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I lived in Japan for some years and subsequently learned a fraction of the language. The spoken word was more than enough for me to handle considering the the distinctly different written forms of hiragana, katakana and kanji. Imagine my seeing お手洗い the first time I looked for a bathroom. I used to be able to hold a simple conversation, but my ability to use the language effectively has diminished over time. However, I try to use mostly Japanese words and phrases during classes in our dojo.
Those of us who have had the opportunity to train in a martial art in its country of origin tend to get kind of picky when it comes to annunciation of words and phrases that describe the techniques and philosophies of a given art. You see, English tends to be a rather functional language, right? I mean, there’s nothing really philosophical about the word, house, for example. We hear it and think of the place where some one lives. A dwelling. Pretty black and white for the most part.
But within Asian languages like Japanese, a word or phrase can have very deep philisophical meanings if you take the time to study the culture. I think we lose a lot in the translation if we don’t attempt to understand. After all, learning the facets of any traditional form including its language and culture is part of the experience. We tend to forget about those important aspects, especially when we only go to the dojo for an hour once or twice a week. It’s hard to immerse yourself in an art unless you take the time to learn about its history, culture and language. That said, I believe one of the most misunderstood words used in Japanese Budo (martial arts) is uke.
A lot of us first heard the word, uke, when we began studying karate. Show of hands, how many of you heard it pronounced, “oookeee”? Furthermore, how many you thought uke (oookay) meant “block”? I have notes from karate class that are over 35 years old that talk about gedan uke (lower block), chudan uke (middle block) and jodan uke (upper block). Here’s the thing; it doesn’t mean “block” the way we think it does. When we block something, we essentially stop its momentum. Uke actually means, “to receive,” not “stop.”
Karate is well know for punching, and counter-punching. But it takes years…years for a karateka (karate student) to learn to “receive” and counter rather than to “stop” and counter an attack. My aikido friends will appreciate the fact that one who masters uke in karate is one who has mastered the art of blending. Yeah, blending, harmony, that kind of stuff. When you blend with an opposing force, you essentially redirect it, thus deflecting its energy. When you stop an opposing force, you absorb that energy. Bruce Lee spoke this concept in his famous conversation about “being like water.” Easy to talk about, hard to learn and really hard to master.
Uke has a slightly different meaning in aikido, jujutsu and judo. In these arts, uke is your partner, the “one who receives” the technique from you. Uke’s job is to provide you with an appropriate amount of force and/or resistance so that you can learn and grow your technique. If you have studied one or more of these arts, you have most likely encountered a lousy uke. For me, it was either the “Harvey Milktoast” guy who provided resistance equal to moist toilet paper, or “Mr. Vice Grip” who fought everything you tried to do. You cannot effectively learn or enhance your technique with these types of partners. Clearly, neither one of these types of uke understand how to receive the technique and give usable feedback.
I credit my aikido teacher, Isoyama Shihan, with instilling in me the art of being a good uke. Shihan (think of a master sensei) was well known in the aikido world in the 80s and 90s for his devastating throws, particularly, irimi nage. For those of you who don’t know, Steven Segal, who trained with Isoyama among many others, made this “clothesline” type take-down famous in his early movies. When Isoyama Shihan called you up in front of class to demonstrate this particular throw, he expected you to attack with everything you had. To give him any less would be an insult. Of course, that meant that you were going to get some serious air time and feel like you’d just been hit by a truck. One time he hit me so hard I actually flipped over and landed face first. No, really. I was down for a minute, just saying.
This may sound really strange to you if you are not into martial arts but having the willingness to take the full brunt of a fellow student’s attack is vital for both of you to learn something. You have to learn how to take a hit if you’re going to learn to give one.
And, like most things in budo, there is a life lesson in the art of uke. You know, I was married for 33 years to my best friend before she passed away from cancer. When you are with someone for that long, especially with kids, bills and all the other stuff, you’d better learn how to “receive.” “Taking the good with the bad” is an inadequate statement. There were times when I did not properly receive her anger, frustration or fear. Instead of blending with it, I blocked it which usually resulted in more conflict. There were other times when I was too busy or self-absorbed to receive her kindness and attention. Far too often, we allow life to get in the way of others and fail to appreciate what we have until we no longer have it. I should have been a better uke.
Whether you practice martial arts or not, you can learn from this concept. It’s been said that “its better to give than to receive,” but I think knowing how to receive only enhances our ability to give.
Dave Magliano
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
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