Shu, Ha, Ri

 There is a concept in traditional Japanese training that consists of three stages - Shu, Ha, Ri. It can not only be applied to martial arts training, but flower arranging, the tea ceremony and many other disciplines that take a long time to acquire. It is a complex concept with many layers and I am still learning much about this idea. Recently Miles Kessler has organised a series of interviews with prominent U.S. budo teachers to discuss Shu, Ha, Ri. I highly recommend watching these discussions as the insights provided are fascinating. 

You can find those interviews here: Shu, Ha, Ri

Today, I will make my own meagre attempt at explaining the three stages but please take what I say with a grain of salt. I am still finding my way on the martial path and do not have the years of experience that the men Miles interviewed have. So, as I often do, I will use two books to help me clarify my ideas. The first book is the Student Handbook of the Takamura-ha Shindo Yoshin Kai by Tobin Threadgill Sensei. The second is Kodo: Ancient Ways by Kensho Furuya. 

Kensho Furuya describes the three stages of learning as such: Shu means the protecting stage, in other words, the form or shape of the technique must be preserved or protected. The second stage of training is called ha and this relates to breaking the form. At this stage the basic form is broken into its many applications. The third stage is called ri, the student forgets the forms and masters the formless technique, leaving the old ideas behind. In other words he has fully matured in his training. 

I find Furuya's definitions a good starting point but they feel incomplete or too simple for me. After listening to the gentlemen speaking with Miles Kessler I can see there is much more to it than what I have written so far. 

My understanding thus far is this: 

Shu is where all students start, learning the basic forms. In martial arts this will be, where do I put my foot, my hands, which way do I turn? Until a student can get some competence in the basics, he or she can not move on. In Threadgill Sensei's handbook, an article by Takamura Yukiyoshi explains this concept further. Takamura Sensei explains that without first devoting oneself entirely to the mastery of the omote (surface ideas, obvious movements) of the kata, the student is destined to remain forever a beginner. To embrace the kata the student must resign himself to a series of repetitious movements. This can feel boring, tiring and sometimes the movements seem random. However, the kata are designed to test the student on many levels. The correct repetition of the movements are training important ways of moving, they are developing muscle memory and building a foundation. The beginning kata are also testing a student's concentration, tenacity and devotion to the art. The kata are not just challenging a student physically, but mentally as well. Once a student can execute these kata at a satisfactory level, they can move on.

Ha is where application can be applied. In Aikido this might be the myriad versions of Ikkyo applied to different attacks. In classical training it is finding the applications or bunkai within existing kata.  Takamura sensei says, "...ha is the first hint of creative expression allowed the student." He goes on to say, "This is when the student is encouraged to consider any response to failure within the pure kata." Takamura warns instructors that this stage in a student's progress is fraught with dangers. On one hand, the true potential of a student can start to show through and this can be satisfying for the teacher but instruction must still remain structured and core principles adhered to. Failing to do this can cause a divergence from the founder's teachings and what the student is doing is now something else. 

Ri is a hard concept to define and I'm still not sure I understand it fully. In Aikido, I see it as spontaneous technique. The student has embodied the techniques and principles of the art and now simply responds to threats organically without thinking. This can be demonstrated most clearly with Aikido randori, where the aikidoka is set upon by multiple uke, each trying to ensnare or pull down the target. Even under this sort of pressure, if the student has arrived at ri, he or she will move appropriately and calmly to neutralise any attempts to down them. Takamura explains ri as the intuitive expression of technique that is as efficient as the prearranged form but spontaneous. For some people, this level if intuition is beyond them. 

