Essential Principles of Judo
by Kyuzo Mifune

Pliable action of mind and physique surpass stiffening and sturdiness.

True spirit of Judo is nothing but the gentle and diligent free spirit. Judo rests on flexible action of mind and body. The word flexible however never means weakness but something more like adaptability and open-mindedness. Gentleness always overcomes strength.

To display best vitality in the worst plight.

A danger is apt to be unforeseen, and in such a case the worst possible plight will show itself. Judo should present its most substantial meaning in such a case. Judo’s specialty is quick shifting disadvantage to advantage, and freedom of action in the worst situation by detecting the opponent’s unguarded point quickly and changing your own position to overcome the danger.

To be careless is equal to lack of fixed principle.

You must give full attention and energy to studying Judo with zeal and sincerity. Shifting disadvantage to advantage is a subtle art and not an ounce of inattention is allowed.

Never stick to a fixed idea, but be in a self-annihilating state.

To be flexible requires a lack of consciousness of life and death. If you are not afraid of the stronger opponent but a naive mind of selflessness is maintained, your activity will be hindered by nothing, and infinite change and adaptability can be displayed.

Never despise trifles but keep faithful mind.

The mind, if slackened even a little, will cause defeat the same as fearing the opponent will make you unable to use full strength. If you are in a hurry to win the match, you will not grasp the truth of the moment. Truth is a free factor, not planned but found when the mind is in its natural state. It can be said that everybody is always with truth but your sincerity will enable you to get it without labor.

Here is a video that I came across while on Youtube. It is of Tetsu Yamaguchi, the son of the late Seigo Yamaguchi 9th Dan. You can see some of his father’s mannerisms in his movements. While I’m not sure of his affiliation, it’s worth a look. Enjoy . . .

THE IAIDO NEWSLETTER
Volume 7 number 2 #54 FEB 1995

by Ron Fox, MWKF

Shu Ha Ri are three kanji which describe the cycle of training, or perhaps more properly the cycle of progress of a student in a martial art under, I would add, idealized circumstances. The application of Shu Ha Ri is not confined to the study of a martial art or way, but can also serve as a model of any sort of learning.

Shu, or Mamoru means to keep, protect, keep or maintain [1]. During the Shu phase, the student builds the technical foundation of the art. Shu also implies a loyalty or persistence in a single Ryu or, in the modern interpretation, a single instructor [2]. In Shu, the student should be working to copy the techniques as taught without modification and without yet attempting to make any effort to understand the rationale of the techniques of the school/teacher [3]. In this way, a lasting technical foundation is built on which the deeper understanding of the art can be based.

The point of Shu, is that a sound technical foundation can be built most efficiently by following only a single route to that goal. Mixing in other schools, prior to an understanding of what you’re really up to is an invitation to go down a wrong path. A path where the techniques developed will not have sound theoretical or practical value. In the traditional interpretation of the Shu stage, it is the instructor that decides when the student moves on from Shu to Ha, not the student. It’s up to the student to follow the instructor’s teaching as an empty vessel to be filled up [1].

Ha, is the second stage of the process. Ha means to detach and means that the student breaks free from the traditions of the Ryu to some extent [2]. In the Ha stage, the student must reflect on the meaning and purpose of everything that s/he has learned and thus come to a deeper understanding of the art than pure repetitive practice can allow. At this stage, since each technique is thoroughly learned and absorbed into the muscle memory, the student is prepared to reason about the background behind these techniques [3]. In academics, the Ha stage can be likened to the stage where enough basic information is available to the student that research papers of a survey nature could be expected.

Ri means to go beyond or transcend. In this stage, the student is no longer a student in the normal sense, but a practitioner. The practitioner must think originally and develop from background knowledge original thoughts about the art and test them against the reality of his or her background knowledge and conclusions as well as the demands of everyday life. In the Ri stage, the art truly becomes the practitioner’s own and to some extent his or her own creation. This stage is similar in academia to the Ph.D. or beyond stage.

Now I’d like to give a few of my own thoughts about Shu Ha Ri. In particular the role of Shu Ha Ri in a learning environment which is less than ideal. Since circumstances differ from person to person, and since the availability of instructors in some of the rarer martial arts will also differ, I make no attempt to claim that anything I say is universally applicable. However there are some ideas which I think can be helpful to students practicing in circumstances in which they are isolated from qualified instructors by large distances.

