I left basic training with two decorations; a Basic Training Completion ribbon and a Sharp Shooter medal. I was proud of that medal. Not everybody got that medal. You had to attain a certain score with the now defunct, M16 rifle...the one day we all went to the firing range. And when I finally went home on leave, I wore my new uniform so everybody could see my Sharp Shooter medal. Since nobody but my dad really knew what military ribbons were about, I made sure to slip it into conversations. “You know what this means?" It means I’m accurate with an M16 in a standing, kneeling and prone position. Accurate. Deadly.
Yeah. Of course, nobody was shooting at me when I garnered that medal. I was told when to fire and when not to fire. There were no live, moving targets. My friends weren’t dying around me and there were no screams of fear, anger and terror associated with actual combat. I was awarded that ribbon because I could shoot a relatively tight group in one moment where, aside from a little stress, there was nothing really to distract me. Accurate? Deadly? Combat ready? Hardly.
If I had to put my finger on one aspect of traditional martial arts that turns a lot of people off, it is the emphasis on authenticity. We place way too much emphasis on titles, belts and patches and not enough on a person’s actions. We’re also way too concerned with styles and lineage; yes, it’s important to know and understand where a martial art comes from but those aspects have very little to do with how effective it is. To be fair, in traditional Japanese martial arts (budo), there is a great deal of emphasis on completing the form. You see this in arts like aikido where there is an attacker and a defender and the latter attempts to execute a given technique as flawlessly as possible. The idea is that we are trying to reach self-perfection and our training partner, (uke), helps us to complete that task by providing the correct amount of resistance and effort. This only happens with countless repetitions and committed practice.
Unfortunately, this can and often does create an unrealistic perception of one’s actual skills and abilities. Kind of like me and my Sharp Shooter medal. I mean, you may be very deft at your given form provided your training partners play their part, but what happens when they hit unexpectedly or you make a mistake? In a lot of dojos, people stop what they are doing, regroup and try to do the technique again, similar to learning a dance routine. Of course, this is important for beginners and novice students. But when you have a little bit experience under your belt, I believe it is vital for a martial arts student to break from the form and do whatever works when your original plan goes south. Maybe you change gears and perform a different throw; maybe you just give the guy a knee to the groin and toss him down. Whatever you do, don't throw your hands up and stop moving. Does that detract from your aikido, karate or judo practice? I don’t think so. On the contrary, I think it keeps it real.
I decided a long time ago not to be a part of any large martial arts organization because I didn’t want to be saddled with the responsibility of maintaining someone else’s curriculum, nor did I want to waste a lot of my time trying to demonstrate our authenticity. I want my students to have a basic construct of the arts we teach. Our curriculum is pretty bare bones compared to other systems, mainly because I want people to develop themselves, their martial art, not mine. Yes, we have standards and there are specific things I need to see you perform, especially during a test. But as your skills grow and develop, I fully expect you to depart a bit from what you learn here and make it your own. I raised my kids on this principle. Their style looks a little like mine, but they, along with all of our senior students, have taken these skills and techniques and made them their own. I don’t need my legacy to be in a style; I would rather have people think fondly of me when I’m gone, maybe do another punch or push-up for the “old man.” But do your own thing. If I was any part of helping you develop as an authentic human, that’s more than enough for me.
Some years ago, I was offered the opportunity to join a group of people who practice one of Japan’s oldest forms of combat, Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto-Ryu (KSR). This is a classic Japanese combat art (bujutsu) from the feudal era involving the exquisite use of the katana as well as other weapons. The original dojo is still in existence in Japan and run by a family who’s lineage goes back many generations. KSR is an authentic Japanese martial art. If you are accepted (there is an interview process), you have the opportunity to practice the same techniques samurai warriors used over 200 years ago. Dedicated students from all over the world make the pilgrimage to train at the original dojo in Katori City, Japan. If you are lucky enough to attend a few classes at the dojo, you are literally practicing a piece of history.
I thought long an hard about it. You can’t get more authentic than that. But…if you are accepted (not everybody is), you have to sign a blood oath not to teach any aspect of the style to anyone. You can only practice with others who are a part of the dojo and if you want to learn anything new, you have to either attend a very expensive seminar in the U.S. or Europe, or travel to Japan. Yes, authentic martial art. Accurate. Deadly. And very closed off. To me, that’s like someone who seeks wisdom from a renowned guitar master but is never aloud to play in public or share his art.
An authentic martial art is an art that has the potential to work, depending on how it is taught and practiced. It’s what stokes your fire, gets you up in the morning. It’s what makes you want to spend time at a dojo and practice on your own. An authentic martial art grows as you grow. It is not necessarily a spiritual practice but a vehicle to help yo get in touch with your spirt. And an authentic human? That is simply someone who seeks to be better than they were the day before.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
Comments