kata – focusing on precise movements from each point to point should allow you to feel within your own body without the “noise” or feedback from uke to confuse your development. If you just move point to point with precision you should begin to sense the logic of the flow. Keep your lines as tight and fluid as possible – tight meaning keep the arc of the arm in a uniform and structurally sound form while moving it at a constant distance from your core. In Aikido the primary joint in the arm is the shoulder and wrist – the elbow should almost never be a primary joint (the elbow is a short weapon, close range system). This is merely one presentation of a specific encounter. There are several variations on morotedori kokyu nage – each dictated by uke’s counter – but the point of the kata is to provide you a tool to deepen your understanding of the art and to refine your movements – increase the precision. Adding this to your training methods is an augmentation of – not a replacement for – the standard classroom method.

Goals of Kata

I will continue to provide a series of solo encounters, but always keep in mind the goals and limitations described above. There is a method informing my iconoclastic thinking

When I started training, I had the benefit of three training partners who were all of a like mind – we were earnest and honest with each other, we trusted one another, and we were all looking for effective martial technique. Thus I had a great feedback mechanism – a crucible of honesty – but in some ways we probably all retarded a more subtle refinement of understanding because while focusing on the pragmatic we were often too locked into the contextual specifics. What do I mean? For example, with irimi nage we focused on an explosive entry to the rear and a forceful control of the neck to de-stabilize. Undeniably effective, but contextual to the dynamic encounter.

So, the kata should allow you to focus on the principles – good targeting, smooth transitions, and the ability to visualize counters (anticipate the potential responses). The kata, therefore, should first coordinate your internal mechanics. And I am trying to present kata only once run through the grist mill – making sure that it passes an honesty test – so that we can trust that it passes the test of conscious ability to analyze the situation and recall the appropriate technique when you need to act in fractions of a second. We cannot think in the moment – It is just too slow. The kata must “think” for us so that we can react appropriately.

Program your body. First, learn the movements related to the technique or response that you plan to make reflexive. Coordination and familiarity with the movements of the technique are what creates the ‘neural map’ that makes it reflexive. As I stated earlier – we must practice and repeat correct motion – mindful practice and quality repetition together with a clear understanding of the right mechanics are imperative. The more you practice and refine the movements involved in the technique, the more easily and quickly your mind can access them. After many repetitions, your mind will eventually consolidate all the individual motor movements – the points on the path – that comprise the technique into a line of flow. This is when the discrete points become a line of movement. From one stimulus (the initial encounter with uke), all the related movements will become linked together, in synchronic flow. This is possible because the movements and their relationship have become a trained reflex. Therefore, you should be able to respond without needing to consciously remember all the individual parts of the technique. Solo training can also allow you to take your time and really develop your coordination before moving on to reaction training – which is the typical dynamic in the classroom. In order to take advantage of muscle memory, you must first create an experience that you can remember. If your central nervous system does not have a complete profile on your technique, then you cannot expect the recall to be very smooth or accurate.

Partnered Training – the classroom setting

The challenge is that in the classroom – both uke and nage must train with the correct sincerity – there should be a level of pressure because when practicing techniques under pressure, your training experience will often be etched more deeply into your muscle memory than it would be if there were no pressure. It is the stress and emotion from the pressure that causes this to happen. Your mind pays more attention when there is danger or challenge. This creates a more vivid memory. If after several repetitions under pressure, you do not respond in a manner similar to solo training, then slow down and reduce the pressure so you can get it right. Otherwise, you could develop bad habits – give yourself a better chance of getting it right by working on coordination at first. Don’t obsess over the tiny details – time on the mat will provide those insights – but make sure you can repeatedly perform the movement correctly on command at full or near full speed. This is applied learning – the kata becomes manifest. Or working the feedback in reverse, where the messy reality of training with another reacting human shows where you may need to refine your understanding of what the kata should be teaching you.

Pressure in training means, sincerity of attack, playing with the variables of strength, speed, and angles. If the kata is a Platonic form, then classroom practice is Aristotelean reality – the real world destroying your intellectual paradigm. Just remember – the kata probably holds the key, the answers you need. Keep looking.

On training and trust

I have told this story before but it was a formative experience for me. While training karate with Flores Sensei there were more women in his “aggressive” class than there were in Okamoto Sensei’s “soft” class. The most regular karate students were a lesbian couple. So I grilled them one day – why Karate with a man and not Aikido with a woman teacher? They said they could never do Aikido because of the close partnered work when training.

The close and constant physical invasion is a big psychological deterrent. So obviously establishing trust needs to be the first goal. This is an amazingly physical and intimate art. Like in any relationship if trust has been violated it’s hard to establish.

