A Uniform for the Low Ranking Spearman

As readers stumble upon this blog or the school website, we get all sorts of feedback: some we receive directly and some we find as chatter on message boards, some is thoughtful, some is nasty.

On several occasions now, people have asked and speculated about a photo of myself on our website where I am wearing a green kimono and a tare.

Normally I hate pictures of myself. Maybe one out of five hundred pictures taken of me won't get torn up, or--in this day of digital--erased. With such a small selection of photos of me to choose from, I picked this one. One day I’m sure it will be replaced when I find one I like better.

This photo happened to be taken on a day when I was teaching my students how to use the yari (spear). This outfit of a kimono, no hakama (pleated trousers), and a tare--basically a padded apron--from a set of kendo armor, might seem unusual to most practitioners of the Japanese martial arts.

Yet, this was the normal "uniform" that I wore when I trained in Sojutsu (spear arts) with my teacher (minus the t-shirt seen underneath, which my teacher would never have allowed, but I now wear to protect the kimono from my sweat--it’s very hard to find a kimono that fits me).

It might surprise some of you young guys, but finding a hakama in the 70’s and 80’s wasn’t that easy. However, kimonos were easy to find, and a vintage kimono was a lot cheaper than a hakama. As a result, we wore kimonos most of the time, especially at the beach where we didn’t want to get our hakamas (those that we could find) dirty or damaged due to the sand and water.

As for the tare, well that’s simple: it protects the hips, upper thighs, and groin. Since sojutsu training includes a great deal of thrusting practice from the hip, it is not unusual to get hit in these spots when doing two man drills/forms, especially if one’s timing is just a little off, or a deflection doesn’t go were it is suppose to

While the tare doesn’t offer great protection, it’s better than nothing at all. It’s also easier to find and far more affordable that buying a do-maru, which would be the most appropriate equipment to practice in. A do-maru is a type of Japanese medieval armor that first appeared in Japan during the 11th century; it was commonly worn by lower ranking foot soldiers.

I think a lot of the confusion related to my picture would have been eliminated if I had also been wearing the do (chest guard) that normally goes with the tare. However, when I was training with my teacher, finding Kendo armor was even harder than finding a hakama. When one could come across them, they were very expensive--especially for a teenager with limited funds. Lets face it, they’re even expensive today.

Since lack of funds was always an issue, my teacher and I rarely could afford to buy martial arts equipment. We had to improvise. This meant we rarely, if ever, owned a do to wear, and we never had a men (helmet). We didn’t even have kote (gloves)--which, by the way, are terrible for spear practice (at least the ones designed for Kendo are.)

Do	Men	Kote

The fact of the matter is, that when I was training with my teacher, we normally made our own tare. We made them out of stiff cardboard and foam that was covered in assorted scrap fabrics. They didn’t look pretty, but they were functional, and if they ripped we didn't care. In addition, the “plates” were a lot longer then most tare, and covered both the front and back of the person wearing it.

In many instances, our tare were more comparable to kusazuri, though some versions were clearly related to haidate.

Now please forgive my ignorance when it comes to Japanese armor, but I believe the difference between a kusazuri and haidate are that the kusazuri version is a skirt of plates attached to a leather belt which is laced to the bottom of the do, while the haidate version are a series of plates intended to specifically protect the thighs.

Another difference is that haidate do not protect the rear side of the person wearing them, and from what I’ve read were often not worn by samurai because they were uncomfortable, had limited mobility, and slowed them down.

Kusazuri with do


Haidate

As for the do, we did try to make them, but cardboard doesn’t work well, and really gives a false sense of security. After much trial and error, my teacher came to the conclusion that it was a waste of time. He felt that it was more important to really learn to deflect or evade attacks to the body, than rely on such protection. And yes, it hurts a lot when a thrust strike hits your body.

Of course, we tried other things. One substitute we tried was using chest guards designed for baseball catchers. But they presented other problems. For example, when they got wet they became very heavy and uncomfortable. They would also smell and rot due to the moisture. Basically, they were just not a good solution.

We also made our own sune-ate (shin guards), which were either worn over are bare legs, or covered the bottom of our hakamas when we elected to wear them. The beaches in San Francisco where we trained can get extremely cold and a hakama helps keep you warm or at least reduce the wind-chill factor--at least a little.

As I said already, I’m no armor expert; but from all the pictures and illustrations I’ve seen of Ashigaru (conscripted foot soldiers) they are normally depicted wearing little more than a do with kusazuri, and some type of simple helmet such as a jingasa (war hat).

My teacher considered himself as a spearman, and had ancestors who were once low ranking samurai, possibly ashigaru (a fact he never fully confirmed or denied). I believe that he wished to equip himself in that fashion while practicing spear techniques, but elected to wear only the tare since he didn’t own a do or a do-maru.

Whether this was a family tradition, or was simply because my teacher couldn’t afford the proper equipment I can’t say. Though if I had to guess, it was probably due to his financial situation.

In either case, following the example set by my teacher, we now wear the tare when practicing Sojutsu, which explains the photo. One day, if I can find affordable, sturdy, American-sized do-maru, that tradition will most likely change.

I’m not stating that wearing the tare alone is traditional when it comes to Sojutsu styles, or that any other school dress in such a manner. It just works for us.

Picture from “Ashigaru 1467-1649” by Stephen Turnbull and Howard Gerrard

The New Guy Speaks

Well, this is my first contribution to Yachigusa-Ryu’s blog. I was asked to talk a bit about my impressions of my first tameshigiri class - what I expected, what happened, my thoughts on the accident, etc.

Yachigusa Ryu is my first step into the martial arts. At the time of this writing, I have had exactly one month of training. I joined for two reasons: first, to find out what martial arts is really about. It’s been “Hollywooded” to death, but what is it really all about? The second reason is that I wanted to develop mental discipline, and if there’s anything I’ve heard, it’s that the study of any martial arts teaches discipline. Okay, I have to confess, there is a third reason, and that is I just love the samurai sword… I’m a shameless geek, and my love of swords is part of it, but I’ve always felt the samurai sword stood head and shoulders above all others in terms of beauty, function, and mythology.

So by the time we break out the straw mats at my first tameshigiri class, I’m like a kid on Christmas morning. I was lucky enough to get my hands on a Paul Chen sword, which I was going to use at this class. I really did have my doubts about whether it would actually cut, because the blade really didn’t seem too sharp to me, but then what do I know? Sensei assures me it’s fine, and sure enough that straw mat was cut straight through, no effort at all. Wow, this thing is real! In another time and place, that could’ve been someone’s wrist or neck I just severed.


At this point, the evening continues to go by well. I got some good solid cuts and I had some embarrassing misses. I’m the new guy, after all! Then the next student goes up to cut. He cuts the mat, no problem. Then he looks down. He says he just cut himself. He did????? Where’s the blood? I didn’t even see anything! But Sensei sits him down, grabs the first aid kit, presses gauze against his foot, and sure enough the red shows through. Then the student starts to grunt in pain. Sensei has to wrap the student’s foot together tight as a mummy to be sure that the wound doesn’t open wider. (Sword cuts are supposed to get bigger if you keep moving…yes, somebody thought about this…pretty morbid, huh?). Thankfully, the student is able to get himself to the hospital.

Looking back, it happened so fast. No one saw it coming, and no one saw it when it happened! The blade moved so fast, and cut so efficiently, the student didn’t even feel any initial pain.

The next week, I took a look at the stitches on his toe. Now my impression when the accident happened was that he only cut the top of his foot maybe an inch. Imagine my surprise when I see stitches starting at the tip of his toe, and going back at least three inches!! Good Lord, I think to myself. That sword is deadly!

As fascinated as I am with the katana, this incident reminded me, loud and clear, that it is a weapon, the loaded gun of its day. Its every inch is engineered so that it could carry out its single purpose: to kill. The sword wasn’t a toy or a show piece; people died on the end of these blades.

This incident, along with what I’ve learned in kenjutsu thus far, has shown me very clearly how fragile life can be. We deal with weapons that can pierce flesh so well, the victim is sometimes not aware he is being cut until it’s too late. We’re learning to go for the femoral artery when attacking the leg, or how to slash at the throat when attacking high. How easy it is for life to be lost! Life is all we have. If it is lost, nothing else matters. To see how something so important can be so fragile speaks volumes on how precious it really is.

Yachigusa Ryu is not about learning how to beat someone up. It’s not that shallow. This discipline was developed during a lawless time in human history, and as history has shown, adversity breeds greatness. The Yachigusa family developed this style of fighting not because they wanted to kill, but because they wanted to live. These people developed their art against the backdrop that any minute, they could die. So it’s only natural that everything to do, teach and believe would be saturated with that impetus to live life as well as possible. The result is an art that was rooted in everything that makes a human great: discipline, patience, strength, courage, honor, self control and even compassion. Perhaps the greatest paradox in what we do is that by learning to fight and kill, we learn to become better people so that we don’t have to fight and kill.

I hope I’ve only taken the first few steps of what will be a lifetime of learning. There is no greater way to live then to improve oneself constantly. I now say a prayer every once in awhile in thanksgiving that I live in a time and place where I can learn the martial arts to become a better person, and will never have to use it in anger.

-Piya Wannachaiwong

Dojo Injuries

Every now and then, conversations at the school arise regarding injuries people have witnessed while training in the martial arts. Sometimes these conversation revolve around the various injuries we personally have suffered while training, but more often than not we talk about injuries that have happened to friends and training partners.

