“Something that caught Kurosawa’s attention was Sugino’s solid, well-balanced personal deportment, and he ordered the actors to emulate this as best they could…”

Yoshio Sugino (1904-1998)

Yoshio Sugino, swordsman of Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto-ryu, is respected worldwide as one of the elder statesmen in the world of Japanese kobujutsu (classical martial arts). Born in 1904, his life has paralleled much of the development of modern Japan, and during that time he has been fortunate enough to know and study under many of this century’s legendary martial artists.

He has also provided martial arts instruction for many of Japan’s most popular historical movies, including Akira Kurosawa’s The Seven Samurai, adding dynamism and reality to what had been staid and poorly stylized fight-scene choreography. He has also appeared frequently in the media as a representative of the world of Japanese kobujutsu. In such ways he has contributed much toward introducing the truly wonderful aspects of Japanese martial arts to the public. But despite Sugino’s tremendous service to the budo world, information on him has been limited to fragmented interviews and popular articles that do little toward painting a realistic portrait of the man himself, his origins and his history. In this series I look back on Sugino Sensei’s life and the paths he has taken, along the way presenting some of the thoughts on bujutsu he has developed during his 92 years.

In November 1995 Yoshio Sugino suddenly noticed a queer sensation in his left arm while reading a book at his home in Kawasaki, a feeling that told him something was very wrong. The arm had lost all feeling and his elbow, wrist and fingers had become as lifeless as a doll’s. As if the flesh was no longer his own, he could not put any strength at all into the arm. Staring down at his useless arm, he was shocked to see that the entire length of it, from the upper arm to the back of the hand and even the palm, had turned a deathly shade of white. He knew only too well that his physical condition was not the best. The previous summer he had fallen at his home and struck his head and the doctors had ordered him to forgo his beloved budo training. And now this! “Perhaps it’s the nerves,” he thought. “There must be something wrong with the nerves.”

He went to the hospital immediately, but the diagnosis came as a shock. The problem was not the nerves at all; rather, an artery had become blocked. It was a serious condition. But what the doctor suggested next came as an even greater shock: “Mr. Sugino, we feel it may be necessary to amputate the arm. If we don’t, your condition could worsen and put your life in jeopardy.” The loss of an arm, for Yoshio Sugino, a man who had spent almost all his life as a martial artist, was practically a death sentence! Three of the five doctors he consulted viewed amputation as the best solution. Left unattended, they said, the blood-starved cell tissue would begin to die and the condition would only worsen. They had serious doubts about the capacity of Sugino’s 92-year-old body to recover on its own.

Two doctors, however, urged that less extreme treatments should be tried first. Reluctantly, the others agreed and it was decided to trust the patient’s physical stamina and recuperative capacity. Shortly thereafter Sugino underwent surgery to sew together several of the blood vessels in his debilitated arm, a procedure that undoubtedly taxed his elderly body to the limit. As he woke from the anesthesia, in the hazy half-light of semi-consciousness, Sugino heard voices not just one but several. Voices that were somehow familiar. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see his two surgeons and four nurses standing around the bed giving him three cheers. The operation had been a success. Sugino looked at his arm and knew that it could move again, perfectly freely, elbow, wrist, fingers, everything. Happy and amazed, he also noticed that the deathly pale of the flesh was gradually giving way to a pink hue as the rejuvenated blood flow began to resurrect the numbed tissue.

Sugino was elated; he would be able to pursue his beloved bujutsu after all. Despite his robust constitution, Sugino’s age has taken its inevitable toll in the form of various physical failings. He has been forced to enter the hospital many times and earlier this year he was ordered to rest after his doctors detected a mild stroke. But Sugino remains as tough and tenacious as ever. Although he now refrains from training himself, whenever he is at home he can still be found in the dojo among his students, bokuto in hand, flinging sharp critiques and guidance on this point or that. He still goes up and down stairs on his own, refusing assistance from family members. His posture is still as steady and straight as a rod. He still has most of his own teeth, and he still eats whatever he likes. In short, he is doing pretty well, all things considered.

Good Luck

Sugino was born in 1904, a year considered by classical Japanese astrology to engender good luck to those born in it. A look at a few of the details of his budo career will confirm that phenomenal good fortune has indeed been his throughout his journey. Doctors saved his arm. He got through the war without being called up. despite top examination results. Throughout a long career he has enjoyed close contact with many of the most prominent, most talented martial artists of our century, Jigoro Kano and Morihei Ueshiba among them, and he has managed to lead one of the fullest lives a martial artist could ever ask for. Of course, Sugino has had to overcome his share of hardship as well, but bujutsu has supported him through all such difficulties, serving him well as the core of his physical and spiritual being. These days he is regarded as one of the precious remaining living witnesses to the world of Japanese kobujutsu and is loved and respected as a teacher. And, despite his advanced age and long years of experience, behind his penetrating glare remains the same impish grin that as a youngster earned him a reputation as “that little rascal!” and that nowadays simply enchants and fascinates.

Early years Sugino was born on December 12, 1904 in the village of Naruto (a farming village just inland from Kujukurihama in Chiba Prefecture), the eldest son of Yutaro and Seki Sugino. Born slightly smaller than average, his determination to become strong undoubtedly began to surface at an early age. The Suginos were a farming family that for generations had served as the head household in the village. From the Edo period, the family had been permitted to use a surname and wear a sword. Their house was a sprawling affair with a cemetery in the rear where slept generations of Sugino family ancestors. Today the house is still maintained by one of Sugino’s cousins.

When Sugino was still very young his family moved to Shirogane Sanko-cho in Tokyo’s Minato Ward. His parents, already well aware of the boy’s proclivity for mischief, arranged to enroll him in elementary school at the age of six, a year earlier than normal. The young Sugino created quite a stir at the traditional entrance ceremony by arriving dressed in western-style clothing highly unusual and perhaps a first for the school in an age when Japanese-style garb was considered normal and proper on such occasions. As mentioned earlier, Sugino was a little smaller than the other boys, but he had an abundance of energy and took something of a leadership role when it came to making mischief. He was not particularly fond of studying, preferring to stage mock sword fights and the like with his friends. Sugino’s father was extremely strict and the boy knew he could look forward to a cuffing should he fail to answer immediately when called. The elder Sugino valued hard work and despised anything that was not fair and above board, and taught his son accordingly.

The boy grew up to have a good deal of fortitude and always kept a stiff upper lip, then, as now, quite imperturbable. Initiation into bujutsu Sugino first encountered the martial arts after entering Keio University in 1918, where he was enrolled in the Department of Commerce and Industry. Standing only 159 centimeters and weighing a slight 56 kilograms, what he lacked in build he has always made up for in energy. He threw himself diligently into many club activities including, of course, those related to martial arts. “I was in just about every club there was,” he recalls, “judo, kendo, kyudo, sumo and quite a few others. I’d join just about anything I was asked to.” (Students in most Japanese schools are required to take part in at least one club meeting per week and may join others if they wish. Such clubs are a significant part of Japanese school life in all grades.) He was particularly active in the boating club and in some clubs that would be inconceivable in Japan today, such as the pistol club. “I remember shooting at a pigeon in the school yard, but I missed,” he says. Unlike modern Japan with its strict gun control laws, back then, it seems, there was more freedom to own a pistol. Sugino remembers his university days fondly. He describes walking with a friend through the fashionable Ginza district, the atmosphere there alive with the cheerful optimism and freedom of Taisho-era democracy, the two of them swaggering through the crowd, surveying the scene with the confident delight and natural curiosity of youth.

In his heavy Tokyo accent, Sugino describes the time he brought a friend from the country to a Tokyo coffee shop: “Having been raised in the country, my companion found coffee quite exotic. He also thought it was simply marvelous that you could put in as much sugar as you liked.” Sugino was and still is a keen observer of detail. While watching a Waseda-Keio baseball game, for example, he noticed that all the Waseda students had brought rice balls for lunch while all the Keio students had brought sandwiches. This talent for observation undoubtedly helped him a great deal in learning martial arts. Later, when teaching his own students, he became known for never missing even minor mistakes and pointing out each and every one in a distressingly loud voice.

Although he tried practically every sport available, Sugino’s real love was for budo, particularly judo and kendo. While at Keio, he began studying judo under Kunisaburo Iizuka, an 8th dan judoist who also taught at the Kodokan. Iizuka was even shorter than Sugino but he made up for his lack of height in his girth and exceptional skill. It was he who forged the young Sugino into a strong judo man. At first, Sugino was unable to win against any of his opponents because of his small size. “That was truly a difficult time for me,” he recalls. Sugino studied kendo for a time under a man named Tadatsu Shingai, who was employed in the Imperial Household Agency and was ranked “upper second kyu.” The dan system was not used at that time and practitioners were ranked instead from tenth kyu to first kyu, which ranks were further divided into upper, middle and lower levels. Given that a third kyu was roughly equivalent to a modern 4th dan, Shingai’s upper second kyu rank suggests he had considerable skill. Although Shingai urged Sugino to train seriously, Sugino seemed to show little aptitude for kendo (perhaps it did not quite fit his nature then) and he made little progress. After a while he decided to give it up.

Sugino’s real talent at the time was for judo. He trained every morning and evening, his desire to strengthen himself leading him to spend more time on the mat than anyone else. Iizuka’s training was strict and under him the Keio judo club (which had generally been considered too weak to amount to much) and Sugino grew steadily stronger. Sugino sometimes relates a story he once heard about his judo teacher: “Years ago in Kyushu, Iizuka defeated a certain classical jujutsu man using his judo. As he returned to his lodgings that evening, his opponent ambushed him, this time brandishing a blade and hurling abuse, but Iizuka took him down and pinned him beautifully.”

Iizuka was as strict when it came to etiquette as he was tough. Once Sugino was ordered by one of his seniors to referee a judo match, since there happened to be no one else in the dojo to do it just then. Hearing this, Iizuka roared, “Absolutely not! You don’t even have a hakama to wear today. We certainly can’t have someone with no hakama referee a judo match!” “Ordinarily Iizuka was a very gentle, very nice man,” says Sugino, “but in the dojo he was a tiger of a teacher. Even now I feel the highest respect and gratitude toward him.”

Undefeated in Judo

Once there was a judo tournament between Keio University and the four-school alliance comprised of Kuramae Engineering University, Tokyo University of Agriculture, Rissho University and Tokyo University of Fisheries. The Keio team being short on members, Iizuka arranged for Sugino to participate despite the fact that he was still only a first kyu. His opponents were all huge black-belts. But Sugino stepped onto the mat wearing his brown belt and threw his way through six of them, with the seventh match ending in a draw. Afterward his teammates crowded around him congratulating him: “You’re so small, but you fought so well in there! Even Iizuka Sensei thought so.” He came away from the tournament with unprecedented new confidence.

At the end of that same year Sugino took his shodan exam at the Kodokan on Iizuka’s recommendation. This time he defeated six opponents in a row, earning for himself the rank of “shodan with honors”, a rank which existed at that time and indicated performance above and beyond that required for an ordinary shodan. From then until earning his 4th dan, Sugino remained undefeated. Even in elimination-type series he would inevitably wind up first or at least in a draw with the last opponent.

His friend Minoru Mochizuki (present head of the Yoseikan) once commented about his judo skills: “Sugino? That guy has the kami [divine] in him!” One of Sugino’s favorite judo techniques was utsurigoshi (hip shift), a somewhat acrobatic technique in which the opponent’s throwing power is taken advantage of to throw him instead. He was also fond of urawaza (rear techniques) and kaeshiwaza (reversals) and always exploited openings left by opponents who carelessly underestimated him because of his small size. But more than anything he had the confidence that his teacher Iizuka had planted in him.

Sugino continued training in judo rigorously, day after day, constantly thinking of ways to strengthen himself and his technique. Being of a highly assertive disposition to begin with, he never hesitated to express his own opinions, even to his superiors. He once even argued with Jigoro Kano regarding a point of judo technique. Kano said that koshiguruma (hip wheel) and ogoshi (large hip throw) were the same technique. Sugino insisted they were different; for koshiguruma, he said, you load your opponent on your hips, whereas for ogoshi you do not. It was practically unheard of and highly irregular for a judo practitioner to argue about such things with the very founder of the art! But Sugino was of a strongly progressive spirit and never allowed himself to be bound by tradition or authority. Even then, though still relatively young, he was already searching for an answer to the question, “What should modern judo really be like?”

Encountering Katori Shinto-ryu on September 15, 1927, while still just 22 years old, Sugino opened his own dojo (including a bone-setting clinic) in the city of Kawasaki, where he has based most of his activities ever since. Some time after earning his 4th dan in judo, Jigoro Kano told him that he should consider pursuing some sort of kobujutsu in addition to his judo training. Judo alone was not enough, Kano said, and one could not consider oneself a complete martial artist without studying the sword. The classical tradition to which he introduced Sugino was Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto-ryu.

Katori Shinto-ryu, founded by Iizasa Choisai Ienao (Iga no Kami), had been handed down through the generations for over 500 years in the Katori area of Shimousa (now Chiba Prefecture). Considered one of the fountainheads of Japanese martial tradition, Katori Shinto-ryu had never been taught outside the Chiba region. Kano, however, asked whether some arrangement could be made to have the style taught in Tokyo as well. This caused a great stir within the school and it was discussed at length whether or not the request should be accommodated. Eventually it was decided that, as the tradition was in danger of falling into obscurity, it should be actively disseminated in Tokyo to prevent this.

The school dispatched four shihan: Narimichi Tamai, Sozaemon Kuboki, Tanekichi Ito, and Ichizo Shiinato to teach the style at the Kodokan. It was arranged that these four should also stop in Kawasaki on their way home, training with Sugino there on Sunday afternoons and Monday mornings. Although Sugino had practiced with a shinai during his university kendo days, it was his first experience of wielding an actual sword. It was not long, however, before he had become completely engrossed in the new style of training. Katori Shinto-ryu kata tend to be longer and involve more movements than those of other classical traditions. When practicing the sword, for example, uchidachi and shidachi attack and defend back and forth in long, dynamic sets involving a whole spectrum of diverse techniques, each swordsman identifying and attacking openings in the opponent’s defenses. In this respect, Katori Shinto-ryu is somewhat distinctive among kobujutsu styles, many of which typically emphasize simpler, less elaborate movements.

Sugino began with the sword, but he also threw himself into the rest of Katori Shinto-ryu’s abundant curriculum, which includes the study of iai, bo, naginata, yari, shuriken and ryoto (two-sword) techniques. He had no particular favorite among these, but rather went about each and every one with full enthusiasm. When asked whether, given his judo background, he felt any resistance toward the kata-only training methods of such classical traditions, Sugino said, “Budo is kata. Kata training is everything in budo. Shiai is usually written with two characters meaning ‘to meet’ and ‘to test your skill’, but in budo the term is more properly understood as the two characters (also pronounced shiai) meaning ‘to meet with death’. If you were to engage in a serious match using bokuto, either you or your opponent would surely end up dead, don’t you think? In that sense, shiai are not something you can do thoroughly and completely. When you try to talk to people about kata these days they often seem a little disappointed or disinterested. ‘Ah yes, kata…‘ they say. But treating kata so lightly is a great mistake.”

