Rodrigo Kong had experienced aiki-based arts before but nothing like he felt when he trained with Shogen Okabayashi during a seminar in New York City. Totally enamored, Kong traveled to Japan to learn more about Daito-ryu and its aiki. Since returning from Japan, he has established his Yushinkan NYC and continued to train and teach Daito-ryu. Today, Kong took some time to talk about some of the vaguely defined aspects of Daito-ryu. All images provided by Rogrido Kong. This is the second part of a two part interview. Read the first part here.
MAYTT: How are you defining or using the word “intention” in this context?
RK: By Intent, I mean goal or purpose. When I train, I should have a goal or purpose in mind. It could be very specific and concrete, like “I want to practice keeping my elbows in”. It could be more general, like “I need to relax more.” Perhaps it’s keeping the goal of a kata front and center in my mind, like reminding myself that Gyaku Ude Dori is about the armbar. Or it could be metaphorical or abstract, like “imagine waterjets coming out of your fingers,” or “you must go down to bring uke up.” Or maybe it’s even more abstract, like telling myself simply, “expand” or just holding onto a particular feeling. Or perhaps my intention might be to have no conscious thought at all, and to just be present and move.
The point is, intention directs and coordinates the body and mind to work as one. In the end that’s one of my big goals: no lag from thought to action, no extraneous movements or thoughts. My mind and body move as one.
Choosing when to use concrete, general, or abstract intent is important. When first acquiring a skill, it’s a good idea to keep one’s intent concrete, in order to focus on the mechanics of the movement. Once that is learned, one can shift the intent to more abstraction. The more abstract the intent, the more it focuses the learner on the feel or flow of a movement, on the qualitative attributes that are hard to measure or to describe.
MAYTT: To paraphrase, intention is the kind of mindset that the practitioner has at that moment.
RK: Yes and no. In this case, intention is the goal or purpose, it’s not the mindset. The mindset is the mental attitude or disposition of the learner. In our dojo, we try to create a mindset of continual improvement, one where we strive to improve at every training session, one where we have the courage to let go of what we think we know if something more effective comes along. To do this, for each session, or even for each technique, we practice with a specific intent or goal in mind. So with this mindset of continual improvement, we are constantly employing intent (defining purpose or setting goals). Does that make sense? This idea of intention should not be confused with the mindfulness or the meditation concept of intention, although in some ways I suppose it is related.
MAYTT: Thank you for that. If you were speaking to a person who had no knowledge of Daito-ryu, how would you explain the art to them?
RK: Daito-ryu is a traditional Japanese jujutsu. Jujutsu is a hand-to-hand combat method, often empty handed, and was one of the fundamental martial skills of the warrior class of Japan. Unlike modern jujutsu styles that often involve ground grappling, Daito-ryu focuses on maintaining a standing position while throwing or pinning opponents on the ground.
Daito-ryu employs a wide range of joint locking, pinning, and throwing techniques. One of the distinguishing characteristics of Daito-ryu is the incorporation of Aiki, which for simplicity, I’d describe as techniques and strategies designed to maximize the efficiency and effectiveness of movement while conserving one’s own energy.
The format of instruction in Daito-ryu is that of Koryu. Transmission of knowledge is primarily one-on-one, teacher (or senior member) to learner, in a framework of deliberate practice through two-person kata. There are no tournaments or sparring.
MAYTT: In the same conversation, how would you differentiate Daito-ryu from aikido?
RK: I’ve never really practiced Aikido, so my response is based on very limited hands-on exposure, conversations with aikidoka, reading, and my own personal inferences. Since Daito-ryu was the major technical antecedent of Aikido, there are many similarities between the two arts. As we talked about earlier, often the Japanese will use the term Aikido or Aikijujutsu interchangeably, highlighting this close relationship. There are some Daito-ryu and Aikido techniques that are so similar that a casual observer might confuse the two. More importantly, strategically, I think both arts seek the same goal: for people not to fight, for people to live in harmony.
