Thursday, August 4, 2011 by C. Michial Jones
In July, a unique opportunity arose to bridge the gap between Okinawan empty-hand arts and the weapons systems of the Ryukyus. I received an invitation to attend a seminar by Kensho Tokumura Hanshi, the Headmaster of Tokushin-Ryu Ryukyu Kobudo, along with a semi-private session at the Okinawan Budo-kai dojo in Livonia, Michigan, hosted by Jeff Perkins Sensei.
Accompanying me was my traveling partner and kohai, Jason Thompson. Despite having worked most of the previous night on a major police bust, the adrenaline of training with a master like Tokumura Sensei kept me focused as we began the four-hour trek north.
The Humility of the Exchange
Upon arriving at the dojo, we found Tokumura Sensei finishing a children’s class. When the time came for introductions, I followed the traditional etiquette of presenting my business card with a formal bow. This small gesture of respect seemed to surprise and delight him; he hurried to retrieve his own card to reciprocate, offering a wide, genuine smile.
In those first moments, I attempted to engage him on the subject of Goju-Ryu, but he seemed singularly focused on Kobudo. I took this as a cue to set aside my own agenda and immerse myself fully in his specialty.
Sanchin: A Re-evaluation of Breath
The seminar began not with weapons, but with the foundation: Sanchin (Dai Ni). As we performed the kata, Tokumura Sensei moved through the ranks, meticulously adjusting the students. When he reached me, he focused on my breathing.
I had been utilizing the method of a long inhale followed by a long exhale. Sensei corrected this, instructing me to use a sequence of long inhale, long exhale, followed by a quick inhale and quick exhale. When I pressed him for the “why,” his answer was simple and definitive: it was more beneficial for the cultivation of power and health. It was a reminder that even in a system as familiar as Sanchin, there is always a deeper layer to be uncovered by a fresh set of eyes.
The Teechu and the Parking Lot Lesson
We moved into the Kobudo portion of the evening, where Perkins Sensei led a group of us into the parking lot to begin work on Tokushin No Teechu (the pointed hand-held weapon). After an hour of drilling the movements under the Michigan sun, we returned to the dojo to perform for Tokumura Sensei. He offered his corrections and, eventually, the coveted compliment of “Good, Good.”
The most profound lesson, however, didn’t happen on the mats. After a long dinner spent discussing budo and police work (Perkins Sensei being a Lieutenant with the Detroit PD), we found ourselves standing in the parking lot of the restaurant.
I made one final attempt to link his Kobudo to my Goju-Ryu. I pointed out a specific movement in the kata that possessed a distinct Muchimi (sticky/heavy) quality and asked if that was the intended method. In the classic tradition of Okinawan masters—who often do their best teaching when the formal “class” is over—Tokumura Sensei immediately dropped into a stance. Under the amber glow of the parking lot lights, he gave us a private lesson on the mechanics of that movement, demonstrating how the “heavy hand” of Goju-Ryu translates directly into the application of the weapon.
Notes on the Path
Returning to the hotel that night, Jason and I didn’t simply go to sleep. We spent an hour drilling the new kata in the room and recording our notes while the movements were still fresh in our muscles.
This is the reality of the martial path: it is a series of detours, long drives, and late-night revelations. Whether in a prestigious Honbu dojo in Naha or a parking lot in Michigan, the art lives wherever a dedicated teacher and a willing student find common ground.
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