In the last several classes we have explored ikkyo-omote from static, tsuki and shomen. These are often misleadingly taught as if they are three separate techniques, but really it is all only one expression of a single line of the 8 basic angles of attack.
The eight basic lines of attack – if you are not familiar with these lines and how to traverse them, please study them – they are both foundational and universal:
Horizontal and Vertical
These are universal planes of engagement found in every martial blade culture. For example, in Europe the diagram was often referred to as the “cutting rose”
And while the cutting rose is most often shown superimposed on the body as a whole, remember that these planes can – and should be – a generalization you carry with you and are ready to place over any given target.
Once we fully appreciate that the lines are directional cuts that can be superimposed over specific targets, the next level of understanding is to fully appreciate that every line can become a point – which is to say a thrust.
As shown in the etching above, and as taught in Aiki-ken, the primary thrust is the 9th movement of the sword – tsuki. (A later article on the “thrusting triangle” will explore that in greater depth.) The foundational lesson, however, is to understand that the center point where all lines converge is chudan tsuki, which is taught as ai-hanmi-katate dori for pedagogical convenience.
Phrased differently: all three attacks can be “countered” with the same “technique” or basic movement pattern. In class it is easier to demonstrate, but to expand on this “universal” response: ai-hanmi-katate-dori is a training convenience in order to show and allow us all to train from a static origin. A static starting point eliminates all but one variable in the encounter: the contact – we have eliminated the other variables of distance, and tempo. With contact established and a static encounter nage is allowed to focus on learning correct movement – that is to allow uke to control the one point of contact, the one variable. Nage must learn to allow uke that point because it will be used to define the “axis” of the encounter, the fixed point around which all other movement rotates. Leaving the wrist in uke’s control, nage must move to the interior to a 45-degree relationship to the fixed point. Now we see how the basic 8 cut diagram translates to the horizontal plane and informs footwork.
Teaching diagrams
The diagram remains a very fruitful teaching device because the universal planes of engagement when transposed to the horizontal plane become the walking lines – teaching the ashi-sabaki.
Since nage is now on uke’s interior, uke’s rear hand is a threat that must be neutralized. How? Nage must raise the hand being grasped by lowering his center while elevating the grasped hand on the vertical line defined by point of contact – i.e. without trying to move uke. At the top of the line, nage’s hand now should rotate shyuto (blade edge) toward uke’s head and then start to cut. It is the act of cutting that “takes” uke’s center.
Cut through the target
Uke should be motivated to move his head out of the path of the cut and to do it properly (and for that one needs train in class). But it is the atemi, the cut to the head, which takes uke’s center and simultaneously nullifies the threat of the back hand. Now that uke is in motion, the focus for nage’s striking hand (which uke is still grasping) is to take the humerus with the free hand and drive straight down – not out – which will further displace uke’s center and take him to the ground.
Nuances are legion and can only really be experienced through repetition and good training, however that is the basic mechanism, or “technique.” Understanding that, then moving to chu-dan tsuki is to merely introduce distance as a variable. A grab is merely the terminal limit of what could have been a punch. Nage’s response can and should be exactly the same set of motions performed from being grabbed. It is as simple as picking up the same point, but now in motion – i.e. we have introduced space as a variable.
The next variable is to change from static point (grab) to the dynamic point (punch) and transform the point to a line – the shomen uchi attack. Shomen merely requires closing the distance but now in true time – i.e. ki-musubi – so now nage determines when and where the point is intercepted.
Ikkyo in true times is a counter cut
All the variables are now determined by nage whereas previously uke controlled some of the encounter.
Just to give you an indication of the method to my madness. From here on, I plan to be delivering “seminars” which are in part me experimenting with pedagogy to refine my idiosyncratic thoughts in real-time – but this is with the broader goal of providing what I personally believe to be the “why” of the movement patterns and thereby informing the “how” of the techniques
What I am NOT doing is teaching how to move through the curriculum specifically. That may be an unintended byproduct, but it isn’t my goal. Nor is my goal to create a true training environment. A training environment should be one where training is the focus: that is rote repetition and mutual exploration among the students on the mat. That is what I think the essence of training should be and that should also constitute the majority of our time on the mat. Grinding the art into the body via healthy vigorous interaction under the guidance of the senior student leading the class. I entrust that to all of you.
For the broader benefit of the students I would hope that the majority of time is spent showing kihon waza – with an emphasis on proper foot placement – keeping the knees bent in a balanced fighting posture – precise articulation of the hands, etc. In that way the students will hear what to do and begin to see how to move.
