MORE ON MIYAGI

Whenever I hear of the feats exhibited by some so-called karate experts, Miyagi Chojun comes to my mind. A master of immeasurable skill, Miyagi was regarded as the greatest Okinawan karateka of his time. An extremely quiet man, he was born to nobility in Naha and spent a fortune studying, researching and propagating karate.
Journalist Tokuda Anshu wrote the following account of Miyagi Chojun which I found highly entertaining, revealing and educational:

"As a youth, in the year 1928, 1 became a student of the great karate master Kyan Chotoku. I was then nine years of age and considered it a great honor to train at Kyan's dojo in Hishagawa.

"One day, to my surprise, I heard that my friend Yamakawa Iwasuke was taking karate from Miyagi Chojun. It was a day I shall always remember. Yamakawa took me to watch him train at Miyagi's dojo. It was the first time I saw Naha-te. It was so different from Shuri-te. I watched the students practicing sanchin kata. It looked wild and savage to me.

"Then I saw Miyagi Chojun perform. I have not seen since, before, and now a man like him. I held my breath. Miyagi was simply amazing, just amazing. He exuded a vitality as fierce as a lion yet you could see the innate gentleness and control of the man. if there ever was karate in perfection, I saw it then.

"Miyagi Chojun's training was scientific and severe. For certain periods of time all the young boys would train, at midnight, in the graveyard to develop their minds. No one could advance to the next kata without first perfecting the kata he was on. It was basics, basics, and more basics, with the kata thrown in between.

"Miyagi Chojun got up every morning at five o'clock sharp, practiced some kata several times, and hit the road. He would run about 10 kilometers, come back to the dojo, and do the kata again.

"In 1924, Taisho Ju-san-nen, Kano sensei and his leading disciple, Nagaoka, came to Okinawa and gave a two-hour lecture and demonstration of judo. According to the Asahi Shimbun, it was a fantastic demonstration of human endurance and ability. Miyagi saw the demonstration accompanied by an old man named Matsu. "After the demonstration, Matsu asked Miyagi if any karate expert could equal the endurance exhibited by Kano sensei and Nagaoka. Miyagi simply replied that any martial artist worthy of the name could perform for hours without drawing a heavy breath. The Asahi Shimbun heard about it and asked Miyagi to perform and uphold karate. lie finally agreed, after much pleading, and as the paper put it, 'Not for show hut for the sake of Okinawan karate.'

"Miyagi performed without pretension. Okinawa never saw anything like it. It was the performance of a karate meijin. Miyagi thrust his hand into a hunch of bamboos and pulled out one from the center. He stuck his hand into a slab of meat and tore off chunks. He put white chalk on the bottom of his feet, jumped up, and kicked the ceiling-leaving his foot-prints on the ceiling for all to see. Spectators hit him with long bos (staffs) with no effect. With his fingers he tore off the bark off a tree. And with his big toe he punctured a hole in a kerosene can. And he did many more feats which had to be seen to be believed. "He performed all afternoon, way past the two-hour mark. After the performance, Miyagi said, 'Any karate expert who trains properly can do all this, It is simply a matter of paying the price. Karate is a total commitment. I have not done anything that someone else cannot do, or, for that matter, you. There is no half-way measure. Either you do it or you don't. Nothing is impossible.'"

Miyagi Chogun died in Ishikawa, Okinawa, on October 8, 1953. Yagi Meitoku, who was at his side when he died, is carrying on his work.

PAYING THE PRICE?

Can karate teaching be categorized as a profession? The answer depends on the definition of a profession. There are as many meanings of the terms "profession" and "professional" as there are people. In the broadest sense they may be used to mean any occupation by which a person earns a living. In the most restricted sense they include only "the three learned professions" of theology, law, and medicine.

Most people would group their interpretation somewhere between these two extreme ends of the spectrum. However, you must ask yourself, "what differentiates a profession from an ordinary vocation?" Naturally, if you ask yourself this question, then you must ask yourself, "what are the conditions?"

Irrespective of how you slice it, two factors will emerge from this questioning and they are: developing the skills necessary for application after intensive and systematic learning of a body of knowledge; and accreditation by an institution and conformity to an established body of standards regulating professional and personal behavior.

