Chapter Twenty-Two: Now and Zen (Part 2)
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Dojo—Visitors Not Welcome
Chapter Twenty-Four: R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Chapter Twenty-Five: Nitten Soji (Daily Chores)
Chapter Twenty-Six: A Dash of Yellow Eba
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Death by Appointment
Chapter Twenty-Eight: White Boys & Bonsai
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Ai-Uchi (Mutual Striking)
Chapter Thirty: Musubi Dachi (Preparatory Stance)
Chapter Thirty-One: Hacho (Deliberate Asymmetry)
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Strike and the Thrust
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Lone Wolf
Chapter Thirty-Four: Ma (Spaces)
Chapter Thirty-Five: Sen (Taking the Initiative)
Chapter Thirty-Six: Yami (Hitting the Target)
Chapter Thirty-Seven: From Where I Sit
Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Medium and the Message
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Budo and Bach
Chapter Forty: The Kata as a Training Tool
Chapter Forty-One: The Original Okinawan Karate Dojo
Chapter Forty-Two: Some Advice
Chapter Forty-Three: Telegraphing
Chapter Forty-Four: A Few Stories . . .
Chapter Forty-Five: Earning a Black Belt
Chapter Forty-Six: A Feudal Democracy: The Dilemma of Budo Organizations in the West
Chapter Forty-Eight: Yuyo (Critical Distance)
Chapter Forty-Nine: Thoughts on Learning
Chapter Fifty: Where Do You Stand?
Chapter Fifty-One: Honto no Haikai (Proper Perspective)
Chapter Fifty-Two: Sempai & Kohai (Seniors & Juniors)
Chapter Fifty-Three: Traditions
An Introduction
In a corner of my home sits a baby’s high chair that was already an antique when the first shots of the American Revolution were fired. (Yes, it is an odd way to begin writing about the Japanese martial arts and Ways. We will get to that presently; trust me.) When our child was a toddler he sat in the chair a few times, for special occasions. But this piece of furniture is a treasured possession for reasons far beyond its utility. It was made in New England, in the middle years of the 17th century. It is a singularly good example of the kind of simple, strong furniture the Puritans built during their first decades in this country, and though the chair is almost three centuries old, it is still sturdy and, to my way of thinking, quite beautiful.
I was fortunate to grow up in a home furnished and decorated with many reminders of early America like that baby chair. So in retrospect, it is natural, I suppose, I’d have an affinity to antiques. But more important than liking or enjoying them, my parents imbued me with a respect for old things. I learned to appreciate fine craftsmanship and quality of design because I was surrounded by it. I was taught that even though antiques were a functional part of our house-hold, that I had a responsibility to take special care of them, to school myself in their attributes, and to be as certain as possible that they would be correctly preserved for future generations.
While I was still young, I was equally fortunate to become exposed to the budo, the martial arts and Ways of Japan. These arts set the guideposts for a path that I have been following for over one quarter of a century now, a path that continues to be rewarding and profound to me. I cannot claim that the various sensei and seniors under whom I learned were the most skilled exponents in the budo. Nor even especially well-known. But they were outstanding teachers and mentors and I am still learning from some of them. The training and teaching they offered were as enjoyable as anything I have ever done. It continues to be so today. It was also strict at times, and tedious, and for the most part, it was conducted along lines that were traditional and not much affected by current trends and ideas. I learned the lessons of the budo the same way my teachers had learned them; the same way their teachers learned before them.
Just as are most people drawn to these arts, particularly young people, my original intentions were to learn the budo in the hope of becoming adept at protecting myself from the dangers, real and imagined (and a teenage boy had at that time just as he does now, a quantity of both), that life holds. Over time, I began