Now we have some definitions for the three stages. It looks to be a linear progression from shu, to ha and finally ri. However, my own experiences indicate that it is not the case. This is endorsed by the speakers of Kessler's interviews. I was out in my private dojo today and I found myself practising the first sword draw I was taught, some nine years ago. Repeating the sequence over and over, trying to get it a little better. Despite knowing other cuts now, here I was back at this first cut. I was back at shu. Many stories, including those about Takamura sensei tell of exceptional sensei and practitioners going back to the basic movements. However, we return to kihon (basics) with an experienced eye. Perhaps even with a different perspective than when we were first introduced to the movements. I was taught how to apply ikkyo from a single wrist grab many years ago, but I don't do it the same way after all this time, it may look the same outwardly, but I know I move differently inside my body, I think differently too, my intent has changed. 

I can also be at different stages of shu, ha, ri in different kata. When I am taught a new kata from the TSYR curriculum, I can find myself back at shu - learning the movements. So depending on what I am working on I could be at shu, ha or ri (theoretically, of course). Imagine the progression as a self-perpetuating cycle, where each stage informs the next but you can move backwards and forwards depending on what you are working on. 

At the time of writing this, Threadgill sensei has yet to voice his opinion on this concept with Miles Kessler. I look forward to hearing what he has to say. 

Train safe!

Be the Warrior in the Room

 The heading of this post comes from a quote by Matt Larsen - the Director of Combatives at the US Military Academy at West Point. He spoke with Joe Saunders on the Managing Violence Podcast. I find this expression interesting. What does he mean by being a warrior in the room?

Is this the only concept of a warrior?

Its a fascinating concept "the warrior". The simple definition of a warrior is a person engaged or experienced in warfare. However, as Matt Larsen says in his interview with Joe, "the proportion of a country's population that makes up its military is significantly smaller than in ancient times." (I am para-phrasing here). So does this mean only those people in the Armed Forces are warriors? 

This requires us to define a warrior in our modern day setting. Matt Larsen believes a warrior is someone who can protect others or keep them safe. So what does that look like?  Does it look like the large, muscular guy standing in front of his girlfriend?  Is it the person who trains week after week in their chosen martial art? Is it the person who has trained in First Aid, in case it is needed when they are out and about with family and friends? Is it the person who has taken a Defensive Driving Course so he or she is a better driver and is more likely to perceive threats on the road while transporting his or her family?

It could be all of the above if the motivation is to protect someone and keep them safe. Now, motivation is important here. This is not about ego. If you go to the gym to get that fit, strong physique to impress a member of the opposite sex, you are not showing a warrior mentality. If you are doing hours of practice in your martial art only to obtain a black belt and prove you are better than everyone else, you are not showing a warrior mentality. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with having those motivations, but don't call yourself a warrior. 

In this day and age, a true warrior is a person that is going out of their way to keep innocent people safe. Members of the Military, Law Enforcement, Emergency Services - These people are warriors. A friend of mine is a paramedic, to me, that man is a warrior. He intentionally seeks to help others and keep them safe. You might think that is a bit lame to hear but think about it for a minute. You don't need a weapon to be a warrior. 

Of course, we are not all in those professions. Can we still be the warrior in the room? Well, that depends. Often the warrior in the room appears in a moment of crisis. He or she has always been there as a friend, or a workmate or even the stranger on the street. You wouldn't know they are a warrior until a situation calls for them to act. It could be anyone. It doesn't have to be the athletic twenty-something. Let's look at some examples.

A car accident has just occurred. Some people will drive on, pretending not have noticed. Others will stop, flick their hazard lights on and call the emergency services. Others might cautiously move up to the cars involved to see if they can help. Those who saw the accident but chose to ignore it are not warriors. They were not seeking to protect or keep others safe.

What about this scenario,  A training mate has a hideous accident one night on the mat. He severely dislocates his elbow. He is in a lot of pain as the nerves are stretched beyond their normal length by the odd shaped elbow. What does a warrior do in this situation? Someone might get on the phone to an ambulance. Another person might try and make the guy as comfortable as possible, maybe placing a punching pad under the injured elbow to ease up the pain. One of your buddies might be cracking jokes to keep the guy's attention off the elbow. The fourth guy is outside ready to signal the ambulance to the right entrance. All of these guys are being warriors. They are trying to protect their friend. 

