Читать книгу Traditions. Essays on the Japanese Martial Arts and Ways онлайн

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“The first technique our master Ittosai taught us,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I don’t think it is quite good enough yet, do you?”

Kofujita’s introspection, his incessant willingness to critically observe his progress, reflect upon it, and strive for improvement no matter how long he’d practiced or how perfect his technique is a characteristic of the master budoka. This attitude is called ryomi in Japanese. Ryomi is an intense, ongoing process of self-evaluation for the martial artist or anyone else who hopes to make something worthwhile of his life.

Within the modern budo, “traditionalist” is a label affixed to those who adhere to the ways of the past. You will not find them wearing glitzy training clothes, or indulging their egos at tournaments. They follow the path of the budo because they see it as a journey of self-discovery, one that will only be frustrated by indulging in fads. They believe they are correct in their attitudes, and so they are an obstinate bunch, the sort of people whom the British would refer to admiringly as “hard ones.” I respect these individuals very much, and it is flattering to note that by the correspondence I receive, that some readers even think of me as a traditionalist. It occurs that some might have the impression that traditionalists regard themselves as faultless paragons, noble paladins of the Ways of the warrior. This is an impression rarely challenged by the traditionalist himself who, if he engages in any form of self-criticism at all, invariably does it in secrecy, among his own kind.