Although some attention has been given to the development of professional standards in karate, no such standards have been systematized or accepted. In karate, as in the other cognate arts, for example there is no Hippocratic Oath or similar vow of service to which a karateka must swear witness before he can practice his "vocation." Some organizations, do set forth norms of behavior and enforce them, but most organizations do not have such control.

Irrespective of whether a karate teacher achieves formal professional status, the most basic elements of professionalization are germane to the problem. Most important is the development of skill in teaching. This is acquired through education and experience in the dojo. Some students of karate and the other cognate arts, do not realize this and believe Their sole function in the dojo is to learn self-defense and try to get a black belt in order to rush out and open a dojo.
They regard with repugnance the idea of helping out in any manner, shape or form in the dojo and rationalize their activities by saying that they are paying to learn. In a way, they may be right; if it ends there. But this same individual will go out and open a dojo with no other qualification than the fact that he has spent an X number of hours and a Y number of monies learning self-defense. This to him is enough. With the temerity of the Mongol Khans, this half-baked combination of ill-mannered, ill-trained and ill-advised type of individual will proclaim himself to the unsuspecting public that he is the best - a professional's professional. This is the problem.

What are the standards in karate? Needless to say, we do not have to engage in an academic discussion of Bushido. This subject has been thoroughly ventilated by the number of material flooding the market and it would be useless to add a "sum of more" to that which already probably has too much. However, Bushido notwithstanding, what standards should we accept? Unfortunately, at this moment it appears to make the Herculean task of cleaning the Augean stables tame by comparison.

Few people want to pay the costly price, the painstaking and time-consuming road leading to a profession. The development of the skills necessary for application after intensive and systematic learning, and conformity to an established body of standards regulating professional and personal behavior appears too high a price.

KATA IS KARATE

Kata is the heart of karate, and it is on kata that karate is based. Karate without the kata is not karate. The goal of karate is serf-mastery and it deepens and strengthens with training and perfection in the kata.

The methods of training used in karate were in part determined by the times and cultures in which the masters who devised them lived. The teaching methods have under-gone much change since those times; however, the principles of the masters have not. The principles and aims are embodied in kata and when these are changed, there will no longer be any karate.
We have professed exponents of karate in America who have never studied karate per se, who have spread misinformation about the kata and who have cried to high heaven that they are building up and not destroying. The masters have passed down, through the centuries, and have stated what kata is and for what purpose it should be used. Kata is meant to train the mind, not intended solely for conceptual and intellectual self-defense; indeed, to bring it in contaci with the real self.

Kata in the traditional sense is a religious ritual. Therefore, by the "art of karate" I do not mean the ability of technical excellence, which can be developed by physical training, but an ability of attaining a spiritual goal through the practice of the kata, so that the player plays against himself and succeeds in conquering himself.

This may sound like arrant nonsense. You may say, "Am I to believe that karate, a deadly fighting art, has been downgraded to a spiritual exercise? I do not care for the kata, I want to learn how to fight."

According to the masters, karate is a matter of life and death to the extent it is a contest of the player with himself; and this kind of contest is not the shadow but the substance -the foundation of all contests outwardly directed, for example, toward a real opponent.

Kata reveals the quintessence of karate as it is a fight of the player with himself, and where can you find better training fundamentals than this? The purpose of kata is to create a certain frame of mind which is made always ready to respond, intuitively, to an attack from without. Physical, technical training is necessary, but without the mind, training cannot even begin. Kata makes your mind grow from within. It makes you master your mind, not your mind master you. The way of karate is not easy to follow. The spirit of sincerity, in which nothing is held back, nothing is wasted, must prevail and is achieved through kata. It is noteworthy the consistent karate champions are good kata men. Naturally, there are some who win contests without being proficient in kata, but they are few in number and inconsistent in their wins. If push comes to shove, give me the good kata man anytime.

Unfortunately, in this country through a peculiar process evolved in the disordered corridors of their minds, some practitioners of the martial arts have vilified the kata as nonsensical classical deadwood. Nothing could be further from the truth. I view the credentials of such proponents, with all their public posturing, with suspect. Probably one or two are good street fighters. However, it does not take a genius to realize street-fighting is not karate. They do not know what is meant by human dignity and laws of morality which regulate our human life. Kata is the heart of karate and if you take away the kata, you kill karate.

