A quote: "...many people in North America assume that one can learn koryu by training at the occasional seminar. Not true. What one learns at such seminars is only physical technique (and then only in the most superficial way). Learning koryu, though, is much more encompassing than mere waza. It includes the history, the "personality" of the ryu, all the undefined little things that make each ryu different and unique."
Meik Skoss, author of the above, is someone for whom I have enormous respect, even though I don't think he likes me very much. He demands a high degree of commitment from his students, and, as a result, does not have many. But they are among the very best I have ever seen outside Japan (and do better than more than a few I have seen in Japan, for that matter). Years ago, he and I had some similar online discussions - he contended the only way to study a real koryu was in Japan, and I countered that if one had a teacher sufficiently versed in traditional culture even outside Japan, students should be able to get a more in-depth understanding of not only what they were doing, but why. Eventually, we met on this common ground, perhaps in part because he is now teaching in the US, and can't very well advocate for what he himself is doing if he insists it can't be done outside the Old Country.
What brings this subject up is something that recently took place with a teacher from Japan and my old dojo. This teacher is/was my teacher (can't really tell at this point if he is a former teacher or not). I introduced him to my old dojo, and subsequently, yadda yadda yadda. I am no longer there, and have only seen him in Japan or occasionally attempting to train outside the honbu under circumstances that could be described as constrained at best. He comes to the states once or twice a year, goes to Europe once a year, and, last I heard, is working on his debut in Brazil. The ranks of students is growing (at least, outside Japan), and I assume life is good. But what is he teaching, and what are people actually learning, from the workshops?
To address Meik's comment, we need to consider whether iai is koryu or not. The answer is both yes and no. There are some reliably old styles that include the characteristic drawing and resheathing that is part of the definition of iai as opposed to kenjutsu - Tamiya Ryu for one, Shinto Hatakage Ryu for another, as far as we can determine. Some styles are later - Muso Shinden Ryu and its cousins, for example, reliably date from the 19th century and are perhaps more post-Meiji than pre-Meiji, even though their forebears are older. Some styles, like the one the above-mentioned teacher heads up, are brand new. (Specifically, the style broke off from its main branch about 5 years ago, and even the main line had a fuzzy history in the first place.)
If a style fits into this more recent category, and is not technically "koryu," but instead only dredges up echoes of a medieval past, does cultural context matter? Or is physical understanding all that counts?
I have always considered iai in general to be a koryu practice, even if specific ryuha do not date back to the Sengoku Jidai. In that case, as I argued to Meik many years ago, I think cultural understanding of iai is imperative to understanding the practice. Groups such as the ZNKR are busy dragging iai practice into the present, with modern-designed forms and competitions based on physical expertise alone. But while one may become proficient physically (and be physically rewarded for it) one misses a great deal of what iai offers by confining oneself to this level alone. My teacher Otani Sensei understood this, and in his visits to the dojo (or my visits to him when illness prevented his active participation at okeiko) he tried to impart it. Out of respect for his teaching, I also made history and military strategy a part of my practice, as well as - yes - taking seminars in other koryu in order to gain a superficial understanding of what else was out there in the milieu of martial practices of the time.
So, it's not that you can't learn anything from a workshop - I learned a great deal, even if I did not learn that much physical technique. However, you can't learn anything much in depth. Without a competent teacher to lead students to a deeper level, there isn't much left after the master teacher goes home, except to argue technical points, like whether the angle of the sword should be 30 degrees or 35 degrees from plumb. Even a physically competent teacher is shortchanging his students if the deeper level of training is ignored. Does it matter? Obviously, it depends on what people want from their practice. In the case I noted above, "iaido lite" seems to work just fine for everyone concerned, or at least that is how it appears. It is possible that the teacher wishes the foreign students had more interest in the cultural aspects of practice, but he is still willing to teach them kata - and take the fame and recognition (and cash) - even if they don't.
Everyone who walks in my door gets a constant cultural/historical stream of information, whether they like it or not. To me, it is part of the practice as much as anything else. I like to cite the example of newbie students getting to cut makiwara for the first time. Anyone can do this with about 10 minutes of instruction. No kidding - show her the grip, position her feet so she doesn't cut her leg, put her in front of the target at the right distance and step way, way back from her. Then, let 'er fly! But to gain some real understanding of the technique - where did this come from? Aside for the cool factor, why do people still do it? What does it mean? That takes time, along with training with a teacher who gets at least a certain sense of the background of the practice and can impart it to others.
If, however, your local teacher's cultural understanding only reaches to the level of pop culture and anime (or, worse, exists in some fantasy world of his own), don't lose heart - you can always go after that deeper knowledge for yourself. After all, Otani Sensei tried, but only the people who were willing to hear him got any further than skin deep. The opposite can therefore be true. Save your bucks and go to the honbu and find out for yourself. After that, hang out with the sempai. Wander around the countryside. Visit some historic areas. Learn some of the language. Read some books. Repeat for the rest of your life. Don't simply wait for the Big Kahuna's next world tour.
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