Judo for Kids

Lately, I've been wondering about judo for kids.
I got a lot out of my brief encounter with the art when I was about eight. I still use some of the basics from those classes in a little school in the woods. This was why I had to quit, actually, the location was too remote to have a sensei in to teach on any sort of regular basis. But my hip throws stayed with me; my scarf holds always a playfight go-to.
Currently, my five-year-old son does karate. He is learning to kick, punch, block, and keep his guard up while doing all these. He has done a couple of throws; a bit of play wrestling. But for some reason, at some point, I have this gut feeling to let him decide if he wants to explore judo, as well. It might just be a result of my own good experiences with the sport; it might be that I feel it would round out his training. And don't get me wrong, I'm in no rush to ask him. He's a busy little lad: hockey, soccer, karate, and, oh yeah, school. But at some point, if his interest is there, I'd love to give him the chance to do judo. 
The funny part is, I don't think I have it in me to explore judo again. Not right now. We cover a lot of judo in my jiu-jitsu classes, to be sure, and I find training hard enough now that my time goes mainly to my two boys. Plus, I have a date with aikido... the where and when to be determined...
But my judo cravings are there, but that tale is not for this post.
I'd just hate to be one of those parents who wants their kid to be a pro hockey player because they, themselves, failed to make it. So I'm learning to let go; I'm learning to open doors for my sons, and not close others in the process.
But at some point I'm going to ask, my gut just tells me to do so.
And whatever he says will be the right answer, I am sure.

old ways...

Aikido, while regarded (perhaps erroneously) as one of the more gentle of the martial arts, has its basis in more traditional and aggressive styles.

Morihei Ueshiba, prior to developing his own art, had mastered other forms of combat such as daito ryu and even sumo when he was younger. It was from this solid base--not out of thin air--that he then developed his own interpretation of martial arts in the style of aikido.

He said:

"Even though our path is completely different from the warrior arts of the past, it is not necessary to abandon totally the old ways. Absorb venerable traditions into this new Art by clothing them with fresh garments, and build on the classic styles to create better forms."

Myself, I study japanese jiu-jitsu, but glean from the traditions of karate, boxing, and, of course, aikido. I'm dressing up my own training in fresh garments in order to create the best forms for myself.

And if Ueshiba were practicing today, no doubt his style would evolve to meet today's nuances. But of course, it would again be a tweaking of the "old ways".

And ultimately, the Master would repeat the one thing that has transcended every epoch of Japanese warrior history.

That is, "Illuminate your path according to your inner light."

This is the true legacy of Morihei Ueshiba.

The Beginning....

My eldest son has taken a shine to the martial arts (at least his new white belt and gi). While it has been fun doing some basics with him, and letting him have a laugh while rolling about, it makes me reflect upon what I should eventually teach him, and what to omit--for now.

He promises that what I show him will not be used on brothers, friends, parents, etc. Nonetheless, I am really only showing him blocks, front kicks and open palm strikes on the punching bag. And usually, the whole thing ends up being about me throwing him "judo style" onto the couch. (He's just four, after all).

But the real question I have is twofold: 1) What's the balance between defense/fun/and safety for his age and a bit older.

2) What style would I introduce him to first. (Of course he'll be invited to formally train with me at some point--and my own style is my first choice for my own defense--but I don't really think all the techniques we learn are suitable until he's old enough to realize the serious nature of the techniques).

He seems to find basic karate and judo enjoyable. And maybe these are a perfect start, as both are solid--especially together--and can be adapted/expanded into other arts such as aikido, jui-jitsu, or whatever he likes.

For now, however, his training will be some fun basics and some couch throws. Learning by having fun is the best method at this age, and to be honest, I like it, as well.

I'm just thinking ahead, that's all.

*note: I once listened to an Ojibwa elder tell a story about the "old days" and about a group of seven-year-olds practicing their bow skills in the woods. He added, "We had no problem letting kids have these responsibilities, and as a result of our trust, they took the weapons more seriously."

Cross-Thinking...

Cross-training..... hmm... check out journeyman's blog about this here.

I don't feel I need to add much more to the martial/athletic aspect of this subject as he and Sue C. seem to have explored the idea well.