I have applied these conclusions to my own practice of Kendo in Michigan where I am 4-5 hours drive from the nearest instructors (Toronto or Chicago). I believe that the methods I have applied are most applicable to arts that have a competitive side as I will explain later.

There are three things which the ‘lonely’ student needs to address. These are:

1. How to manage the Shu stage (or as we shall see stages), lacking qualified instructors to copy.

2. How to handle the progression from Shu to Ha to Ri without the guidance of an instructor.

3. How to judge your progress and the correctness of your practice.

The key to handling the Shu phase is to locate a good instructor and to visit them as often as possible. From them you have to build, as rapidly as possible, a mental picture of each technique you’re trying to learn. Throughout your own practice you must continually and honestly compare your own actions against your mental model. There won’t be a Sensei handy to tell you what you’re doing incorrectly so you need to be your own instructor here and go slowly and carefully.

Each time you visit your distant instructor, examine your mental model once more against what your instructor and what members of his dojos are doing. Bit by bit refine your mental model, and use that to refine what you yourself are doing. Recognize that you will progress slowly, but self examination and careful observation are the only tools you have at this stage.

As you visit your distant instructor, listen to *everything* s/he has to say. Don’t assume that corrections s/he may give to others do not apply to you or will not apply to you later. Examine your own motions for the problems the instructor points out and work to eradicate them if you find them.

Finally, don’t be in a hurry. You will progress at a less rapid rate than You might like, but don’t hurry the process. In a competitive art, do not jump into competition too quickly. Don’t jump into free practice too quickly, spend your time on the basics and the techniques and on making your movements match the model you’ve drawn from your instructor.

The transition from Shu to Ha and to Ri is extremely difficult without almost daily contact with an instructor. In the classical model of Shu Ha Ri, we have seen that this transition is managed and timed by the instructor. The instructor knows properly at what time the student is ready to move from phase to phase due to his or her greater experience in both the art and in the progression of students through their training. The ‘lonely’ student does not have the benefit of this advice however and must manage the timing of this transition on their own.

This fact has led me to a rather more cyclical view of Shu Ha Ri than the classical, linear progression. As You learn a technique, and as it asymptotically approaches your mental model of the technique as You see others practicing it, You can begin to reason about the technique. It seems the important questions to ask are:

1. How does this technique work?

2. Why does this technique work?

3. How is this technique related to other techniques that I am practicing?

4. What are the necessary preconditions and postconditions to effectively apply this technique in the combative situation?

It is not enough to simply accept your own answers to these questions. You must test the correctness of your conclusions using whatever means your art has at its disposal. If your art includes the concept of free practice, then You must seek out chances to try your conclusions in free practice with other practitioners. If your art supports competition, then You must also treat them as tests of your facility and comprehension.

As You develop a reasonable repertoire of techniques that You can perform correctly, You will need to expose yourself to as broad a range of practitioners as possible. As You watch others, You need to ask and answer at least three questions:

1. Which other practitioners do I respect and admire?

2. How is what they do different from what I do?

3. How can I change my practice (both mental model and attempts to correspond to it) to incorporate the differences that I think are most important?

This phase is a combination of the ideals of Ha and Ri. Your constant questioning, testing and incorporation of the results of your conclusions will bit by bit lead to both a deeper understanding of your art as well. The three latter questions to some extent embody the closing of the cycle. The first two questions are definitely in the province of Ha. The last one requires You to modify your training beyond that which You have received from your instructors and is part of the concept of Ri, however in application, the answer includes elements of Shu as well since You will have to go back to the beginning once You begin to attempt to change your practice.

The ‘lonely’ student has several methods that can be used to judge progress. In arts with competitive application, how You perform in competition is one indication. However, do not be seduced by using the *results* of your competitive efforts. These are as much influenced by who You compete against as your own abilities. This is especially true in the early stages. Instead, the questions You need to ask yourself about a competition in your post mortems are:

1. Were You able to control the pace and actions of your opponents.

2. Were You able to keep calm and make your techniques effectively with an unhurried frame of mind.

3. Does your competition look like those of the practitioners You admire.

Free practice with others is another way to test your conclusions. There’s less pressure there and the point of free practice is to try out different methods and techniques and to test your ideas about how to practice the art effectively.

