Saturday nights at the honbu dojo have recently been made nights for individual training. Classes usually start at the regular time but we’re pretty much left to our own devices – an opportunity to work on corrections and play with things we learnt during the week, maybe even do a little partnered free sparring, bunkai, or kakie waza.

Sometimes on these nights when I’m striking away on the makawara or working on kata, the sounds seem to come together in an almost musical way. The rhythmic pounding of someone’s hand against a rock, the whirring of a skipping rope, the sharp exhalations of someone doing chiishi, or the thud of combinations against the heavy bag. I can’t help but smile to myself as we all huff, puff and sweat in the silence. It reminds me of a scene from Zatoichi. I’ve included the clip below.



I think it’s interesting that Sensei has decided to change things up in this way. One could say this kind of indepenent training more closely resembles the traditional Okinawan approach. But, whatever Sensei’s motives, I’ve come to really like our independent Saturday night sessions. They’ve been a good test of our ability to remember the junbi undo, kihon and hojo undo routines as well as a real lesson in focused training and self-motivation. But enough talking, it's time for some training.

When I first visited the honbu dojo I was quite surprised at the almost shabby state of Sensei’s floor – a real patchwork quilt of potholes and duc tape. Bruised, cracked and bandaged, I remember thinking that it reminded me of an aged and beaten opponent. And, with all its war wounds I’d sometimes wonder what stories it might have to tell.

I’ve heard about visitors to the honbu dojo who have intentionally tried to put a foot through Sensei’s floor. I don’t know if I can believe such stories, but accidents do happen, and the dojo floor has seen its fair share of them.

To look at it, it’s certainly not what you’d expect from a world famous dojo. But thinking about it, it couldn’t be a more fitting home for traditional karate – humility and simplicity.

Armed with little more than hammers and chisels, the students of the honbu dojo today tried to resusitate the old wooden floor before Sensei returns from his travels abroad. And, I have to say; carpentry is harder work than it looks. The job’s not done yet but it’s getting their slowly and I think everyone is looking forward to the feeling of smooth timber under our feet.

Part of me does wonder though if Sensei won’t miss his little boobie traps – tape that constantly trips and tests us challenging our suriashi. In class the famous words “don’t lift your heels” seems to be regularly followed by the sound of stumbling. And, while Sensei knowingly glides around the floor like on ice, for the rest of us, there’s nothing like gummy patches of tape to challenge one’s ability to stick, without getting stuck.

On Tuesday April 28th An’ichi Miyagi Sensei passed away.

The funeral was held on Thursday afternoon and was a beautiful service. In the funeral hall, a glowing photograph of An’ichi Miyagi Sensei stood in front of a large wooden replica of a Buddhist temple. In front of the temple a sea of white and yellow flowers spiraled and flowed from Sensei’s portrait. To the left and right, the walls were adorned with large bouquets of flowers sent from around the world and condolence messages painted in kanji on tall wooden plaques.

We humbly paid our respects and met briefly with Higaonna Sensei afterwards. He was in good spirits smiling as usual and reminded us to continue to do our best in training – perhaps the best way to honour the memory of his teacher.

In the final paragraphs of Higaonna Sensei’s book, he talks about his teacher:

“I owe a great debt to many people of the development of my karate skills but I am most grateful to An’ichi Miyagi. Not only did he teach me the true techniques of Goju-Ryu karate, but he passed down to me an entire history and tradition that otherwise may have been lost forever.

He also instilled in me strong moral standards and a desire to acquire knowledge. He taught me that one should always seek humility and that the stronger one becomes the more humble one should be. He likened this to a stalk of rice, which bends lower as it grows taller. Human beings are to do likewise, he said.

An’ichi Miyagi leads a simple life as his teacher did. In both his life and his training, he remains loyal to the teachings of Chojun Miyagi” (Higaonna Sensei, 2001, p. 155).

I remember Sensei telling us once that in traditional karate it is important to always remain humble – that we must always strive to improve our martial art and ourselves in this way. Some martial arts masters he said, train until they die and then return as ghosts to continue their training. If such stories are true, I suspect that An’ichi Miyagi Sensei would be among these great karateka.