Waning Enthusiasm for Judo

Jigoro Kano had a nephew named Honda, a 6th dan who worked at the Kodokan as General Secretaryl. “He was one of those people who tended to make his influence felt,” Sugino recalls. One day Sugino, a 4th dan by then, boldly asked Honda whether judo had any secret principles (gokui), to which Honda replied that it did not. Sugino pressed the issue, asking again, “Really? None at all?” Honda reiterated his answer, saying no, none at all. Kodokan judo had no gokui nor any other secrets. “No gokui…” Sugino considered this deeply. Even games like go (a board game) and shogi (Japanese chess) had gokui; how could it possibly be that a bujutsu, an activity where one’s very life was at stake, had none? It didn’t make sense. “If judo has no gokui,” Sugino reflected, “is it really worth practicing?” Adding to his growing discontent with judo, Sugino had also noticed many instances in which clearly effective techniques went unnoticed or unrecognized by the referees. His enthusiasm for the art began to wane, gradually supplanted in his heart by a growing appreciation for Katori Shinto-ryu. These days judo is not taught at all in Sugino’s dojo. “Modern judo, with its weight categories and other modifications, has become nothing but a sport,” he laments. With his growing devotion to Katori Shinto-ryu, Sugino took his first steps down the path of the bujutsuka.

Sugino the Bank Employee

Sugino has often described his long life by saying, “I’ve done nothing but budo,” but in fact he did once hold a job completely unrelated to budo—as a bank employee. At the age of 20, soon after graduating from Keio University, Sugino accepted a position at the Taipei headquarters of Kanan Bank. His starting salary of 90 yen per month was exceptional considering the 30 yen normally offered to new college graduates at the time. Sugino confesses to having a bit of a secret agenda in accepting that particular position. As soon as he had the chance, he intended to transfer to the bank’s Singapore branch and enjoy life in the easy tropical climate of the Malay Peninsula.

During his sojourn in Taipei, Sugino by no means forgot about bujutsu. He trained every morning from 8:30 to 11, then put on his suit and went off to work at the bank as a deposit teller, a job connected with the detailed accounting of incoming funds. Frankly, Sugino made a poor bank employee, for he found that affairs at the bank inevitably took a back seat in his mind to his real love, martial arts. Of course, he more than compensated for his lack of enthusiasm for the work by his constant participation in local martial arts meets and competitions.

In May 1923 Sugino entered a judo competition in Taipei. He was selected as the first of five opponents to go against a third-dan judoka in a five-player elimination match. Judoka capable of making it through this sort of elimination competition are generally viewed as among the most skilled, with impressive strength and the ability to down at least five opponents in a match without too much difficulty. Perhaps deceived by Sugino’s small stature, the third-dan moved in to execute what he probably thought would be an easy inner-thigh reap, but at the last instant Sugino caught him with a lightning-fast utsurigoshi (hip shift), one of his favorite techniques. The throw had been nearly perfect, but it so surprised the referee that he became confused as to how to call it. He hesitated to stop the match since the player still had four opponents to go. Wondering why the referee had said nothing, Sugino continued the match and brought the third-dan to the mat in a strangle hold. Eventually his opponent tapped out in submission, but the referee ignored this as well. Having no other choice, Sugino continued to apply the technique until the poor fellow lost consciousness.

He was appalled at having been forced to take the match so far to be recognized as the winner. He also felt a nagging sense of having done something hateful and even disrespectful. After the match, a senior of Sugino’s judo teacher Kunisaburo Iizuka approached Sugino and said, “So, you’re Iizuka’s student, eh? I must say, the young ones at the Kodokan these days certainly don’t disappoint!” Though he accepted the praise with reserve, the young Sugino was secretly thrilled and spent the rest of the day pleased as punch, though he tried desperately not to show it.

On the other hand, while Sugino was keeping himself busy in the Taipei martial arts world, his career was not exactly taking the turns he had intended. Specifically, the transfer to Singapore that had been promised him was showing no sign of becoming a reality. Only after much discussion with his supervisor did he extract the reply that in fact the bank had no intention at all of sending him there. Knowing that it would be impossible to argue the point, he decided to quit and return to Japan immediately. The following year he opened his dojo in Kawasaki, which he named the Kodokan Judo Shugyojo (Kodokan Judo Training Hall).

Sugino’s Everyday Life

Shortly after turning 20, Sugino married a lovely young woman with whom he had fallen “head-over-heels” in love. She bore him a son, but sadly she passed away soon thereafter as a result of post-natal complications. Eventually he remarried, this time with a woman who was a distant relative, and the couple raised four more sons and two daughters. Sugino says he was a strict father, demanding that his children clean the dojo diligently when they were young and strengthen themselves through budo training when they became older. Unusually, even Sugino’s own siblings called him “Sensei,” for in many ways he seemed more like a senior instructor than an older brother. Only his younger sister Fusako, nearly 20 years his junior, has ever referred to him habitually as “elder brother.”

Sugino filled his days attending to patients at his bone setting clinic and training in the dojo. In those days, people with broken bones and other such injuries often sought treatment first at a specialist clinic like Sugino’s instead of at a regular hospital. Other doctors often referred their patients to Sugino for such treatment and the clinic prospered. Something that always surprised visitors to the Sugino household was the fact that everyone in the family spoke in an exceptionally loud voice. Of course, it was undoubtedly Sugino himself, with his own booming vocal chords, who was the cause. First-time visitors would often be led to the mistaken conclusion that the family members were arguing, when in fact this was simply their normal mode of conversation.

“One day, O-Sensei said, “Taijutsu which encompasses the theory of the sword is aikido.”

Aiki News Number 88, Summer 1991

Contents

     ● Editorial – The Winds of Change, by Stanley Pranin
     ● Letters to the Editor
     ● Interview with Morihiro Saito, by Stanley Pranin
     ● Morihiro Saito Technical Notebook — Shomenuchi kotegaeshi, by Morihiro Saito
     ● Open Forum
     ● Daito-ryu Aiki Budo , by Takuma Hisa
     ● Aiki News Video Catalog
     ● Aiki Forum – Shindo Muso-ryu Jojutsu, Kenji Matsui
     ● Interview with Tokimune Takeda, by Stanley Pranin
     ● Yoshinkan Aikido Techniques: Iriminage applications, by Gozo Shioda
     ● Heard in the Dojo

Aiki News and Aikido Journal were a series of newsletters and magazines edited by Stanley Pranin dealing with all aspects of aikido and related disciplines published continuously from 1974 through 2000. 119 issues were produced during that period of time that includes hundreds of articles and interviews, thousands of photos, technical features and rare documents that have led to a deeper understanding of the fascinating stories behind the martial art of aikido and its Founder.

Thousands of aikidoka have had their lives changed through the information and inspiration they have gained from consulting these unequalled reference sources offered by Aikido Journal. Now it’s your turn to open your mind to this vast world of knowledge!

Download the pdf file of Aiki News Number 88 by right clicking on the link below:

Sensei said, “Come and strike me!” I went to strike him and tumbled over. “Come and kick me!” When I tired to kick him, I was gently overturned. “Come and grab me!” I was thrown without knowing how. My shirt sleeves and pants ripped!”

Contents

• Editorial – “Attack Perception,” by Stanley Pranin
• Interview with Morihiro Saito Sensei (1), by Stanley Pranin
• Morihiro Saito Technical Notebook (1) — Katadori Dai-ikkyo omote waza, “Kihon” (Basic); Katadori Dai-ikkyo omote waza, “Ki no nagare” (Ki Flow); Katadori shihonage “Ki no Nagare,” by Morihiro Saito
• Kawaridane Nihonjin (3): “Josei majie kibishii shugyo — Chikara ni tayoreba kanarazu makeru” (Japanese)
• The Founder of Aikido: “Non-attachment to the Material” (Chapter 1, Part 3), by Kisshomaru Ueshiba
• Aikido: Promotion Tests Film Advert

Download the pdf file of Aiki News Number 32 by right clicking on the link below:

“Arikawa Sensei was talkative, tireless, severe yet cheerful,
fearsome on the mat, and fiercely loyal to the Ueshiba family.”

On October 11, 2003, the aikido world lost 9th dan Sadateru Arikawa, one of the few remaining giants of the postwar generation of instructors that played a predominant role in the dissemination of the art worldwide. I had the pleasure of knowing and associating with this enigmatic figure over a 33-year period. During that time he taught me a great deal about Japanese martial arts history, research methodology, etiquette, and the ins and outs of the aikido subculture. Arikawa Sensei was talkative, tireless, severe yet cheerful, fearsome on the mat, and fiercely loyal to the Ueshiba family. There was no one more knowledgeable than he on all things aikido-related. He was a walking dictionary and a martial arts’ historian par excellence.

Sadateru Arikawa (1930-2003)

I initially encountered Sadateru Arikawa on my first trip to Japan in the summer of 1969. His reputation of being ferocious on the mat had preceded him and I wasn’t disappointed when I participated in one of his classes for the first time. With a big smile on his face he would apply painful joint-locks (kansetsuwaza) and powerful throws to any and all who would knowingly or foolishly volunteer a limb. I think I only attended two or three of his classes during that summer figuring that I would be tempting the hands of fate if I trained in his class on a regular basis.

At that time, there was a series of cartoons drawn by a British aikidoka circulating at the Aikikai Hombu Dojo. The drawing depicting Arikawa Sensei showed the figure of a cowering student crawling underneath the tatami in order to escape treatment at the hands of “Harry”–a pun on the first three letters of his name and a reference to his thick, black shock of hair–as Sensei was affectionately known among the foreigners at the dojo.

Our next encounter took place in 1973 when I again visited Japan over the year-end holidays. I have a single memory of him from that time. I ran into Arikawa Sensei near the office at Hombu Dojo one day and he proceeded to chat with me about aikido history. He seemed to know of my deep interest in that subject and cheerfully carried on. My Japanese was very basic at that stage and I was only able to understand a little of what he was saying. But this was to prove the first of scores of conversations we would have over the years that would prove so valuable to me in my historical research.

Cartoon by Eric George circulating at Hombu Dojo in 1969

Sadateru Arikawa c. 1960

In the early 1980s I moved to Tokyo from Iwama and Arikawa Sensei was a frequent visitor to my home which also doubled as an office in Yotsuya Sanchome, not far from the Aikikai.. He would suddenly call up saying he was in the neighborhood and ask if he could stop by. Sometimes we would spend six or seven hours together and end up going out to dinner. The conversations were always centered on aikido, O-Sensei, Aikikai politics, the publication of Aiki News, and related subjects. Arikawa Sensei truly had a photographic memory. I used to be amazed at how he would walk into my room filled with books and documents and proceed to scan their contents. Sensei would often spy a new item out of the many documents and ask if he could take a look at it. It seemed he had memorized every book, photo and paper in our archives.

My staff would dread these visits by Sensei because it would interrupt their work flow. Also, no one other than me had such an unquenchable interest in aikido history that I shared with Arikawa Sensei. Besides, many people found it difficult to understand his speech, myself included, because he talked in a scarcely audible, raspy voice. I never could figure out why Sensei talked in this way until much later when he told me the story. It seems that as a student in elementary school he got into a fight during which he sustained an injury to his throat. This required an operation and he was hospitalized for a month. From that time on his larynx was damaged and it hurt him to attempt to speak in a loud voice.

“The Founder was the proverbial ‘driven man’ who focused his energies on his own training and ventured forth on a unique voyage of inner discovery that culminated in the birth of aikido.”

Aikido Journal #105 (1995)

The other day one of our Aikido Journal staff members was speaking with a well-known senior instructor. Apparently, my name came up during the course of the conversation and the instructor confided that he thought I had become caught up in “a cult of O-Sensei.” I was certainly caught off guard by this casual remark, but after mulling over what he said I decided I was not in the least bit offended. At the same time, I must confess it did cause me to stop and think for a moment about how others might view the orientation and content of this magazine. I would be the first to admit that an occasional reader of the Aikido ]ournal might be left with the impression that we are rather “obsessed” with the subject of the Founder of aikido, Morihei Ueshiba. Indeed, in the several thousands of pages we have published in our twenty-one years, the life and art of this one individual have clearly received a disproportionate amount of coverage.

Why such a fixation on the Founder? To be perfectly honest, this whole effort was sparked by an intense personal interest I had in the subject starting early in my aikido career. I made a trip to Japan in 1969 shortly after the death of O-Sensei to train and research the roots of aikido to satisfy my own curiosity. I had always been fascinated and inspired by the Founder and wanted to find out everything I could about this extraordinary man. However, I left Japan some ten weeks later discouraged by the scant amount of historical material available on Morihei Ueshiba. Here was one of the giants of Japanese martial arts and, at that stage, there was only one biographical study—a rather uneven one focusing predominantly on the influence of the Omoto religion on aikido—and no technical examination on the Founder’s art at all. Under such circumstances, it would not have been possible for anyone other than those who had extensive contact with O-Sensei to grasp the originality of his art and philosophy. Though there have been a number of pioneer figures in twentieth century Japanese martial arts—Jigoro Kano and Gichin Funakoshi are two names that immediately come to mind—the figure of Morihei Ueshiba stands out not only for his technical expertise, but also for his ethical vision of aikido as a means of self-defense that also assumes responsibility for the well-being of the attacker. This concept was at the heart of his message and the cornerstone on which his vision of budo as a means of achieving the peaceful resolution of conflict was built.

Although other martial artists, both classical and modern viewed the sword as an instrument that transcends killing and destruction, the Founder was particularly and uniquely influenced by the thinking of Onisaburo Deguchi of the Omoto religion. He showed a deep respect for the sanctity of life in all its manifestations in nature’s creation. It is perhaps this lofty vision which accounts for the universality of Morihei Ueshiba’s message, which transcends cultural boundaries and religious doctrines. But, Morihei Ueshiba’s broad appeal by no means ends there. He was a heroic figure in many respects who lived in exciting times and whose life was interwoven with those of many exceptional individuals of Japanese society. The Founder was the proverbial “driven man” who focused his energies on his own training and ventured forth on a unique voyage of inner discovery that culminated in the birth of aikido. On a more mundane level, Morihei was an example of the virtues of hard work, perseverance, and dedication to purpose. Although the child of a well-to-do family who enjoyed the support of his father and wealthy relatives well into adulthood, he always maintained a modest lifestvle and displaved a near total lack of interest in financial matters. Morihei developed a powerful physique while at the same time maintaining a childlike flexibility throughout his 85 years. He was essentially a vegetarian who shunned alcohol for the last half of his life. In short, he set a fine example, which drew both young and old to his side for nearly half a century and inspired them to improve themselves.

André Cognard was born in France in 1954. He was 17 years old when he started teaching aikido to adults, by opening five dojos in several cities in France. Four years later, he received the French state diploma for teaching judo, aikido, karate and kendo. In 1973 he met Hirokazu Kobayashi Sensei (1929-1998), a direct disciple of O-Sensei Morihei Ueshiba. After twenty-five years of practice under Kobayashi Sensei, André Cognard was designated Kobayashi Sensei’s successor as head of the Kokusai Aikido Kenshukai Kobayashi Hirokazu Ryu Ha. In 1982 he founded the Académie Autonome d’Aikido, where aikido is taught by traditional means as well as with theoretical support from psychology, philosophy, and western and eastern medicine. In 2003, he opened in Bourg Argenal, France, the Kobayashi Hirokazu Kinen Aikidojo, traditional dojo devoted to his master and venue for the Instructors Training Courses. Cognard Sensei directs Aikido and Aikishintaiso seminars worldwide, and he is the author of several books on martial arts. He is also one of the highest-ranking representatives of the Dai Nippon Butoku Kai: the title of Hanshi was bestowed upon him in April 2012, at the Fourth World Butoku Sai held at the Butokuden in Kyoto, Japan.

André Cognard

Let’s talk about your first meeting with Kobayashi Sensei, what impressed you most about him and how did this determine your career in aikido.

Cognard Sensei: I was a bit of a wild child. I wanted to do martial arts very young, very, very early. And my parents didn’t agree. It wasn’t the family at all. It was very complicated. There were no dojos, the first dojo was far, 50 km (31 miles) from the house. It just wasn’t possible. I had to insist terribly to get started.

