Martial Arts Training in Japan. David Jones

admixture of the local kempo, or Chinese methods of unarmed combat.

      The connection between Buddhism and warrior arts seems contradictory at first glance. However, it should be remembered that Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, was a member of the warrior caste of India and, in fact, won his royal bride in an archery contest.

      Over time, the Shaolin martial arts adapted to local conditions and it is suggested in the common explanation that karatedo developed in the south of China, where the short, stocky agricultural workers with their strongly developed arms and upper bodies developed the Shaolin art in a direction that would come to be recognized as contemporary karatedo.

      The story then moves to Okinawa, the main island of the Ryukus, the chain of islands that stretches south from Japan to Taiwan. Okinawa had long been a point of contact between Chinese and Japanese cultures. It was here that the te, or strong hand techniques (striking, punching) which had evolved as a regional style in Okinawa over centuries, began to mix and blend with the kempo of China with its more rounded and flowing techniques. The evolving combination was called “T’ang Hand” after the great Chinese dynasty that had such an impact on the development of Japanese culture. The Chinese characters for “T’ang Hand” were later read as “Empty (kara) Hand (te).”

      The early karatedoka of Okinawa developed, in addition, the art of kobudo as they came into continual hostile contact with Japanese samurai clans (particularly the Satsuma clan of southern Kyushu) who raided Okinawa for countless generations. To this day, one sees kobudo weapons, such as the nunchaku, sai, tonfa, and kama, in traditional karate dojo.

      In 1917 Funakoshi Gichin, a renowned Okinawan educator, was invited by the Japanese Ministry of Education to give public demonstrations of karatedo in the main islands of Japan. His first trip was so successful that he returned in 1923 to take up permanent residence. In 1936 he inaugurated the first karate dojo in the main islands of Japan. It was called Shotokan, or “Shoto’s House.” The name came from Funakoshi Sensei’s pen name, “Shoto,” which means “wind through the pine trees.” Today, Shotokan karatedo continues as one of the major karatedo styles.

      Influenced by Professor Funakoshi, martial arts practitioners established dojo for various karatedo styles. Okinawan Miyagi Chojun founded the Goju style. Yamaguchi Gogen, a Japanese student of Master Miyagi, created his own version of the Goju style. Otsuka Hironori combined jujutsu with the “T’ang Hand” and arrived at his Wado style. Around this time the “T’ang Hand” reading was dropped and the “Empty Hand” adopted, perhaps because of growing Japanese nationalistic sentiments against China. Although some of the old masters of Okinawa resented the name change, it fit not only the nationalism of the times but also the Zen thrust of karatedo. Master Funakoshi explained it as follows (Williams, 1975:132):

      As a mirror’s polished surface reflects whatever stands before it and a quiet valley carries even small sounds, so must the student of karate render his mind empty of selfishness and wickedness in an effort to react appropriately to anything he might encounter. This is the meaning of kara or “empty” in karate.

      Japanese karatedo has come to incorporate philosophies important to the Japanese. Whereas modern Japanese karatedoka may philosophize about Zen, and “no mind,” and satori (enlightenment), the Okinawan stylist, for the most part, was simply trying to hit and kick as hard as possible and incorporated philosophical underpinnings such as ki (intrinsic energy) and hara (the emotional, spiritual and physical center of the body) to assist in that primary objective.

      The later history of Japanese karatedo is well documented because it is relatively modern; however, the orthodox origin tale involving Bodhidharma, the Shaolin temple, and the Sherpa guides may be “wild history,” as one of my Japanese teachers called it. I was first introduced to this concept while being taught the oral tradition of the origin of the Komuso Zen sect.

      One afternoon, Hanada Shihan sat me down in the zendo (meditation hall) of Saikoji and told me the story of the founder of Komuso Zen, a wild Chinese monk named P’u-hua (known as Fuke in Japanese). Fuke was a compatriot of the great Chinese master Lin-chi (Japanese: Rinzai), the inspirational source of the Rinzai sect of Zen Buddhism that developed in Japan during the Kamakura period.

      After setting the stage, Hanada Shihan, obviously enjoying himself, told the story of Fuke. Rinzai loved Fuke although Fuke was considered by his fellow monks to be crazy. He slept in the fields or in the barns, rarely washed, took no disciples, and was constantly interrupting Rinzai at his important work as head of a large T’ang-dynasty Buddhist monastery. For example, one day Rinzai had invited some of the local dignitaries to the monastery for a pleasant meal. As the mayor and his staff enjoyed the fine food and stimulating conversation of Rinzai, Fuke showed up uninvited. He turned over Rinzai’s table and addressed the dignitaries with, “Ho-yang is a new bride. Mu-t’a is a Ch’an granny, and Rinzai is a young menial, but he has the eye.” He then left the room. The irate guests raged against the lout Fuke, but Rinzai only said, “There goes a truly enlightened being.”

      Young monks, on hearing that Rinzai had announced Fuke to be an enlightened man, sought out Fuke for his mentorship. Fuke, true to form, simply rang his bell in their faces every time they asked him a religious question and recited,

      Coming as brightness, I strike the brightness;

      Coming as darkness, I strike the darkness;

      Coming from the four quarters and eight directions,

       I hit like a whirlwind;

      Coming from the empty sky, I lash like a flail.

      When the monks returned to Rinzai and told him what nonsense Fuke was uttering, Rinzai simply said, “He is truly an enlightened man.”

      Fuke’s behavior in the days leading up to his death was characteristic of the man. Hanada Shihan said that one day Fuke, dragging a coffin, announced to the people who had gathered to watch him ring his bell and preach his crazy sermon, “Tomorrow Fuke will cross over at the North Gate. Be there.” He was announcing the precise time of his passing, a behavior periodically recorded for spiritual leaders of the time.

      On the following day all gathered at the North Gate, but when Fuke arrived he looked about him and said, “No. Today is not good. Tomorrow, Fuke will cross over at the South Gate. Be there.”

      The next day, the crowd assembled at the South Gate, but when Fuke arrived he said, “No. Today is not the right day. Tomorrow, Fuke will cross over at the West Gate. Be there.”

      On the third day the crowd of onlookers was greatly reduced. When Fuke dragged his coffin up he looked at the people standing in the road, looked at the sky, and then said, “No. Today is not exactly right. Tomorrow, Fuke will cross over at the East Gate. Be there.”

      On the following day no one appeared to witness Fuke’s passing. He looked around him, stared at the sky, and said, “Today is the perfect day to cross over.” He placed his coffin outside the East Gate and sat on it. When a farmer passed on his way to market Fuke said, “Sir, would you please nail me into my coffin and then go tell Master Rinzai that Fuke has crossed over.”

      The farmer did as Fuke asked. Rinzai, on hearing the news, rushed with his retinue to the East Gate, but upon opening Fuke’s coffin they found it empty except for one sandal. As they stared into the open coffin the faint ringing of Fuke’s bell was heard in the sky. Today, one of the major pieces in the shakuhachi repertoire of the Komuso Zen sect is called “A Bell Ringing in the Empty Sky.”

      As Hanada Shihan told the story I took notes as fast as I could. Finally, he paused and said, “Jones Sensei, as an educated man you should know that this is...,” he searched for an English word, “...wild history.” Using one of my most often-used Japanese expressions I said to him, “I don’t understand, Sensei.”

      Hanada Shihan explained that perhaps because temple records were so routinely lost to fire over the centuries and subsequently rewritten, their historical value, as Westerners understand history, is confused. The stories are not intended as literal history in the Western sense of scientific history, but as an emotional or spiritual context, a rich and satisfying explanation of serious and auspicious origins.