HITO-KATA SAN-NEN

Whenever I practice kata, one of my teacher's favorite stories comes to my mind: One day a student of archery was practicing by himself in the dojo. He thought, "I shall eliminate the first movement - that of stretching the hand upward prior to pulling the bow - and just shoot the arrows as fast as I can. The sensel is not in the dojo now, and he cannot insist that I perform all the movements as he always does. He is such a stickler on the complete kata. I'm glad he is not here. The kata is not really that important."

Then the student took two arrows and shot them as fast as he could, eliminating the first movement of the kata. He hit the bullseye, and the student was pleased with himself. As he was congratulating himself, his sensci, who had been in the library adjoining the dojo, came in and admonished the student for eliminating the first movement.

The sensei, a Zen master, knew what the student had done without being in the dojo. The sensei told him, "Practice must be maintained the same at all times, even if no one is watching or supervising. One must practice for one's self. You are not practicing for me or for society, you are practicing for yourself - for your self-improvement and awareness, If you eliminate or add movements to the kata, you are cheating yourself, not me."

Many students of karate are unaware that the elimination or addition of movements to an original kata shows disrespect to the ryu (school or style) that they are studying under. If such students are dissatisfied with their particular ryu, they should leave.and join another one.

Blame for the mutilation of existing kata and the creation of new ones rests with two sorts of individuals. Both types, however, are the products of the occupational era of Japan, Okinawa and Korea. On the one hand, there is the type of individual who has achieved a fair degree of proficiency in the mechanical aspects of the art. Returning from the Orient, he opens his own school in the 'Western Hemisphere. Either he did not learn his kata properly, sufficiently, or else he forgot them and his kata are an improvised lot.

On the other hand, there is the type who learned from the first type, and who subsequently opens his own school. This individual, after winning some kumite championships, creates his own kata out of his fantasy that he is an infallible nzei fin (master). To him kata is nothing more than a dance. Nothing is farther from the truth, but within the realm of his experience and awareness, this is all that counts.

"Hizo-kata san-nen" means "three years 'for one kata". Many people would say, "What nonsense, three years for one kata. Why, I can learn and do one kata in a matter of weeks!" Empirically, the masters knew that kata achievement requires blood, sweat and tears. They knew that they could not produce a "90-day wonder". All evidence pointed to the fact that it took great faith, tenacity and hard work to master a kata. Three years was the minimum three years on one kata produced the awareness of what it meant. The kata is karate and karate is the kata.

Proper understanding of the kata would help fill the cup of life with clear water, not dirty water. Without the guidance of the teacher and the kata, the pupil cannot distinguish between clear water and dirty water. The kata teaches fighting and living skills at the same time. The aim of the kata is to make the individual one with the universe. As he tunes in with the kata, he is, in the end, attuned to himself.

EQUALITY

On the field of death, it matters not your race, religion, or creed. All that counts is how well you played the game of life. Philosophers in America, from the amateur to the Ph.D., have pondered the equality of men. And to support their hypotheses, they have pointed to the Bill of Rights, the Constitution of the United States, and Lincoln's famous Gettysburg Address.

As a young man, the problem of equality had troubled me. In the 1930s, some friends of mine were denied service in a San Francisco restaurant because of their race. In no uncertain fashion, they were made painfully aware of the fangs of racial discrimination.

They were angry. They had never received this sort of treatment in Honolulu where they were born. One of them echoed the thoughts of all: "If it was the Elk's club, I could at least understand," he said. "But, to be kicked out of a public restaurant!"

One day after training with the spear, I mentioned equality to my sensei. Yoshida Kotaro. In particular, I mentioned the incident in San Francisco, a city where such attitudes were not supposed to prevail.

"After birth," my sensei said, "there are two points in life where men are equal: The day you enter a dojo, you are the same as everyone else; you start at the bottom. And the day you are on the field of death, when death embraces you, there is no distinction-you are all the same."

"But what about the law?" I replied. "The Bill of Rights, the Constitution?" "The law is only as good as the conscience of men," my teacher continued. "Look at the heart, not the law. It is in the heart, and as a martial artist you should realize that the hearts of men have not kept up with the law."

