An Uchideshi Experience: Chapter Four
On Seibukan Jujutsu
Seibukan Jujutsu was designed by Sensei Julio Toribio to be the art that he would have liked to have studied as a young practitioner. Consequently, it’s a welcome addition to the world martial arts, with a unique structure that can produce enormous growth in a comparatively short period of time. Everything he believes a quality martial artist should know is included in the system, gathered from his experience as a 7th degree black belt in Hakko-Ryu Jujutsu (Sandaikichu), a 5th degree black belt in Aikikai Aikido, a 2nd degree black belt in Okinawan Kempo Karate, a 6th degree black belt in Enshin Itto Ryu Batto Jutsu (iaido), and a 10th degree black belt in Bujinkan Budo Taijutsu (ninjutsu).
Seibukan Jujutsu was partially formed as a reaction to Hakko-Ryu Jujutsu and aikido, both being direct descendants of Daito-Ryu Aiki-Jujutsu. He had completed all the technical requirements in both systems, and thought it necessary to utilize a tight structure in his new art, in order to deliver to students the techniques he had mastered in the most efficient way possible.
When Seibukan was created, it sought to go beyond the rigid all-kata structure of Hakko-Ryu, while still avoiding what Sensei saw as a pitfall of modern aikido training. He felt aikido classes were a bit too nebulous and the structure provided for students wasn’t clear enough in guiding them to their next level. He noted how a martial system could hinder the progress of students who would have been ready to move on if the structure itself focused more on progress rather than on perfection.
One of the core ideas in his philosophy was that in technical systems you aren’t able to fully digest and understand a level until after you’ve passed it. In other words, once you’ve become proficient at the skills of a particular level, don’t hang out for a few months waiting for a mandatory time period to expire. Move on to the next level because: 1) There’s so much more to learn, and 2) Now you have a better perspective on the skills you’ve recently acquired in your former level. Far too often people can’t see the forest for the trees, and feel they don’t really understand when their level of proficiency is perfectly acceptable. Perfection is never going to happen, so if you pass through and keep training, you’ll progress more quickly than if you stagnate at the same level while aiming for an unrealistic level of proficiency. Jujutsu is about efficiency, and wasting time is anything but.
There are seven dan levels in Seibukan, each with its own unique kata, each meant to be learned and experienced by students, and three final non-technical dan levels reserved for instructors of the system, awarded for contributions to the art. Sensei set out to abolish the concept of “hidden” techniques by creating a system without secrets, where students are allowed to receive inspiration from witnessing upper level kata and demonstrations. Those “secret” techniques and concepts he directly paid thousands upon thousands of dollars for (not to mention the expense of flying to and training in Japan as mandated by tradition), he now offers his students in Seibukan.
This system has been called many things: Old style/Pre-World War II jujutsu, aiki-jujutsu, “sophisticated aikido,” et cetera. Whatever you choose to call it, it’s a thorough, well-organized, and highly structured system founded on the offspring of Daito-Ryu Aiki-Jujutsu, that manages to link the effectiveness of aiki techniques to modern-day applications.
Five kyu levels must be passed before a student receives a Shodan. The concepts of kotegaeshi (wrist turn), shodan osae (straight-arm pin), nihonage osae (two-corner shoulder throw), nage (projections), and otoshi (body drops, what judo would call nage) must be sequentially mastered. Twelve bokken suburi (exercises with a wooden practice sword), a 40-movement jo kata, 10 basic knife defenses, katana-waza (using the hilt of the sword to defend against disarm attempts), bokken goshinjutsu (sword takeaways), jo goshinjutsu (staff defense), and gun disarms are some of the weapon skills that must be demonstrated.
Hand-to-hand proficiency is shown through kata (pre-arranged techniques), tai sabaki (a body movement exercise designed to teach students how to execute techniques with minimal resistance and effort), and several forms of henka (variations on techniques, similar to randori), including tachi (standing), hantachi (half-standing; defender is kneeling, attackers are standing), suwari (defender and attacker both kneeling), newaza (ground defense), and isu no henka (chair defense).