A final scenario. Your teenage daughter comes home and explains how a boy at school is making lewd comments and trying to hit on her. This makes her uncomfortable. What would you do? You could find out the boy's name and contact the school to alert them to the problem. You could give your daughter advice on how to deal with the unwanted attention and see if she can sort it out on her own terms. You could confront the boy and threaten him if he doesn't leave your daughter alone. What is the best option? Again, this depends. It depends on the type of person your daughter is. It depends on the severity of the boy's comments and actions. A warrior wants to protect and keep people safe. If the boy's unwanted comments can easily be put down by your daughter's strong rejection or firm boundaries, then confronting him and thumping him is not keeping people safe. In fact, it could land you in more trouble and take away your options for protecting your family in the future. 

So what's the take home message in all of this. If you want to be the warrior of the room, be prepared to act to protect or keep safe those you value or love. To ensure you can do this proficiently, train accordingly, in whatever pursuit you see fit. Learn to improve your situational awareness, take a First Aid course, stay mobile and fit, keep practicing your martial art.  Speak up for yourself but more importantly speak up on another's behalf if they can't. Drive considerately and appropriately for the road conditions. We are not professional soldiers but we can still protect!

Good luck and train safe!

Connor Burke and Yamashita Sensei: Book review

 I am currently re-reading a five book series put out by the author, John Donohue. The series follows Connor Burke, an accomplished martial artist and Asian historian living in New York. The reading experience is light and the books are relatively short, anywhere from 270 to 300 pages long. I would categorise the genre of the books as crime thrillers. 

The first book - Sensei - introduces Connor and his sensei, Yamashita. They are pulled into a police investigation involving a serial killer who is methodically killing off high ranking martial artists. The story combines the exotic world of Japanese martial arts with the pragmatic drudgery of detective work. 

Deshi, is book two. Connor's brother, an officer in the NYPD, enlists him to decipher a strange message left by a murder victim. The message leads Connor to the samurai heritage of a mysterious martial arts sensei, the foreboding world of a Tibetan clairvoyant, and finally the wilderness of an elite mountain temple. 

Book three is called Tengu. The book gets its namesake from a renegade martial artist who has named himself after the mythical mountain spirits of Japan. The Tengu mourns the vanished prestige and cultural heritage of Imperial Japan. He, like the terrorists he trains, believes the West is responsible for destroying the spiritual essence of a once-great culture. 

The fourth book is called Kage. In the unforgiving landscape of the Southwest of the USA, Connor Burke works to piece together the mystery surrounding Westmann - a deceased writer - his work, and a cryptic manuscript that has captured the interest of rival smuggling gangs. Burke's only hope of solving this mystery is to call upon the aid and guidance of his teacher, Yamashita. That won't be easy. 

Enzan: The Far Mountain, is the fifth book of the series. Connor is asked by a wealthy and prominent Japanese family to retrieve their daughter from a Korean drug dealer. Connor reluctantly accepts not knowing the dangers of doing so. He accepts the mission to protect his old sensei from harm but gets in way over his head. 

The reason I am reading this series again is due to the author announcing he has finished writing his sixth book in the series, Keppan: The Blood Oath. In fact, he posted on his Facebook page on the 21st January a picture of his computer screen with the finished document. So I imagine we still have some time to wait as it goes into editing and publication. 

John's books captivated me because he manages to interweave pop-culture crime stories in with traditional budo values and uses the protagonist to show the tension and complexities that arise from the mingling of these concepts. The author has been training in the Japanese martial arts for more than 30 years. He has trained in aikido, iaido, judo, karatedo, kendo and taiji. He has dan ranks in both karatedo and kendo. John has a Ph. D. in Anthropology from the State University of New York at Stony Brook. For more on the author and his works, check out http://johndonohue.net/