However, something I've noticed in myself, which is a bit of a twist on the subject, is the need to cross-think. Blogging, in itself, is a form of this. So is reading the thoughts of others. In doing this, often in conversations with students/teachers of other styles and/or schools, we are expanding our internal understanding of our own paths through contemplation and dialogue with peers outside of own dojo. While I study small-circle jiu-jitsu, much of my philosophy is influenced by aikido, and i cross train, mentally, by corresponding to others who are attuned to this school of thought. I also gravitate to judo in some aspects and karate in others. While I don't desire to alter my physical training at this juncture (largely due to time constraints and focus), I can still enter into the world of these complementary arts and add the information to my own sphere of training. In a nut shell, by reading blogs I am studying not only my own style of budo, but indirectly many others as well.

I do this with books, also, linking not just Eastern thought to my Path, but Western and indigeonous tradition, too.

I feel a more rounded thinker makes a more complete student of life itself.

Balance - Mind Barriers part two

In Japanese systems such as judo, jiujitsu, and aikido, a great deal of focus is directed upon breaking the balance of an opponent. This can be done different ways, but the overall theory is similar to knocking over a large fridge, it can be easily done if the appliance is resting on just one corner of its base, rather than all four.

But I think the theory extends to the mental game as well. If an opponent's thoughts can be disrupted and put off balance, the physical struggle will be minimized. Journeyman spoke about a similar topic when confronted by an attacker--acting crazy or unpredictably--thereby confusing the assailant. But the concept is integral in other situations as well, whether it be sparring, boxing, or even grappling. In this way, breaking the balance can mean changing the focus of an opponent (feint, softening strike, disceptive telegraphing); it could mean intimidation or confidence; it could mean drawing the opponent into a vulnerable position by showing him/her an opening in your guard.

In judo, for example, it is common to push forward as if looking for a throw, and when the opponent resists and pushes back in response to this force, landing the sought after move through a pulling motion instead.

This becomes a merging of mental and physical balance breaking.

And momentum is crucial to both.

The Mind Barrier

We need to get out of our own way.
This is a quick summary of philosopher Alan Watts’ discourse on the Tao Te Ching.
He compares this concept to the sense of hearing. When one hears well, he suggests, the listener does not notice a ringing inside his/her ears. When one is aware of such a sound, however, the ears themselves have impacted the individual’s ability to hear.

The mind, too, can be a barrier to itself.
He adds:
“On the deepest level, a person as a whole can get in the way of his own existence by becoming too aware of himself.”
The Tao Te Ching, he claims, can be used as a manual to fix this. He explains to his audience the concept of No-Mind, a recurring characteristic of ancient Eastern Thought and, of course, traditional martial arts.
“Being somehow vacant was the secret of the thing. The highest kind of knowledge is not Know-How, but No-How… It means that (one’s) psychic centre doesn’t get in its own way… it operates as if it wasn’t there.”
Again, a prevalent concept in martial training.
Age-old wisdom says that if we have to look for the right technique, we don’t have it. Mind-chatter is equal to hesitation.
Says the oft-quoted Morihei Ueshiba:
“Ultimately, you must forget about technique. The further you progress, the fewer teachings there are. The Great Path is really No Path.”

'Lazy' Internal Arts

The concept of Hard-Soft enters many a conversation regarding martial arts technique. I’m sure I need not elaborate too much on this point—most of us understand the notion—that yin/yang enters into training in the form of rigid force and flexible movement. This, in theory, makes for well rounded budo.
But taken a step further, the concept of hard and soft can be embraced and benefited from at an even higher level: the balance between the physical and the mental. It is not by chance that many experienced external artists at some point in their journey begin to explore the path of the internal arts such as meditation, qi gong, or tai chi. I think at some point, after proficiency is achieved both technically and physically, the external art is complemented by an understanding of the inner workings.
Here is a good summary of the idea:
“‘….Some years ago, (A Sensei) chose two students who were as evenly endowed with natural talents as possible. One he trained purely on calisthenics and work-outs, taught him all the tricks. The other he gave less physical training, but made him do zazen religious meditation every day for half an hour when he awoke and again before his evening work-outs, squatting like Buddha, forcing all his internal organs into proper alignment, breathing “right down to his toes” and clearing his mind. After six months, both came up for their black belt test and he matched them.… The thinker made mincemeat of the muscle boy.’ (Jay Gluck, Zen Combat)
“The same point of view was expressed by a high-ranking instructor of (aikido)…when he warned against qualifying as “lazy” those students who devote a greater proportion of their time on the mat to sitting or standing in evident concentration, as compared to those who are busily engaged in techniques, physical exercises, and so forth. This instructor had also realized that the former could often perform better under stress than the latter because they had been working to develop those inner factors of stability, control, and power which are considered to be the necessary foundation for correct outer technique.”
–(Secrets of the Samurai, Ratti/Westbrook)