I started aikido under the ACFA. The ACFA was the Association Culturelle Française d’Aikido (the French Cultural Organization of Aikido); it was Nobuyoshi Tamura Sensei’s group in France. At the time, André Nocquet Sensei’s group was the official group in France. They were affiliated to the FFJDA. Tamura Sensei’s group, who represented the Aikikai, but was not officially recognized in France. I started in that group. And I met Tamura Sensei. I was lucky to be in a dojo where the teacher invited Tamura Sensei and Noro Sensei alternately. We saw them frequently at the dojo. That’s where I started. I also practiced with Masamichi Noro Sensei in Paris. As a teenager, I got into the habit of going to Paris. And thanks to Noro Sensei, I also met Katsuai Asai Sensei who came to Paris; they were good friends. Often there were the two of them. And there was training all day.

It’s hard not to criticize, but at that time the atmosphere in the groups wasn’t good, there was a lot of rivalry.

Because of politics?

Yes, essentially because of politics. In my group, we were told that the federation is the enemy, and not to go there. We were forced to choose between teachers. We had to choose, there and then. When you were a beginner, it was a little confusing.

My curiosity pushed me to go see Hiroo Mochizuki Sensei (son of Minoru Mochizuki Sensei). He was already there; I practiced a little. And then I got to a point where I was not satisfied. I was doing judo and karate, and I had seriously started doing kendo. But I wasn’t satisfied; there was something I just couldn’t understand. There was talk about harmony, etc., and I saw rivalry. So I almost decided to stop practicing. I was 19, and one day as I was looking at myself in the mirror, I decided, “Now you must find your master or stop.”

I didn’t know where I’d find this master so I thought about André Nocquet. I had never met him but I thought: “Maybe he has something since they all agree to criticize him. They don’t meet my expectations, but they all agree to attack him. So maybe that’s what I’m looking for.” I moved to Paris for two or three months and went to his dojo thinking l would see. At the time, his dojo was on Rue Servan in Boulogne-Billancourt, a commune in the western suburbs of Paris. It has burned down since. I started practicing with him. It was the same aikido I had been doing elsewhere. I couldn’t see a big difference and I wondered why there was so much criticism toward him. I couldn’t understand. After two months I thought that’s enough. It’s the same.

Finally, I decided to stop practicing aikido. That’s why I had come to Paris, so I took everything I had, put it in my car and left. On the highway, I thought, it’s not fair, you’re not being honest with Nocquet Sensei; you’re not telling him. So I turned around, went to the dojo and waited until the course ended. I told him, “Nocquet Sensei, I’ve decided to stop aikido.” I said, “I came to you because I didn’t know you, and I was unsatisfied.” His hair was very short at the time. He looked very concerned. That’s how he was. He rubbed his head. Then he said, “Listen, there’s a dojo at the swimming pool in Boulogne; tomorrow there’ll be a teacher. He’s called Kobayashi, he’s 8th dan. You should go and look, you should like him.”

Hirokazu Kobayashi (1929-1998)

Hirokazu Kobayashi Sensei throwing André Cognard

Who had invited him for this seminar?

André Nocquet invited him. André Nocquet invited him the first times. The first seminars were in 1971, 1972, in La Baule and André Nocquet was behind them.

I wonder how master Nocquet knew Kobayashi Sensei?

I think they met in Japan. I’m even sure. In Tokyo, and Nocquet Sensei went to Osaka to see Kobayashi Sensei. That’s what I heard.

You had found the master?

Yes, it was immediately obvious to me.

From a practicing and training point of view how did your life change?

By the end of the seminar I was thrilled, for several reasons. First, because he called me even though there were a hundred people. It seemed so amazing. It seemed like the answer to my dream, my search for my master… so I was thrilled. But there was also something that surprised me. When you were uke you usually fell because it was painful, because you were forced to fall. He immediately did a nikyo and an irimi. That’s the first thing he did to me. PAM! PAM! And I couldn’t figure it out. I couldn’t understand, I was on the ground and then suspended horizontally in the air, a meter above the ground. I felt no pain; I felt nothing. That was his aikido. It was typical of what he did. And it surprised me a lot. It was incredible! It was another kind of aikido.

I went to see him at the end of the class, there was an interpreter and I asked him to translate. I was enthusiastic, “It’s amazing, wonderful, tell me what I must do and I’ll do it.” He listened, looked at me and went “pfff” and then left.

And that was the beginning of something very hard. I had set my mind to be everywhere he would be in Europe. And I did. But he never saw me except when I was uke, because I was uke. But outside the mat, I didn’t exist. Until the day he signalled me at the end of a class. He made a sign, hop, and I followed him. Then he took me to a restaurant, we sat down and he started speaking in Japanese that I absolutely didn’t understand.

How old were you?

I was 19 years old when I met him. He’d speak Japanese for hours and hours and hours. Gradually, I understood and gradually I began to speak. I never studied Japanese. I never studied a word because I never had time. I was so caught up working with him that I didn’t even have time to learn. He said, “Now you have to come to Japan.” So I went to Japan. The first time I stayed three months. When I came back he said he had no further need for an interpreter: “You translate.” “But Sensei, I’m not capable of translating.” “Intuition. If you don’t understand intuitively, you’ll never understand anything. Or you understand intuitively and even if you’re wrong they’ll understand. Or you don’t understand intuitively, and you can translate as well as you want, they won’t understand.”

It was always his thing. You need to feel, intuit, feel, intuit. That was really his point of view on transmission.

And in Japan you started studying Japanese seriously.

I never studied Japanese.

Never?

Never. He spoke to me, just like that, like my mother spoke to me in French. He spoke to me, and that’s it.

You never studied spelling?

Nothing. I never studied… a little katakana and hiragana and a few kanji. He spoke to me; that’s it. In the beginning, he used a lot of Osaka-ben, the Osaka dialect, but I didn’t know. When I was with people from other areas, I didn’t understand what they wanted. They’d laugh and they’d say, “No, that’s Osaka-ben.” After, I sorted it out, but it took me some time.

Were there other Europeans in the dojo?

Not at that time no.

Was it the Buikukai?

Yes, it was the Buikukai. There was the Budo Center, and the Showacho dojo but most of the trainings took place in the universities.

When you went to Japan you already had several dojos in France and Italy?

When I started going to Japan I had started teaching in Italy, but I didn’t have a dojo, I didn’t have a group in Italy yet. I taught in the dojos of other organizations. In France, though, yes, I had opened several dojos. I had a strong character and so I was quite hyperactive; I did a lot.

He started going to the dojos of your group, exclusively, or did he go elsewhere?

No. He didn’t only go to my dojos, thank goodness. In 1977, one day when we were together he asked me something, he said, “Do you really want to do aikido?” I felt like that’s all I was doing so I was surprised by his question. I replied, “Of course, Sensei, I really want to do aikido.” “From now on, you will become a professional.” That was his point of view. If it’s your livelihood, you really work and you commit yourself. He also had another point of view: to be a good professional you need to be “hungry.” In France, at that time, he knew it would be impossible, it was terrible, there were no professionals. I think he knew I’d do it anyway. It really was an ordeal.

In 1981, he told me, “Listen, if you really want to develop my aikido, I think you have to leave the federal system. It won’t be possible within the federal system. They have a sports vision and you need to adopt a traditional view: a dojo, a teacher and disciples. People don’t need to talk among themselves to know what to do.” He said, “If you want, I’ll give you some guidelines, but you need to create something independent.” Then in 1981, I said okay. I had 5 dojos that I constantly took care of, including a very large one in Lyon where there were about 180 people. So I said yes, I’ll create it, but beforehand I need qualified teachers – so first I created a teacher-training school that still exists. I took the older students and we worked what we needed to work on to efficiently train teachers. In 1982, we officially registered the Académie Autonome d’Aikido (Independent Aikido Academy) known as 3A. That makes us the oldest organization of aikido in France today.

This interview will be published in English so could you explain the dynamics of French organizations? At that time was aikido in the judo federation? When you became independent, independent of what?

Until 1972, I think the official federation was FFJDA. Perhaps a little longer, I can’t exactly remember. Then there was the UNA, the Union Nationale d’Aikido (National Aikido Union). There was an attempt to unify Tamura Sensei, Nocquet Sensei, and Mochizuchi Sensei’s schools which failed after a few months. It was 1975; I remember well, it resulted in a very quick breakup. Meanwhile, Tamura Sensei’s group was officially endorsed. That was one development.

Nocquet Sensei’s group went underground, into illegitimacy. As for Mochizuki Sensei, I think he had given up all hope regarding the world of aikido and had moved ahead on his own way. I don’t know what the name of the federation was at the time.

So I left the official federation to create 3A. It was not easy. My intentions were misunderstood and I was criticized and attacked. But I was following my path, the one Kobayashi Sensei showed me. I didn’t care what others thought of it at that time. I wasn’t interested in their point of view. I was only interested in his.

I know that after that there were state diplomas. Was that before…

I already had a state diploma. I was a certified instructor since 1975. At the time there were three levels, I had the third level as a teacher of judo, aikido, karate, with an aikido option. I got it in September 1975.

You had the right to teach aikido professionally.

Yes, exactly.

Is it for life?

Yes. It’s a state diploma, a professional degree.

André Cognard Sensei conducting a class at the Las Vegas Aiki Juku

Yes. It wasn’t an order. He was always very careful not to constrain us. But he would encourage us. He actually helped me a lot. For example, creating worksheets for rank exams. Listing the techniques for the different kyu levels. He was involved in our development…

He was from Osaka.

Yes.

They’re adept at business, aren’t they? It’s a city of merchants. Maybe he had some knowledge…

Possibly, but on a personal level he was never interested in money. If we organized an exam, we charged a small fee, but he never took a share. The money stayed in the group. He never took anything. He was very special, different. When he came to give a seminar, we’d try to determine a fee, but he never decided anything. He’d say, “It’s up to you, do as you want.” Whether I’d given him 500 Euros or 5000… he’d say thank you, thank you very much. It was not his problem, really. In that respect he was very free. It was very surprising.

In France, from the Japanese perspective, there was Tamura Sensei, Noro Sensei in Paris, and Tada Sensei in Italy. You created an independent organization that a Japanese teacher went to, and without saying anything to the Hombu Dojo? Did it create problems?

Yes, it created problems with the Hombu Dojo, not for me, but for Kobayashi Sensei.

His position was that people were free to teach where they wanted. He said, “The Hombu Dojo was not O-Sensei’s will. The Hombu Dojo was independent of O-Sensei’s will. O-Sensei did not oppose it because it was his son. But O-Sensei didn’t really agree. And O-Sensei always considered that one was free to teach. So as I am foremost a student of O-Sensei, I’m not interested in what the Hombu Dojo thinks.”

In Japan, out of loyalty towards the Ueshiba family, to Japan and Japanese principles, he would conduct exams for the Aikikai. But he had very little contact, real contact. He’d say: “That’s the expression of my indirect loyalty toward O-Sensei and the Ueshiba family. But apart from that, I don’t answer to anyone. I do what I do because O-Sensei would have done it this way, would have thought this way.” And he encouraged me to do the same. This is why, especially in France, actually only in France, I don’t have a good reputation. People think that because I’m not inside the system I’m not serious. But it’s the French system that’s not serious.

I’ve trained teachers in different organizations, in Italy, in Switzerland, in Germany. I’ve trained people in India, Indonesia, and elsewhere, everywhere, but in France they argue, that’s France. France and the French.

I believe France is the country where there are the most aikido practitioners of any country.

I’ve heard that.

More than Japan, more than the United States. But officially the government controls everything. So as an American, I couldn’t teach aikido in France.

No, not without a French state diploma.

Though there’s this restriction, a medium-sized country has more practitioners! What’s your opinion on this subject?

First of all, I think the French statistics are exaggerated. I think they are very exaggerated.

A lot?

Frankly, I think so. A few years ago they announced 20 or 25 thousand practitioners. All of a sudden it climbed to 30, 40, 60,000. I think it’s very exaggerated. I don’t know what the sources are, but I would really like to know where the information comes from. I’d really like to know, I don’t believe them. If we had developed classes for children and day-care like judo, then I would understand. Statistically, judo numbers increased dramatically because parents who didn’t know what to do with their children registered them. But this is not the case for aikido. So I do not see how, or else I missed part of the story, that core number could have doubled or tripled. I question the statistics. I’m not saying I’m right, I’m just saying I have my doubts. That’s my first point.

The second point is why France? I think there are many more judoka in France than in the rest of Europe and the United States, karateka too, and there are more kendoka in France than elsewhere. I believe there is something a little special in the French spirit that is consistent with martial arts. I gave a lecture in Japan as part of the 150th anniversary of the Franco-Japanese friendship. The French Embassy had invited me to give a conference on budo and the French spirit. I gave the conference in French with an interpreter. Maybe there is something in the French spirit, I don’t know, I can’t detect it. I’m French so it’s difficult for me to know. I know that in general the French are quarrelsome, generally pretentious, and arrogant… (laughs). But it’s true! I’m telling you this because whenever I meet them abroad they bother me. I’m ashamed, particularly in Japan where I’m ashamed to say that I am French. They don’t respect anything. Does this encourage them? It is a little ambiguous. Maybe they know they are so unruly that they need Japanese discipline? That was my case. I was so disorderly that I really needed a strict framework. Perhaps that’s why I was drawn to him and why the French are drawn to Japanese martial arts. I don’t know. Or else it’s the opposite; they’re so full of fight, so impulsive that in the end it suits them. I do not know.

We would like to acknowledge the assistance of Andrea Debiasi for his role in organizing and editing this interview for publication on Aikido Journal.


To be continued

Hirokazu Kobayashi Sensei demonstrating the sword

Click here to read Part 1 of this interview

André Cognard Sensei

First there was a recurring theme and that was that aikido wasn’t Japanese, but belonged to men worldwide. That was really “zen sekai no ningen no mono.” That was an important point.

The second important point was that aikido is not what we do to the other, but what we do to ourselves. I teach this at almost all my classes, from a technical perspective, because I think Kobayashi Sensei’s technique evolved immensely because of this. I think there are two kinds of people in aikido or at least two important types. There are those, the temple guardians, who preserve O-Sensei’s aikido. I think Saito Sensei was one of them. He was very thoughtful, very scrupulous, very careful, and very conscious and there are the others that participate in its evolution… I think Kobayashi Sensei developed things considerably. I don’t know if you’ve seen how we currently practice techniques, but it’s quite different.

I’ve seen a lot of videos and in today’s Aikido Journal’s newsletter, there’s a video of Kobayashi Sensei.

And so it’s quite different, but it’s also the inscription of aikido ethics in the technique. What I mean is doing a technique isn’t doing a nikyo on him, but first and foremost, doing it on myself. Because it’s in me it will be passed on to him; it’s in both of us. This is what he was working on and that I find very interesting. It’s very rich because it gives strength and especially a lot of mobility in between ukes. I was uke a lot, more than anyone with him. I received directly. When I touched his hand – hop – a millimeter here – a hip movement – hop – everything had to be translated, it was great.

When he died several questions came to me, but one in particular, who will do his irimi now? When I visualized it, it felt like entering a vortex. It was Walt Disney. It felt like he was sprinkling stardust around us, and I waited for the moment when I would fly. It was wonderful. It was enchanting. It was the first question that came to me when he passed, “Who will do his irimi?” Then I realized it was futile. When I found myself in front of his urn I thought, “No, his voice isn’t in there, I can hear his voice.” It was very hard.