However, where they diverge is in their underlying purpose and intent. Aikido, as conceived by its founder Morihei Ueshiba, was intended to serve as a martial art focused on fostering harmony and unity among practitioners. It was designed to be practiced together for specific reasons beyond mere combat effectiveness. On the other hand, Daito-ryu has retained its status as a koryu bujutsu, emphasizing the development of martial skill and effectiveness in combat scenarios.
The major difference between the two are, in my opinion, how they achieve this goal and what is emphasized along the way. Regarding Aikido, again just as an observer, I would speculate that the practice itself has been optimized so that people can experience the harmonization of energy together. One example of this is the format of practicing techniques, particularly the ending. Again, just as an observer, many Aikido standing techniques seem to end with Uke being thrown away from Tori. This allows Uke to roll safely, stand, and then attack again. Attack, roll, stand, repeat. I would imagine this creates a platform for safe, continuous energy and movement exchange between two people. This format can be scaled up in speed and with the number of people participating, as in Aikido Randori. In this way, I speculate, practitioners may experience a kind of in-the-moment energetic and perhaps empathic harmony with each other. I don’t know if this format of practice originated with Ueshiba Sensei, but I think it’s a kind of pedagogical genius.
Daito-ryu practice is very different. First, as a Koryu, it is important to preserve and in some cases develop the tradition of the art. This is different from gendai budo, which does not have the same kind of conservational imperatives.
Daito-ryu is taught primarily through two-person kata: the sempai or teacher playing the role of Uke, and the learner, Tori. Mastering the many technical elements of the kata is arduous. Perhaps by definition there is not a free flowing exchange of energy when practicing Daito-ryu per se, because the techniques seek to conceal the energy of Tori, while at the same time manipulating, maybe even slaving the energy and body of Uke. The energy really flows one way, from Uke to Tori, and Tori controls the energy.
When practicing the kata Ippon Dori, for example, I use uke’s attack to misalign his own body, placing him in the weakest possible position. There is no room or opportunity to make ukemi; I’ve extended the arm in such a way that it’s exceedingly difficult to defend it; I’m applying pressure to the shoulder, neck and abdomen such that it’s difficult to take a full breath. And then, once this has been set up, once the elbow is in the weakest position I can manage, I attack it. This sequence of attack is the modus operandi for Daito-ryu. One has to be willing to be placed in these very vulnerable positions to learn the waza.
Imagine then, if I’m training on a daily or weekly basis. Through practice I constantly have to submit myself to this sort of control (and really, to the risk of injury), and I have to do the same thing to others. Over time, I develop a very deep appreciation for trust, the effect of ego, cooperation, and welfare. Learning these techniques and the techniques themselves are humbling. I think in a way this is where the harmony is generated. I develop an understanding of how easy it is to injure others, and how easy it is for me to be injured. It’s an acknowledgement that in conflict, particularly physical conflict, both sides have a lot to lose.
Regarding Aikido, another thing to consider is that its training methodology has enabled tens of thousands of individuals worldwide to engage with the art, ensuring its continued proliferation and development. In contrast, Daito-ryu’s traditional training approach increases the risk of the art dying out over time if not carefully attended to. This is a challenge that all Koryu face.
However, as I’ve suggested, in Daito-ryu’s case this risk is mitigated by the popularity of aikido, which has indirectly contributed to the preservation and dissemination of Daito-ryu. As Aikido proliferates, so too do some of the of the core principles of Daito-ryu along with it. This relationship has allowed Daito-ryu to reach a wider audience and secures its continued relevance (and to some extent, its development) over time.
MAYTT: Do you think that martial intent and the approach of “finding the right person to train” are two of the main factors in which Daito-ryu is not popular compared to other martial arts?
RK: Daito-ryu, like most Koryu, is less popular for many reasons, including the method of instruction, the difficulty of the techniques, the importance of maintaining tradition, the lack of mainstream media representation, the method of succession, the difficulty of finding legitimate teachers, and many other things.