All successive levels are equally dense, and the upper levels have much in store. Nidan focuses on nidan osae (similar to aikido’s nikyo), and introduces a beautiful sword kata. Sandan uses sandan osae (similar to sankyo), and after adding even more sword work, requires proficiency in the use of the hanbo (short stick about the length of a cane), for both offensive and defensive purposes. This completes the first triangle in Seibukan. Shodan,Nidan, and Sandan have established the jujutsu foundation which the upper aiki levels will rest upon.
Yondan focuses on a single principle, yondan osae (similar to yonkyo), and serves as the bridge between the jujutsu and the aiki-jujutsu, connecting the triangle of Shodan, Nidan, and Sandan to the Shihan levels of Godan (Shihan Dai), Rokudan (Shihan), and Nanadan (Menkyo Kaiden Shihan) with their emphasis on self-mastery. The weapon of Yondan is the knife, and methods of knife retention if any of the Shodan knife defenses are attempted are taught at this level.
Godan rounds out the student’s knowledge by moving away from the traditional wrist pin syllabus of many aiki schools and practicing armbars, kneebars, and chokes. The weapon studied during this time is the infamously versatile rope (this was Sensei’s favorite weapon for missions when he was an Airborne Ranger). Rokudan uses the tanbo (a stick 12 to 14 inches in length), introduces rokudan osae (often called gokyo in Aikido), and then adds shoulder locks to the practitioner’s arsenal.
Nanadan, the final technical level, exposes the student to the “dark side” of the art. Nanadan Osae is one more technique and principle among the many a student must have already mastered to get to this completion of technical training, and aspects of the dark side that are taught include pressure points, vital areas, knockout blows, and psychological distractions.
I found that transitioning from Aikido to Seibukan was very easy. The movements and techniques are closely related; however, they are not the same. The movements in Seibukan are more direct, the circles tighter, and connection is more immediate. A good example to contrast between the styles is aikido’s shihonage (four-corner throw) and Seibukan’s nihonage (two-corner throw).
Typically, as an opponent attacks with a right-handed strike (like a haymaker), the aikido student deftly steps off the line to the right (outside of the power stroke), catches the arm, and pulls uke off balance to his front balance point. From there, the student quickly spins under the arm while standing, then throws his partner to the ground by bringing the attacker’s wrist back to his own shoulder.
Seibukan’s version begins with the same attack, a right-handed side strike, but instead of stepping off the line, the student remains on the line, plows straight in, and unbalances uke to his rear balance point while delivering a strike to the face. Borrowing this moment of disorientation, the student catches the arm, spins under the arm while dropping to his knee, and throws him to the ground as the attacker’s wrist goes back to his own shoulder. Then the student puts their shin on the attacker’s rib cage for immobilization (while simultaneously affecting an energy meridian), cranks on his wrist, and chokes them with “L” shaped portion of the pointer finger and thumb.
Sensei told me a story about using this technique in Iwama, Japan, while training in aikido as an uchideshi. Apparently, some of the students give a hard time to others of lower rank over there (I think Sensei was a Sandan at the time), and will “freeze” them out during a technique. Most people that have trained in aikido have had this happen at one time or another, as I know I certainly have. Your practice partner offers resistance at a certain point in the technique, essentially stopping you, just to impart the message that “your techniques won’t work on me” or “you don’t know the secret to making it happen.” This stuff occurs now and then, but the Japanese guy training with Sensei was being particularly difficult. So the next time he froze Sensei out during yokomen uchi shihonage, Sensei dropped to his knee (disappearing from the guy’s peripheral vision), cranked down on his wrist, and tossed him to the floor. The guy got up and didn’t know what had just happened to him, but suddenly realized that maybe he shouldn’t be freezing people out, especially with this gaijin.