Throughout all of this, You must honestly evaluate the results of each ‘test’. Cycle back to Shu through Ha and then Ri as You go down dead end paths.

In conclusion:

Shu Ha Ri in classical interpretation is a linear sequence which leads the student with minimal deviations down a path of learning. The student progresses from imitation, to reasoning to creating. When applied to the instructor-less student, Shu Ha Ri becomes a four stage cycle of imitate, reason, create, and test, cycling back to imitation again.

Shu Ha Ri developed in response to a need to build a learning method in martial arts where the only testing was actual combat. In these circumstances, cycles could not be tolerated since a failed test would leave the student maimed or dead. In the modern practice of the martial arts, where qualified instructors are not always available, competition, free practice and other forms of nonfatal testing are possible. This leads to a more cyclical piecemeal application of Shu Ha Ri as a tool for the ‘lonely’ artist.

References:

• Kuroda, Ichitaro “Shu-Ha-Ri” Sempo Spring 1994 pp 9-10
• McCarthy, Patrick “The World Within Karate & Kinjo Hiroshi” Journal of Asian Martial Arts. V. 3 No. 2 1994
• Private conversations with Nakamura, L. Sensei Toronto, Spring 1994.

Here is an interesting article I found by a Hombu Dojo instructor, offering a little insight into how O’Sensei practiced Aikido:

Aikido began to spread about 50 years ago in Japan, and for the past 35 years it has expanded across the world. The popularity of Aikido today is quite remarkable; Aikido organizations have already been authorized by the Hombu Dojo in more than 70 countries, and although not yet authorized, Aikido is becoming popular in many other countries. As Aikido continues to spread, and the number of students with at least 20-30 years of practice increases further, I sometimes think about the kind of practice that we should strive for.

I think we practice to achieve dynamic movement and a freedom that lies within that movement. However, I actually find that the students who have been practicing for a longer time tend to be stiffer and are very stereotyped in their movement. How does one perceive one’s practice? What significance can we find in the continual repetition of the same waza practices?

I recall a story about Pablo Casals, a great cellist who both played and prayed for world peace at the time of the world wars. At the age of thirteen, he found Bach’s Unaccompanied Cello Suites that no one was interested at the time, and began to play these suites every day. As Bach’s suites consist of six movements, he played one a day and so each movement at least once a week. He continued this practice daily until he died at 96. “It is a kind of prayer at home,” he said. I guess he may have purified his mind first by playing one of Bach’s suites, and thus refreshed he was able to give his excellent performances. I believe that the creative performances of a genius like Casals are the result of a “liberation of mind and body” that he was able to reach through his earnest pursuit of basic practice. In spite of the difference between music and Aikido, I have been truly inspired by his story, and feel that there is something important in it for me as I pursue the practice of Aikido throughout my life.

Ueshiba Morihei, the Founder of Aikido, in his later days would sometimes appear at the Hombu Dojo and ask the Shihan in charge of the practice at that time, “What are you teaching now?” The Shihan would answer that he was demonstrating shiho-nage, to which the Founder would reply, “What is shiho-nage?” In his practice the Founder demonstrated his waza freely often doing the same technique in many different ways, saying “Now, do it this way” and “This time, like this”. He used to say that Aikido is the way of Kamnagara. My understanding of the way of Kamnagara is being and acting in a natural manner. I believe that the Founder was always natural in behaving against the opponent’s attack and producing his waza to it. Only the liberation of mind and body can enable you to fully utilize your body, free from a mental bias dictating that the waza be done in a specific way.