He then told me the story about Hozoin Gakuzenbo Inye and a young boy. Hozoin Inye, one of the greatest spear masters Japan ever produced, was finally able to beat Yagyu Muneyoshi in a match. Yagyu Muneyoshi had always managed to beat lnye in previous matches, but now the superiority of lnye was above question. Unfortunately, Inye was so impressed with himself that he became insufferably swell-headed.

One day, a young boy about 17 years of age dropped in at the Hozoin temple and said, "I have come here to learn the spear. I have heard that Gakuzenbo Inye, himself, is giving the lessons and, as he is the best, I want to study under him." The boy was accepted.

Inye treated the boy like something less than human and did everything he could to discourage him. The boy did not say a word but kept on asking for a match, Inye. complied. In three days, the boy scored a point once in three matches. In 10 days, he held his own with Inye, and in a month, Inye did not want to enter the dojo; he was becoming afraid of the boy.
One day, the boy approached lnye and said, "I do not think too much of you. You are overrated. I do not see how you beat Yagyu Muneyoshi. I want a real match with you, a shinken-shobu. I shall appear in your garden in five days. Be ready to face death." And he left.

By now Inye had all the cockiness knocked out of him. His head had returned to normal size. He could wear his hat. But he was worried. "Why didn't I care for the boy?" he wondered. "I should have treated him better."
Troubled, the night before the match Inye went to his garden with spear in hand, stood at the edge of the pond, and gazed at the water. The image of the boy's face stared back at him from the water. Suddenly, a cloud passed overhead, momentarily blacking out the area, and when the cloud had passed by, Inye saw the reflection of his spear in the water with a cross at the point. Excited, he hastily went to the temple blacksmith and ordered what is known today as the kama-yari -the famous Hozoin spear.

The night of the match came and Inye waited in his garden for the young boy. But the boy did not show up. Instead, one of the monks came forward with a note. "The boy left this for you," the monk said.

Inye opened the note. The boy had written, "Treat all men as humans, with decency and respect. We are not equal in ability or creativity, but we are all human beings. It is what is in,the heart that counts. Tonight I am sure you understand. This is my lesson to you. When you realized you were facing death, you became aware of the common denominator where all men are equal. In life, equality lies in the hearts of men."

SPECIALIST vs. GENERALIST

Specialists exist in all areas of the martiaL arts. The specialist thrives in his environment. You meet him every day-he is a standout by virtue of his expertness in one particular aspect of his particular art. In judo there is the seionage specialist; in karate, the side kicker, etc. and the list could go on ad infinitum. In sports competition some of them become champions. However, sports is a far cry from the real thing.

The specialist often cannot distinguish the forest from the trees. He has developed his particular specialty and it has worked for him. His perspective is colored by too much attention on a particular technique. He becomes a person who knows more and more about less and less.

in Okinawa, during the time of Karate Sakugawa (1733-1815), karate had its "three musketeers", inseparable buddies named Okuda, Makabe and Matsumoto. They were assistant instructors to Sakugawa and were granted accolades of recognition commensurate to their reputation by the admiring public.

Okuda was the specialist supreme; he was the "one-punch" knockout artist and was aptly named "Iron Hand" Okuda. Villagers would say, "Okuda can kill a bull with one blow," and whenever Okuda would visit a village, people would say, "Okuda is coming!" and an admiring throng would quickly gather around him.

Makabe was small. He was quick, clever and elusive in his movements. Legend has it that he moved as if borne on the wings of a bird. He was called Bird Man" Makabe. People flocked around him also.

Matsumoto, among the three, was the generalist. He did all things well, mastered all the basics, and had no specialty. When the "three musketeers" walked into town, no one flocked around him. He was not a specialist. Sometimes someone would inquire and say, "Who is that guy? What is his specialty? What can he do?" And the answer would always be, "Oh him. He is a good teacher. Nothing special." One day a ship from China dropped anchor in the harbor of Naha, Okinawa. On board was a ship's captain named Oshima-Kuryu (koo-ryoo) who was a renowned fighter. Oshima-Kuryu, in all his travels had never been beaten in a real fight and he reveled in his prowess. As his ship lay in anchorage, Oshima-Kuryu was thinking to himself, "I wonder how I can get anyone to tight me. The people here know me and will not accept a challenge. I must come up with something." And the days went by slowly.