I don’t plan to focus on the kihon – although it may be used as a necessary starting point or counterexample. Rather, I am trying to focus on the “universal lines” as Kenpo would call it – and add the concepts of tempo, beats and in essence showing weaponized fighting with and without the weapons. This will take us afield from the “standard’ curriculum in order to deepen our appreciation and understanding.
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These posts are all linked inter-textually to facilitate making connections among concepts and techniques. They are all meditations of the interconnectedness of the movements in an attempt to simplify our understanding: to remove the unessential.
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The banner image is Janus, the tutelary god of time, beginnings, transitions, and doorways. The Romans well understood the dangers of liminal states.
It started with the Tao Te Ching.[1] I encountered the Tao Te Ching at a small venue (Milton Hall) music performance by David Darling my mother dragged me to. It was probably 1984 and he was taking a break from playing the cello, but reading sonorously while pre-recorded music played, almost covering his words. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it drew me. After the show I asked him what the material was: the Tao Te Ching. Living in harmony with the Tao is ‘the Way.’
道
The ideograph for ‘tao’ is is the same as the ‘do’ in Ai-ki-do – 合気道
Around that same time, I visited my uncle who was then a carpenter with the Boston Museum of Fine Arts making display boxes, turning the spindles for scrolls, and an occasional shirasaya for the lesser katana in the collection. My uncle had access to the collection and as a young man I was able to hold a 16th century katana. It wasn’t one of the premier swords, but I remember feeling connected to that Shogun (1980) inspired past, marveling at the polish of the steel and the keen edge. I coveted that sword.
Although I had dabbled with martial arts and was a devote of instinctive recurve archery, I only started serious training after graduating college. I was living in Salt Lake City and wandered past a dojo where the students were doing iaido.[2] I wanted to learn to use a katana, so I asked to start training but was told I had to do the body art first. Begrudgingly, I started Aikido (1990) with the explicit goal of learning iaido. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I enjoyed the fluidity of the body arts far better than the rigid rules of iaido.
I wasn’t long for Utah and returned to the only other city I knew, Portland, Oregon. I lucked into finding Two Rivers Aikikai where there was a confederation of teachers, Chris Mulligan and his wife Yoko among them. It was just a little more than a year there before a few of us (Scott Margraf was most vocal) encouraged Chris and Yoko to start their own dojo. Shortly thereafter, they founded Portland Aikikai (1992).
Chris and Yoko dedicated the early years to drilling the basics, trying to raise our general competency so that they could actually train again and not just teach. We traveled to seminars, following Chiba and Shibata sensei, visiting Bluhm and Bookman sensei and attending every Yamada sensei seminar on the west coast. In addition, beecause of their deep connection to Hombu, Chris and Yoko were able to bring numerous Shihan from Japan: Osawa, Masuda, Yasuno, and Yakota most memorably.
Yamada Sensei at Portland Aikikai
I left for Japan in late 1995 for a three-month intensive at Hombu dojo with a letter of introduction to Yamaguchi sensei. When I arrived at Hombu Dojo, Masuda sensei[3] was at the front desk and recognized me. He introduced me to the Japanese uchi-deshi and Tony Hind who became my training partners for the next three months.
Mt Fuji – 1995
I arrived in Japan is late September. It was hot and muggy so I was barely able to keep up. It was either Mori or Sakurai Hiroyuki I was training with and they looked at me dismissively as I sat to catch my breath that first day.[4]
But I acclimated and the uchi-deshi became my regular training partners along with Irie Yoshinobu who was sempai to us all. Irie also translated for me in Yamaguchi sensei’s class so I could understand precisely how wrong all my movements were. Because I had met several of the shihan in America and because Chris and Yoko were well respected, I was treated as an honored guest. But that also meant I was fair game. During Doshu Kisshomaru Ueshiba’s morning class, Tony Hind was throwing me vigorously the distance of several tatami, which got Miyamoto sensei’s attention. He came over to scold Tony for throwing a new visitor so aggressively. When Tony explained I was Yoko’s deshi, Miyamoto sensei smiled knowingly and let Hind sensei continue the punishment.
Because I idealistically believed that the training and lessons of the body were more important than documenting the experience, I have no photos of or signatures from the instructors at Hombu. This pre-dates digital images, so it was more challenging then and it remains my biggest regret.
Trekking Permit
After Japan, I spent a few weeks in Thailand, and a month in Nepal hiking the Annapruna Circuit where I nearly ruined my knee trekking. I recuperated in Tadopani where I met Renato (an Italian) and his girlfriend Monica (a German national). He too had ruined his knee, so we limped out together and he invited me to stay with him if I ever made it to Italy.