Perhaps a general reminder: In traditional martial arts the senior student is uke. The senior “teaches” not by doing but by guiding through correct movement. This is quite the obverse side of a typical western male way of thinking of providing information but it is highly productive in transmitting a martial art. First it puts us as the senior in the vulnerable position – why? Because the senior can protect themselves. Build confidence and transmit from the correct response not the correct technique. Why? Because technique – the how to – is ultimately the least important part of the encounter. How does this manifest in training? There is nothing to correct – unless there is something dangerous going to happen there is never a good reason to stop a juniors movement Stopping an action to correct is going to be perceived as a dominate act but more importantly it stops the learning process abruptly. Try to guide the action to the better angle, put your arm in the correct relationship.

Last night while taking ukeme for Brian I told him to stop rolling his back without being able to see him. Lianne asked how could I tell? Simply by getting thrown and pinned a whole lot you should be able to sense what is happening in Both players. This is the expression of “the spirit of aikido” or “kimusubi” it ain’t peace love and understanding in some vague philosophical sense but in the very real sense of establishing a genuine connection so that you can feel what is happening in both players simultaneously in order to focus on the common connection. You cannot take the hara if you cannot feel it right?

So it’s listening to the encounter – not trying to create an encounter. I haven’t gone zen or PC (Zeus strike me dead should I become so befuddled) but it’s just good combat sensitivity. If you cannot listen to/be sensitive to uke then ultimately you will be defeated by your deafness. The kill isn’t manifest in the block or the push or the force but rather in the thrust that isn’t seen or felt until it’s too late. Don’t rely on strength or simple dominance.

I think it’s easy to confuse intensity in training with moving fast and hard. That has its place but frankly it’s only useful to pound the body with your dohai and with mutual consent. But ultimately physical training is just conditioning it isn’t the art. The more productive learning is dealing with and learning how to deliver constant steady pressure. Firm constant contact is less threatening than ballistic or pulsating delivery of force. Again it’s just better combat skills. Try to beat my blade away and I’ll slip away for the kill. Keep constant contact with my blade I’ll have to trick your death from ya.

As the Mulligan sensei said we need a safe environment to cultivate new students (or retain the ones we have) to pay the rent. So teaching ain’t where the dojo should probably focus its efforts but rather on the cultivation of a place where we help everyone feel like they are making progress

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Trust in the context of training – a story:

Trust. As a concept trust is amazingly powerful. In a martial art setting, we must trust our physical safety to our partners. I admonish students that ukeme is self-preservation: meaning we all have the primary responsibility to take care of ourselves, but the truth is that we always cede a high degree of control to our partner in every training session. When I first began training, there was an instructor who had the habit of starting a technique with an emphasis of smooth movement, only to suddenly accelerate through the final throw. That change is pace made the technique (especially to a beginner) feel powerful. But said bluntly, it was a cheap power play: exploiting trust on multiple levels. Violating the trust a student places in the teacher, and violating the implicit training environment. Because I was new and expected to be beat up in a martial art class it took me a while to recognize this as a violation of trust, but it was a valuable lesson to learn.

First rule – enter training with trust, but your personal safety ultimately is your responsibility. Second rule – if trust is exploited by the person in the power position (teacher, senior student) never give trust again until that person proves they are worthy of trust. It is your body. When a junior exploits the trust relationship, then as a senior student you have the responsibility to educate (verbally and/or physically) why trust is imperative.

When I was 4th kyu I distinctly remember Mulligan sensei teaching tanto-dori class where I was training with Scott Margraf while another friend, Andre, was training with a relative newcomer to the dojo. We all trained energetically and habitually tested the veracity and efficacy of every application. The technique was gokyo and Andre was having difficulty with the details of the pin and his partner was not allowing him to learn: going well beyond providing effective feedback and in an ego-competitive manner, making it impossible to learn. Mulligan sensei walked by and told Andre, “Next time he does that, break his arm.” Mulligan sensei was rather serious in those days. Immediately after, Andre’s uke grabbed the tanto and rushed into the attack. Again violating the trust by changing dramatically the pace of training – it was a real attack – and he struck Andre on the ridge of his eyebrow. When Scott saw the attack, he immediately jumped into the fray. I recall trying to hold him back, but Scott was more than ready to finish what was clearly a chicken-shit move that escalated a training environment into a fight. As a Ranger, golden-gloves boxer, and an competitive Greco-Roman wrestler, Scott did not need Aikido to be combat effective. Andre’s partner saw the seriousness of Scott’s intent and moral outrage at the violation of trust and wisely never returned to the dojo. Fortunately, Andre had reacted to the surprise attack well enough to avoid being blinded, but he did require stitches.

Violations of trust are memorable. Rebuilding trust or regaining trust is difficult. But it remains crucial to create an effective training environment.