Then one day the idea hit him. That night he went to the town tavern, picked a fight with a town tough and took his clothes as a sign of victory. Following his plan, he repeated this same procedure several other times. After a period of time, the people in Okinawa put in a strong complaint against a Chinese martial artist who took his victim's clothes after beating them in a fight. The news came to the town of Shuri, Okinawa, and finally to Karate Sakugawa who also acted as the peace magistrate, a function of most karate masters in those days. One night Karate Sakugawa's best students, the "three musketeers", were walking along a mountain path at the edge of town when a large shadow Loomed across their path ahead of them, and they saw a huge person with some cloth6 slung over his shoulder. instinctively, they knew it was the man they had heard about. Okuda said, "Halt! You there. Are you the one who has caused all the commotion in the vicinity of Naha? For if you are, turn yourself in or we will force you to do so."

Oshima-Kuryu slowly turned his head and said, "I'll turn myself in if I am beaten in a match. Do you see these kimono (clothes)? I have taken them from so-called experts like yourselves."

Okuda charged like a bull and threw his famous punch, but Kuryu side-stepped and the fight raged on. As hard as Okuda tried he could not land his punch and finally after he ran out of wind, Kuryu knocked him down. And Kuryu said, "Tomorrow night I shall be here at the same time."

The neat night, Makabe the "Bird Man" was waiting. Kuryu appeared and they fought, Makabe was quick and fast. He was clever and he was cunning. But it was not enough. Kuryu met his every maneuver and finally after wearing Makabe down, Kuryu won the fight.

The town people heard the news and were worried. They all beseeched Karate Sakugawa to take care of Oshima-Kuryu himself. But Sakugawa said, "Do not worry. Our two specialists have tailed. They failed to see very obvious things because they were too intent with their own specialty. Matsumoto has grown in breadth from specialist to generalist. He will prevail."

Matsumoto faced Oshima-Kuryu the third night. When they squared off, OshimaKuryu realized that he faced his most formidable opponent to date. Matsumoto could do what he could do and better. They fought for a long time without a sound. Finally, OshimaKuryu gave a loud kiai and attacked with his last ounce of strength. Matsumoto faded away, and before Oshima-Kuryu knew what had happened, Matsumoto came up from the side and knocked him down.

Oshinia-Kuryu said, "The time has come for me to retire. I'm glad that I was beaten by a man who has mastered the basics. All my previous opponents were specialists. They all had a gimmick, but it was not enough."

The next day, Oshima-Kuryu set sail for China. When Sakugawa retired he passed on his menkyo-kaiden (certificate of full proficiency in an art) to Matsumoto, the generalist.

THE SERGEANT

In Okinawa, around 1903, karate was incorporated into the physical education programs in the public schools. A prime mover was Nishirnura Mitsuya, the president of Shihan-Gakko (teacher's college), who believed in physical education and virtue. It was Mitsuya's vision that the karate training would build moral strength in teachers and students like. To implement the program, Mitsuya called upon Itosu Yasutsune and his top student, Yabu Kentsu. Prior to this period, karate training was restricted to the nobility and men of means. Due to the organizational ability of Itosu, the high schools in Okinawa gradually accepted the new karate program.

Itosu came once a week to Shihan-Gakko, and Yabu Kentsu, affectionately known as the Sergeant, taught daily. Yabu was a graduate of Kashi-Yoseisho (non-commissioned officer's school) and a stickler for basics. As a youth he had always been very powerful and quickly rose to the top in karate under Itosu. He was known for his extreme strength and excellent techniques. During the Shin-Japanese War, he fought on the Chinese mainland with the Japanese Expeditionary Forces and quickly rose to lieutenant-quite a feat in those days. On the battlefield fighting against the Chinese forces, Yabu perfected his karate and developed a style that was deadly and effective. When he returned to Okinawa as a lieutenant in the Japanese Army after the war, people still called him the Sergeant. A name that stuck with him to his dying day. As his fame grew, people started asking, "What kind of martial artist is the Sergeant?" At this time, another star was rising on the karate horizon-Choki Motobu. Choki Motobu was born in nobility, and since he was by birth freed from the pain of working for a living, he spent all his time in karate training. As the fame grew, people began to consider him the equal of Yabu the Sergeant, and tongues started wagging. "Who is better! The Sergeant or Motobu?"

