29/08/2025
When you aim to win in practice or sparring, you drift away from the essence.
That does not mean you should deliberately lose, as in some misguided approaches to kata training.
Learn to move in a way that leads to victory, and if you implement that method, victory will come on its own.
Yet because humans are instinctively unwilling to lose, we try to win not only in real combat and sparring, but even in practice itself.
As a result, the essence of technique and strategy is lost, their function withers, and we end up in a world where size and brute strength alone decide who wins.
I teach that if you want to improve and become strong, you must not think about winning. Yet only a very small number accept this teaching. Worse still, there are far more people who misunderstand and try to lose on purpose than there are who interpret it correctly—who refrain from trying to win, move as the kata requires, and train in a way that leads to victory as a matter of course.
It is not you who decides victory or defeat, but the kata. By applying the body, techniques, and hyoho (strategy) forged through the kata, you will naturally become able to win, and even if you do not win, you will become far stronger.
Do not try to win; focus solely on moving correctly. Those who grasp this will improve. Those who cling to winning and losing will never master the art and will remain stuck.
Even when you take the receiving role in kata practice—the uke—if you move more correctly than the primary practitioner, the outcome within the kata will reverse and the uke will end up winning. This is not cheating by exploiting your knowledge of the kata’s structure—ignoring the designated attack method, target area, sequence, and so on. Even when you act precisely as specified, if the primary practitioner’s movement is lacking, the positions of winner and loser will naturally invert.
Many people practice under the mistaken belief that kata is what decides strength or victory and defeat. Practiced that way, kata becomes meaningless. Even thirty years of training would not amount to much.
To restrain selfish desire and ego, and to follow instruction. This is our most difficult training.
This is a challenge shared with Bushido.
To cast off self-centered desire and devote oneself to one’s lord, the House, one’s family, comrades, and the people of the domain. For that end the warrior must be strong; that pride becomes the lord’s honor, upholds the House and brings happiness to the clan, and the good people who live under such a formidable man can dwell in peace.
But if one seeks strength not for the public good but for private desire, one gains no respect from others, finds no cooperation even on the battlefield, becomes isolated, and drifts far from honor.
Without desire one cannot fulfill one’s duty, yet to be ruled by selfish desire is contrary to Bushido. For this reason many warriors sought answers in Buddhism,
for at Buddhism’s root lies the extinguishing of the fires of bonnō (afflictive desires).
Recognize your private interests, control them, and harness them in the service of public benefit and public-spirited aims.
Rather than the short-sighted craving for victory and defeat, press forward single-mindedly in the training that gains true strength—namely, kata practice.
Instead of questioning the kata, first concentrate entirely; only when your teacher acknowledges that you can perform it correctly and sufficiently should you confront your questions about the kata. Only then will you be led to the answers.
We are tormented by distrust and cast doubt on everything. Because of this we lack concentration, look away from the obvious necessity of thorough, correct repetition, and search for external causes for our own stagnation. In truth, it is nothing more than a lack of training, a lack of focus, and a lack of correct discernment.