Of course, like many conversations, these discussions often slowly but surely turn into a game of "one-upmanship" as each person wants to top the last person's story or personal suffering.

Sometimes the stories are so bizarre that it's hard to believe them, and people stare at each other in disbelief. Other times they are so funny that we forget someone really suffered.

In either case, these stories and the injuries they describe are a reminder that really bad things can happen, and that they can happen in an instant. One second of inattention or dropping one’s guard can lead to permanent scars, loss of limbs, or a reduction in one’s overall quality of life.

No matter whether the injuries are short term or permanent, these stories are clearly “Cautionary Tales.” Tales people should not take so lightly, and should learn from.

* * *

Case in point: Several weeks ago I told a story, which I have to admit is very hard to believe. To be honest, if I hadn’t seen it myself I would have to question whether it was true or not. However, I was there, and witnessed every second of it.

To this day, I’m still not sure how it happened, but I will never forget it, nor will I forget my emotions at the moment when it occurred. Shocked, sickened, and definitely in a state of panic worrying about the ramifications. I wish it had all been just a dream. However, bad things do happen, and to this day this event is always in the back of mind reminding me to be careful.

Many years ago, I had several friends I would practice with. We were a group of martial artists that worked together to figure out why our teachers made us do certain things in class, and how we could use what we knew more efficiently and effectively. It was sort of a study group where we analyzed movements within forms, and tried to make sense of all the various aspects of the martial arts we studied.

Each one of us had a different martial art background, as well our individual reasons why we trained. The one thing that united us was our desire to learn techniques that had real world effectiveness, and a desire to seek out knowledge we felt we were not getting form our respective teachers. Actually, we were pretty progressive for the early 80’s, and what we were doing was something we definitely had to keep hidden from our personal instructors.

Well one day while working on some iai-jutsu (sword draws) and drills, a friend of one of my friends decided to show us some new forms he had learned while visiting Japan. Of course, we were all excited to see them.

The first forms were executed with grace and precision. The guy actually looked like he knew what he was doing.

Then all of a sudden, disaster!

Sure, that last draw was excellent as was the cut to his imaginary opponent. Then came the chiburi (flipping blood off the sword after cutting an opponent), which at first appeared to be as good as the draw. In fact we were all ready to congratulate the guy on a job well done, and to ask him to teach us what he just done.

That, of course, was the calm before the storm.

Now, as he tells the story, everything was going fine, he had just completed the chiburi, and was getting ready for noto (putting the sword back in the scabbard). For some unknown reason he looked down at the ground and saw some red liquid spots on the floor.

Puzzled by what he saw, and sure these spots hadn’t been on the floor a few seconds earlier, he started to look around for their source.

As he looked more closely at the floor, he saw several flesh colored objects lying on the ground in front of him. Objects he definitely knew hadn’t been there moments before.

On closer inspection he discovered to his horror that they were severed toes.

Then it hit him they just weren’t just toes, they were his severed toes.

Yes, during his chiburi he had sliced off three of his toes.

It was a clean cut, and so fast and smooth he didn’t even feel it.

Of course, once he processed what had happened, and now that he was now minus a few toes, he fell to the floor in agonizing pain.

Now, you can imagine the shock and disbelief that overwhelmed the rest of us. I mean, you see things happen like this in the movies, but not in real life. I felt like this really couldn’t have happened.

Of course, as dumbfounded as we were, we had to quickly gain our composure. Our friend’s life was now in jeopardy.

It took a combined effort to clam him down enough to wrap his foot, gather and ice his toes, and rush him to the emergency room, but we did it. I’m not sure how. I’m also sure we broke every traffic law in the process, but within minutes he was at the hospital.

Now I’m sure you can imagine the looks we got, when we told the staff at the hospital what had happened. Sword injuries are not very common in the 20th century, and once again anyone who wasn’t there would have his or her doubts as to what actually occurred. In this case, because of our ages and the nature of the injury, the police were even called and his injury was investigated just to make sure we were not lying.

Fortunately, this story has a happy ending, and his toes were reattached. It took him months to recover, and he lost a lot of sensation. But except for some major scarring, one would never know what had happened.

Now, I share this tale with no intention of grossing people out. I, for one, actually think it illustrates how quickly things can go wrong. I tell this tale to show people how important it is to always focus on what they are doing, especially when it comes to working with lethal weaponry.

Sure, people kind of laugh when they hear this story, but we’re normally not laughing at the guy. We’re laughing about the morbidity of what happened, realizing that if we make a stupid mistake the same thing or worse can happen to us. It’s an uneasy type of laughter we share to hide our repulsion to the fact that these things happen.

* * *

By now you may be wondering what prompted me to share such a tale with the world. Well if you will remember I said these stories should act as cautionary tales. They should teach us to be careful and always pay attention to what we are doing.

When I told this story less than a week ago I never imagined I would have to relive it. However, on Friday Nov. 17th 2006 I did. Well, sort of.

On Friday the 17th we were having a tameshigiri class (cutting rolled reed mats). It had been months since our last one, and everyone was eager to try it, especially those who had never done it before.

Of course it also had to be one of those nights where I had a guest and also one where we had an uncommon amount of onlookers from the street. Both of these are fairly unusual events for my school.

The night started off normal enough, with each person taking their turn with mixed results.

The goal of the tameshigiri class was to have fun, while gaining some insight into the proper way to cut with the katana. It’s a chance to witness the lethality of the swords we use, which normally builds a healthy respect between practitioners and their blades.

Sometimes I think people doubt just how dangerous these swords are. As one person mentioned, he didn’t think his new sword really looked like it was sharp. Of course it was and it cut through the tatami mats with ease.

Like I said the class started off like normal. However, that was about to change. In an instant the whole mood and tone changed.

Now I could describe what went wrong step-by-step, and just how many mistakes my poor student made. How he didn’t follow instructions, or the lackadaisical way he approached his task.

I could air my frustration about what happened, but I won't since I feel genuinely sorry for the guy. I have no intention to admonish him publicly. Let's just say that he has done martial arts long enough to know the risks; he knows what he did wrong, and he is ultimately the one who will suffer until things heal.

The good news is my student didn’t sever any toes completely off. In fact, only one toe was injured, though I have to say that toe was sliced right to the bone from tip to base.

Now, expressions can be worth a thousand words, and his face at the moment when this happened was priceless. It was clearly a combination of bewilderment, and anger towards himself for doing what ultimately can only be categorized as stupidity.

At first what he did didn’t hit me. And even when he verbally validated what I thought had happened, I was hoping, should I say praying, he was kidding. Unfortunately he wasn’t. He had in fact cut himself. In many ways it was almost like my story coming back to haunt me.

To say that everyone was shocked would be an understatement. It took a while after he left for the hospital for everyone to regain their composure and start cutting again. Needless to say, everyone was a lot more careful for the rest of the night, and it will be something no one present will ever forget.

Now I know one day this story will be shared with others. Those that hear it will wonder if it’s really true or not. There will uneasy laughter, as the realization that these things are possible registers within each individual psyche.

All I can hope is that by sharing such stories I stop at least a few people from injuring themselves. If that means I make people stop and think about what they are doing, or the manner in which they do things, than all the suffering I have witnessed, the injuries I have suffered personally have some meaning.

I’ve always been told to “learn from the mistakes of others.” And to be honest, that phrase has a tremendous amount of validity to it.

[C.f. earlier postings on accidents and live swords:
Respecting Live Swords by Spencer on 2006-04-19
Live Blades by Gary on 2006-05-05
Live Blades A Follow Up by Gary on 2006-05-10
References for Live Blades - A Follow Up by Spencer on 2006-05-10]

Frank 1.5

For a few years I’ve struggled to develop a realistic striking dummy for both sword and spear. I have wanted a striking dummy that could take full force strikes, thrusts, and slashes, and hold up to the abuse various forms of impact can cause.

I’ve played around with several designs, but many were too bulky, and couldn’t withstand much abuse. Or they were not sturdy enough to take blows, and when struck simply fell over and/or apart. In either case none of these designs were very practical.

In addition I wanted my dummy to be average height, (about 5foot 9 inches tall) with various targets one could attack. Basically, I wanted a dummy that was as versatile as possible, but which wasn’t extremely heavy and didn’t take up to much space in the school.

A few weeks ago I finally built such a dummy, I’ve nicknamed “Frank 1.5.”

Click for full size

Click for full size

Basically Frank 1.5 is made of old used tires, and recycled lumber, however though made of scrap materials he is designed to take almost every imaginable attack one could think of, from the tip of his head, to his legs, (sorry, but I couldn’t figure out how to make feet).

So far since his construction we have tried are best to break Frank 1.5, or at least pinpoint his weaknesses. While we managed to break one white oak bokken, a 26 inch police baton, and a jo while striking Frank 1.5, he has shown no signs of damage or even wear and tear.

I realize that Frank 1.5 might hot be the most handsome dummy ever built, but he is 100% functional and that what counts. I should also note that while I like to build things out of wood, I am in no way shape or form a carpenter. If something can’t be built with a screwdriver, hammer, and handsaw it doesn’t get built. So given my limited abilities and shortage of proper tools I’m very happy with the way Frank 1.5 turned out.

Click for full size

Click for full size

Another nice element of Frank 1.5 is that he is designed so one can also practice thrusting, both with a wooden spear or a real one—though I imagine Frank 1.5 will most likely need to have his face replaced if we use a sharp sword to often.

Click for full Size

Like I said Frank 1.5 is still is still under evaluation, but so far he seems to working out just fine.

Total Cost - $ 0.00 (All materials were scrap and donated.)
Total time – Approximately 25 hours most of which was used to cut and drill holes in the tires.

Attendance

“The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains.
The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.”
--William Arthur Ward

One of the most frustrating aspects of teaching is student attendance. Or maybe I should say lack of attendance.

I run a very small school. In the last two years, I think the average student population has been six. This means that when students don’t show up for class on a regular basis it’s pretty obvious.

Now don’t get me wrong, I understand that all of my students are adults and that as adults they have busy lives. On any given day I can quickly think of a 100 reasons why one could miss class. I also fully understand that most of the people I end up teaching are overly educated, are over achievers, and/or have careers that consume a lot of their time (by necessity or choice).

I also know that some commute long distances: I have one student in particular who has to drive one and a half hours each way in order to train with me. In his case, I understand why I don’t see him as often as others, nor do I expect him to come more often than he does. I myself can’t think of too many instructors that I would travel that far to train with either.

However, whether my students’ reasons for not attending class are valid or not, I would love to discover someway of motivating my students to make more of an effort to attend class on a regular basis. I mean, it’s in their best interest to come as often as possible, since they wont make any progress if they don’t.

Clearly, what I teach is not easy to learn and often requires meticulous attention to detail. I realize that students often leave class feeling frustrated, or feel as if they haven’t learned anything. Although they may show some grasp of the material, (at least at a conceptual level), I know they feel that trying to perform certain techniques to my level of expectation (or even their level) is overwhelming.

I also have realized I’m not the type of instructor who highly praises my students, though I will correct their mistakes to death. It’s not that I don’t respect their efforts, or accomplishments; from experience I’ve learned that praising students to often sometimes has the reverse effect. Instead of trying harder they think they have accomplished something and don’t try as hard to improve anymore.

Truly there is nothing worse than watching a student who thinks that he or she knows something when they really don’t. I see that at seminars all the time.

While I try to be balanced and offer as much encouragement as I can, the truth is that the only way a student will learn anything is by practicing. Repetition, repetition, and more repetition is the only way to learn. It’s a long tedious road with no short cuts. It is the true “master” that learns to overcome the feeling of tedium, and strive for perfection.

This of course leads back to attending class on a regular basis.

While it is true that one can practice on their own, practicing by one’s self never can and never will replace attending class. In fact bad habits, wrong movements, and forgetting pieces are much more likely to occur when practicing alone since there is no one there to correct mistakes as they are made and repeated.

I’ve said this a thousand times to hundreds of people: learn things right the first time, since unlearning things is 100 times harder. That’s just how the mind works.

Over the years, I’ve come to realize that no matter what I say, or how often I try to motivate my students to come on a regular basis it just doesn’t work. They either come or they don’t. I, for one, don’t understand this mentality, since that’s not how I am, and when I commit to something, or set a goal, I give it my all.

Unlike many schools that call students or send motivational postcards to encourage people to come to class, I refuse to do these practices. I figure it’s up to the individual to want to do this. They decided to join the school, they pay me monthly with their hard earned money. If they came to class because they felt forced or pressured I know they wouldn’t learn much since they would not be fully focused. I for one would eventually feel resentful and quit if I felt pressured to do something.

Though I always initially ask for a commitment of two classes a week from every new student, and do threaten that I drop students who don’t attend that often, I rarely enforce this policy. Maybe I should, but the only real result would be even a smaller student population.

That of course wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing since every student I’ve had past and present knows that in my heart I would rather teach two or three really serious students than a roomful of hobbyists.

To be perfectly honest, I would rather have people quit my school than sporadically attend class. There have been several times when I forced a student to make a decision about whether they would remain at my school or not.

I know dealing with the issue of poor attendance is not unique to my school, and by now it shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. Its just part of dealing with the various people and personalities one meets in this line of business.

However, one day I hope to find a way to learn to inspire my students such that they look forward to coming to class so that this would no longer be an issue.

Until that time all I can tell my students is what their attendance means to me.

I forget who said it, but there is a quote that basically says one cannot be a teacher without students. I know for me that when I have a big class, I teach better and I’m more motivated. I am motivated to share more, and be the best teacher I can be.

I enjoy the energy a roomful of students brings to a class and the exchange of information each person contributes. That’s what made me ultimately decided to become a teacher in the first place.

Sure being in charge, “being the center of attention,” helps with my self-esteem. But I truly enjoy teaching. I like watching students improve, seeing the expressions on their faces when they finally comprehend what I’m asking them to do, and sharing in their achievement when they finally accomplish a goal. That’s truly exhilarating.

I also enjoy the camaraderie I form with my students, and what I learn from each of them. There is no doubt that several students, both past and present, have influenced/impacted my teaching style and/or personal life.

These are my reasons why I look forward to my students attending class on a regular basis, however I also want them there because it’s in their best interest. I sincerely want people to learn what I’m teaching.

One of my favorite quotes states;
“This one step - choosing a goal and sticking to it - changes everything.”
Scott Reed

I would like my students (current and prospective) to think about this, and encourage them to remember why they joined my school in the first place, and the goals they set for themselves.

References for Live Blades - A Follow Up

I just wanted to give some footnotes for Gary's last post on live sword practice. This is some disconnected background that seemed relevent to folks who are interested in more detail.

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In contrast to the obvious dominance of the gun in the war-torn pre-modern Europe, the Japanese were able to cling to swords longer during the enforced peace of the Tokugawa despots. Interestingly, before the Tokugawas assumed the shogunate, Japan had been on the path to gun based warfare. Giving Up the Gun by Noel Perrin is an excellent read on how this happened. I highly recommend it to anybody trying to understand the history of Japanese martial arts.

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The loss of Western sword skills were, of course, more complex than can depicted in a few sentences. The cavalry saber and sword dueling were still important to officers and gentlemen of the 19th century. While it is a rambling book, By the Sword by Richard Cohen has some good chapters on the evolution of swordsmanship and dueling--and their degradation into fencing--in pre-modern America and Europe. My favorite two details in this are that Abraham Lincoln almost found himself in a saber duel in his early career, and that Teddy Roosevelt used to singlestick fence in the White House. Swords may not have been a focus of combat for centuries, but vestiges of sword culture remained in the West until World War I. The two world wars destroyed a tremendous amount of traditional culture, and changed the way all Westerners thought about violence.

Of course, in a similar fashion, World War II--and the militarization prior to it as well as the forced pacification afterwards--radically changed Japanese martial arts to a degree that most practitioners are not ready to admit. A lot of traditional styles disappeared in this period, and many of the remaining arts were pacified. Kendo in particular had to be purged of its association with military propaganda. Contrawise, it's worth noting that a lot of the most interesting and technically deep Japanese styles extant in the West came from teachers who fled Japan during the pre-war militarization. But this is an essay for another day.

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Some of the relevant laws on martial arts weapons in California are in Penal Code 12020-12040. Apparently, this section of the law was written in the '80s when the "ninja craze" was in full swing, so lawmakers were irrationally scared of such mystical Eastern ninja stuff. It's very strange that in California, "nunchaku" are felonious, while you can legally walk around with a sword on your belt (although "disturbing the peace" type laws may trump this). The Sword Forum International Legal Issue Forum is a good place to ask questions or look for more information on other states/countries.

Live Blades – A Follow Up

Interestingly one of my students, Sam Wiederspan, brought up some good points about the issue of training with live blades, and why we in the West have such an opposition to such training. These were points that I was going to cover in my first essay, but left out since I didn’t want to go to far off topic. However, these reasons directly influence modern opinion, and fuel the controversy on why or why not live blades should be used when practicing swordsmanship.

The main issue Sam brought up was that the “taming” of the West, especially in regards to the United States was done with the use of the gun, not the sword. We live in a culture that is gun oriented, not sword oriented. Clearly the sword didn’t win the American frontier; it was the six-shooter, and as a result we now look to bladed weaponry as something mysterious and foreign.

In a historical perspective, few if any sword battles occurred on US soil; there are no indigenous American sword forms, and even in Europe the use of the sword became more symbolic with the advent and eventual widespread use of firearms. Sword fighting as a necessity and as an art form died out. Old sword masters died without ever passing on their knowledge, and entire Western style sword fighting arts were lost forever. They were lost to the degree that many people don’t even know these sword-fighting methods, many akin to those found in China and Japan, ever existed.

Because the sword was set aside in favor of firearms the sword became a mystical symbol. It was a link to our past, when man fought savagely in hand-to-hand battles. The sword marked a time when man had to face his opponent eye-to-eye, and actually thrust or slash a piece of sharpened metal in the body of another. Barbaric really.

Unlike a gun, where one can shoot another at a distance, fighting with a sword involves direct physical contact. As a result a warrior using a sword had to develop a mindset that allowed him to do such a thing, a mind set most of us in these modern times can’t even phantom.

This mind-set to kill, especially in such a face-to-face circumstance, is directly opposed to our natural innate adversity to kill. For example, we humans are so programmed not to kill that specific science based methods to teach military recruits to overcome this predisposition had to be developed. Prior to such programs being developed it wasn’t that uncommon to hear of soldiers being unable to return fire during an actual combat situation.

As I tell my students, anyone who attacks another individual with a bladed weapon, and has the mind-set to really stab or cut someone else, is a much more dangerous threat than a person who uses a firearm.

Pulling the trigger of a gun is easy and impersonal. Shooting someone is clean. Most importantly, shooting a gun, especially at close range, requires no skill. You just point and pull the trigger.