In any case he really worked at making the technique directly express the ethics. And this is also my research. I mainly write on this topic: that the techniques transmit the ethics. Even without speaking, even if he said nothing, and that too was very interesting to him, he’d say that even if there were no verbal communication, even if nothing was said, and none of the aikido was explained, if one was to teach someone seriously, and that person in turn taught someone seriously, and so on… three generations later that person would speak like O-Sensei and say the same things without ever knowing him. It would have transpired into their body and created his thoughts. That was his way of seeing things.

I think you’re absolutely right.

His work focused on that. He also insisted on many points, for example, he would say, “When you’re grabbed, you do nothing without adopting the other’s point of view. He’s here and looking over there, so you must look over there. If you look in the opposite direction, you’ll never know what he sees and what’s motivating his actions, so whatever you have to do, even if it’s omote, the first thing to do is to take his point of view.” That was really a topic that kept on coming up. It was said each time.

There is also a very important point in his teaching: all aikido techniques must heal. And so he’d always explain each technique from the perspective of the energy flow in the body, meridians, etc… Always. For nikyo he would say, “That can’t be nikyo because you’re not controlling the appropriate points. Here, this line is your ancestral energy line that gave birth to you, it must be controlled, and this one that controls the large intestine and is related to your mind must be controlled, and this other one here is your physical strength and is related to your lungs; it must also be controlled. Your nikyo must control these points; if it doe,s you don’t need anything else. You’ll control the center directly. If you don’t control these points, you won’t have access to the center. You will attack the wrist, the elbow or shoulder, but you will not get to the center.” That’s the way he developed all his aikido. He explained each technique, and would say, “Nikyo heals your liver, and sankyo your lungs. When you do yonkyo, do it here because here you’re attacking the myocardium and it’s not good.” Each technique corresponded to a physiological function. It was a very important point in his teaching.

Had he studied acupuncture?

He was in contact with a kappo/sappo master who practiced traditional manual medicine for a long time.

Shiatsu?

Yes, the name of the master was Sumida. I didn’t know him; he died before I went to Japan. But he talked to me a lot about him. Apparently, this master treated baseball players with tennis elbows and sumo wrestlers’ injured knees. Because of this, he was very famous. He was one of a few that could. This gentleman was a funny character. He had a very strange diet. Basically he ate flowers. One day he showed up at Kobayashi Sensei’s home saying, “I know who you are. I know you. You’re going to show me your techniques. You show me a technique, and I’ll give you one.” And that’s how it worked. It went on for a while, but I do not know exactly how long. But this man treated a lot of people, really a lot and all the time. Apparently, that’s all he did and what always kept him busy.

I think Kobayashi Sensei retrieved something very important from that. In fact, Kobayashi Sensei often referenced shungendo and yamabushi. For him Onisaburo Deguchi  was a yamabushi. And it’s interesting because started with elements elaborated by O-Sensei; he developed an aikitaiso kihon that is a kind of “book”. It’s like a book, a book that’s written in the body and that explains how to free the body step-by-step, how to get energy stasis to migrate toward the mind, etc. For me it’s the Bible. It’s amazing, it takes hours to explain; I do it sometimes. It really takes hours to explain it, but it’s amazing. It forced me to do a lot of research, on physiology, anatomy, energetics and even psychology. That’s why I worked with systemic psychology professors in Europe. I worked with one of the pioneers in Europe. Afterward, we became close friends. He brought such a wealth of unexplained things and we live in a world where you need to provide some explanations. So I had to explain, I had to understand what he meant by, “Nikyo is good for the liver!” And that was it. Why? The only time in my life I asked why was when I started and he said, “Why is a stupid question.”

So nikyo is good for this, this is good for that… and I had to explain, and so I tried. I wrote a book. I studied a large body of research on osteopathy, acupuncture, Mézière physiotherapy to show the relationship between the energy flow and the muscular chains in aikido techniques. It was a tremendous job. I did it because in Europe it wasn’t enough just to say do this, do that. It’s enough with real students. With a real student, it’s not a problem, “Do it, period!” In our school it’s like that. But for the public it was absolutely impossible, so I had to communicate everything, and it was very hard because he never gave explanations, ever.

Was Kobayashi Sensei close to Seiseki Abe Sensei?

I don’t know. From time to time, he spoke about him and it was always with great admiration and great respect. He also talked about Tadashi Ave. He really liked him.

In an interview, Tetsuro Nariyama Sensei said that it was Tadashi Abe Sensei who introduced Tomiki Sensei to Kobayashi Sensei. Is that true?

It seems quite likely. I’m not absolutely certain, however, if Nariyama Sensei says so, it’s most certainly true. It seems quite likely because Tadashi Abe and Kobayashi Sensei were very close. He had a great deal of admiration for him. He talked about him a lot. He regretted his absence from Japan. He thought he could have been very helpful.

And what about weapons in Kobayashi Sensei’s aikido?

Cognard Sensei executing upper sword cut

That’s the first point.

Then of course he spoke about O-Sensei. But when I look at videos of O-Sensei practicing sword and I recall what we did together, it’s quite different. I do not know when he integrated these differences. But in any case, he was a kendoka; that’s also why we got along because I was also a kendoka.

When he arrived, Europe was a wasteland when it came to sword practice. We were happy if they managed to hold their swords in the right hand. It was awful. When he saw me take a ken and I stood in front of him, we understood each other. He was a kendoka, so his use of a sword was serious. So I do not know what came from O-Sensei and what came from Kobayashi Sensei, and what comes from elsewhere. It is very difficult. He forbade me asking questions. I never questioned him, not one question, ever. For him asking a question was an attempt to control the teaching that was given to us. Teaching was on one side, learning what was on the other… “Please?”… “Shhh! There is nothing to ask.” That’s how it was. Sometimes I would have liked to know more, but it wasn’t easy. However, for aikijo, I’m sure he studied in a jodo school because I also practiced jodo and when he arrived in Europe he looked around and he said, “They lean forward, they hold their jo this way, etc.” And to establish positions, what did he teach? Jodo. It was Jodo. He explained his ukenagaeshi using a jo by showing a jodo maki otoshi. He explained many aikijo techniques using jodo techniques. The way he explained aiki ken techniques aiki ken using kendo.

Did he speak of the origins of O-Sensei’s jo?

Yes. I heard one thing and that is that O-Sensei had practiced in many schools. He practiced Shinkage Ryu. He even had a Menkyo Kaiden in Shinkage Ryu. He practiced Hozoin Ryu. Kobayashi Sensei said that part of the aikijo was inspired by the Hozoin Ryu especially choku tsuki. It is inspired by Shinkage as well. Regarding Daito-ryu, I do not know, you probably know better than me. He said that Sokaku Takeda had not received permission, the Menkyo Kaiden, for the sword and that he taught a sword technique that was personal and came from his family. He said that O-Sensei did not practice Sokaku Takeda’s sword technique, but referred to his experiences in other schools.

I do not know about this. What we do know is that Takeda Sensei spent six months in Ayabe in 1922, and at that time O-Sensei received the kyoju dairi from Sokaku Takeda, but he also received a Yagyu Shinkage-ryu certification delivered by Takeda Sensei.

Yagyu Shinkage-ryu, by Takeda? How is that possible?

I do not know.

It’s seems unbelievable.

I saw a picture. I have the picture. But what does that mean?

It means that Sokaku Takeda practiced Yagyu Shinkage-ryu. It was not his school. That’s extraordinary. I had never thought of that, it’s quite new to me.

But when did he teach that, in Hokkaido, during those six months, during a week class? We do not know… (laughs). It is lost to history.

For me it is still very mysterious. For many years I practiced kendo and when I saw what we were taught in aiki ken in those groups, they did not even call it aiki ken then, as a kendoka… I knew that when we picked up a ken we could rest. For me, it really didn’t seem serious. But when I saw him use a ken I thought: “Wow! This is a different world altogether.” It was the speed, the precision; it was highly accurate. He realized that during the seminars there were a lot of beginners, so he took precautions. He said, “Don’t stand too close. Keep your distances, it’s the same.” But when we really worked, the ken was there, really.

Aikido Founder Morihei Ueshiba and Kobayashi Sensei cross swords c. 1965

I think it would have been very interesting. He had a vision, he was on the outside; he was free. He looked everywhere.

After the war what did he do, where was he?

He immediately went to Tokyo.

Was his family from Osaka?

Yes, his family was from Osaka. But he went to Tokyo, he worked in Tokyo, I have stories, snippets. He worked at the fish market in Tokyo; he unloaded trucks. He told me how he worked so he could take classes. He made a living off of odd jobs.

I am very interested in the experiences he had at a young age. For instance, when he was in the Kamikaze program during WW II, he should have died during the war but due to fortunate circumstances he survived. I feel that was a very pivotal moment in his life. Could you talk about these experiences: as a boy during the war and how it influenced his life after?

Yes, he spoke to me a lot about it, especially when we were in Japan, in a “Japanese” atmosphere. When we were teaching from morning until night in the universities, in the evenings, we would have dinner with the students and when we’d retire to our room he would often talk about this. It was very ambiguous. On the one hand he regretted not being able to fulfill his mission as if the kami had denied him this right, and on the other hand, he was very happy to have survived and to have met O-Sensei. He linked his experience facing death to the quest that gradually led him to O-Sensei. He connected these two facts, in words, and ideas. And I think that gave him a particular character.

Kobayashi Sensei was an extremely strong individual, an individualist. He wanted to follow his path. He didn’t want any interference between him and O-Sensei. His relationship with O-Sensei was unique and he defended, and valued it very highly, while respecting others. In my opinion, it came from his experience of going all the way or almost. And in any case he had decided to die. He was never afraid of anything. He was nothing like the image one might have of a martial arts master, poised, calm, and very wise. He was impetuous, he had a lot of panache and style, and he was reckless. When he saw a motorcycle, no matter which one, he’d get on it and drive very fast. He loved planes. He loved cars. I used to drive very fast, so he’d always say, “You drive better than me; drive and go fast,” and it always had to be faster. And he loved to play. He was a very happy person, very joyful. I think he wasn’t afraid because in a certain way, he was already dead. He absolutely did not fear death. Sometimes, though, he was tormented. I often slept in the same room as him, and I’d hear him scream, I’d wake up, and sometimes he’d wake up too.

You said something about Kobayashi Sensei not wanting anything to come between him and O-Sensei. What does that mean specifically?

This is an extremely difficult subject because I do not want to create problems or offend anyone. But I’ll try to talk about it a little.

This is how he talked about his first encounter with O-Sensei: with a recommendation from his karate teacher, Myasaki Sensei, Kobayashi Sensei went to the dojo to meet O-Sensei. He had met other people who had told him he could not go to O-Sensei directly, but he was extremely stubborn and said, “I want to talk to him.”

Was it in Tokyo or Iwama?

It was in Tokyo.

In 1946?

I think it was in 1948. But I cannot be sure of that.

There was something very strong in his relationship with Japan. His loyalty toward Japan was incredible. For example, he spoke to me a lot about the imperial family. It was very important for him. The tenno (emperor), the Japanese soul was very important. He had a feeling, you know it very well, yamato damashii; it really meant something. He was very Japanese. He was also a universal man; he was very open. He had no intention of establishing Japan elsewhere but he wanted Japan to be really authentic.

At the same time he was open, and went everywhere. And he encouraged people and me to be free. And even more than that, he told me bluntly: “I have a commitment to O-Sensei and I have to respect his family, I cannot do anything or wish to do anything against them, but this is not your commitment and I ask you not to be bound by it.”

After the war, O-Sensei was troubled by its consequences and how the country had suffered, all the destruction. He criticized the prewar policy responsible for this result. Did Kobayashi Sensei share the same ideas? There are Japanese of his generation that believe that it is a pity that they lost the war… What do you think?

Portrait of Founder with Kobayashi Sensei c. 1960

From time to time Sensei liked to drink and when he had drunk a little, sometimes he got angry, lost his temper and might have fought the war again, a little, but I think it was just his disappointment as a child not being able to… like a wound that reopens. I do not know if I am allowed to say things like this… It is only the truth. After all the truth, he would say, the truth is always best.

I would like to know if you know more about this karate teacher who introduced…

I do not know much. I know Kobayashi Sensei loved karate. He had started practicing seriously with his instructor and one day his instructor told him, “Listen, this is not your place. I’m sending you…” and he wrote a recommendation letter for O-Sensei.

Was it in Tokyo?

Yes, it was in Tokyo. This is when he was in Tokyo.

We’re talking about the late 40′s right?

Yes, absolutely.

I have heard from Saito Sensei that Kobayashi Sensei spent at least several months in Iwama in the early 50′s.

Yes, that is quite possible. I know little about his presence in Iwama. It’s a place he referred to, of course, and he loved. I went there with him. He took me there.

Did you meet Saito Sensei?

Not at that time, he was not there.

I know more about Kobayashi Sensei’s story after, when he went to Osaka, when O-Sensei went to see him frequently in Osaka to work and teach. He talked to me a lot about this period.

He was really an Osaka–jin, it was in his blood. He loved his city. There was something about Osaka that was very special to him. He was very proud that O-Sensei was from Wakayama… He told me that when O-Sensei spoke to him, he’d only speak in Osaka-ben.

Did Kobayashi Sensei speak about the circumstances of aikido in Osaka in the prewar period? Did he know anything?

I know he respected Tomiki Sensei, for example. I think he made a real difference between aikido before and aikido after. Saying that O-Sensei really had changed his way of practicing, his way of thinking aikido. And for him literally aikido was the aikido of after. But he really respected the people that were there before.

I met him very early and I was a bit impetuous and so he had a point view that I liked a lot, he said: “Well, what’s important is that each person has had an experience with O-Sensei and each person has drawn something different from it. And aikido needs it all. The development of aikido needs all of that.” However, he had his own way of doing things and he also wanted to affirm this point of view. There were two sides of the story and that idea suited me well.

As a historian, this relationship between Tomiki Sensei and Kobayashi Sensei in Osaka is really interesting. You wouldn’t think he’d be interested because of the competition.

For a long time, I tried to understand. The first time I went to Osaka, to see Kobayashi Sensei’s it was in 1979. 1979-80-81-82. I went every year, very often, sometimes several times a year. At that time, in 1980, we did a tour. We went to Kochi. It was a Christian university that was called St. Andrew, I believe. Then we went to Marugame, where there were people from Okayama. There was Ota Sensei who was a former student of Kobayashi Sensei, he was from Okayama, and was a remarkable man. There was also Maruo from Kobe who died. There was also a group of students from Kansai Daigaku. Then we went to Shodoshima and we met people from Kangaku, and these people practiced both Tomiki Ryu and Kobayashi Sensei. But he told me, “I disagree with what Tomiki is doing, completely, I cannot conceive aikido in this way. It is not technically interesting, there is very little to it. It’s a shame. He followed O-Sensei at a time, it’s a shame he doesn’t give that.” He complained about this. But at the same time he’d say, “He’s an elder, we owe respect. It’s his sensitivity, it’s not for us to judge.”

He helped everyone do aikido including those with whom he disagreed. It was one of his principles. “Too bad if we don’t agree, it doesn’t matter. He’s here to practice aikido, if he supports O-Sensei’s name, if he honors O-Sensei, okay we can help him.” That was really his point of view. However, when we were in these universities, he’d give a true Aikido Kobayashi seminar, with those meguri (chance meetings) and all those things that are his. And if the students did something else he would say, “No, not here, we do not do that here.”

Cognard Sensei at Las Vegas Aiki Juku. Uke: Gil Wheeler

Kobayashi Sensei, Daito-ryu?

For a while he was very close to Tokimune Takeda. They met frequently, ate together, etc.