Succession in koryu involves passing on the leadership and responsibilities of the ryuha to the next generation, ensuring that the tradition remains intact and evolves in a manner consistent with its core principles. While succession also occurs in modern martial arts like aikido, judo, and karate, the dynamics may differ due to the less rigid structure of these arts and the potential for various branches and organizations to emerge.
The concept of a ryuha “finding the right person,” (i.e. being highly selective), still exists, and yes, affects the popularity of the art. The selectivity is essential because of the intimate nature of the student-teacher relationship. Learning through this kind of relationship is not for everyone. Less people in the front door equals less people in the dojo. And less people in the dojo equals less popular. I think nowadays, perhaps in the face of existential threats, or perhaps simply because of changing times, there are many koryu, Daito-ryu included, that are fairly welcoming, at least for initial training.
The selection process becomes more important when deciding who to expose to the inner teachings of the art. In my opinion, there are three broad ways to do this: let the art decide (with some minor course corrections), let the leader decide (shibucho, soumucho, soke, etc.), or a combination of both. By “letting the art decide” I mean that in the practice of Daito-ryu there is a kind of natural selection that occurs: the training is difficult, and the people that really want it will stick with it, and the rest will move on.
I was advised by my teachers to welcome everyone, but not chase after students that want to leave. Although actively trying to retain all students may yield more memberships (and therefore more financial support), I think that would necessarily change the focus of the dojo. Instead we welcome everyone that genuinely wants to learn, and then let the art decide.This approach has created a small membership of people who truly want to learn Daito-ryu.
Being selective is also important for succession. Succession in koryu involves passing on the leadership and responsibilities of the ryuha to the next generation, ensuring that the tradition remains intact and evolves in a manner consistent with the core principles that have developed over hundreds of years (Daito-ryu is said to be about 1000 years old). Being the inheritor or executor of such a tradition is therefore a very serious responsibility, and really should only be given to a carefully vetted individual. Of course, succession also occurs in gendai budo like aikido, judo, and karate. However, generally, those arts do not have the same deeply proscribed cultural or preservational priorities, and succession for them may follow a less strict path.
Going back to your question about popularity, the method of practice may actually be the most limiting factor. The learning process in Daito-ryu involves deep dives into intricate technical details. This is time-consuming and demanding. Unlike activities like randori or kumite, where practitioners can engage in dynamic exchanges, Daito-ryu requires focused attention on precise movements and techniques, making it more akin to a technical learning experience. Also, the nature of Daito-ryu training does not prioritize cardiovascular fitness or fitness conditioning (like other martial arts, particularly gendai budo). Daito-ryu’s primary focus is on mastering the art itself. These aspects of the training can be daunting or off-putting to individuals seeking a more casual or cardiovascularly intense martial arts practice.
Historically, Takeda Sokaku, the founder (reviver) of Daito-ryu, primarily taught advanced martial arts practitioners. As a result, the curriculum of Daito-ryu does not cater to novices. It hits the ground running. It builds upon an assumption of martial arts knowledge. This lack of a beginner-friendly curriculum poses a challenge for newcomers seeking immediate self-defense skills or entry-level instruction.
You asked about martial intent being a limiting factor- potentially yes, for some people. If by “marital intent” you’re referring to the grievous nature of the techniques, for most people this isn’t an issue, because practice is performed safely. And besides, most people who find Daito-ryu are actually looking to understand these sorts of techniques better.
It’s a different matter if by “martial intent” you’re referring to the combative exchange in it’s totality, which involves the time before, during, and after the physical execution of a waza. There are many teachings in Daito-ryu that directly or indirectly address the combative exchange: The lead-up, de-escalation, timing, distance, empathy, breathing, relaxation, body language, of course the waza, and the aftermath. Some people are just interested in the physical execution of the waza itself. For these people, having to learn these other teachings- which I would argue are absolutely essential- may become a deterrent to continued training.