A bladed weapon has to be used close in, normally within two feet (spears excluded), and requires someone with the mind-set to actually forcibly push it through skin, muscle tissue, tendons, and organs. It is messy, and to be truly effective requires some degree of skill.

Clearly of the two weapons, the bladed weapon also has more of an emotional edge to it. That is why bladed weaponry is often used in “slasher” movies, or as the preferred weapon used by emotionally distraught lovers to seek revenge--think Glen Close in the movie “Fatal Attraction.” The act of being hacked, cut, perforated, chopped, pierced, flayed, diced, or slashed scares most of us on a very primordial level.

I for one have actually witnessed many individuals who actually fought a gun-wielding adversary; as opposed to those threatened with a knife. The knife victims are often far more traumatized. In fact, I’ve often had victims describe a pocketknife as a machete due to the fear the bladed weapon has evoked.

This leads to another point Sam brought up which I failed to mention in my previous essay. We have all cut ourselves at some point in our lives, and we know what it feels like. Few, if any of us have ever been shot.

Getting cut hurts, and since we know it hurts we avoid anything which might lead to being cut. We avoid handling sharp objects, are taught not to run with scissors, and learn early on to treat knives with a certain degree of respect.

However, as respectful as we may be when using bladed or sharp objects we all know accidents occur in an instant. We all know there is uncertainty when handling these objects, and how quickly the slightest wrong movement can lead to injury. After all, how many of us have cut ourselves while cooking?

Because we collectively know the inherent danger of sharp objects we fear them just a little more than we fear the unknown.

Sam mentioned that almost everyone who rides a motorbike has fallen at least once. Clearly, based on statistics many more people are injured and killed each year by motorcycle related accidents, than by swords or other bladed weaponry. However, few people have a fear of motorbikes, and I’ve never heard of a serious discussion stating motorbikes should be banned, or never ridden.

How come we don’t fear motorbikes?

The truth of the matter behind this whole controversy is the stigma we in the West have placed on martial art weaponry, or to state things more specifically the weaponry of the East. Because they are “foreign” to us, and require skill to use properly, they must for some unknown reason be more inherently dangerous.

Why else would so many laws governing their possession, transportation, manufacture, and distribution, make them illegal. Why would possessing (in public or privately) many of these martial art weapons be a felony, punishable by over a year in state prison, while possessing a firearm in public is a misdemeanor?

Examples of some of the martial art weaponry that is illegal to possess in the state of California.

It doesn’t make sense! When was the last time you read about a robbery where the robber used a sai, or a drive by that was committed with a blowgun?

The controversy over training with live blades is really a silly argument, stemming mostly from ignorance, irrational fear, and poor quality instructors. It is a direct result of martial arts training becoming more of a hobby (recreational activity) than serious life or death business.

The truth is that most devotees of Japanese sword arts don’t practice, nor have any real desire to practice, true “sword fighting skills.” They want to use a sword without acknowledging its lethal potential. Their sword is symbol and a link to the past. For many, the use of a sword is a way to grow spiritually.

These practitioners go through the motions with replicas, saying they are swordsmen. They cut mats or other objects and boast how they could cut through bone and body tissue. They see the sword as something that gives life, rather than take it away.

Ridiculous!

A real purist might say you can never be a swordsman until you’ve been a real sword fight. I won't go that far, I do have my limits, but in a way these extremists would be partially right.

I for one have never been in a real swordfight, and I hope to never face that situation. However, I’ve trained my whole life in a manner that that has prepared me (mentally and physically) for such a situation, whether I should be fortunate to live, or lose and die.

I’ve learned the mind-set that when ever I pick up my sword to practice it's not for fun. It’s serious business and I must give my training the full attention it deserves or be prepared to suffer the consequences of injury. My mind, body, and spirit must be unified and act as one.

I’ve learned to respect, sometimes to even fear the lethality, of my sword, and my actions with it.

Could I have achieved this level without using a real sword? Maybe, but I most probably would have missed many of the important lessons training with a live sword instills, lessons that in no way shape or form can be learned with replicas, or as a hobbyist.

Live Blades

Spencer brought up some interesting points when he discussed the controversy over training with live sword blades (see essay titled “Respecting Live Swords”).

To be honest, during most of my formative years of training I wasn’t aware that such a controversy existed. I was under the delusional assumption that everyone trained with “live weaponry,” just like my teacher made us do.

How wrong I was.

Spencer stated that the reason he trains with a live blade is because I tell him to, because that is how I learned. Yet, there is more to it than just making my students practice they way I did. Clearly, I’ve changed many teaching methodologies that my teacher employed, such as hitting students with bamboo canes when they do things wrong, so the “I had to and so will you,” argument is not the sole reason.

For the most part, I equate training with a wooden sword, or unsharpened alloy sword, with learning to fire a gun without bullets. It’s just not the same physiological mindset or real world preparation as one gets dealing with the real thing.

I can point and fire my empty gun all day long without ever imagining I’m missing the center of the bull’s-eye. All I end up teaching myself is that the gun is a toy, and I’ll never fully realize the true lethal potential the gun possesses. Without bullets I have no need to learn to respect my gun, or consider all the aspects of gun safety. I merely pretend to learn marksmanship.

The same analogy can be made about archery. If I never shoot an arrow, how do I know I can? I can pull the bowstring hour upon hour, but until I shoot some arrows I’m doing nothing more than going through the motions. I have no idea whether I’m a real “archer” or not.

The funny thing to me is that this controversy doesn’t seem to apply to other martial art related weaponry, especially those found in many Karate systems. Don’t the sai, tonfa, kama, bo, nunchaku, also posses some inherent danger, both to the practitioner and his or her training partner?

What about the jo (short staff), the sticks used in Arnis, or even the cane as taught in many Korean systems? I’ve seen people hurt with these weapons many times, and know of one person who was struck in the head and lost an eye.

Furthermore, didn’t Musashi fight and kill people with a bokken?

To me it really doesn’t matter what weaponry one uses. The truth is all weaponry should and has to be respected, and treated as a dangerous lethal tool. They are not toys, and were developed for one purpose, one intention: TO KILL. Whether you slash, cut, poke or bludgeon the intended results are all the same.

The only difference between the various martial art weaponry taught in most schools is the degree of skill one needs to be successful with them, and I will admit that a razor sharp sword has more immediate damage potential than most others. Of course this is one of the reasons for this controversy since in the hands a of a novice a sword is much more deadly than a stick, jo, sai, tonfa, bo, kama, or nuunchaku, especially in the early years of training.

In my formative years of training I’ll admit I didn’t always use live weaponry when practicing. Not because my teacher didn’t want us to but because none of us could afford to purchase weapons, if we happened to be fortunate enough to even find a place that offered them for sale.

In fact my first bokken, which I used for several years, was nothing more than a sawed off broom handle. However, I had to treat that broom handle like it was the real thing, and when I didn’t I was severely punished.

The truth is that sword etiquette and proper usage was so ingrained within me that by the time I finally had a real sword to use, it made no difference. Except for adjusting to the weight differences between wood and metal, I made the transition without ever really realizing the switch had been made.

The only notable difference was when we practiced two man forms. Clearly, using live swords for exercises such as these requires modifications, but one instantly develops a keen sense of timing and distancing you cannot, or at least don’t need to cultivate with wooden swords alone.

One also learns to really respect the lethality of the sword, and how fractions of fractions of an inch can make a world of difference between survival, debilitating injury, life, or death.

Furthermore, one learns to really gain control of their body as well as their hand to eye coordination, while at the same time developing and heightening their focus. These are very important elements for the true swordsman.

Training with live swords also eliminates excessive movement, unrealistic feinting, and wide-open postures often seen in many sword schools. Movements that may look pretty, but serve no realistic purpose.

Lastly, training with live swords, especially in two man forms, immediately demonstrates why large elliptical cuts, wide swings, and the heavy hard-hitting blocks were never really utilized by true swordsmen.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe training with a live sword is for everyone, nor do I advocate such practices. Over the years I have met and trained many people I don’t want to see anywhere near a live blade. I would never trust them with the responsibility, or have enough faith in them not to hurt themselves or someone else.

Then again I don’t consider these people serious students anyway, and they are not the type who should be learning a real sword fighting art in the first place. Fortunately, most don’t last at my school long enough to make this an issue.

Of course I can say the same thing about wooden weaponry. I’ve had many more people injured practicing with wooden weaponry than I ever have had with sharp metal ones. Most of these injuries, though minor, resulted from lack of attention, or people making a game of what they are doing, an unfortunate byproduct of not training with the real thing. It is very easy for people to get silly, lazy, or careless when there is no real threat of injury.

In my opinion, the worst thing to happen to the field of weapons training has been all the padded weaponry that is available nowadays. I, for one, see no use for these. They degrade the entire martial arts. In my opinion they are a real insult to those martial artists that came before us.

As awful as this may sound, without the fear of injury, any practice with foam or padded weaponry will eventually deteriorate into nothing more than a game of give and take--like playing tag. There is no such thing as “give and take” in a real battle using weapons.

I myself would rather use a live sword and move at a snail’s pace, than use a padded weapon and move in ways that have no bearing on reality. I have no interested in learning to play martial arts. Leave that to the kids who want to be Ninja Turtles or Power Rangers.