One day, I heard Tokimune Takeda say, “Your master is the greatest expert of Daito-ryu I know.” Traditionally five pins are taught, Kobayashi Sensei taught 12.

Did he know the people of Takumakai then? Hakaru Mori Sensei? Takuma Hisa Takuma?

I do not know. That I do not know. He often referred to Tokimune Takeda, he even had this project; he asked if I would agree to organize a trip for Tokimune Takeda in my dojos in France. He told me, “Listen, I think it would be really good…” He knew I had lots of students, several dojos, and he knew I could arrange for it to happen. I said, yes, no problem, but it never happened. I think maybe Tokimune Takeda was too old.

What year was that?

1985-86… ’87. I think, around then. I’m trying to stitch together bits of memory.

During that time frame, he was in declining health. I do not know the details, but I think Tokimune Sensei went to Osaka to teach the Takumakai group.

Kobayashi Sensei had great respect for the people of Daito-ryu. He often said to me, “You know there is a lot of talk about Daito-ryu being a hard discipline and aikido a supple discipline, but I see people practicing Daito-ryu who are more soft than some in aikido.”

Yes there are very soft schools. Did Kobayashi Sensei go to Hokkaido?

I don’t think he went there to practice. In any case, he didn’t tell me about it.

We would like to acknowledge the assistance of Andrea Debiasi for his role in organizing and editing this interview for publication on Aikido Journal.

To be continued

Aiki News Number 37, 1981

Contents

     ● Editorial on Mitsunari Kanai, by Stanley Pranin
     ● Interview with Mitsunari Kanai, by Stanley Pranin
     ● Morihiro Saito’s Technical Notebook — Katatedori koshinage, Katatedori koshinage, Ryotedori koshinage, by Morihiro Saito
     ● World Aikido Directory
     ● The Founder of Aikido, Morihei Ueshiba, “Idol Among the Soldiers, Chapter II – Part 4, by Kisshomaru Ueshiba
     ● Back cover: Noma Dojo photo with Morihei Ueshiba and Shigemi Yonekawa

Download the pdf file of Aikido Journal Number 100 by right clicking on the link below:

“Although almost totally unknown to aikido practitioners, one of the most fascinating related forms of the art was created by Minoru Hirai. Hirai served as General Director of Morihei Ueshiba’s old Kobukan Dojo during World War II, and later taught his own unique form of jujutsu based on the principle of circular taisabaki. Aikido Journal recently visited Hirai Sensei, now 91 years of age, at this home in Shizuoka and recorded the highlights of his thought-provoking conversation about Korindo and martial arts theories…”

Minoru Hirai, founder of Korindo Aikido, demonstrates a technique on
Aikido Journal Editor Stanley Pranin during their 1994 interview

Contents

     ● Editorial – Aikido: A Legacy from the Past, a Vision for the Future, by Stanley Pranin
     ● Aikido Journal News
     ● Letters to the Editor
     ● Interview with Minoru Hirai, by Stanley Pranin
     ● Aiki is not Always Pretty, by Ellis Amdur
     ● Interview with Takefumi Takeno (1), by Stanley Pranin
     ● Coping in a Violent World, by Mike Mello
     ● The Omoto Religion and Aikido, by Yasuaki Deguchi
     ● Takemusu Aikido — Shomenuchi sankyo omotewaza, by Morihiro Saito
     ● Kobudo & Kobujutsu, by Meik Skoss
     ● Morihei Ueshiba & Gozo Shioda, by Stanley Pranin
     ● Interview with Mark Jones, by Meik Skoss
     ● Famous Swordsmen of Japan, by Takefumi Hiiragi
     ● Heard in the Dojo
     ● The Book Page, by Diane Skoss
     ● Events & Announcements

Download the pdf file of Aikido Journal Number 100 by right clicking on the link below:

Sokaku Takeda demonstrating at the Asahi News dojo in August 1936

“Sokaku’s concern for Morihei was like a father for his son.”

Aiki News would like to express its gratitude to Tokimune Takeda Sensei for granting permission to reprint this summary of an article which appeared in No. 39 of the newsletter published by the Daitokan Dojo.

Tokimune Takeda (1916-1993)

Here I would like to record the relationship between Sokaku Takeda and the city of Osaka. This relationship also has a deep connection with both Morihei Ueshiba and Takuma Hisa who were the most outstanding disciples of Sokaku Takeda. First, I would like to describe how it was that Sokaku came to teach Daito-ryu in Osaka.

In 1929, Admiral Isamu Takeshita, who studied Daito-ryu with Sokaku Takeda, published an article in the magazine entitled “The Story of the Bravery of Sokaku Takeda.” In this article, he described how Sokaku became a budo instructor serving in the capacity of a bodyguard for Marquis Tsugumichi Saigo, an army general, and how he performed acts of bravery in various places. This article came to the attention of the Tokyo Asahi Newspaper Company which sent a journalist to Hokkaido in 1930 to interview Sokaku who was travelling around the northern island teaching.

In 1930 Sokaku was teaching a number of prominent persons in the area of the town of Abashiri. In July of the same year, Sokaku, then 72 years old, went to Koshimizu village in Kitami no kuni accompanied by Taiso Horikawa where he taught Daito-ryu to various leading citizens. It was at this time that Yoichi Ozaka, a reporter of the Tokyo Asahi Newspaper Company followed Sokaku Takeda and went to the Daito-ryu master who was staying at an inn in Koshimizu for the purpose of interviewing the subject of the above-mentioned article written by Admiral Takeshita. He hoped to gather information on Daito-ryu techniques, famous disciples and materials concerning the art.

Sokaku prohibited Daito-ryu from being transmitted to the general public and taught it secretly as a police tactics method and self-defense techniques for prominent people. Consequently, Sokaku would turn away reporters commenting that the art was “not a show.” But this time Sokaku took into account the fact that the Tokyo Asahi newspaperman had come from a great distance to follow him around in order to see him, and the Daito-ryu master willingly agreed to be interviewed. Mr. Ozaka was very impressed by the list of names of top martial artists and noted personages recorded as students of Daito-ryu. As soon as he returned to his office he wrote an article entitled “Ima Bokuden” (reference to Bokuden Tsukahara (1489-1571), founder of Bokuden-ryu tactics and known as a great swordsman) about Sokaku that included a photo. This article became known to martial artists all over Japan and Sokaku’s fame spread far and wide.

Makoto Saito (1858-1936), Japanese prime minister

In February of 1936, Sokaku went to Sendai with the author (Tokimune) accompanying him through the introduction of an Army officer, Mr. Umezu (at that time a member of the city council). He taught Daito-ryu to some 20 prominent persons including those connected with the military and police. During the time Sokaku was instructing leading members of the Sendai Police Department, an incident took place on February 26 where the Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal, Navy Admiral Viscount Makoto Saito was assassinated. Makoto Saito was a member of the Mizusawa Clan of Iwate Prefecture and became a Vice-Minister of the Navy with the support of Tsugumichi Saigo in 1898. In 1906, he became Minister of the Navy and in 1918 he rose to the office of Minister of Foreign Affairs and Minister of Education. He was elected Prime Minister in 1935 and was assassinated on February 26, 1936. During the Meiji period, when supported by Makoto Saito, Sokaku, together with his student Kiichi Umezu, attended the Prime Minister’s funeral held in Saito’s parents’ home in Mizusawa.

In April, Sokaku was engaged in teaching a Mr. Takahashi, Department Chief of the Saitama Police Office and also head of the Police Officers’ Training School, a local police superintendent and nine other officers. Moreover, he held seminars on Daito-ryu at the Urawa Police Department and the Police Officers’ Training School in Saitama. I personally witnessed some of the students who were holding the article entitled “Ima Bokuden” (see AN #68) cut out from the newspaper as if it were really valuable.

In May of 1936, Sokaku taught Daito-ryu to the Chief of the Omiya Police Department in Saitama Prefecture and some 17 others. While in Tokyo he instructed the head of the Tokyo Asahi News together with 16 other persons.

The interest generated by the “Bokuden” article reached even Osaka and in June Sokaku received an invitation from the Osaka Asahi Newspaper. While he was staying upstairs in the house of his student, a Mr. Nagatani, some ten judo and sword experts and Mr. Takuma Hisa, chief of the business section of the Asahi News came to visit him having heard that the subject of the article in question had come to Osaka. [This version of the first meeting of Sokaku Takeda and Takuma Hisa is at variance with the version told by Hisa repeatedly after the war. For information on this version, please see my article Remembering Takuma Hisa. –Ed.]

When these men came to visit Sokaku they found a small, thin old man bent with age with no teeth and clad in long drawers. They were shocked by his appearance and doubted that he was really the famous martial artist. They exchanged disappointed glances because of the trouble they had taken to visit this little old man.

Noting their dismay, Sokaku changed into his street clothes. He then arranged the floor cushions for the visitors in order starting from the seat of honor to the lowest position. Next, he pointed to each person one after the other beginning with the highest ranking member of the newspaper company and had them take their appropriate seats. After this, Sokaku exchanged name cards with each person again according to their rank.

“Saito Sensei built this dojo when it was announced
that the Iwama Dojo would soon be torn down”

The name of Morihiro Saito is known almost universally among aikido practitioners. He was one of the giants of postwar aikido and among the closest students of Aikido Founder Morihei Ueshiba, having trained with O-Sensei in Iwama beginning in 1946 through the Founder’s death in 1969. Saito Sensei had the rare opportunity to train one-on-one with the Founder, especially in aikido weapons, during this time frame.

Saito Sensei left a strong imprint on modern aikido due to his extensive travels both in Japan and abroad. He also published more than 10 technical volumes on aikido technique, including taijutsu and weapons, that have been translated into many languages.

This particular videotape was shot in 1992 in commemoration of Saito Sensei’s promotion to 9th dan. This was also around the time of the opening of the new Iwama Dojo on Saito family property. The demonstration portion of this footage was taken entirely inside the new dojo and there is a scene in which Saito Sensei is seated holding his 9th dan certificate. Saito Sensei demonstrates the basic forms of the Aiki Ken and Jo, as well as several taijutsu fundamentals.

Duration: 27:27

Morihei Ueshiba (1883-1969) and his wife Hatsu (1881-1969)

Morihei Ueshiba’s Family and Line of Succession

In this screencast, Stanley Pranin presents a chart containing an abbreviated genealogical tree of the Ueshiba Family and discusses Morihei Ueshiba’s family background, aikido-related relatives, and the line of succession in aikido.

Duration: 6:29 minutes

Transcript of screencast

Hi, I’m Stanley Pranin, and welcome to another episode of “Focus on History.” Today I’d like to present to you some important information on Morihei Ueshiba’s family background. I will briefly discuss the following topics:

- Morihei’s parents and sisters, especially, the importance of the marriage of the oldest sister, Tame, to Zenzo Inoue, and their son, Yoichiro.

- The marriage of Morihei’s daughter, Matsuko, to a famous kendoka, who was designated as Morihei’s successor

- Kisshomaru’s selection as Morihei’s actual successor, and the Ueshiba family line of succession including the present Doshu, Moriteru Ueshiba, and his son and future Doshu, Mitsuteru Ueshiba.

A couple of conventions I use in this chart are as follows:: the yellow background denotes the paternal line of the Ueshiba family; the gray background indicates family members who are directly related to the development of aikido, and the purple line shows the line of succession of aikido’s leaders, known as “Doshu.”

Ok, let’s get started. First of all, Morihei’s parents were his father, Yoroku, and mother, Yuki. Yoroku was a prominent resident of Tanabe, moderately wealthy, and a long-serving town council member. The couple had a total of 5 children, 4 daughters–Tame, Hisano, Chiyo and Kiku–and one son, Morihei. Morihei was the fourth born.

Morihei’s eldest sister, Tame, married a man named Zenzo Inoue about 1889. Zenzo was one of Tanabe’s wealthiest citizens. Their union produced eight children, the fourth of whom was a son named Yoichiro. This Yoichiro was a rebellious boy and was raised for several years in Morihei’s household.

Zenzo was very closely allied with Morihei’s father, Yoroku, and was highly influential in a number of key decisions made in Morihei’s life that ultimately allowed him the freedom and means to become a professional martial arts instructor, and later create aikido.

“O-Sensei’s elite cadre of collaborators who forged today’s Aikido”

Stanley Pranin’s beautiful  “Aikido Chronological Chart” may be downloaded by all members of the Aikido Journal Members Site — both free and paid — as a pdf file. This carefully researched chart contains photographs and capsule biographies of some 70 of the best-known disciples of Aikido Founder Morihei Ueshiba. The kanji characters for all names are also included, and each period is color-coded for easy reference.

Many times, aikido practitioners have little understanding of those that preceded them, or the remarkable heritage of which they are the beneficiaries. This chart, titled “The Principal Disciples of Morihei Ueshiba,” will give you an overall view of the various periods in the evolution of aikido, and the important people who learned from Morihei Ueshiba and were responsible for the dissemination of his art.

With the advent of the information age, no one need be left behind and wondering about the origins of the life-changing art that we practice. Inform yourself and add a whole new dimension to your study of aikido!

Download the pdf file of Stanley Pranin’s “Aikido Chronological Chart” by clicking on the link below:

“I know that Saito Sensei didn’t treat me any differently just because I was a woman. He judged me from a neutral place. That’s what I loved about him.”

Pat Hendricks Sensei at Aiki Expo 2002

Ikuko Kimura: How are you enjoying the Expo?

Pat Hendricks: This is more than I ever expected, there is so much talent here, not just the teachers, who are amazing, but so many people of a really high caliber. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any event in my whole martial arts career that equals this.

I hear you trained very hard to prepare yourself for the demonstration?

Yes, my three students, who are all exceptional in their own right, and I have done demonstrations together in other martial arts events, so at first I thought, “We have our standard demo, we can just change it a little bit.” But then I felt this event was so important that I wanted to put more time in and help make it as special as it deserved to be.

How many students did you bring?

Eight uchideshi (live-in students) from my dojo came, and two former students who have now become teachers, plus ten direct students of mine and another four or five from various regions.

How many students do you have?

I have about sixty adults and fifty or sixty children, at my dojo, so over a hundred all together.

Do you teach every day?

Yes, I do. My philosophy, that I got from observing Saito Sensei, is that no matter how high-ranked I get or how advanced I am, it’s really important for me to do as many classes as I can. So when I am at the dojo and not traveling, I teach all the classes. That’s just what I do. I teach the kid’s classes because I feel that inspires them.

When did you originally start aikido?

I started in the summer of 1974 in a small college in Monterey where Mary Heiny was teaching. Soon after enrolling I found Stanley Pranin’s dojo, which was also in Monterey, so I started going there. I drove about an hour each way three times a week to get to the dojo.

How old were you then?

I was eighteen when I started aikido in June and I turned nineteen in September, so when I entered Stanley’s dojo in the fall, I was nineteen.

Stanley said he was very proud of you.

Oh, I’ve always had unbelievable support from him. He was my first teacher and I learned so much from him. I did three times a week with him, and then a Saturday women’s aikido class with Danielle Smith. At some point I moved into Stanley’s dojo and became a sort of informal uchideshi, and trained in all the classes.

Around 1977 Stanley went to Japan. We were up at Oakland training with Bruce Klickstein at the time. Bruce had already been to Iwama once and he was getting ready to leave for a longer stay there.

Bruce, a couple of the senior students and Stanley, in other words everybody I felt close to was going to Iwama. So I just decided, “Well, I’m going to go too. It must be a neat place.” I had done a year or a year and a half of university and decided to take a year off and go to Japan. I stayed over a year, which was longer than I expected. This was Fall 1977, when there were few foreigners or uchideshi. The training was very severe and traditional. It is still traditional in Iwama, but not so many people are going through what I had to go through.