Keeping the basics, being creative and behaving naturally, that is the liberation of mind and body that Casals and Morihei both reached. Shall we follow their lead?

by Endo Seishiro (July 1997)
Translated by Arita Reiko

http://homepage3.nifty.com/aikido_sakudojo/Shihan09E.html

Saturday, February 12, 2011

It’s very easy to become stagnant in one’s Aikido development, so it’s great to shake things up a bit.  Our seminar with Lehrman Sensei did just that.  I first learned of Hal Lehrman from Hagihara Sensei many years ago.   When the subject of Ki came up, in relation to how Aikido teachers addressed it in their practice, Hagihara Sensei always had nothing but nice words to say about Mr. Lehrman.  After a few years of taking the occasional class or seminar with him, and with the permission of Hagihara Sensei, I decided to host Lehrman Sensei at the Long Island Aikikai.

Mr. Lehrman opened the seminar by reciprocating Hagihara Sensei’s sentiments; telling us how as a young boy he looked up to Hagihara Sensei and still sees him as keeping certain - often forgotten - principles alive.  In practice, Lehrman Sensei led us through familiar techniques and helped us see them not for their superficial form but instead for their underlying elements.  Moving from group to group and from uke to uke (sometimes serving as uke himself) Lehrman Sensei helped everyone remember what Aiki feels like. With an amazing turnout and a truly harmonious vibe from all of the participants, the seminar was a staggering success. We hope to have Mr. Lehrman visit us again in the not too distant future.  

Mr. Lehrman is a 7^th Dan Shihan.  He is the founder and chief instructor of Aikido of Park Slope.  Lehrman Sensei also teaches every week at the New York Aikikai and is a Long-time student of Yamada Sensei.

Adam Pilipshen
Long Island Aikikai
Bay Shore, NY

Recently the LI Aikikai held its belt testing for our children practitioners, an event that we only hold twice a year.  Nine students were tested on their understanding of Aikido including nage waza, ukemi waza and general Aikido terminology.  All of the children tested showed a high level of proficiency and each one passed with high marks. 

The Long Island Aikikai is grateful that children enjoy our Aikido program and there is nothing better for a teacher to see than students progressing in the art.  Though we make sure to keep classes enjoyable for our younger practitioners, it is equally important to us to keep traditions alive.  Our children’s program is held to the same standards as those for our adult classes.

For more information on our martial art classes please visit www.liaikikai.com.

Adam Pilipshen
Long Island Aikikai
Bay Shore, New York
www.liaikikai.com

Friday, November 12th 2010, was a special night for the Long Island Aikikai. That night Sensei’s daughter Yuka tested for Sandan, or 3rd degree black belt. In an amazing show of dedication she and her current Sensei -William McLuskie from Water Oak Aikikai- travelled up from North Carolina for this important occasion. In addition to performing the standard test techniques, Yuka was also asked to demonstrate her father’s signature kumitachi and bokuto retention techniques. The amount of preparation for this moment was evident in Yuka’s movements. Her test was as close to flawless as one could hope for.

Watching Yuka test stirred up some fond memories for me. Just a completely green 5th kyu at the time, I was there many years ago when she tested for Nidan.  I even had the opportunity to take ukemi for her randori. I can still remember the amazement I felt experiencing firsthand how effortlessly this small women could throw around much larger men. So if you had told me then that one day I’d be sitting on the examination board along with Sensei and Mr. McLuskie, testing Yuka for Sandan, I would have told you you were crazy.  It just goes to show you what can be accomplished when you practice everyday. But what’s even more certain though is how fast time goes by . . .

Congratulations Yuka!!!!

_________________
Adam Pilipshen
Long Island Aikikai
Bayshore, New York

In Budo, such as Aikido and Iaido, we often hear about the importance of using the little finger properly.  For those that practice Aikido we see that the pinky finger not only plays a crucial role in performing techniques like nikkyo, kotegaeshi and sankyo, but attacks that employ grabs are more effective with the use of the pinky as well. The pinky finger’s importance in holding a sword cannot be overstated either.  As with any tool, proper use of this finger offers increased connection and control; permitting instruments to act as extensions of the body itself. Interestingly, the role of the little finger in martial arts also carries symbolic meaning for the Yakuza.  Often, when a member of the Yakuza must atone for offenses to another, he commits yubitsume (finger shortening).  Ceremonially, the offender severs his left little finger above the top knuckle with a tanto and presents the orphaned digit - carefully packaged- as a gift to the oyabun; thus metaphorically stating that he forfeits his ability to carry a sword and places his life in the hands of his boss.