In Spencer’s essay he stated that I do have my students work with live blades in partnered drills sometimes, although extremely rarely. To me, whether the sword blade is live or not when doing sword work should be irrelevant. If one uses proper form, and respects the blade nothing bad should happen. It is all about demonstrating control, paying attention to details, and having precision reflexes--which I fully understand have to be cultivated over time. That’s why even I, unlike my teacher, don’t let beginners practice in this manner.

No insult to Spencer, my other students that have cut themselves or others that I know of that have, but injuries normally occur when one gets sloppy, doesn’t pay attention to the details, or gets lazy about how they are moving their own bodies. They have no one to blame but themselves. (This of course referring to people who cut themselves, not those injured due to the mistake of others, which seems to be the rarer of the two injuries.)

I’m not being harsh or insensitive either. I feel sorry for those that hurt themselves, and I make every effort when I teach to see that these things don’t happen. But the truth of the matter is, if one trains seriously with dangerous tools one will eventually get hurt.

In other words, dangerous endeavors can lead to dangerous consequences. Snake handlers get bit, lion tamers mauled, butchers cut themselves, welders burn themselves, bullfighters get gored, and race car drivers crash.

So why do we as martial artists fear live blades? Why is there this controversy? Training in the martial arts whether armed or unarmed is inherently dangerous to begin with. Why is training with a live blade perceived to be so much more dangerous?

It’s not! It’s just the mindset of people, and how they are taught to perceive things. Yes, a live sword in lethal, and in the realm of martial arts weaponry it can cause more severe wounds than other types of weaponry. No argument there.

However, it is this lethal nature of the blade, and its power to cut that we revere. The sword is not, nor was it intended to be some spiritual icon, or even a path to spiritual enrichment. If anything, those have always been mere byproducts of training.

The sole truth is the sword was invented and designed to kill. That’s it!! Just like a gun, they serve no purpose in life except to be used in life or death battle. Don’t be persuaded to believe otherwise. The romantic ideals may sound enchanting, even mystical, but our ancestors didn’t learn to use swords to make themselves better people. They learned to use swords to survive and protect themselves first and foremost.

Training with replicas, wooden copies, has its place, but it will never ever replace the real thing. Students will never achieve a sense of true swordsmanship until they use a real sword, feel how it moves, and discover how exacting and respectful they must be in order not to hurt others or themselves.

The difference of course is what one's goals are. If you want to be a swordsman, then be a swordsman; use a real sword. If you want to say you’re a swordsman and go through the motions you might as well get your own broomstick.

Don Angier Seminar Review: Sunday April 30th 2006

Today, (Monday 05/01/06), I sit here at the computer with my back aching, muscles I haven’t worked in a long while sore from overuse, and a neck so tight moving it in any direction causes some rather sharp spasms that are quite indescribable. To say this has been a Motrin day would be an understatement. I’m sore, I have a major headache, and basically I feel just plain lousy. But, with all that said, I know what I’m going through right now was worth it, and the price one has to pay from time to time in order to improve one’s skills as a martial artist.

I had debated long and hard whether to go to this seminar in the first place. Basically because I knew I was nursing, or should I say babying, some injuries that have plagued me during the last year. I wasn’t sure how my body would hold up, or if I would be able to handle the physical activity required to be an active participant of a martial arts seminar. I know myself, and I always tend to push myself to far, even when my body is telling me to take a break. After all, I don’t go to a martial arts seminar to sit on the sidelines and watch, and if it weren’t for my tendency to be stubborn and persevere through physical pain I most likely would have quit doing martial arts years ago.

Most of all, my hesitation was based on my fear about how I would I wake up the next day. Would I feel sore and achy, like I do, or would my mobility be affected to the point where I couldn’t walk again. That was a very scary thought, since no one can really imagine how we take the act of walking for granted until we can’t do it anymore. I know I never ever gave it a thought until it happened to me. Now I think about it all the time. Maybe too much, and these thoughts have sidelined me for to long. The jury is still out on this topic.

Whether my medical concerns were unwarranted, or I was just lucky to not re-injure myself will never be known, but the knowledge I gained yesterday clearly outweighs the discomfort I feel at the moment. I know deep inside that while I may feel bad for a few days now, what I learned will last me a lifetime.

Anyone who knows me knows I have a great deal of respect and admiration for Don Angier, and rarely if ever miss a seminar he gives in my area. I truly believe he is one of the most talented and knowledgeable martial art practitioners in the world. I like what he teaches, how he teaches it, and his no “secrets” approach to sharing complex technical information.

Clearly, Mr. Angier has had a profound impact on how I teach, how I examine the sciences of techniques, and how I teach at my school--not to mention how I evaluate other instructors before deciding to attend their seminars or not.

Of course, like I’ve also always said, I never go to a Don Angier seminar to learn techniques. The truth is that often what he teaches is just too difficult to learn in a day or even a weekend. I’m not sure if that is intentional on Mr. Angier’s part, or just because of how technical and precise the martial art system he teaches happens to be.

What I’m certain of however is that Mr. Angier has exacting standards and demands meticulousness attention to details from his students. It is this attention to details that make his students such skillful practitioners, and distinguish them from so many other Budo related martial art practitioners I have seen.

This fastidiousness is also what makes Mr. Angier and the Shidare Yanagi Ryu he teaches so unique, and in my opinion are the justifications for all the accolades I give him.

Further more, these standards and his commitment to them are one of the major reasons I truly appreciate Mr. Angier’s seminars. Mr. Angier doesn’t water down a thing or make things simple in order to cater to those that attend his seminars. He teaches the way he teaches his own students, and expects those who come to his seminar to not only do things his way, but to his level of expectations.

Listening to Mr. Angier make corrections it is clear he has no desire, or patience, to see anyone do things halfway, or to modify what he is teaching based on their physical comfort zone, previous style experience, or how they interpret what he say needs to be done in the order it has to be done. In fact he made it clear to several people during the day that what he was teaching has been tested, and retested enough times to show the scientific principles behind them work optimally when preformed as he says they should be.

Anyone who has managed to gain some proficiency with the techniques Mr. Angier teaches will confirm there is no arguing with his assertion. When done correctly the techniques Mr. Angier teaches are effortless, and require no power or force. In fact they work so well when done correctly the only “feedback” one gets is that the other person is on the ground, or locked up in a painful submission hold. Of course this lack of “feedback” is frustrating since one is never sure what they did right when it works, making it hard to repeat one’s actions.

Of course speaking for myself, I feel everything I do wrong when the techniques don’t work, which is frustrating since I know what Mr. Angier wants me to do. However, for some unknown reason I find myself trying so hard to please Mr. Angier, especially when he is watching me at these seminars I actually perform worse, to the point I sometimes wonder if he thinks I possess any real skills at all. If nothing else at least he knows I try and do things his way, and see the true value of what he is teaching.

In total four techniques were taught on Sunday. Two were defenses against grabs; front and rear, one was against a forward punch, and the last a defense was against a mounted pin.

This was the first time I had ever seen Mr. Angier teach any grappling on the ground, and I have to say the form he taught was very pretty to watch, effective to apply, and painful to endure.

While I was able to manage to do the upright techniques, even taking a few falls when things were done correctly, I had to take a break and sit on the sidelines while others were practicing the groundwork. It was really frustrating, since I really was interested in the technique and getting a better understanding of what was going on.

However, for a change that inner voice inside me won out and I sat there and just observed. Which, in many respects was better since I could watch others and listen to all the corrections Mr. Angier and his assistants made to others.

Of course I often learn more watching Mr. Angier demonstrate techniques and correcting others, than by actually frustrating myself trying to do them. Watching and listening afford me the opportunity to discover new concepts, ways of moving, and most importantly ways of thinking about how things have to be done to be more effective.

Two of the techniques, rear grab and front punch defense, were ones Mr. Angier had done before several years ago so for a change I felt fairly comfortable, doing them. I wont say I did them 100% to Mr. Angier’s expectations, but I did them better than I ever had before. Improvement that, if you don’t mind me stroking my ego for a moment, didn’t go unnoticed.

The final technique, a defense against a front double arm grab, was one I had seen Mr. Angier demonstrate before, but had never been taught. It was interesting, and helped me understand a few movements from my own style better. It is corrections, or should I say these slight modifications on what I already do, that make Mr. Angier’s seminars invaluable to me.

Despite the fact I didn’t participate during most of the afternoon I had a really good time. It was painful, but even with all the physical limitations I still benefited a lot by attending this seminar. Several necessary corrections were made, and I now have many new concepts to consider and explore. I’ve also come to realize that by acknowledging my physical limitations it has made doing the techniques Mr. Angier’s teaches easier. Less Movement, Less Effort has definitely equaled More Result.

I’ve said this over and over again, and will keep saying this as long as Mr. Angier offers seminars; if you are serious about martial arts, and you want to see and learn from a true master you should make every effort to attend at least one of Mr. Angier’s seminars. His knowledge, both technical and historical is amazing, and anyone at any skill level can benefit from what he is willing to share.

In fact, there have been plenty of participants at his seminars who have been astounded how openly he shares the “secrets.” Secrets they paid hundreds if not thousands of dollars to learn from others.

Respecting Live Swords

I’ve been thinking a lot about live swords today…that is, sharp Japanese katana…razor sharp.

In the past, I've seen heard a number of arguments on training with live swords, also known as shinken. Generally, a small number of folks think live blades are important for training, while the majority of practitioners think that such a position is irresponsible and insane.

We use live swords in our school.

Generally, we use them for solo practice, especially iai (sword drawing) forms. We almost always use bokken (wooden swords) for drills with a partner. Although, on very rare occasions, we do use real swords for such drills among the more experienced students--in which case we all move very, very carefully.