All kinds come to the dojo. Warriors and pacifists, blue and white collar, physical specimens and the physically challenged. Seibukan has something for all of them. After all, a lot of people aren’t really interested in combat effectiveness. They just want some exercise, a clean and friendly social environment, and a fascinating discipline they can devote themselves to. If they are interested in combat effectiveness, then Seibukan can also serve them; however, other training will be necessary for them develop the attributes of a fighter and to realize how much repetition is actually necessary for an instinctive application of a technique. Usually though, if a person is really concerned with activating the techniques, a little research will bear out what’s necessary, and these are the people willing to undergo the additional training.
Sensei allows the students to choose whether or not they feel that additional training is needed by providing a framework of techniques, and focuses on passing on those specific skills and knowledge during class time. If students want to get stronger, or learn how to develop additional speed and power in their punching and kicking techniques, then they can do that on their own, and are encouraged to do so. It’s such a dense art that Sensei could do nothing but teach variations on the 108 techniques of the system and never exhaust them in his lifetime. In a sense, Seibukan is a purely technical system, as he leaves attribute development (speed, strength, flexibility, aggressiveness, etc…) up to the individual practitioner.
One of the most controversial aspects of Seibukan Jujutsu is its ranking system. It is possible for students to receive their Shodan after one year of training. On the surface, this may seem to be a difficult thing to swallow, but just because it’s possible for students to receive their Shodan after one year, that doesn’t mean that they’ll automatically get it. Most don’t, and many take several years. But, there are exceptional people in this world, so why punish those that are most capable of inspirational progress by instituting long waiting periods?
A retort to this may be, “Then why have any restrictions at all? Why not let people advance as quickly as they can?” Well, burnout would be a big factor. There’s so much information that a student would be overwhelmed unless a pace were established. If you tried to learn a foreign language as quickly as you could, without any external pacing, you would most likely absorb a mediocre amount before giving up. Why? Because a large, complex goal like learning a language first requires a number of short-term and intermediate goals to be met, eventually culminating in verbal fluency. You can’t learn it all in one night.
Look at what universities do if you want to learn Japanese. They set you up in a basic Japanese class, paced on a quarter or semester system, then have the next goal established as Japanese 2. That system doesn’t want students to “perfect” the basics learned in Japanese 1 for a couple of years before allowing new information to come in. That would be a very inefficient use of time, since those elementary skills will automatically be reinforced as new material builds on the old. Sure, basics will always get better over time if they’re continually practiced, but the understanding of what those basics are deepens and unfolds as more advanced skills are acquired, and the student can now see how the basics relate to the whole in a new context and perspective.
After finishing a basic Japanese class, if you found yourself dropped in the middle of Tokyo, you could probably survive with the language skills you had acquired, even if you didn’t go much further than hopping on a train, finding a hotel room, and ordering some food. Seibukan Jujutsu is the same way. At Shodan, the basic skills and fundamental principles learned will serve you well, but that’s just the beginning. There are seven dan levels, each one building on former ranks passed, and all students are encouraged to progress and explore the system at their own pace.
While some might think this is another American bastardization of the Japanese ranking system, I disagree. If anything, it is preserving and awarding ranks in a very traditional sense. Sensei didn’t come up with the custom of yearly promotions by himself. He merely continued the Hakko-Ryu tradition of eligibility for annual dan promotions, while substantially increasing the amount of knowledge and skills required on the syllabus for each dan level, as well as implementing more stringent standards.
In Seibukan, you cannot simply learn the kata for Godan and receive your Shihan certificate, or jump two ranks in one year by doing back-to-back kata, no matter how much money is offered. Sensei is very protective of the standards he has established, and so far, no one has kept pace with the possible, testing for every rank as soon as they’re eligible. A few people have risen rapidly up through Sandan, but after they hit that bridge (Yondan) to the aiki-jujutsu levels of mastery, progress tends to slow down. There’s just too much to know.
