I train in a style of budo where I am a relative beginner - jodo. Jodo began, depending on what you read, as a police art that pits someone employing a short stick against a sword-wielding opponent. Policemen in Japan still train in both modern and old-style jo. As common as it is there, however, it is not very well-known in the U.S.
I actually started jodo practice many years ago. In those days, we would go to the dojo and do whatever the sempai on the floor that night decided to do. Practice could be anything, from solo iai kata, to kumidachi practice, to whatever someone picked up at a random seminar over the previous weekend; whether empty-hand stuff or god knows what. No one complained, because (1) it was all cool, and (2) we knew our dojo at the time was the best (and almost only) place around to get the stuff we were doing. In those days, our only referent, besides Black Belt magazine (where our teacher had been written up a few times) was fight choreography in samurai movies. So we did a little bit of everything from time to time.
One little bit of koryu at the time was jodo. One of the sempai was very interested in practicing what little he had learned from our teacher (who, as it turned out, knew quite a bit), so we hauled all of our equipment to the dojo week after week, just to hit each other with sticks. I have to admit I didn't like it very well. It's surprising how awkward one can feel with a 4-1/2 foot long, 1.25 inch diameter, utterly featureless pole in one's hands. Also, as we stumbled through the first half of the standard set, I just found myself not believing that any of this would work. I mean, the opponent is wielding a 3-foot razor, and the defender has this wooden stick. It seemed crazy. So, when things changed and the enthusiastic sempai moved on, we found we still had plenty to do without jodo. This situation prevailed until about 11-12 years ago, when my teacher invited me to come meet him for lunch. He was in failing health then, and he asked me to come alone.
As usual with sensei, I couldn't rush him into anything. We had lunch. We had tea. We talked about this and that. Finally, he reached for a shopping bag he had brought with him. He pulled out a large, old book written in Japanese. It was Shimizu's big jodo book. He said, "This is for you. It is not for the dojo. It's for you alone. I want you to study jodo. Please find a teacher."
So I did. There was really no one in our area (and it's the NYC area, so that's saying something) who knew jodo at the time. Regular instruction was not a possibility; so I did the next best thing - I tapped a friend who was a sandan in Kendo Federation jodo. He lived almost halfway across the country, but, at the time, we had a little money in the kitty to spend on an air ticket from time to time. Also, since he wasn't a big kahuna, we didn't have to pay him like one - spending money, dinners and some entertainment was enough; and one of the dojo members at the time had a place where he could crash. As a special bonus, every now and then his business would involve a trip to NYC. When this happened, I rented extra time at the studio where we practiced and everyone who was available was able to take advantage of his presence.
Things changed again and I found myself on my own. This was a great disadvantage on many levels, but eventually it presented me with an opportunity. Instead of jodo being some auxiliary practice, I was able to make it into a separate workshop class. We have the resource of my old friend, as well as another, more senior practitioner on the east coast, and a relationship with a dojo in Japan. I still have no ranking in jodo. The class is a workshop where we are all learning kata together. Jodo is not a solo art form, like iai. Even with the visual aids available today, jodo is a partner art form. Not only can you not learn it off the Interwebs, you also cannot learn it by yourself, no matter how much you try. Hence the workshop format, overseen by various senior jodoka.
And I learned a few things; for example, that as well-meaning as my old sempai was, he really didn't understand jodo. I don't consider this his fault; he never practiced it enough to realize how much give-and-take is involved in the kata. This back-and-forth with a partner is how one learns to be an effective jodoka. And this simple, 4-1/2 foot pole is actually very difficult to learn, involving time and space considerations that change with every new partner. Once I realized that, I realized that it wasn't that jodo was ineffective; I was ineffective, because I didn't have enough experience to understand it. Even though I have spent almost 30 years in budo (and a few before that as a western-style fencer), I get to feel the frustration of the beginner, along with the sense of little triumphs when a technique "miraculously" works the way it's supposed to. Some practices are great and some are simply tiring. As the workshop leader, I sometimes get confused about one kata or another, but it's all right because as little as I know, everyone else knows less. Progress this way is slow, but it is steady.
So, my teacher, who changed my life in so many ways all those years ago, continues to change my life now.
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