And that is the key to the argument in favor of live blades: it forces you to be aware and to treat the weapon with respect. If you are training to fight with a sword, you need to practice with a sword, and know how it behaves and what it can do.

Put crudely--arrogantly--'if you play with toys you will learn to use them as toys.'

It has been said that where kendo is about improving yourself, kenjutsu is about killing. We students of kenjtsu are learning first to avoid death and second to kill. No matter how anachronistic the art, or how graceful we try to make it, in the end we need to be honest with ourselves. This is an art of life and death. In every moment of our practice, we must be serious and mindful.

We practice with live swords so that we will not be harmed by them--yet another paradox of the traditional martial arts.


From the other point of view, the argument against live swords is simple. It's dangerous. Stupidly dangerous. It is irresponsible to place students at risk, and there is enormous liability if they get hurt. Most Japanese sword arts do not let students anywhere near a live blade for many years, if at all.

Of course, kendo is almost defined by its safety equipment (bamboo swords and armor), so one would not expect them to use live blades. Indeed, they take the opposite approach of developing life-and-death mindfulness by being safe enough that kendoka can spar at full speed with full intention.

Most iaido practitioners use an unsharpened iaito instead of a live sword for safety reasons. Although, I often wonder (with pure speculation) if the switch in many styles away from shinken had less to do with safety than with post-WWII restrictions on swords and martial arts. Advanced practitioners will often use shinken, but only after years of practice.

Now, I’m not trying to claim that practicing with a dangerous weapon is superior to other types of training. It is easy to let juvenile machismo lead one down that path. Not everybody practices swords arts for the same reason, not everybody is the same kind of student.

I, for one, am a lifelong klutz.

One can mull all these arguments, but in the end, I practice with a real sword because my teacher tells me that is how I should practice and because that is how he learned. Sometimes it feels terrifying--the first time I swung a live naginata, fear and awareness coursed through me. Sometimes it feels like stupidity. Sometimes it just feels like everyday life. And that, perhaps, is the worst reaction.

In fact, on this particular day I'm not feeling very good about the way I train and the mindfulness behind it. I have stopped fearing my sword. I have become too comfortable in my practice. I have stopped respecting the fact that my sword is a tool of mortal peril.


Thus, yesterday, while practicing a quick-draw I had not tried in months, I stabbed myself in the hand.

The cut was deep--deep enough that I'm lucky no tendons were severed.

I was trying to remember the subtleties of the draw while not paying attention to performing them. I was supposed to stab the imaginary opponent behind me, but I didn't keep my left hand down, so it met the sword's tip at full speed.

In the end, it has all turned out okay. I've got a bunch of stitches and need to keep my hand on light duty for a week or two. All that will remain is an angry scar and embarrassing questions about how I got it.


But for today, I'm thinking hard about swords--what they mean to me and why I practice.

I'm know that next time I pick up my sword it will be with a sense of fear: not respect, but fear of the dog that bit me. Once the fear fades, I hope that a mature respect will return in its place. I hope that for the future I will stay focused and mindful. I hope that every time I pick up my sword, I will stare at the scar on my hand and remember--remember that martial arts is the struggle of life and death--and I'm my own enemy.

How I Think

“There is only one way in which a person acquires a new idea: by the combination or association of two or more ideas he already has into a new juxtaposition in such a manner as to discover a relationship among them of which he was not previously aware.”
Francis A. Cartier

"The best way to a good idea is to have lots of ideas."
Randall Jarrell “Pictures from an Institution”

“The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald

“Everyone who has ever taken a shower has had an idea. It’s the person who gets out of the shower, dries off, and does something about it that makes a difference.”
Nolan Bushnell

“My method is different. I do not rush into actual work. When I get a new idea, I start at once building it up in my imagination, and make improvements and operate the device in my mind. When I have gone so far as to embody everything in my invention, every possible improvement I can think of, and when I see no fault anywhere, I put into concrete form the final product of my brain.”
Nikola Tesla

If any title within this “blog” leaves openings for pot shots it’s this one. However, for those who decide to read my writing its only fair that every now and then I share a little about myself, and/or my creative process. “Creative process” being a nice way to say how I go about writing my rants, and expressing my sometimes overly indulged opinions.

On any given day, at almost any given moment, I have at least five to seven ideas floating in my head. Since I started this “blog” there are some days I have even more. Ideas that concern all aspects of my life, my martial art school, things I want to research, and things I want to write about. Mostly things I want to write about.

Sometimes all these thoughts can get really confusing, and of course some of my best inspirations, ideas, enlightened moments, and clarity on the best way to express myself come at a time when there is no pen and paper in sight.

Then of course there are those moments of “brilliance” when I’m falling asleep, and am just too comfortable to jump out of bed and start writing things down--though I have done that plenty of times, much to the discountenance of my wife. In fact, there have been many nights I’ve been up until the sun rises just because that’s when I either finally found the information I was searching for, or finally figured out the best way to express what I was trying to convey.

Clearly, once I get fixated on something time, food, family, and the dog often take a back seat to my project. A trait that often tends to annoy my wife, because she would like to see me do other things than just sit in front of a computer and read and type all day.

Its not that my wife doesn’t support me in my endeavors, she clearly enjoys seeing me doing something I take an interest in. However, she wants to make sure I do other things also, like go to the gym, eat, and spend some quality time with her. And you know what, I can’t argue with that.

What I’ve learned over the years is that I’m more of an “idea” man, than someone who puts things into action. Its not that I don’t try to act on my ideas, I do, there is just something inside me that tends to sidetrack me. Often other ideas, which generate from the original, ultimately take a life of their own.

Case in point; On Monday April 3rd I posted the story of Shirai Gonpachi, a young samurai who falls into a life of debauchery, and becomes a killer. While researching his story I discovered at least another dozen things I could write about. Things that were extremely interesting to me, and that I wanted to learn more about. Things, which clearly could have a definite impact on the history of my school if one day I can find concrete proof to tie them together, though at this time are only fanciful speculation.

I started the story of Gonpaci on Wednesday March 29th, and finished it on the following Friday afternoon. However, I spent the entire weekend researching all these new interests, which of course led to more things, and then more things, and then more things. I’m sure you get the point.

The fact is, I spent so much time researching and taking notes on all these new discoveries that I no longer remember my original ideas I had for follow up essays. Or to state things clearer, I remember my intention, but not how I was going to go about making my points.

The problem is that now I have so much information, about so many things, I don’t even know where to start, and I’m sure once I actually start writing I won’t have the discipline to stay focused on which topic I choose to write about. After all, all these topics are interrelated, which of course is the main reason I discovered them in the first place.

For those who have read some of my other writings you may agree with my assertion that I tend to drift off my main topic at times. However, hardly anyone has ever seen my first draft, or for that matter the second, third or fourth revised versions.

Yes, I go over what I write time and time again, and that’s part of my problem, part of how I think. I have the idea, the desire, but often lack the abilities to execute them in the way I picture them in my mind. And I wont settle for just part of my picture. Things have to be a certain way, or not at all. I’m sure there is a term for this behavior, but I can’t think of it at this moment.

By this point, you may wonder why I place so much pressure on myself over a “blog.” Good question. However, the only answer I have is that I’m like that in almost every facet of my life--especially when it comes to things I do that express my creative side (writing, art, woodworking etc).

Oh, and don’t forget my zeal for the martial arts I practice. After all, it was due to my perniciousness that I didn’t quit during the first few years and still continue to this day, some thirty plus years later.

Now, I won’t say I’m a perfectionist, but I am close. Since I know my limits and can admit when I lack the ability to do something better, I’ve learned to let things go at a certain point. However, sometimes that point can be a long, long time in coming, much to the frustration of those around me.

In addition sometimes that point isn’t reached until numerous attempts have been tried, I’ve become completely exasperated, and I’ve finally exhausted every possible way I can think of to achieve my goal.

Clearly, even after al that I’m rarely satisfied with my output, no matter how glorious others may claim the result is.

Trust me I’ve had many sleepless nights pondering the events of a day, even when the day seemed to go off without a glitch. Especially after presentations/seminars I’ve given, or even over something seemingly trivial thing such as posting an essay on this forum.

In some cases these concern are warranted, however many times they are not. Unfortunately rational or not, this is who I am. Once again that is the way I think.

Another reason I go over things again and again, especially when it comes to things I write, is that I don’t want to misinform anyone. If I state something as a “fact” I want to make sure it is a fact, not an opinion.

Sometimes though, scientific/historical “facts” change, especially with all the new discoveries that are made each year. Because of this I spend a lot of time rechecking old info, before using it.

Of course if “facts” have changed I have to rethink my opinions, and often times whole ideas have to be stopped, reformulated, and restarted.

For example, I’ve been working on a book for ten years now. That’s actual writing time; as opposed to the other ten years I spent researching information on the topic matter.

Of course twenty years ago there was no Internet, and most of my resources were limited to the local library. Now with the Internet more avenues, (good, bad, and other), to find information are available. It would be unconscionable for me not to utilize any and all resources available to me to create this book of mine. I don’t want to write something others will scoff at, even though I know deep down there will always be someone with a difference of opinion, or who is more knowledgeable than me and can point out mistakes I’ve made.

In addition in the last ten years a lot more research has been done related to the topic of my book, much of which can’t be left out, as this information is important in justifying and/or proving my assertions.