We are incredibly fortunate with the caliber of individuals who choose to train with us. Most of our members have already practiced other martial arts and are seeking to refine their skills. It’s this shared commitment to growth and development that binds our community together. It’s a testament to the depth and richness of Daito-ryu that it attracts such dedicated practitioners.
MAYTT: That is very similar to what I found in my research in that Ueshiba viewed aikido as something to use on top of their previous martial arts training.
RK: Yes, that makes a lot of sense. It echoes what and how Takeda Sensei would have taught Ueshiba sensei. At Yushinkan, we use the traditional method of kata practice (and other supplemental exercises) to build fundamental skill. Kata practice, by the way, is not the rote repetition of movement with a partner. A kata can be thought of as a repository of discrete martial knowledge. When practicing a kata, two people actively explore and dissect this knowledge, with the teacher progressively challenging the student within this framework. Having prior training, in general, is beneficial. Learners can acquire the skills faster and have a better idea of how to apply them.
Kata presents the learners with a particular attack in a particular scenario. The kata does not concern itself with other scenarios or with wild variations of the scenario at hand. It strips away these possibilities so the practitioner can focus. The kata asks a very specific question, and, if followed, will give the learner a very specific answer.
With this level of specificity, the novice benefits from clarity, but could really struggle with applying the kata. They simply don’t have the context of randomness which is essential to application. The seasoned practitioner would be less prone to this problem.
In the New York dojo, we’ve created some supplemental drills that incorporate randomness. These drills allow learners to apply lessons from katageiko in dynamic situations. These supplementary drills do not replace nor supersede traditional training methods; the primary method of learning Daito-ryu remains kata practice.
MAYTT: Who do you feel would be considered a main contributor or disseminator of Daito-ryu here in the United States and what separates them from their peers?
RK: The highest ranking American teacher who is actively teaching is Roy Goldberg Sensei. From his online presence, I can see he is a major contributor to the spread of Daito-ryu in the United States and abroad.
Although I don’t know Goldberg Sensei, from what I have read, I think what sets him apart is his long years of dedicated practice and his willingness to share his knowledge. It’s essential to learn from a qualified teacher. Without qualified teachers, the real art doesn’t get passed on, and it risks being lost.
MAYTT: Like you said, without qualified people to teach it, then art will die. And then people will be trying to learn from books.
RK: Yes, something like that could happen. What makes a qualified teacher qualified is teaching authority granted from an established organization and an understanding of the core principles of the art. Both take many years to achieve. The “secrets” (really, the core principles) of Daito-ryu are said to be hidden in plain sight; they are present in every kata and in all the supplemental exercises. It takes years to understand them, to extract them. So even if a learner had some instruction (whether in-person, online, from a book or from a video), without the proper guidance to understand the principles, even if it’s right there in front of them, and without time to digest and process those teachings, it is impossible to learn Daito-ryu.
MAYTT: Final question; where do you see Daito-ryu going in the next ten to fifteen years here in the United States?
RK: It’s hard to say where Daito-ryu will go in the next fifteen years. There are more and more qualified groups in the US, so I imagine that overall in the future there will be more practitioners in America. Currently there are 5 Kobukan dojo and dokokai in the US, and 4 other organizations that have strong connections with Kobukan or Takumakai. In the next 15 years I’m hoping this number will grow.
Keeping in line with the arc of development that we spoke about before, I also think that the aiki aspect of the art will continue to be refined and expanded. That in turn will necessarily refine the kata to some extent. Even so, as we spoke about before, despite inevitable change, it’s important to preserve and to transmit the core principles.
MAYTT: Is there anything else that you would like to add that we did not have a chance to cover?
RK: Earlier I had mentioned the exquisite painfulness of Daito-ryu techniques. I also discussed the conservation of energy, efficient movement, deception, and many other things. I’d like to point out that all of these things are the consequence of mastering the core principles, not the goal. The goal ultimately is to avoid conflict, to live peacefully with others.
MAYTT: Thank you for joining us today for this wonderful conversation!
RK: Thank you for having me!
This is the second part of a two part interview. Read the first part here.
Martial Arts of Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow 