Tuesday, November 8, 2011 by C. Michial Jones
I must offer a small apology to those who follow my writings and my path; I have been somewhat absent of late. Between the demands of police investigations and the personal grind of my own training, I found it necessary to step back. Sometimes, the most important work a Karate-ka can do happens in silence, away from the blog and the public eye.
During this time, I’ve been reflecting deeply on my trajectory: where I came from in 1977, the miles I have traveled since, and the direction in which the Yushikan is heading.
The Practicality of the Form
Lately, my personal training has been focused on the Bunkai (applications) of Sanseru and Seisan. Specifically, I have been analyzing these movements through the lens of my professional life in law enforcement.
In the dojo, we have moved beyond the “surface” of the forms, spending a great deal of time on the Tuite (grappling/joint locking) and Shime-waza (strangulation techniques) hidden within the kata. It is a reminder that these ancient patterns are not just historical dances; they are tactical manuals for survival.
A Lifetime of Kai-ha
Over the past 34 years, I have explored the vast landscape of Budo: Judo, Aikido, Jujutsu, Kobudo, and various styles of Karate. While my foundation has always been Okinawan Goju-Ryu—specifically the Miyazato (Jundokan) lineage—I have cross-trained in many different Kai-ha (factions).
Yet, the more I learn, the more I realize that I could spend another thirty years in the art and still not fully grasp everything contained within Goju-Ryu. To some, this might seem like a daunting, even impossible task. They might ask, “Why subject yourself to such a relentless pursuit?” My only answer is that I simply cannot imagine a life without it.
The Jaw-Drop Moment
I suspect it drives my students—and even my sons—a bit crazy that we still perform Junbi Undo, Kihon, and Gekisai in the exact same manner we did on day one.
Recently, as I was working through Gekisai Dai Ichi, one of my sons looked at me and said, “Dad, you’ve been doing that kata for over three decades. It might be time to move on to another one.”
I looked at him and said, “You’re right… but I’m not sure I understand it yet.”
I thought his jaw was going to hit the floor. But that is the truth of the traditional path. We don’t “finish” a kata; we inhabit it. We peel back the layers year by year, finding new meaning in a punch or a turn that we have performed ten thousand times before.
The Horizon
I have learned a great deal since I first stepped into the dojo in 1977, yet I still feel like a beginner standing at the base of a very tall mountain. I still have a long way to go, and many lessons yet to learn. So, for now, I will simply do what every true practitioner must do:
I will just keep on, keeping on.
No responses yet