In other words I’ve had to re-write parts of my book several times in order to add and remove information as necessary. Unfortunately, at times this has meant re-writing whole chapters since one paragraph can affect everything else before and after it.

I know I should learn to let go, and have been told numerous times, by numerous people that at some point I’ll just have to write the book and leave it as it is. I know that’s the right thing to do, but at least for now I can’t.

It’s not fear, or a sense that what I’ve written has no merit, which prevents me from ever being fully satisfied with what I do. It’s something much deeper, which at this point in my life I still can’t explain. Maybe many hard years of therapy would help. Who knows?

For now, I’ll go own frustrating myself with random thoughts, ideas that will never be fully explored or expressed, and the time consuming monotony of writing and re-writing all the things I wish to put into print.

Am I happy with the way I think, I think the answer is yes, but I may have more ideas on that answer tomorrow.

For now I’ll leave you with the following thoughts:

“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”
George Orwell, "Why I Write," 1947

“Nature gave us one tongue and two ears so we could hear twice as much as we speak.”
Epictetus

“The beautiful part of writing is that you don't have to get it right the first time, unlike, say, a brain surgeon.”
Robert Cromier

“Every creator painfully experiences the chasm between his inner vision and its ultimate expression. The chasm is never completely bridged. We all have the conviction, perhaps illusory, that we have much more to say than appears on the paper.”
Isaac Bashevis Singer

“What things there are to write, if one could only write them! My mind is full of gleaming thought; gay moods and mysterious, moth-like meditations hover in my imagination, fanning their painted wings. But always the rarest, those streaked with azure and the deepest crimson, flutter away beyond my reach.”
Logan Pearsall Smith

“Having imagination, it takes you an hour to write a paragraph that, if you were unimaginative, would take you only a minute. Or you might not write the paragraph at all.”
Franklin P. Adams, “Half a Loaf,” 1927

“The writer writes in order to teach himself, to understand himself, to satisfy himself; the publishing of his ideas, though it brings gratification, is a curious anticlimax.”
Alfred Kazin, “Think,” February 1963

My Nickel Jar

Have you ever started a joke, a joke that took on a life of its own? Well that is exactly what happened to me several years ago.

As any one who runs a martial arts school will tell you, we school owners spend a lot of time and effort trying to figure the best ways to attract new students. Ad space in newspapers can be expensive, and even an advertisement in the yellow pages doesn’t guarantee phone inquires.

In the eleven years I’ve had a school, a great deal of time, and trial and error has gone into the this aspect of the business. So far I’ve tried every idea I could think of, short of running a commercial on the local TV channels or radio stations--two ideas that will most likely never happen due to costs.

My frustration with advertising the school is not what media works best. All I can do is inform the public that the school exists. If there is an interest, then people will come. Unfortunately, people either want to learn martial arts or they don’t. It’s not an activity most people can be talked into.

Now don’t get me wrong, I get numerous phone and e-mail inquires every month. At least a dozen, which for a school my size and the limited advertisement we do, is pretty good.

I also make a lot of appointments for people to visit and try out a free class. That’s were the frustration starts.

I don’t understand why so many people make appointments and then don’t keep them. I wasn’t raised that way. If I say I’m going to do something I do it. If something prevents me from doing what I said I would, then I either make other arrangements or inform the interested parties I’m unable to do as I promised. I think that is simple common sense. Simple courtesy.

What is even more amazing to me are the callers who want to come as soon as possible, or tell me how they have been searching for a school like mine for years, and then don’t show up.

Why make such a fuss in the first place. Why bother making an appointment. Is it really that hard to pick up a phone and say they had second thoughts and wanted to cancel their appointment?

Now I don’t think these people are “evil,” and I’m sure many of them have very legitimate reasons for failing to keep the appointment they make. I just think it would be nice if they had a little more courtesy, and kept me informed.

Since I’ve never understood people who act in this manner, I once long ago made the statement that if I had a nickel for every person who didn’t show up for their appointment I would be rich.

To be honest I don’t have a nickel jar. However, each time a potential student fails to show up for an appointment I do put a dollar in my piggy bank. Yes, it’s true that I’ll never be able to retire on what’s in that piggy bank, but I think by the end of the year I should have enough money to buy something really nice for the school.

Mastering Yourself

The story goes as follows:

A youth approaches a master of the marital arts hoping to become one of his students. While discussing his admission into the school, the student tells the teacher that his desire is to be one of the best martial artists the school has ever produced, and wants to know how long it will take him to achieve his goal.

The teacher responds by saying “at least ten years.”

The student then asks how long it would take if he studied twice as hard as every one else.

The teacher responds, “twenty years.”

Puzzled the student then asks what would happen if he practices night and day, and cuts his sleeping time in half?

The teacher responds, “thirty years.”

Totally perplexed the student finally asks the teacher why every time he offers to work harder and longer the teacher says it will take more time.

The old teacher smiles at the youth and says the answer is clear: when one eye is fixed upon your destination, there is only one eye left with which to find the way.


I am often asked how long it will take for a student to achieve some level of effectiveness in the art I teach. My response has always been that I don’t know.

This is especially true when the question is asked over the phone and I have never met the person and have no first hand knowledge of their fitness level, physical coordination, ability to learn, or their work ethic.

Even after a student has been training with me for several months I’m hesitant to make such predications. The honest truth is I just don’t know.

No one can answer that question. Until it’s time to defend oneself in the real world, when the situation involves life or death, even the best tournament fighter has been untested. There are no rules and no referees in the real world. No one brings weapons to a UFC fight or other “reality based” martial arts contests.

If students are successful at protecting themselves during an altercation then some level of effectiveness has been achieved, even if they have only been studying for a month. Or they were simply very lucky. Maybe a little of both.

If they were unsuccessful, then I guess they have a ways to go. Though any fight relies on more than just skill, and even a world champion can have a bad day.

I know most of the techniques I teach have the potential to be effective if and when done correctly. I also know that requires skill, and in order to obtain this skill it takes patience and repetitious practice. Like I said in the previous essay, I also know not every technique is suited for everybody.

When taking time to discuss how long it takes to learn techniques and obtain a level of effectiveness in my art I have come up with a timetable. Though this time table is sort of an inside joke to my students I’ll share it.

No one technique I teach should take more than a minute to learn, and two to five minutes to learn to use effectively.

However, I’m talking biblical time. Yes, biblical time. Let’s assume that God created the heavens and earth in seven days as chronicled in biblical texts. Now if you understand that each twenty-four hour period for God equaled one thousand years, you’ll start to understand my timetable.


1 minute in biblical time equals roughly .695 months
2 minutes equals 1.39 years
5 minutes equals 3.47 years
10 minutes equals 6.95 years
30 minutes equals 20.8 years
1 hour equals 41.7 years
24 hours equal 1000 years

Like I said it’s sort of a joke, but it’s also very true. There are no short cuts to learning proper martial art techniques. Practice, practice, and more practice, day in and day out, repetition after repetition is what it takes.

So, if you ever have a few minutes and want to study at my school, please feel free to stop in. But at my age I can only promise you an hour of my time.


(Editor’s Note: “with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day” – 2 Peter 3:8 A handy conversion chart is available at www.yachigusaryu.com/yachitime.htm.)

Mastering Techniques

"There are some things that can beat smartness and foresight? Awkwardness and stupidity can. The best swordsman in the world doesn't need to fear the second best swordsman in the world; no, the person for him to be afraid of is some ignorant antagonist who has never had a sword in his hand before; he doesn't do the thing he ought to do, and so the expert isn't prepared for him; he does the thing he ought not to do; and often it catches the expert out and ends him on the spot."
Mark Twain (A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Chapter XXXIV)

Training in the martial arts doesn’t mean anyone will ever learn to fight, or be successful at fighting. There are so many variables that take place in a life or death confrontation that it is impossible to prepare for them all.

There are other factors to consider also. The first being most people who attack others violently have nothing to lose, or use weaponry to intimidate and immobilize their victim.

Many times the confrontation is not one on one. The movies may make it look easy to fight multiple opponents, but in reality it’s not.

The bad guy also often has the element of surprise; but if you are being taught properly that advantage should be lessened. There are common sense things one can do to help eliminate that factor. Those common sense things should be part of every self-defense program.

There is also the issue that the victim normally has a life--work, payments that are due every month, and family responsibilities. So even if they are successful at defending themselves, any injury they may sustain, or legal ramifications that may develop as a result of the altercation could have drastic consequences on their quality of life. As stated before, the bad guy normally has nothing to lose. That’s a great psychological advantage for the bad guy.

Lastly, few people ever consider the fact that they will be a victim of violence. As a result they are not mentally prepared for such an altercation. Fighting, to protect one’s life, is not like sparring in the classroom. Sparring is a give and take, controlled activity. There are rules, and in the dojo no one is really trying to hurt anyone else. Yes, you may get bruised, and injuries occur, but it’s not life or death.

The same can be said about any technique practiced in the dojo. No matter how fast or hard a technique may be done, one still has to hold back. We don’t go for the kill; we don’t break each other’s bones. We can’t, or there wouldn’t be any one left to practice with.

No matter how “reality based” the art wants to say it is, there is still room for doubt as to its effectiveness. Or I should say, doubt as to each person’s ability to use what is within the art effectively. What works for me, may or may not work for anyone else. That is why there are so many techniques and variations of techniques in any given system.

However, with all that said, training in the martial arts--especially in a school that attempts to train its students in more that just the physical elements of a violent confrontation--will give the practitioner an advantage. Hopefully, it is an advantage they can utilize to their fullest potential.

