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KAIZEN! Constant, Never-ending Improvement
for the Traditional Martial Artist
Sensei's Journal
Weekly thoughts on the martial arts for innovative traditionalists
from Kyoshi Tony Annesi
© 2012, Bushido-kai
Closing the Door
In Takeshin Seiken Budo, there is a pivot called Opening the Gate in which, having rotated the supporting heel outward, one opens one’s hips and moves the lighter leg in a quarter circle rearward, creating a path for a lunging opponent to pass by. For the opponent who steps back or pulls, one employs Closing the Gate, rotating the lighter leg to the front for a lift kick or straight-line attack. When opening the gate, one always should be aware of the necessity to return to neutral or quickly close the gate. Conversely, when closing the gate, one always must be ready to open it again.
“When one door closes, another opens,” is an old expression to which the techniques described relate. Opportunities present themselves whenever you create new circumstances, but if you are not ready to enter the door when it opens, it may be forever closed. Another expression “burning your ships behind you” means that you intentionally bar the return passage so you will mentally commit yourself to push forward no matter what. Here’s the problem: what if you burn your ships while unready to forge ahead? Burning the ships behind you is a strategy that should be used seldom as it was by Cortes (or perhaps a general or two in times of war)—when the mission is more important than one’s life. Even Cortes kept one ship unscuttled for communication with Spain. Do you really want to move forward no matter what? New Hampshire’s Motto “Live Free or Die” suggests to people who value freedom (and I am one of them) that one would sacrifice one’s life in the pursuit of living free, but strategically, it would be better to live unfree for a while so one could work toward future freedom. It is deucedly difficult to work toward one’s own or anyone else’s freedom when secured in a varnished box under 6 feet of loam.
In most cases, the wiser process is to keep a line of communication open, and not bar the door behind you, because you just might find that the door that opened for you leads unexpectedly to a blind mountain tunnel or perhaps to a cargo hold on one of those scuttled ships. Certainly there are people we would wish not to meet again and venues we would prefer not to visit again, but if we assume they could never change to our liking, it would be like my blowing off a day at the Met because experiences 40 years prior turned me off to NYC. Luckily, I did not bar the NYC gate, even if I had closed it 7/8ths of the way.
I have had various students who, having found another art or teacher that suited them better, come to me with their intention to move on. They knew I might give them a pontifical blessing or pontificate on why they were making a big mistake, but they took the risk and, as a result, kept the door open and the ship of communication floating. In fact, I teach regularly at one of their new teacher’s events. Others have left abruptly, scuttling their own ships in order to become mountain climbers, or attempted to fade away like the smoke from the blazing decks, as if I wouldn’t notice. I would have counseled that they keep one small boat in port while testing out their karabiners and crampons.
Because I am a strong exponent of freedom and personal responsibility, I tend to open the gate if they are rushing through or, to use another analogy, I tend to let people unravel their hawsers enough to either hang themselves or sever the tie, if they prefer.
I’d rather spend a day enjoying art at the Met than worrying about whether anyone else enjoys the same art. I always make sure, however, that I have stashed away a few bucks plus cab-fare back to the hotel, just in case I decide to explore a strange NYC neighborhood and find that it wasn’t the way I wanted to go.