Let’s contrast this with another of my martial experiences: I received my Shodan in Judo in less than a year, in Japan, and my certificate came straight from the Kodokan. How is that possible? It’s actually quite simple: I fought for it.
It’s a beautiful thing, really. There was a written test for the rules, a kata requirement, and a point total amassed from tournament wins. The point total was, in fact, the real test for Shodan. Actually, it was challenging enough to where I almost didn’t get it.
I was pretty enthusiastic when I joined the Judo club at my Japanese high school. After I had learned ukemi, and was finally allowed on the mat, I sparred with Ichikawa (our team captain) during the first day of practice. It was, by all accounts, a total massacre. I had no idea what he was doing; all I knew was that every time I grabbed him, I wound up on the ground. Immediately, I got up to repeat the process, while Ichikawa smiled. He liked the fact that I didn’t give up, even though the situation was hopeless. To me, it felt like he was throwing me easily, effortlessly, almost at will. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat! The only thing I knew for sure was, whatever it was that he was doing, it was magic, and I wanted that same kind of power.
Looking back on it now, I realize that I had a potent combination of factors going for me, the kind of combination that can create success in almost any athletic endeavor. I was motivated, almost hungry to eat pain, fairly strong, youthfully supple, and most importantly, relatively fearless/ignorant. I had no idea how a bad fall could make you long for a chiropractor, or what the semi-orgasmic feeling of a good neck adjustment was like. How could I? At 16 years old, your body heals instantly, and nothing gets out of whack. I may be looking back with a rosy perspective, but there’s no denying a young body can joyously take the kind of abuse that I’m too old/smart to take today.
I trained really hard the first four or five months, and tasted immediate success as I rolled through my opponents each month at the local shiai (competition). I was stronger than most of the Japanese players, and taller as well (which has its own advantages and disadvantages in this sport), so I started skipping practices and coasting on my natural abilities.
The way the promotional system worked was that to be moved up, I had to obtain points by beating a certain number of practitioners in competition who were equally ranked. Then, I had to beat an increasing number of opponents who were also at my new rank to go further. It didn’t dawn on me while I was goofing off that the competition I was now going to be facing was far more skilled than anything I’d experienced thus far. Soon enough I’d understand.
I showed up at the next shiai not having practiced a whole lot, especially in the two weeks prior. I don’t feel like delving too deeply into this, but let’s just say that each time I stepped on the mat that day, I had my ass handed to me in a very thorough and complete manner. One of the gentlemen from my Rotary club who came to see me in action felt pity for me and took me under his wing. Mr. Natsumi had been an excellent judo player in his youth, only losing once in his competition career, and clearly saw that I was in need of tutelage.
I went home to my host family and they, of course, asked how it went. I told them that I didn’t want to talk about it. I’m sure that my host father and Mr. Natsumi convened at the next Rotary meeting to discuss a remedy. Shortly after, Mr. Natsumi was picking me up at the house after my club judo practice and taking me to the community dojo to train with more bodies. He encouraged me to bow to the most formidable master there, Igami Shoten, for sparring, who easily deflected my best attacks and casually threw me at will.
This man was so thick, strong, and skilled (I know he was at least a sixth dan) that I, realistically, had no chance. If I were to hold both my hands flat, palms together, maybe they would equal one of his hands. Still, he took a liking to me, and soon after, Mr. Natsumi was also taking me to Igami Shoten’s home dojo for his classes, on top of the community dojo schedule, and daily school practices. Without fail, after every training session, Mr. Natsumi would treat me to a cold soda or ice cream. Because of his kindness, things really started to click in my training.
That was the first time I realized how much better you could get when you trained constantly, every day, and planted the dream seed of becoming an uchideshi. Since I was training like a madman, I started winning again at the tournaments, and I eventually amassed enough points by the end of the year to receive my Shodan.