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*Heretics and Kata

Follow the logic of kata and you should come to Kenji Tomiki – and if you ignore the petulant assertion from O’Sensei that instituting competition into ‘his’ art ruined it – one can discern the spirit of innovation. Do not dismiss Tomiki’s conclusions.

Review the history and remember that O’Sensei sent Tomiki to teach in occupied Manchuria – a reminder that Aikido was connected to Imperial expansion. (How easy to gloss over unpleasant truths…)

Tomiki’s analysis on modern Jujutsu can be found >here< and outlines his clear pedagogical thinking.

IKKYO to IRIMINAGE

Ikkyo omote is the primary inside line approach. Remember it is a principle entry – a return on the same line that the attacker used to approach. By focusing on aihanmi and shomen we can show the ‘universal’ response meaning intercepting a line (shomen) or any point on the line (aihanmi) should not change the response.

Ikkyo omote is a fundamental positional relationship to uke on the inside line. Once ikkyo omote is understood then the ‘lock flow‘ responses of nikkyo through yonkyo are simple hand exchanges executed in the same basic body relationship to uke. We spent most of the time exploring the takemusu presentation of a hanmi change and then added the more advanced interior blend (back foot tracing the circle): And briefly explored the advanced perpendicular (90 degree) return. The next approach to explore would be the direct entry on the outside line. This line would be iriminage. If you think of ikkyo as meeting uke directly then iriminage is the basic ‘slip’. Both are direct and linear approaches – ikkyo on the inside and iriminage on the outside. This is best understood if you think of the response with a sword. Think on that point and it should become clear what I mean by that – when done as a strike ikkyo and iriminage are the same just on opposite sides on uke’s sword. Okay, enough concept. Takemusu presentation – if aihanmi ikkyo is palm down (as if you are drawing your sword) aihanmi iriminage is presented palm up. From that position there are a number of variations in elevation (gedan, chudan, jodan) and then means of extraction (thumb over, shyuto over) and these will transfer to shomen easily. If this isn’t clear then remind yourselves by thinking of the 5 basic methods of knife retention I have showed and the means of extracting your grasped hand should become more obvious. Once the grasping hand is ‘defeated’ remember that the grasped point is lead forward to allow your body to slip to the back – movement in two different vectors simultaneously. All this to get to the shikaku when achieved rotate on the balls of the feet to become parallel to uke. And here execute the mandatory test points:

1) Back hand control uke’s neck bring uke to your shoulder 2) Your front shoulder becomes the pivot point for the rotational action focused on uke’s chin 3) Front hand passes over uke’s head with thumb down so as to bring uke down toward (not away) from your center.

There are of course a multitude of variants but those are not primary (takemusu) forms. The thumb down is a life preserving sword (the thumb is the spine, mune, or false edge). If the shyuto is presented for the throw it is a killing stroke (with the edge) and more importantly it is impossible to control uke’s center with the edge. If the palm is used then the back hand must be pushing from the opposite direction. All variants and more advanced. More to explore in class and in person but at its most basic irimi nage is: Enter straight to uke’s back on the outside line, blend parallel, control the next to start destabilization, culminate with a rotational throw with the front hand to generate torque at the neck.

As uke is allowed to rise nage should control with a shoulder block to allow the front hand to be free.

The next photo shows a more dynamic encounter, a ‘variation.’ Notice the scissors – this is not a ‘nice’ technique. Notice the position of the shyuto (edge facing carotid) and lower hand ready to provide an opposite impelling force.

What happens when my hands come together?

This is Chiba sensei’s entry – except Chiba sensei used a double atemi – but so did his teacher…

A WORD OF CAUTION

So for those of you who have been able to attend a class (or two) I hope that the thoughts on irimi nage are making more sense. These musings are really not much more than crib notes and are meant to help guide thoughts – to act as pointers.

Some general reminders:

1) These notes are Portland Aikikai Kadensho – (ka=family, densho=transmission), meaning I am happy to share with you all but please remember that it’s our stuff and really won’t make sense without the context of in class experience

2) While I have no illusions that what I am trying to do here is ‘secret,’ I am trying to synthesize a presentation that is primarily mine and I am stealing ideas broadly from other times and other arts

3) I have a deep respect for my instructors and therefore the kihon waza should be construed as the primary goals in training – without knowing the basic format NOTHING I am trying to do will be of any lasting value – my ‘in class’ presentations always start from the kihon assumption and I then build on the concept

4) The progression from basic to ‘universal concept’ is tying flow patterns, making logic chains – I am trying to show connections so that techniques are not seen as discrete elements – one damn thing after another

5) But remember – for students to learn effectively each technique must be taught and practiced individually and repeatedly to get it into the body – so as a rule the typical class should focus on training – not teaching per se