At that time it was easy for any uchideshi to have personal contact with Saito Sensei and his family. Bruce Klickstein and I were the only uchideshi for most of that year.

No Japanese uchideshi?

No, there were people that came for a month or two, but the only long-term uchideshi before us was Shigemi Inagaki. He was Saito Sensei’s first long-term uchideshi. He taught at the morning class where mostly just the three of us trained. It was a very hard training, very intense. They were 3^rd or 4^th-dan and I had just become shodan. I learned a lot, including all my weapons training, in those circumstances.

With Morihiro Saito Sensei in Iwama dojo, c. 1988

Being in Iwama for over a year and training in that way must be worth a couple of years or more elsewhere?

Absolutely. We saw Saito Sensei all the time and worked with him all day long.

Did he go abroad at that time?

During my stay he took his first international trip, to Sweden, but it was unusual for him to travel. He didn’t travel anything like he did in the past ten or fifteen years. After that trip to Europe he didn’t go anywhere for a long time. He was at the dojo a lot; he would have lunch with us and even cook for us. It was a wonderful time in that sense, but the training was very, very severe and a lot of people got injured. I took my shodan test soon after entering the dojo and within two weeks I got my arm broken. But in those days you didn’t stop, so I had the bones set by an old blind doctor, Mr. Tachikawa, who was very famous in Iwama. When they brought me in I saw this old blind man just feeling around with his hands and I thought, “I am in trouble now.” But, he was amazing! He was a genuine healer! He took me on as a special project and used all kinds of needles and things to get my arm working again.

How many weeks later?

Within two or three weeks the arm was set and I was training with one arm. Full recovery took about five weeks. It was winter so it was slow to heal. I did experience full recovery, though, and it was fine after that. That was just the way things were done at that time. You would get a bloody nose one night or get something twisted, and it was par for the course. I got many injuries, but I think that was about the time when Saito Sensei decided to really make an effort to make the training safer. Bruce was there and Mr. Inagaki as well. Bruce is a great sempai and a big brother to me. His aikido was awesome.

Why did you become interested in aikido in the first place?

In high school I saw a lot of Bruce Lee movies and I was just drawn naturally to the martial arts.

Why aikido, then?

To be honest it was a coincidence. I wanted to do martial arts, and aikido was what was offered at the time; but from the moment I did my first class I knew it was for me. Everything fit, the movements, the philosophy, the way people taught, everything! I don’t know if I would have stuck with another art, but aikido just suited me from the very beginning.

Have you tried any other martial arts?

Over the years I’ve had a lot of martial arts friends and have done many camps like this although they were on a smaller scale. At a lot of camps you just take whatever classes are being offered. People tend to ask you to play around, so I have experimented with a lot of different martial arts, but aikido has been one consistent thread through my whole life.

So you stayed in Iwama more than a year, and then went back to America?

I went back to America for nearly eight years then returned to Iwama for a number of months, and I continued going back frequently as a short-term uchideshi until 1988 when I decided to become a long-term uchideshi again, for the last time. I have made fifteen or sixteen visits to Iwama all together, but that was my fifth or sixth. I had already started my own dojo back in 1984, and I deliberately decided to leave it, turned it over to a friend and went back to Japan, where I stayed for about 18 months.

“True budo means to win over yourself and eliminate the fighting heart of the enemy.”

A: When I was a college student my philosophy professor showed us a portrait of a famous philosopher, and now I am struck by his resemblance to you, Sensei.

O-Sensei: I see. Maybe I should have entered into the field of philosophy instead. The spiritual side of me is more emphasized than the physical side.

B: It is said that aikido is quite different from karate and judo.

O-Sensei: In my opinion, it can be said to be the true martial art. The reason for this is that it is a martial art based on universal truth. This Universe is composed of many different parts, and yet the Universe as a whole is united as a family and symbolizes the ultimate state of peace. Holding such a view of the Universe, aikido cannot be anything but a martial art of love. It cannot be a martial art of violence. For this reason, aikido can be said to be another manifestation of the Creator of the Universe. In other words, aikido is like a giant (immense in nature). Therefore, in aikido, Heaven and Earth become the training grounds. The state of mind of the aikidoist must be peaceful and totally non-violent. That is to say, that special state of mind which brings violence into a state of harmony. And this I think is the true spirit of Japanese martial arts. We have been given this earth to transform into a heaven on earth. War-like activity is totally out of place.

A: It is quite different from the traditional martial arts, then.

O-Sensei: Indeed, it is quite different. If we look back over time, we see how the martial arts have been abused. During the Sengoku Period (1482-1558-Sengoku meaning “warring countries”) local lords used the martial arts as a fighting tool to serve their own private interests and to satisfy their greed. This I think was totally inappropriate. Since I myself taught martial arts to be used for the purpose of killing others to soldiers during the War, I became deeply troubled after the conflict ended. This motivated me to discover the true spirit of aikido seven years ago, at which time I came upon the idea of building a heaven on earth. The reason for this resolution was that although heaven and earth (i.e., the physical universe) have reached a state of perfection and are relatively stable in their evolution, humankind (in particular, the Japanese people) seems to be in a state of upheaval. First of all, we must change this situation. The realization of this mission is the path to the evolution of universal humanity. When I came to this realization, I concluded that the true state of aikido is love and harmony. Thus the “bu” (martial) in aikido is the expression of love. I was studying aikido in order to serve my country. Thus, the spirit of aikido can only be love and harmony. Aikido was born in accordance with the principles and workings of the Universe. Therefore, it is a budo (martial art) of absolute victory.

B: Would you talk about the principles of aikido? The general public regards aikido as something mystical like ninjutsu, since you, Sensei, fell huge opponents with lightning speed and have lifted objects weighing several hundred pounds.

O-Sensei: It only seems to be mystical. In aikido we utilize the power of the opponent completely. So the more power the opponent uses, the easier it is for you.

B: Then, in that sense, there is aiki in judo, too, since in judo you synchronize yourself with the rhythm of your opponent. If he pulls, you push; if he pushes, you pull. You move him according to this principle and make him lose his balance and then apply your technique.

O-Sensei: In aikido, there is absolutely no attack. To attack means that the spirit has already lost. We adhere to the principle of absolute non-resistance, that is to say, we do not oppose the attacker. Thus, there is no opponent in aikido. The victory in aikido is masakatsu agatsu (correct victory, self-victory); since you win over everything in accordance with the mission of heaven, you possess absolute strength.

B: Does that mean go no sen? (This term refers to a late response to an attack.)

O-Sensei: Absolutely not. It is not a question of either sensen no sen or sen no sen. If I were to try to verbalize it I would say that you control your opponent without trying to control him. That is, the state of continuous victory. There isn’t any question of winning over or losing to an opponent. In this sense, there is no opponent in aikido. Even if you have an opponent, he becomes a part of you, a partner you control only.

B: How many techniques are there in aikido?

O-Sensei: There are about 3,000 basic techniques, and each one of them has 16 variations… so there are many thousands. Depending on the situation, you create new ones.

A: When did you begin the study of martial arts?

O-Sensei: At about the age of 14 or 15. First I learned Tenshinyo-ryu Jiujitsu from Tokusaburo Tozawa Sensei, then Kito-ryu, Yagyu-ryu, Aioi-ryu, Shinkage-ryu, all of them jujutsu forms. However, I thought there might be a true form of budo elsewhere. I tried Hozoin-ryu sojitsu and kendo. But all of these arts are concerned with one-to-one combat forms and they could not satisfy me. So I visited many parts of the country seeking the Way and training, but all in vain.

A: Is that the ascetic training of the warrior?

O-Sensei: Yes, the search for the true budo. When I used to go to other schools I would never challenge the sensei of the dojo. An individual in charge of a dojo is burdened with many things, so it is very hard for him to display his true ability. I would pay him the proper respects and learn from him. If I judged myself superior, I would again pay him my respects and return home.

B: Then you did not learn aikido from the beginning. When did aikido come into being?

O-Sensei: As I said before, I went to many places seeking the true budo..Then, when I was about 30 years old, I settled in Hokkaido. On one occasion, while staying at Hisada Inn in Engaru, Kitami Province, I met a certain Sokaku Takeda Sensei of the Aizu clan. He taught Daito-ryu jujutsu. During the 30 days in which I leamed from him I felt something like an inspiration. Later, I invited this teacher to my home and together with 15 or 16 of my employees became a student seeking the essence of budo.

B: Did you discover aikido while you were learning Daito-ryu under Sokaku Takeda?

O-Sensei: No. It would be more accurate to say that Takeda Sensei opened my eyes to budo.

A: Then were there any special circumstances surrounding your discovery of aikido?

The cover of “Aikido” published by Kowada in 1957 that contains the Japanese-language text of this interview.

O-Sensei: Yes. It happened this way. My father became critically ill in 1919. I requested leave from Takeda Sensei and set out for my home. On my way home, I was told that if one went to Ayabe near Kyoto and dedicated a prayer then any disease would be cured. So, I went there and met Onisaburo Deguchi. Afterwards, when I arrived home, I learned that my father was already dead. Even though I had met Deguchi Sensei only once, I decided to move to Ayabe with my family and I ended up staying until the latter part of the Taisho period (around 1925). Yes… at that time I was about 40 years old. One day I was drying myself off by the well. Suddenly, a cascade of blinding golden flashes came down from the sky enveloping my body. Then immediately my body became larger and larger, attaining the size of the entire Universe. While overwhelmed by this experience I suddenly realized that one should not think of trying to win. The form of budo must be love. One should live in love. This is aikido and this is the old form of the posture in kenjutsu. After this realization I was overjoyed and could not hold back the tears.

B: Then, in budo, it is not good to be strong. Since olden times the unification of “ken” and “Zen” has been tauqht. Indeed, the essence of budo cannot be understood without emptying your mind. In that state, neither right nor wrong have meaning.

O-Sensei: As I said previously, the essence of budo is the Way of masakatsu agatsu.

Koichi Tohei, 10th dan, teaching in Hawaii c. 1960

“Who is Koichi Tohei and why is he so important to
an understanding of the development of aikido?”

In May, 1974, an event occurred that shook the roots of the aikido world to its very foundations. It was then that Koichi Tohei, the chief instructor of the Aikikai Hombu Dojo, resigned from his post and left the headquarters organization to form his own school.

Many aikido associations, dojos, instructors, and students, particularly in Japan and the U.S.A., were compelled to make a choice of whether to stay within the Aikikai system or join Tohei’s newly-created Shin Shin Toitsu Aikido organization.

The impact on those who remained within the Aikikai system was nonetheless traumatic because they saw the illusion of harmony at the highest level of leadership in the aikido world shattered. Regardless of where one stood on the issue, aikido at large had suffered a huge black eye.

From the viewpoint of the Aikikai, Tohei’s actions and attempts to dictate the technical curriculum and teaching methodology were unacceptable. In Tohei’s eyes, the aikido headquarters had snubbed his leadership and failed to sufficiently acknowledge his many accomplishments and contributions to the postwar spread of aikido, both in Japan and abroad. The contentious issue was further complicated by a web of long-standing personal relationships that had gone sour.

The upshot of this tragic situation was that in the aftermath of Tohei’s departure, neither he nor the Aikikai has wished to revisit this unfortunate episode and the issue has been effectively swept under the rug for more than 35 years.

Who is Koichi Tohei and why is he so important to an understanding of the development of aikido? Should he be unceremoniously deleted from aikido history due to past grievances or should he be given due credit for his role in the shaping of the art of aikido?

Early Years

Koichi Tohei was born in Tokyo on January 20, 1920. His well-to-do family soon moved to its ancestral home in Tochigi Prefecture where the young Koichi grew up. He studied judo as a teenager, but his training was interrupted while a student at Keio University due to a bout with pleurisy.

In 1940, in an effort to regain his health, Tohei joined the Ichikukai and engaged in intensive misogi breathing and meditation training. It was shortly thereafter that he received an introduction to Morihei Ueshiba Sensei who operated a private martial arts dojo in the Shinjuku Ward of Tokyo. Tohei immediately joined the dojo and practiced intensively under the Aikido Founder up until the time of his induction into the Japanese Imperial Army in October 1942.

Tohei saw action in China and was stranded on the continent at the end of the war until his repatriation in 1946. Soon thereafter, Tohei reestablished contact with Morihei Ueshiba who had retired to his country home in Iwama, Ibaragi Prefecture. Tohei resumed training in aikido traveling to Iwama from his nearby hometown as his schedule permitted.

It was also during this period that Tohei began training under Tempu Nakamura, the person who introduced yoga to Japan. Nakamura would have a major influence on Tohei and his approach to aikido and ki.

Ueshiba promoted Tohei to 8th dan at the young age of 32 in 1952 in recognition of his status as the Founder’s leading student. Tohei’s promotion would also serve to stimulate the growth of the Aikikai whose activities had been all but curtailed in the aftermath of World War II.

Koichi Tohei applying sankyo on huge Hawaiian, c. 1953

Establishing Aikido in Hawaii

In February 1953, at the invitation of the Hawaii branch of the Nishikai health system, Tohei visited the islands for an extended stay to introduce the then unknown art of aikido. Despite many challenges and hardships, Tohei established himself as top-tier martial artist and built up a network of Aikikai-affiliated dojos all over Hawaii. During this time, he provided financial support to the struggling Aikikai from donations he collected from his students and patrons. Tohei returned to Hawaii in 1955 and again in 1959 where he further strengthened the aikido base he had created several years earlier.

Back in Japan, the Aikikai gradually began to emerge as the leading aikido organization with Tohei assuming a leadership role as chief instructor, a post he was appointed to in 1956. A network of schools in various cities, universities and companies gradually formed and the art began to receive some exposure in the media.

“What I learned directly from O-Sensei is that the spirit of creating world peace comes before waza. Without that spirit, our Aikido cannot progress.”

Sensei, when did you meet O-Sensei?

I first met O-Sensei about eight years after he started teaching in a warehouse in Shingu. That was 65 years ago, when I was 14 years old..
A man named Kubo Sensei had invited O-Sensei to come to Shingu from Tanabe, his home town, and O-Sensei initially taught Aikido in the warehouse of the Taiheyo Sake Brewery in Shingu. This was perhaps the first place he taught Aikido in Japan — the very beginning.
I believe that I was predestined to meet O-Sensei. Before either of us were born, the Kami understood that we were to meet and have a parent-child relationship. Although I was his student, I always viewed O-Sensei as my father.

Had you studied other martial arts before you met him?

My father passed away when I was two years old, and my mother when I was seven. My maternal grandmother raised me after my parents died. She had studied a little naginata. Therein was the origin of my relationship to Budo and to O-Sensei. My grandmother wanted to raise me to be a good adult, and so she told me to study Judo and Kendo. I started Kendo in the second grade at age nine.

During that period, O-Sensei started visiting Shingu and teaching at the warehouse. He did not teach Aikido publicly. It was not considered something to show everyone. To be O-Sensei’s student, one was required to have five guarantors who would vouch for you personally. Not just anyone could study Aikido. Kubo sensei took me to see Aikido for the first time when I was 14 and introduced me to Osensei after I had won first prize in a local student martial arts contest.

What was your first impression of Aikido?

It was incredible .No one seemed to be using any strength at all, yet they could throw each other easily. How mysterious! At first, I thought they must be doing something prearranged.

Although I was already studying Judo and Kendo intensely by that time, I thought that this Budo, in which the contest was won at the very moment of contact, must be the real Budo. I realized that it was very different from what I had been learning but that it was what I hoped my Budo would be like.