It’s almost elegant in its simplicity. You train; you fight. If you win, you advance. If you lose, you don’t advance, and there’s not much you can do about it except train harder and try again. It’s very cut and dried. My point is this: if it’s possible to receive your Shodan in less than a year from one of the world’s most reputable martial organizations against live, noncooperative opponents, then what’s the problem with the possibility of receiving the same rank in a less physically demanding, technical art?
What defines Seibukan, Hakko-Ryu, and aikido as technical systems is the fact that your partner or opponent is not fully resisting. You are not fighting, you are not sparring, you’re learning movements and martial options according to a variety of situations. You are amassing information and practicing courses of action. This doesn’t necessitate any kind of attribute development. If you want the techniques to work on the street, of course you’ll want to foster strength, speed, and aggressiveness. But if you’re studying the art for the art’s sake, then why should you have to hang out for a couple of years repeating the same nonresistant exercises? Learn what’s required, and then move on, because it’s amazing how much more there is to know if you want to be a well-rounded martial artist.
The ranking structure is just one example of how Seibukan is a middle ground in the realm of martial arts. Get too stingy with rank and people who haven’t seen it in a while build it up to something it’s not, or simply lose interest in learning what it takes to get to the next level. Get too political with rank and people either get sycophantic, or more commonly, they just get pissed off and leave. Award rank spontaneously, or without common standards, and people are puzzled and left without a definite goal.
Seibukan is both a budo (martial way) and bujutsu (martial science). The three fundamental principles of its philosophy: Awareness, Assessment, and Action, can easily be transferred beyond the dojo and applied in real world settings. It also has a healing art, Seikendo, but most importantly (in my opinion), Seibukan has an excellent method of providing smooth transition between the strong aiki foundations of the kata and free-form application. The kata serve as a repository of knowledge, which preserves the fighting technology for future generations, but unless there’s a delivery system in place to segway between the prearranged and the spontaneous, that transition will be rocky, unless the student is unusually gifted. Sensei came up with an exercise called tai sabaki (body movement) which acts as an intermediate step between kata and henka, and allows students to practice different ways of “finding” their way into various techniques from a series of prearranged attacks. Such logical, organized, and sequential methods allow for clear, distinguishable progress and a feeling of empowerment when students realize that actual improvement has occurred.
Seibukan Jujutsu is an art that can be studied as a physical discipline and/or as an intellectual challenge. It is an attractive option for seasoned martial artists looking for an avenue to cross-train in, since it delivers what they’re looking for without wasting time. Consequently, people have come from all over the world to study at Seibukan dojo, from an array of martial disciplines, looking to add to what they already know in the most efficient way possible. Strikers can combine their expertise with follow-up joint locks and throws; grapplers discover that the same principles that are so effective on the ground can also be applied standing up, possibly eliminating the need to go there; and law enforcement officials find control and arrest techniques compliant to their code of conduct.
Opening the book of knowledge for all to see is also a test, in its own way. Since the “secrets” Sensei learned have now been aired in Seibukan, and the fighting technology is presented in an open fashion, the appeal of the art diminishes for some who longed for the exclusiveness of those “hidden” techniques and the resulting perceived power. The funny thing is, all of that information is still there, except now the veil’s been removed, and students are allowed to see the bride for who she really is, instead of what we’ve imagined her to be. If that’s what you’re looking for, clear techniques based on a solid aiki-jujutsu foundation, presented in an organized manner, with modern-day applications, Seibukan Jujutsu may be for you. If you’re looking for something else, there are a lot of other arts that can probably suit your needs.
Of course, I can only speak for myself, but being an uchideshi and gaining entrance to view the full spectrum of Seibukan, in all its richness and complexity, quelled my fears of an inefficient investment in an art. The time I spent living in the dojo under Sensei’s eye was managed wisely, with a high rate of return, so I can honestly attest that every calorie expended, and every injury endured, was well worth the effort. At least in this area of my life, at least in one area of my life, I have no regrets about the path I picked, or the vehicle I rode along the way.