Renato and Monica
I had intended to go overland from Paris through the Basque country to leave Europe from Lisbon, Portugal but I changed plans when I arrived in Paris. Paris enchanted me, and the Louvre kept drawing me back. I also decided to visit Renato who lived in Trieste, Italy.
Mestre villa
His family villa was only half occupied even though he, and his older brother still lived there with his parents. They tended vines and made wine, but Renato’s love was Karting. While I stayed with him, he, Monica and I made an overland karting engine delivery to Zagreb, a relatively short drive, but it took us through Slovenia into Croatia.
From Italy through Slovenia to Croatia
The border crossings were un-nerving, but once in Zagreb were hosted by Peter Turkovic. He and I quickly discovered that we shared a love for the martial arts, he was the head of the Nanbudo federation and invited me to stay to teach in his dojo.
This is not a testimony to my skill as a seasoned shodan, but rather the lack of Aikidoists in Croatia at that time. My relatively low-proficiency as an Aikidoist was confirmed when I returned to France.
The quality of training at Cercle Tissier was better than Japan. I trained there only a month and Tissier’s senior students would not allow me to move them unless my execution was perfect. Sadly, while I was in France Yamaguchi sensei died so Tissier Sensei returned to Japan to honor his teacher and attend the funeral.
The death of your teacher is a powerful event. When I returned to Portland Aikikai after more than six-months of travel, Okamoto sensei said to me, “He waited for you.” She was convinced Yamaguchi sensei waited so that I could train – however briefly – with him, her teacher, so as to pass on the spark. Serendipity or fate? Regardless, teaching an art – passing on the spark – is a grave responsibility.
Upon returning to Portland, I committed myself to training full time and began teaching classes a year or so later. Gonzo Flores, who was a regular student then, was also a certified instructor in Ryukyu Hon Kenpo Kobujyutsu and I studied under him for several years. Okinawa Kenpo was a good compliment to my Aikido, but an Aikidoist I remained. I had the good fortune to be uchideshi to Chris and Yoko until they returned to Japan – twelve great years of tutelage.
Okamoto Sensei
Since Chris and Yoko’s return to Japan, I have tried to impart the ‘spark’ and keep the spirit of Portland Aikikai vibrant. Imparting inspiration for years is challenging. Without the daily input from my teachers, I needed to find an additional guides to keep me on the path. I pursued modern combatives (armed security and pistol craft) with dedicated seriousness for several years (2007-2016) and beginning in 2015, I branched out to augment my Aikido with Kali and JKD under Master at Arms James A. Keating, whose influence will be immediately apparent in my posts.
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[1] My college roommate, Mark Redhead, was a poly-sci major who was fond of Habermas and enjoyed classifying. He pegged me as a neo-libertarian, Taoist with imperialist tendencies. I didn’t know why he added a neo- prefix, but I never argued with the label. The older I grow, the more appropriate the label seems to be. Mark died, aged 50, December (2018). He was a professor of political science, tenured at California State University, Fullerton. I had not kept in touch with him since graduation, but as Freshmen we spent more than a few late-night hours debating and playing intellectuals. We were an unlikely pairing: he from Santa Barbra with English parents, his father an independent wealth manager; me with artists for parents and from rural Connecticut when there were still active dairy farms. (When John Pock asked me where I was from, I answered, “rural Connecticut” he rebutted, “No such thing.”) Mark was a sailor and always wore shorts, even in the middle of winter. I affected preppy attire because that’s how Litchfield county dressed in the early 80s. Mark taught me to play racquetball and let me use his orange 1978 Datsun 280Z. I’m not sure I taught him anything in return but he did use my stereo. (Other college connection – I have cited Flow by Csíkszentmihályi, his son, Chris, was a classmate who left after freshman year.)
[3] Masuda Sensei: Seijuro Masuda (b. 1936) was a professional body builder (and reportedly taught Mishima Yukio) before starting Aikido in 1962. Masuda sensei had a great spirit and was a generous man – after his Tuesday class he took me to his traditional haunt a tonkatsuya restaurant near the dojo and paid for my meals. I recall one of his friends (who was a fishmonger) liked to joke about my name because Ty in kanji = red snapper, madai (真鯛, “genuine tai”) – whereas I use 泰 (“calm/peaceful“) to represent my name, not without some irony.
[4] All are now shihan with regular classes at Hombu Dojo.
Protective Arts 