As a child of 14, I immediately wanted to devote myself single-mindedly to Aikido. However, in those days, no one was teaching children. At that time only adults 25 and older were allowed to learn Aikido.

But O-Sensei said to me, “You were born to do Budo. You must study Aikido..” (Actually, at that time he called it “Aiki Budo.”)
. And this is how I became the first child to be taught Aikido.

How did you feel when O-Sensei said this to you?

I felt so very grateful. O-Sensei had accepted me as a disciple, even though I was still a child of 14. He had told me that I was born to learn Budo and that Aikido was the highest expression of Japanese Budo. I was deeply moved.

What do you remember about O-Sensei’s physical presence in those days?

In those days, O-Sensei had an amazing body. He looked like an old style Japanese partition screen, wider than it is tall. He was 53 years old, weighed about 200 pounds, about five feet tall, andvery broadly built. His body had strong joints and bones, and he was full of vigor.

His gaze was very kind, but his eyes also had a fierce light in them, as though they were glowing. It could be intimidating! If he looked at you suddenly, you were frozen — unable to move.

O-Sensei always stared sharply at someone he was meeting for the first time. His eyes gleamed and, in that moment, he knew everything about the person.

Sometimes, just a glance from him could make me feel as though I had been shot through with an arrow. His glance could be very stern at one moment and very soft and kindly the next. I felt that he was my parent. He looked stern and his body was so strong and yet, when I approached him as he sat, I thought “Here sits a genuinely kind person.”

O-Sensei was a great Budoka, an amazing Budoka. I was afraid to be next to him, yet I felt he had a benevolent, kindly heart. He was fearsome, yet I was drawn to him. I suppose that is difficult for others to understand.

As I have said, I believe that our relationship — teacher to student, parent to child — was destined to happen. I didn’t ask O-Sensei to take me as his disciple. He asked me to be his student. It was preordained.

Thirty-three years have passed since O-Sensei departed for the heavenly realm, but I have never felt separated from him. He is always present and I can hear his voice every day and night.

Is our current style of practice different from that when you started?

Yes, the waza were done differentlyJust the other day I pulled out one of the old books that I used to study years ago, called , Maki no Uchi. That was O-Sensei’s first book. When I first started, we used to practice along the lines described in Maki no Uchi.. You know, one person would strike and the other would receive and respond with a throw. You can still see this older type of practice in some dojo’s, even today.

Was the Maki no Uchi book freely given out?

No. To get it, you had to have O-Sensei’s permission. For me, that was when I reached what would now be called shodan.

Was it a secret book, something that was never shown around?

Well, I don’t know whether I would call it “secret.” It was, after all, just a book, and there probably are people who can learn simply by reading. But it would have been very hard for someone to read the book and understand what it was about unless that person were practicing Aikido. Unless you were shodan or higher, you wouldn’t know what to make of it.

I think that is still true today. It’s not as if you can tell someone, “Here, do it as the book shows.” Aikido is something that becomes a part of you — a self-knowledge that comes through the spiritual training [shugyo] of physical practice [keiko].

In classes with O-Sensei, which was more important — verbal explanation or physical practice?

These thing we practice called waza [techniques] — waza themselves spring forth from kototama [word souls]. It’s not really possible to fully understand a waza without speaking about its meaning, what gives birth to it. So, O-Sensei would teach by talking about the [kototama ] origins of the waza. He would take a particular waza and teach how it came into existence.

How, exactly, would O-Sensei conduct practice?

First we did Shinji [warmup exercises for spiritual purification]. We began with Misogi, Furutama, Torifune, Otakebi, Omusubi, and Okorobi [stages of Shinji]. Then we cleaned the dojo space and began waza practice.

There was no pattern to O-Sensei’s waza. It was kamigoto [divine working]. But the keiko (practice) sessions themselves always started with Shinji. After Shinji came suwariwaza [seated technique], which strengthens the hips. Then we’d progress to tachiwaza [standing technique]. Often the first waza was dai-ikkajo — what we now call ikkyo. After that, O-Sensei did waza according to his ki of the moment. Nothing was fixed. Everytime it was different.

What was his teaching method?

O-Sensei did not usually teach people individually, taking their hands, explaining to them how to move. He just showed a technique once and told us to imitate what he had done. However, on occasion, he did give one-on-one instruction. I know I sometimes received hands-on instruction from him directly.

What did it feel like when Osensei taught you personally?

I felt it was more than I deserved, and I was very grateful.

Sometimes, when O-Sensei touched me, I felt my power suddenly increase. And, sometimes, when he touched me, I felt my strength drain away. When I came close to him, it sometimes seemed that my strength was absorbed. Othertimes, I felt a tremendous pressure— Always, I felt the power of the Kami flowing through him..

Training was very strict. There was no consideration or sympathy. O-Sensei changed in his later years, but when I first started, he was very strong and his arms were huge. Training with him could be terrifying. Many times, I thought I might be broken. [laughter]

You studied with O-Sensei from 1927 till the war began. Please tell us how you linked up with him after war?

I met O-Sensei again in 1949. I had not seen him for 10 years. He was 71 by then and I was about 30 years old. He had come on pilgrimage to vist the Three Mountain Shrines of Kumano, and he called me on the phone. “The old man has come,” he said. “How are you?”

I was so surprised to hear his voice. And so glad that he was still alive and well. I hurried over to the inn where he was staying on my motorcycle. He had me come inside and asked me how I was. It was a real reunion after 10 years apart. We talked on and on into the night.

Osensei said,. “Japan lost the war because the army was mistaken.”. “Until now, he said, all Budo has been for destruction, for killing. But, from now on, Budo must give joy and happiness. It must be a Budo of love.”

“Occupation HQ has forbidden Budo,” he went on, “but [General] MacArthur has just given me permission to teach Aikido. MacArthur has told me to start a dojo. So, please join me. I am going to start teaching the Budo of love. You must also build a dojo! Follow me!”

I immediately quit my business dealing timber and built a dojo here in Shingu. It was very small, just a few mats in the beginning.

Would you say that O-Sensei had changed during the war years?

Yes. His thinking about Budo had changed radically. And the way he related to people also changed. His fierce gaze had become more tender. One felt more like getting closer to him. It was as you see in photos taken in his old age. His eyes were still strict, but they were no longer so scary.

After the war, Osensei’s thinking about waza also changed enormously. Before the war, the purpose of waza had been to kill the attacker And we had practiced like that. After the war, he urged us not to attack opponents or to think of beating them up. “If you do that,” he said, “it will be the same as before. I have changed how we do everything.”

O-Sensei told us that we must give our opponents joy. To do this, he said, we must become capable of immediately sensing their ki. And, to do this, we must unify ourselves, we must unify our words, our body, and our mind. We must become one with the workings of all things in the universe — with Kami and the forces of Nature. We must bring all three things — words, body, and mind — into harmony with the workings of the universe. “If you do that,” O-Sensei said, “true Budo will be born. The Budo of destroying others will become transformed into the Budo of offering joy and compassion to others.”

After the war, did O-Sensei also change how he taught?

The method of practice was the opposite of what it had been. We no longer attacked. We looked at our partners’ ki in order to see the whole of them. From the top of their head to the tips of their toes. Not just external appearances. We needed to become able to absorb our partners’ minds.

Training this way was more difficult. We couldn’t wait for a partner to attack. We had to have the ability to instantly perceive the partner’s suki (openings) and intent to attack.Where will they strike? How will they move? We had to train to cultivate these sensing abilities in ourselves.

Now all the techniques I teach are those of the post-war period. They are the true waza of Osensei’s Aikido.

If we look at our partners, our hearts will be taken by them. Never look in their eyes. If we look in our partners’ eyes, our minds will be snatched away by their eyes. If we look at our opponent’s weapon, our ki will be stolen by that weapon. So, we must not stare at our partners.

If we are always one with the universe, one with great nature, there is no space for the opponent to attack.

When opponents do try to attack, we must not rely on form alone, but spontaneously create technique.

In the old days, when the opponent attacked, we parried the blow and drove forward. After the war, things changed. The instant the opponent raised his arm to strike, even as he was raising his arm, we were already changing position. We had to act quickly. To do it well, we had to become one with nature and move without thinking.

Another aspect of post-war Aikido was Osensei’s even greater emphasis on shinji for spiritual purification at the beginning of every practice session. He’d always begin with purification.

What is the most important lesson that you learned from O-Sensei?

First and formost, I learned from him to pray to the Kami and Buddha.

At birth, we don’t think any thoughts; babies are one with the Kami. But, as we grow up, we are taught many things, we think about many things, and in the process impurities are produced. If we can go beyond thought and be one with the Kami, we can return to Kami mind. We call this chinkon kishin. To quiet our spirit and return to the heart of the Kami. The heart of the Kami is love.

The teachings of Aikido are for the purpose of returning to the heart of the Kami and receiving the power of the Kami. Basing our actions on this foundation, we work for the peace of the world.

It is useless to argue about whether technique is modern or old. Technique is just technique. We cannot understand Aikido without studying its essential spirit, without studying how O-Sensei gave birth to Aikido.

The Way of Aikido exists to create a person who is sincere and kind — a person with a true heart. Waza exists as Aikido discipline. Through waza, we come to learn how things work. But, to put aside the spirit and do only waza will not lead to an understanding of Aikido’s heart and will not even lead to true waza. Just practicing technique will lead nowhere, no matter how many times you do it again and again.

How did O-Sensei transmit his teaching?

O-Sensei moved like a Kami. We thought we were seeing a real Kami. I therefore endeavored to absorb everything as it was — to do exactly as O-Sensei did. I wasn’t just “studying” in the ordinary sense of that word. In serving him, serving the Kami, I was receiving a spiritual transmission. That is how I received O-Sensei’s teaching.

I tried to absorb and comprehend what was happening, in the moment, as though I were O-Sensei’s mirror. This was difficult, even extraordinary, but it was my heaven sent mission. . My mission was to serve O-Sensei. For example, if he stood to go to the toilet, I jumped up and waited outside the door with a towel so that when he emerged I could immediately handed him the towel to wipe his hands. When he went into the bath, I made him tea, trying to judge the time so that the tea would be just the right temperature when he came out, not too cold, not too hot. When O-Sensei went out, and about, I walked behind him, ready for anything. It was all part of my personal trainingMy mind was always on O-Sensei. He knew that but didn’t say anything. It just happened naturally. This is true, sincere action — devotion. One mustn’t think, “Oh, he will like this: I will please him.” That is not devotion. Sincere service is service with your whole heart.

Did you spend time with O-Sensei outside the dojo?

Sure. We had all types of conversations in all kinds of settings; even in the baths we would talk, Mostly O-Sensei told stories, and I just listened. He spoke of a variety of things. Whenever I was with him, I was always paying the most intense attention.

Did O-Sensei ever relax?

Of course. O-Sensei was actually always relaxed. But he never sat cross-legged, always seiza. Outside of keiko, he would read books and talk. He always talked of spiritual matters. And the books he read, some very old, were always about the Kami. In the evenings, sometimes he’d call for a little hot sake, though by the time he was in his 70’s he didn’t drink as much as when he’d been younger.

I can remember wonderful evenings when Kubo-sensei would come over and demonstrate magic tricks for Osensei and whomever was around. Kubo-sensei was a master at sleight of hand, done up close, and Osensei enjoyed it very much.

When O-Sensei was in the Shingu area, how did he spend his days?

He would make pilgrimages to Kumano Hongu Taisha, to the Grand Shrine at Nachi Falls and the Hayatama Shrine. Once he had prayed at all three of the Mountain Shrines of Kumano, he would read books and practice Aikido.

O-Sensei kept his own schedule. Once, at 2 in the morning, he summoned me to come practice. Can you imagine, keiko at 2am. It was August 1957, the night he transmitted to me the innermost teachings of shochikubai no ken. O-Sensei had a bokken (wooden sword) made of brown biwa (loquat) wood and another, black bokken that had been given him by Mr. Shumei Okawa. . He used the black bokken, and we practiced together. It was very intense practice, with nothing but the sounds of our bokken ringing out in the night.

At a certain point, I received O-Sensei’s strike on my sword, and “bang” the tip of his bokken broke off. “Enough,” he said, and we stopped.

As I looked around for the missing 2-inches from the tip of O-Sensei’s bokken, he cried out, “Is this what you’re looking for?” and pulled the missing bokken tip out from inside his keiko gi. That was mysterious. How did the tip of the bokken get in his gi? Had he somehow reached out and caught it with his hand?What had happened? Afterall, the tip had broken off when our bokken struck each other at full speed. I was truly stunned when he pulled the missing piece from his gi.

Did you have many such amazing experiences while you were with O-Sensei?

It was all amazing.

What do you think O-Sensei was trying to teach us?

He was trying to teach us to rid ourselves of the desire to fight with our opponents, and to replace it with the desire to create harmony.

Aikido is the Budo of love.

If we harbor anger, we cannot have good relationships with one another. Our anger will infect our partners, and that must not happen. Instead, we should offer happiness and compassion. If we do that mutually, we will make harmony and become like a family.

These days, people tend to think only of themselves — of their own power, money, and so on. We must correct this. If we don’t, how can we create a true family? O-Sensei said, “I am alive to make the world one family.”

What changes did O-sensei hope to make in individual people?

O-Sensei was interested in cultivating sincere human beings.

Although he had this purpose, he never forced others to act one way or another as he understood that different people think differently. He never ordered anyone to do anything. He said that each of us must make ourselves sincere — that, while he could introduce us to the path, we would have to walk it for ourselves. “I can only explain to you what the Kami have shown me,” he would always say.

O-Sensei also told us to have a sense of gratitude, to be thankful to others and to Nature. Without humility and a grateful heart we cannot become true human beings. The sun gives us everything. Rain falls, and the field produces rice. Fruits and grains grow. These are gifts of the Earth.

The Kojiki, Japan’s oldest book, tells the story of the Kami. At first, there was nothing — no heaven, no earth, no ether. Then a point appeared in the void. We might call it The Center or The Great Power of the Kami. Clarity and purity soared high and created the pure sky. The impurities fell down to create the earth. In this way, the Kami divided heaven and earth. Then the Kami gave birth to everything on earth: plants, trees, fish, and so on. Among the best things on earth are human beings. Our function is to love everything and take care of everything for the Kami. But humans are also the ones who do wrong by destroying nature. Thus, the need for spiritual purification, so we can become able to help purify the world and create harmony.

O-Sensei was a very sincere, very pure person. His words are very important. He said that Aikido’s purpose is to create people of truth and sincerity.

Aikido is not a sport. Its goals are different from sports. There are no rules in Aikido. If Aikido becomes a sport, there will be rules, there will be over-emphasis on form and on winning. Making Aikido into a sport will lead to mistakes and carelessness. It will not lead us to the truth. If we want to find the truth, we must train with all our heart, all our strength. Aikido training should be like shinkenshobu — training in dead earnest, as if with lives blades. Aikido training should be done as carefully as though we could lose our lives with one error. Even if we are upright people, we can turn bad with a single mistake. We must be careful not to make even he smallest mistake.

Do you feel a heavy responsibility to directly transmit Osensei’s teaching?

I feel the responsibility, but it is not heavy.

I must simply convey to the world exactly what I learned from O-Sensei. That is my responsibility. So, I must say only what O-Sensei said and teach only what Osensei taught .Nothing else. I must not inject my own opinion or in any way distort the direct transmission of Osensei’s Way.

Some people have created their own techniques, eventhough they can’t yet do what O-Sensei taught. O-Sensei could stop a person with one finger. Few try to have that power; few have the desire to follow O-Sensei’s teachings completely. That is where I differ from others.
If the trend continues, O-Sensei’s waza will end with me. That mustn’t happen. As I look around the world, I think that I must do everything I can to cultivate people of sincerity. If not, O-sensei’s Aikido will end. That is my worry. That is why I travel all over the world teaching Aikido.