The Art of Balance

I would never boast about my knowledge of advanced aikido techniques--I love the handful of defenses I do know—but I am, in many respects, hooked upon the philosophies of the art’s founder Morihei Ueshiba. I have spent much time recently reading the words found in John Stevens’ translation of the Art of Peace. The words apply to any student of budo, or any student of life for that matter. The tone is simplistic and its content rich.
This post, however, need not focus past the manual’s title. I have been following Sensei Strange as he continues to unfold the meaning of aikido and deliberate upon the definition of this art form (see: kyu ryu link). I am enjoying his journey and will by no means solve his riddle in this post. Meanwhile, many of us have also been following the police use-of-force debate as demonstrated by one of Seattle’s police officers (go to either link: dojo rat or Japanese jiu-jitsu).
In both cases, the blogs have moved martial artists to reflect upon what it means to use action in a manner that will uphold the highest moral principles. And trying to define what those principles are. It seems the main issue in both subjects becomes the methods of using such action—both effective and minimal--to properly de-escalate a violent situation.
I see this as a good thing to debate and think about, which brings me back to The Art of Peace. The title, at first, seems like a contradiction, as, despite aikido’s defensive attributes, it is still an effective combat form. But when we look at the word Peace as in relation to Balance, I think the message gets a little bit clearer.
For if the police officer were trained in a proper manner—say in aikido or another more “combative” art—it would have been a much more Peaceable arrest.

For as Ueshiba says, "The Art of Peace is to fulfil that which is lacking."

The Circle Game

Basically, the way I see it, is that martial artists are reprogramming their patterns of thought to view the world in a circular format rather than a linear one.
It is a concept that extends beyond technique and merges into the student’s overall perception of reality itself. After all, linear forms are human, and not of nature. The universe works effortlessly, utilizing spin to create and sustain energy. This is true with planets or atoms, and everything else in between. Even space itself bends, causing starlight to curve as it travels from its source to our eyes.
In martial arts such as small-circle jiu-jitsu, aikido and judo, this relationship with the circle is paramount. The techniques won’t work without it. Force eases with its use, and an attacker’s energy can be transferred away from harming the defender.
When this concept is taken outside of the dojo, into daily life, it works the same way. Deflecting negativity allows our own energy to remain stable. We learn about cycles of seasons, growth, emotion, economy, injury and age. In the trees we see the rings of years, which are comparable to our own periods of inner development.
However, while everything exists in circular form, as a species, we juxtapose our own patterns onto nature’s: square houses, right angled roads, rectangular books and screens, etc. This is because we don’t view the world around us as an integrated whole. We see it in limitations and separations.
But when we learn to think in circles, we maximize our energy and potential. In this way, we may expand our understanding of our own lives and remove ourselves from the boxes in which we have placed ourselves.

Heaven and Earth Throw -- Tenchi Nage

Never mind how hard this one is to perfect (not that I have). It's name is a metaphor for training. One hand reaches up to Heaven while the other hand drives the opponent down to the Earth. It is a merging of Mind (sky) and matter (body). As I said, a metaphor.....

Emptiness

This, to me, is the beginning of learning. Dismissing what you think you already know and becoming as a blank sheet of paper; becoming as a vessel hollowed out, ready to contain something of sustenance.

Perhaps emptiness itself.
Those who practice mediation may refer to the state of No Mind. This is a space of calm where new insights are achieved without the influence of external sensory. This state is similarly used in the martial arts to achieve unison with both the attacker and situation. Explains Journeyman over at Japanese Jiu Jitsu (see Randori):
“This state of no-mindedness is called Mushin in Japanese and it is a state we should all strive to attain. When the mind is empty, it is free to respond instantly to any attack.”
This resonates with the teachings of Aikido founder Morihei Ueshiba, who is quoted in his manual The Art of Peace:
“Cast off limiting thoughts and return to emptiness. Stand in the midst of the Great Void. This is the secret of the way of a warrior.”
He continues to say that a warrior of peace contests nothing and that “Defeat means to defeat the mind of contention that we harbour within.”