6) And that leads back to what I am doing. I am being selfish. Period. I am trying to focus on teaching the trainers – because this audience has the skill, intelligence, and experience to understand what I am trying to do. But let us be clear – I ain’t setting up classes for raw training anymore. I did that for well over a decade. Training is the meat & potatoes of the art and that needs remain the focus of the dojo

Therefore – what I am doing is NOT what I would ever recommend as a classroom structure. I am purposefully trying to give the long and broad views simultaneously which is confusing I am sure. I am trying to show the longitudinal development (ikkyo as Yoko sensei first did it, as Mulligan sensei presented it, as Chiba sensei did it over the years) and then tie that to the physiology (why hit here, how hit there) in order to show the breadth and depth of the art – and not just the “how to” which I leave to you all.

REMINDERS ON BASIC IRIMI NAGE

When leading class please make sure to focus on a direct and deep entry – nage should be at uke’s spine. The neck hand is imperative. The neck hand should be all that is necessary to effect a throw. Think on that. The neck hand must cause uke’s spine out of alignment from their hips.

In other words stop pushing/pulling straight down. It’s a spiral energy. An abbreviated form of an internal dissolve (if you remember my class on dissolves and snakes). Weren’t there? Then these notes won’t always be clear. That’s kuden for you…. The neck hand. Don’t break the plane of the wrist. The hand is a crescent wrench and your whole arm engenders the spiral along with your body movement: that is, integrated movement (easy to write harder to do, so keep repeating until you get it). That neck hand should firmly, resolutely attach uke’s head to your lead shoulder. Then the rotation of your lead hand should further take uke’s spine by controlling the chin and driving the head down toward the floor (adamantly not away from your core). And emphatically do NOT throw cross body – meaning if your ‘throwing’ hand winds up on the opposite side of your body (e.g. you throw using your right hand but at the terminal movement it is close to your left hip you done did it wrong! Be honest with yourself did you check? Other tricks for consideration. Remember the prayer entry. Yup come to class if it don’t resonate in your memory. First hand to make contact stays and the ‘free’ hand continues in. This is the ‘split entry’ that shows that ikkyo and irimi are the same entry just opposite lines (inside vs outside). Thus far we have covered kihon presentation in class (and always omote) then moved to the direct forms. Shyuto over (palm down) chudan, shyuto over (palm up) gedan and jodan forms (done either palm up or down) then thumb over (Yamada sensei direct). Then the Chiba sensei variant (double atemi). Then the ‘football’ under arm entry (i.e. front choke) and finally, “my” style (panatuken double tap). Those should provide a wide array of irimi nage direct entries for future exploration (not for teaching). I am trying to show the logical linkages among all the ‘variants’ off the outside line (remember the Shibata/Yasuno sensei entries [elbow strike, elbow control respectively]). It’s all logic chains built off the prayer/split entry presentation. I will soon be moving to ura forms. But let me be very clear here. In my opinion there is no ura. We may have been taught that way and it is an important pedagogical tool but ura ain’t a technique per se. Ura is the continuation of contact as uke avoids nage’s original technique (or more universally stated, nage’s original line of return).

You may think, “No Ura… interesting and I have to say there are times when I have noticed what you’ve said about how uke moves in a way where ura just makes more sense. But what about multiple opponent scenarios? Ura now becomes a strategy for nage to deal with the situation. Agree or disagree?”

I know where you are going – and I disagree as a technique, but I agree in terms of your strategic thinking. In other words – an exterior blend on a rotating axis makes sense to bypass one opponent in favor of attacking the next (i.e. moving toward the farther opponent to gain time and distance) but in fact you haven’t “dealt” with the first opponent so much as avoided them. If you “do” and ura technique and uke wasn’t going that direction on their own accord, then I submit, your technique will not work…. you may slip past uke successfully but they aren’t down. As Ed Parker pointed out – if you don’t take out an opponent with the first move and they get up, then you are not fighting 1 opponent but rather 2 – if on the second attack they don’t go down, then you are fighting 3….

As a test of this distinction I am trying to make – try to throw a larger stronger opponent ikkyo ura when he thinks he is “supposed” to do omote’s ukeme – can you really pull his mass (and you will be pulling) on a rotating plane when his body wants to continue forward? In terms of tempo and sequence – uke has to make the first adjustment – not nage. So, what I am suggesting is that ura is not a technique but rather a means of teaching how to adjust to uke as uke (not nage) changes the dynamic.

In short – you are thinking combat strategy – means of gaining positional advantage among/against multiple opponents – but I would suggest that is different from technique, meaning a means of controlling an opponent. But more on that after the next few classes.

Chiba Sensei Four Stages of Iriminage