Of course, when I visit outside Japan, I do seminars. But these can only give an outline of Aikido. People can get a general understanding, but few can “study” as intensely as I did when I was serving O-Sensei.

My responsibility is to penetrate the spirit of Aikido and to teach O-Sensei’s lessons to as many people as possible. When I received the rank of judan [10th dan] from O-Sensei, I received O-Sensei’s direct transmission., I will be able to die peacefully only when I have been able to convey O-sensei’s teachings to all the people of the world.

My real training starts now. Although I have trained for 65 years, my real training is yet to come.

Do you have any message for students of Aikido?

I would like to ask everyone to come visit me. Unfortunately, I am too old to travel around the world anymore. Therefore, I would like to have visitors from many countries world come here to my dojo in Shingu, so that I can speak with them and they can practice true Aikido.

Any message for Aikido teachers?

I would like all Aikido instructors to talk to O-Sensei before keiko — not just to put up a photo of O-Sensei and bow to it saying onegai shimasu and arigato gozaimasu. It is important for people to show their gratitude through their actions. This will help them come to understand O-Sensei’s teachings. Form alone will not work; one must show gratitude with a pure heart. So, speak out.

O-Sensei often expressed gratitude to the Kami. He told us to look at nature to understand the working of the Kami. He told us to decide on the right path by observing the workings of the Kami everyday.

I would ask all instructors to do their utmost to unify their minds and bodies, connect with nature, and train to create great harmony.

Any final thought?

O-sensei taught that if one has a benevolent heart, one can give love. From love arises harmony — and harmony gives birth to happiness. Happiness and joy are the greatest treasures. This treasure is not gold or diamonds. It is a spiritual.

It is most important that the world become one family. It is not a matter of whether waza is strong or weak. Aikido is for the purpose of teaching that with the heart of love we can make all one family. That is Aikido’s purpose.

What I learned directly from O-Sensei is that the spirit of creating world peace comes before waza. Without that spirit, our Aikido cannot progress.

Translated by Aya Nishimoto and Laurin Herr

Recently, we uploaded a rare photograph of Aikido Founder Morihei Ueshiba that was taken in February 1969 at the Aikikai Hombu Dojo in Tokyo. This was only a few weeks before his passing on April 26. The photo was shot by Jean Greslé, a French pilot for Air France who was visiting Tokyo at the time with his wife.

These six images show Morihei in the midst of leading the class in warmup exercises. There is anecdotal evidence that suggests that Morihei adapted some of these warmup exercises from the Makko-ho system popularlized by Haruka Nagai.

The Founder took great pains to maintain his physical conditioning all of his life. This is an excellent example for both students and instructors to follow throughout their aikido careers.

Aikido Founder Morihei Ueshiba (1883-1969)

“The attraction for me, a teenager at that time, was the flashy action scenes, the cool detachment of the heroes, and the exotic language and settings. I was fast becoming a Japanophile! “

I have been asked by my staff to write about how it was that I embarked on the path that I have chosen as my life’s work. I can only say that as a young man I could never have dreamed that my life would follow the strange course it has. How did it happen that my professional career became devoted to documenting the life and times of Aikido Founder Morihei Ueshiba? It’s a question I sometimes ask myself as I recall the sequence of events that led to my connection with Japan, my beginning the practice of aikido, and the thirty years of publication of Aiki News.

You might consider it merely a romantic notion that one is predestined to follow a certain course of action or is somehow closely linked to a certain person or group. I can’t say one way or the other if this is true. However, I myself find it quite odd that I was drawn into this line of research to the extent that my travels and whereabouts and my meeting of hundreds of people over three decades have been directly influenced by the actions of Morihei Ueshiba in times past. There was no particular planning on my part to make things happen the way they have, but each small step I took along the way seemed to pull me irrevocably in a specific direction.

This having been said, let me search back through my memories to see if I can identify some of the key events that led to my embarking on the path I have chosen.

Bound by destiny to Japan before birth

When my mother was expecting me in the spring of 1945, my parents planned to call me “William” if I turned out to be a boy. All of this changed suddenly when my father’s younger brother Stanley was killed while serving in the navy in the Battle of Okinawa. Stanley became my name instead. Through this tragic occurrence, a fate shared by hundreds of thousands on all sides who paid the ultimate price, my link with Japan was forged even before my birth. I think about this event often and what it might mean and wonder if it is not somehow related to my deep ties to Japan.

Bringing home a Japanese newspaper

One of my memories as a child of 7 or 8 involves visiting the home of a Japanese-American family in my neighborhood to play with their son. Living with them, was the boy’s “bachan,” his grandmother, who spoke almost no English. She was very kind and always smiling and would often serve me ice water on hot summer days. One day Bachan showed me a Japanese newspaper that she had been reading. I was captivated by this strange writing system that appeared to a child’s eyes to be a jumble of incomprehensible symbols.

As I looked closer, I could see hundreds of little pictographs that obviously had some meaning for Japanese. The writing system seemed so complex compared to English, the only language I had been exposed to up to that point. Fascinated, I asked and was given permission to take home an old Japanese newspaper which I proudly showed my mother. I remember that I kept it as a treasure for a long time. This seemingly inconsequential event would prove to be a harbinger of events to transpire many years later as I would come to use Japanese regularly in my personal life and work.

Beginning aikido

As I lived in a multi-cultural community in southern California, there were many children of Japanese descent some of whom became my friends at school. Apart from that, I don’t recall any particular connection with Japan or things Japanese when growing up. However, that changed abruptly in the spring of 1962 when I witnessed a demonstration of a little known Japanese martial art at my high school. The martial art was of course aikido and I was duly impressed by its obvious self-defense potential and its dynamic, flowing techniques.

During the summer I had an experience where I witnessed first-hand a violent act that occurred right before my eyes and this was the trigger that pushed me to start training. My decision to study aikido proved to be a life-determining decision. I first attended a nearby Yoshinkan Aikido dojo and then, about half a year later, joined an Aikikai group that trained at the local YMCA. Regular training in aikido gradually began to transform me both physically and mentally and the art soon became the main focal point of my life.

Again fascinated by kanji

One day while attending aikido class, my teacher, Isao Takahashi Sensei, began writing Japanese characters on the blackboard to explain the principles behind the techniques we were practicing. Since I had been exposed to kanji as a child more than a decade earlier, I watched very attentively as Sensei stroked out the characters on the board accompanied by a distinct clacking sound. The rhythm used for writing Japanese was very different from that of English cursive script. The hand-drawn characters themselves were pleasing to look at as they revealed a balanced beauty and complexity. I marveled that each kanji had a concept-based meaning derived from ideograms thousand of years old in contrast to phonetically based English. I must confess that, despite my fascination, I felt not a little frustrated being unable to to read them. I promised myself that someday I would learn this language.

A screenshot from the first film of O-Sensei I ever saw!

Another occasion that proved a turning point which took place early in my training was the day that our dojo members were treated to a showing of an 8mm film of the founder of aikido, Morihei Ueshiba. It was inspiring to watch the figure of O-Sensei performing techniques for the first time. There was something markedly different about the way he moved compared to the aikido I had seen thus far. The founder’s techniques were dynamic and powerful, with a centered grace that was a beauty to behold.

Shortly thereafter, I was able to borrow the film for a time and I watched it over and over and showed it to family and friends. That movie really left a deep impression on me. It would have been too much of a leap to imagine that this very film and others I collected over the years would provide the basis for the business I was to build much later.

Through friendships I made during my first years of aikido training I became exposed to other aspects of Japanese culture. I started attending “chambara” (samurai sword-fighting) movies quite often and also saw several classics of Akira Kurosawa, many starring Toshiro Mifune, one of my early heroes. The “Samurai Trilogy” (Miyamoto Musashi) and “Red Beard” were among my favorites. Of course, the attraction for me, a teenager at that time, was the flashy action scenes, the cool detachment of the heroes, and the exotic language and settings. I was fast becoming a Japanophile!

This steady input of aikido and things Japanese led me to begin studying Japanese formally as an elective course at my university. Since there were a number of Japanese speakers at the Los Angeles dojo which I was attending at that time, I had a chance to try out a few Japanese phrases here and there and this made the aikido training and dojo experience all the more enjoyable.

Memoir of the Master

The 1963 book titled “Aikido” by Kisshomaru Ueshiba that contains the “Memoir of the Master”

Although the translated English of the text is imperfect, these paragraphs are profoundly inspiring for their moral depth and original thinking, particularly when viewed from a Western standpoint. The idea of a martial art, normally associated with fighting and violence, being conceived as a tool for peace struck a responsive chord in me for it set forth a series of ethical principles that has served as a guide for me ever since.

A couple of examples of O-Sensei’s words provide an idea of the idealistic content of “Memoir of the Master”:

“True budo is the loving protection of all beings with a spirit of reconciliation…”

“True budo is a work of love. It is a work of giving life to all beings, and not killing or struggling with each other…”

If you read through these aphorisms carefully you will realize that the founder is offering a veiled criticism of the destructive use of budo during Japan’s militaristic era. It would become apparent to me much later that the language used in “Memoir” had been edited to eliminate references to Shinto and Japan’s imperial past and “universalize” the vocabulary for consumption by a postwar readership. Many aikido schools printed up little booklets containing these paragraphs for distribution among their members. In those days, most of the aikidoka in the USA and other English-speaking countries were reading “Memoir of the Master.”

Of course I thoroughly enjoyed aikido training, but the added dimension of a strong spiritual foundation that aikido offered was deeply satisfying to me in a moral sense.

The 10th installment of the “Kawaridane Nihonjin” series published in 1966

Several years later, another incident occurred that presaged the future course of events that would lead me into the field of publishing on aikido-related topics. In the fall of 1968, I had become a doctoral student at the University of California at Berkeley. At that time. a psychology professor and aikido practitioner, Dr. Robert Frager and I taught the university aikido club jointly. Bob had spent about two years in Japan in the early 1960s and received instruction directly from O-Sensei.

Somewhere along the way, he had picked up photocopies of several articles from a series of biographical newspaper articles on the life of the founder written in Japanese. The title of this series was “Kawaridane Nihonjin” (Exceptional Japanese) and these articles were authored by a certain Kazuhiko Ikeda. These articles were extremely important because they contained the most detailed information on O-Sensei’s life available up to that point. This was before the publication of the first Morihei biography. It was clear to me from reading the texts that, even though written in journalistic style, the writer had talked extensively with O-Sensei and certainly his son Kisshomaru as well.

Bob had these articles translated into English but there were many errors in the translated texts so I decided to have a go at it myself. My Japanese wasn’t advanced enough at that stage to do the job alone, so over a period of time, I worked with a succession of Japanese friends who helped me render the texts into English. Later I located the missing articles of the series in the National Diet Library in Tokyo on my first trip to Japan in 1969. It took me until about 1972 to get everything translated, but those 17 articles about Morihei Ueshiba were the seed that eventually bloomed into my little newsletter “Aiki News” which first appeared in April 1974.

Relocating to Japan

A Japanese typewriter similar to the one I used for the early bilingual issues of Aiki News

Starting in the late 1970s I began systematically interviewing the early aikido pioneers who studied with the founder before and soon after the war. Issues of Aiki News were centered around these interviews. Each number contained an interview, an editorial, and a technical series until the early 80s when, little by little, we started adding more content.

Ikuko Kimura, today the Editor-in-chief of Dou joined my staff about 1982 and has worked continuously since that time being the person most responsible for the present form of the transformed Aiki News.

From magazines to books and events

The mid-1980s were important times for Aiki News because we began we began publishing books on aikido and sponsoring events such as the Friendship Demonstrations held between 1985-1988. Through such activities we were gradually able to enlarge our sphere of influence in the aikido world and produce a constant stream of information on the life and work of Morihei Ueshiba to an international audience.

Relevance of history

Throughout my professional career there have been from time to time people who have voiced a criticism of our emphasis on research into the founder Morihei Ueshiba and related historical subjects. Their thinking goes something like this: why do you spend a disproportionate amount of time researching O-Sensei and his early students when all of these people are long dead and belong to the past? Aikido is a dynamic art that has spread all over the world and there are many masters today who are more worthy of attention. Why don’t you spend your time focusing on them and what is happening today?

My response to this line of thinking goes as follows: to be sure, the founder and his contemporaries are long gone, but they lived their primes during a tumultuous era of Japan when those training in the martial arts faced the looming specter of war. These people who stared death in the face, even as civilians, with the endless bombing raids of World War II, lived to tell us their first hand experiences of the horrors of warfare and its devastating consequences. Those who live their lives under such conditions had a different view of the world and they approached their study of the martial arts with a sense of purpose born of necessity.

In contrast, the modern generation have, for the most part, lived during peaceful times. Their aikido has been influenced by the ubiquitous sports mentality where martial arts either tend to be regarded as competitive activities for the young or as leisure activities for the general population. Neither setting produces the same seriousness of intent or focus of earlier generations exposed to physical danger.

Also, as I have repeatedly pointed out in previous articles, aikido was “defanged” after the war due to a backlash in Japanese society against any institution or activity associated with the nation’s military past. A softer, even casual mentality came to become accepted as the norm for aikido practice. While such an approach to training may develop physical fitness and provide pleasant social interaction, it doesn’t not develop serious martial artists. It is for these reasons that I have been so strongly drawn to the founder, his contemporaries, and the turbulent times in which they lived.

There is another observation I would like to make for those who fail to see the relevance of history. Consider this: any information that reaches us is, in a fundamental sense, already part of the past. We regard something that took place a few days ago or even a few years ago as “contemporary,” and events that have taken place decades, centuries or millennia ago as “historical.” However, I would submit that the distinction is arbitrary and that what really matters is the quality and usability of the information we process rather than its chronological age.

For example, a news report about a recent event might be inaccurate and misleading and be of little value. In contrast, an historical account of a happening that occurred long ago might be skillfully written and eminently usable in the sense that it gives the reader deep insight into the minds of men, their actions and their institutions. If the content speaks to universal principles of human action, it is always of relevance regardless of age. If not, it is just meaningless noise.

Of course, none of this implies that it is not worthwhile to document outstanding contemporary practitioners of the art and we have and will continue to do so. But neither does it imply that we should neglect and relegate the founder and aikido’s early luminaries to the wastebin of history. Somewhere in between lies the balance.

Where do we go from here?

Personally, much of my field work in Japan has been completed as I have spent more than 30 years retracing the footsteps of Morihei Ueshiba. At the present time I am in the midst of organizing the mountain of material I have collected over the years looking for new insights and perspectives that will help to better explain the epic work of O-Sensei in the creation of aikido.

As we are now in an Internet age, most of my personal output is in electronic form through the Aikido Journal website as opposed to printed media. The ease and rapidity with which it is possible to reach out to a worldwide audience through the Internet has created a true revolution in our times. It is my intention to continue availing myself of this wonderful new tool and continue to tell this eternal story.

This article appeared in Japanese in “Dou Magazine” about 2005 and was never published in English.

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The Morihei Ueshiba Founder’s Course is O-Sensei’s video legacy starting in 1935 and covering a span of 34 years until just before his passing in 1969. Besides the more than 30 films of the Founder, the course includes three rare audio interviews of O-Sensei with complete subtitles. These are wonderfully intimate conversations with the Founder that convey his bright personality, playfulness and sincerity. In addition, the course includes a series of video documentaries by Stanley Pranin on the life of the Founder and the spread of his art worldwide.

Click here to see Morihei Ueshiba in action!