From experience--experience that includes being shot at three times, attacked with a knife a few more times then that, and having the need to restrain numerous hostile criminals during my years as a police officer—I have seen that altercations are sometimes over before one realizes they have begun. You are attacked, you defend, and it is over. It is that quick. You are either successful, or you are not. You have no time to think, or even process what is going on. You react on instinct. Hopefully, your instinct is correct.

That leads me to the most important aspect of training. An aspect often overlooked in most schools. It is called realism. How you practice, how much attention you place on the minute aspects that makes techniques work, has a direct bearing on your effectiveness. Too many practitioners focus on their goals of acquiring rank (colored belts) rather then perfecting anything.

Some teachers claim to have been successful in over 400 street fights, and base their fighting system and the techniques within them on these credentials.

First of all, who in the world gets into that many fights? Is that someone you really want to learn from? Is that what true martial arts is about? Were these fights, really street fights, with no rules, and no one present who would end the fight before someone was severely injured or died?

I don’t think so.

Yes, traditional martial arts are military skills intended to kill an enemy during warfare. They are effective. However, we don’t use martial arts in the same manner as our ancestors. The average martial artist today is not a professional warrior. Today’s modern life-protection skills have changed. Today’s self-defense involves verbal avoidance and physical skills, as well as instilling the belief that running away from a hostile situation is normally the best course of action.

There are also legal concerns that need to be addressed. Legal concerns that can either justify one’s actions, make one appear as if they over reacted. They can turn a person from the “victim” into the guilty party.

In addition, many martial artists lack the physical abilities (strength, speed, stamina, mind-set, etc.) to actually fight, injure and/or kill another human in battle. Something the warriors of the past didn’t lack.

Warriors of the past were professional fighting men. Fighting was their livelihood, and they used their skills in a professional manner. They trained daily, kept fit, and lived in a period of time when perfecting their skills of hand to hand combat (armed or empty-handed) meant life or death. Fighting and learning the skills to fight was their only occupation.

Contrast this to the man who holds a 9 to 5 job, and trains for one hour two to three times a week. Whether training for self-defense, spiritual enlightenment, tournament fighting, physical fitness, or all of the above, there is no comparison to an actual warrior trained and ready for battle.

Though some martial art instructors in the modern world may involve themselves in numerous street fights to perfect their skills, the professional warriors of the past could not afford to hurt themself in a “street fight.” Injury could mean unemployment. Defeat or dishonorable victory could lead to vendettas that would last for generations. Worst yet, the loss of too many warriors in contests of skill could mean a lack of able-bodied soldiers to defend one’s clan or homeland.

In many instances the professional warrior had no right to place himself in such situations since his life was not his own to risk. Forget the Hollywood image of two samurai dueling on the street over some matter of honor. Masterless samurai maybe, but employed samurai almost never. These employed samurai would have had to answer to their superiors, who would not necessarily be supportive of their decision to fight for personal reasons.

This does not mean contests of skills did not take place in ancient times. They often did, especially for warriors who might be seeking employment. Most of these contests however, were controlled, and causing injury or death to ones opponent was not the intention.

We know these professional warriors had techniques that were effective. They developed and refined many of the forms we practice from real life trail and error, in a time and manner we cannot duplicate. If necessity is the mother of invention, then they had the necessity more than we do.

Even with thirty plus years of martial experience, and the knowledge that I have successfully defended myself during violent attacks in the past, I still wouldn’t claim I know how to fight, or have 100% complete faith in any technique I know. Further more, I hate fighting and avoid it like the plague. I do not even spar any more. I prefer using verbal self-defense.

And I can proudly say I have talked my way out of over more than 400 altercations.

Patience and Repetition

Warning: special training secret revealed!

Photo by Jim Bailey http://bailey.aros.net/nature/Scenery.htm

Let’s start this essay with a simple question:

You sit by the edge of a running river.
The water is roaring down smashing everything in its way. Nothing seems to stop the water, and it carries away anything that happens to fall into it.
As you watch the raging water, you notice that down river is a large rock protruding above the water line. This rock is right in the middle of the river, and as the water passes the water spills over it, and pounds against it.
Crash after crash, the water hits the rock with unyielding fury.

So which is stronger the water or the rock?
Which one would you rather be?

First of all, there is no 100% correct answer. However, which decision you make says a lot about the type of person you are.

Most people pick the rock since it causes the raging water to go over and around it. They figure that this object has the strength to move the water, and hold its place against the fury of the river. After all, all other objects are quickly swept away by the water.

Of course this answer is only correct if one examines the situation at a basic level, so lets examine an alternate answer.

Have you ever seen pictures of the Grand Canyon in Arizona? If so, you see what ranging water can do to rocks given the right amount of time. Yes, it takes years, even millenniums, but sooner or later the water will wear the rock away.

Chip by chip, sooner or later the rock with all its initial defiance will be worn away. Yes, the rock may be stronger at first, but by being unyielding, unable to move and flow with the energy of the raging water, the rock is defeated.

So is the water or the rock stronger?

Like I said initially, there is no 100% correct answer. However, since this story is intended to teach the ideal of patience and repetition, the stronger force is the water. Given time, patience and repetition (the water), will win over brute force (the rock).

While many other martial art principles can be expressed using this story (such as flowing around one’s opponent, engulfing one’s opponent, and/or wearing your opponent down before going for the kill) the lesson of patience and repetition is the most important.

Repetition, the act of doing something over and over is what martial arts training is all about. It’s the SECRET. There is no other.

Of course having the ability to do repetition after repetition requires a lot of patience, and that is why it’s said: Patience is a virtue.

Why I Teach

Over the years many people have asked me why I teach, especially when they come to understand that in the ten years I've operated a school I have never once made a profit. In fact I've operated at a loss, a situation that has totally irked my accountant over the years. Basically, my accountant gives me the same IRS audit warning every year, as well as the lecture about having a hobby versus a business. However, whether my school is a glorified hobby or I'm just a poor businessman, I go on teaching year after year.

But Why!?

Unfortunately, the answer is not an easy one. Besides my stubbornness and clear lack of sense to give up there are several important reasons I continue on. Reasons I'm sure others can relate to, and for me are of a lot more importance than monetary gain.

The first reason I teach is a selfish one. It strokes my ego. Who would have thought I'd admit that one, especially in writing, but now it's been said. I may not be proud about this reason, but to some degree it is true. I like the fact I know something others don't, that others have faith in my abilities, and that people have a desire to learn what I'm willing to teach. It makes me feel that all my hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, as well as various injuries I suffered over the thirty plus years I spent learning what I know have more than just meaning to me. Clearly, until 1993 I had no thoughts of, or desires to operate a martial art school or teach others. I trained because I loved what I was doing.

Of course this leads me to the second reason I teach. I have a passion for the martial arts. While I hate fighting and sparring, always avoiding both like they were the plague, I love learning new techniques and the science that makes them work. It's the science behind techniques that fascinates me. Why things work, and the subtle changes one can make to make a technique work even better are what I love to discover and analyze.

Teaching has allowed me to explore the science within techniques more in depth. Not only so I can teach better, and clearly teaching leads to new discoveries all the time, but also so I can fully answer questions students may have. As my students improve, I have to improve, and my comprehension of how and why things work must also improve.

Naturally, as I age my body changes, and with youthful injuries finally coming back to haunt me my body doesn't move like it used to. I can no longer kick the rim of a basketball hoop, let alone kick above my belt. I've slowed down, become less limber, and become semi-lazy. Lazy, in the sense that if confronted with a hostile situation I want hostilities to end as quickly and efficiently as possible, with no fluff whatsoever. That means I rely on accuracy and effectiveness over brawn and speed. Knowing how things work, how one's opponents' body will react to strikes and lock, is paramount to me.

Teaching has allowed me the opportunity to examine and re-examine techniques, as well as giving me countless opportunities to discern, disassemble and reconstruct countless variations I was taught by my teacher, and other instructors since them.

The last and most important reason I teach is because of the students. Over the years I have met some wonderful people who have impacted my life. I run a small school, which affords me the opportunity to really get to know my students, many have become good friends. The honest truth is that if it wasn't for the school I wouldn't have much of a social life, and there have been numerous times that these friends have been the only reason I didn't stop teaching completely.

I started teaching in 1993. My first seven students were all teenage girls who after several years became like daughters to me. As much as tried to get rid of them during the first year, and I worked them to the point of collapse each day during the summer, their spirit and unyielding desire to learn set the foundation for my school.

Since then people have come and gone. Some have been serious, others humorous, and some just odd enough that I never quite figured out if that was their real personality or why they were there to begin with. I've dealt with the fighter, the doubter, the chauvinist, the perfectionist, and almost every other personality one can think of.

Some I truly miss now that they are gone, while others were a pain in the butt to deal with. Some were so notable stories regarding them are still shared, while others are best forgotten.

Good, bad, or in between I have learned from all of them. They have all helped shape the teacher that I am, how I teach, and in some cases my outlook on life (personal and political).

This is why I teach, what I gain from teaching. Why I continue on year after year no matter what my accountant says during tax time. Ego aside, passion aside, it's the people who have entered my life that make me want to teach. It's the fact they are willing to share their life, their interests (other than martial arts), and alternative thoughts and opinions I would otherwise never be exposed to.

As a teacher I may be in the role of teaching others, but I have learned more from my students than they will ever acquire from me. For this I am grateful and will continue doing what I'm doing, until I'm no longer physically/mentally capable of doing so.