Eventually, a shiai was arranged at the Motobu Goten (Motobu palace). Choki Motobu had his servants clear a large reception room in the palace, bare of everything, even the tatami, so the contestants could fight on the floor. No one was allowed in the room except some newspaper correspondents and a few close friends.

Yabu and Motobu faced each other. The air crackled with the sound of loud kiai, feet shuffling, punches and kicks landing on human flesh, and the excited gasps of the few privileged viewers. The spectators were witnessing a fight the likes of which was never to be seen again. After 20 minutes or so, Yabu's great wartime experience and his deadly karate forged on the battleground gave him an edge and Motobu was defeated for the first and only time in his illustrious career. As both men had trained arduously for this shiai, there was no serious injury, although both were black and blue, and both parted good friends- determined to improve Okinawan karate.

Yabu Kentsu produced many karate greats in his lifetime. Nakaima, Kyan, Taira, Toyama Kanken, Sakihana, Takuda, and Shiroma are just a few. Around 1927, he made a trip to Los Angeles to see his son and, on his return trip to Okinawa, Kentsu stopped over in Hawaii for several month to teach and give lectures. As the Sergeant had forged his deadly karate on the battlefield, he believed that karate was a martial art and not a sport. "Karate is a way of life," he said, "a master game played to the end. It builds character because you are playing a game with life. Sport does not build character because you are playing for fun or for a prize."

THE STORYTELLER AND THE MASTER SWORDSMAN

One winter day in Japan, I stood with a 6-foot long bo in my hand facing my sensci, Yoshida Kotaro, who held a tessen (iron fan). We were standing, facing each other, in the front yard of my home, which was situated on a bluff overlooking the city of Yokohama. My sensei, who was living with me, had awakened me at the early hour of 0500 and said that the time had come for my test in the art of ko-budo (ancient martial arts).

As I circled Yoshida Kotaro, master swordsman, I was thinking, "My bo is longer than the tessen he is holding. And he is in his seventies. I may have a chance to use my youth and strength to hold him to a standstill. After all these years, I should be able to use the length of the bo to an advantage." As I circled, I kept on thinking and looking for an opening.
He faced me with an air of impenetrable calm. I heard the maid going about her chores in the kitchen and looked at my sensei again. He did not move. I felt frustrated. Then I thought, "I shall fake him out with a strike to his ankle, just as in the sakugawa bo, and when he makes a defensive move I shall rip up towards his groin area." As I was thinking, my sensei came in the exact instant my thought was occupying my mind and hit me across the wrist, making me drop the bo.
I felt chagrined; I had failed my test. We went back into the house where the maid had prepared us some hot tea. As we slowly sipped it, my sensei told me the tale of the "Storyteller and the Master Swordsman."

One day, in ancient Japan, during the time of Miyamoto Mushashi, a storyteller was passing through a town as night was coming on. The storyteller was nearly famished with hunger because he had traveled a long way and it was too late to ply his trade-telling stories to children. So he combed his wits trying to figure out how to get some food.

Then, suddenly, a bright idea hit him. He remembered seeing a kanban (sign board) at the edge of town, denoting a dojo where the art of swordsmanship was taught by a well-known master swordsman. In those days it was a practice, part of the mores and folkways of dojo, to give money for a night's lodging and food to a passing samurai who issued a challenge to the dojo. Either the dojo accepted the challenge and gave lodging money or just gave money without accepting the challenge. It depended on the skill of the dojo master. Although only a rank novice in the use of the sword, in desperation the storyteller decided to issue a full challenge in order to obtain a generous amount. He approached the dojo entrance and in a cleat stentorian voice said, "Where is the master? I have come to teach him a lesson in the art of the sword. Hurry up! I have not the time nor the patience to stand here for any length of time." One of the students who was practicing in the main hall came Out and inquired, "Why do you want to see our master? If you want to have some practice, our senior here can accommodate you."

"I do not want a senior student to practice with," the storyteller replied. "I want to have a session with your master. He has a big reputation and I want to test his skill. Where is he?"

The sword master, who was in the adjoining room, heard the storyteller announcing his challenge and started thinking, "I wonder who this unknown samurai is? I am well known throughout Japan, but for a ronin to challenge me with such temerity must mean that he's good. I'll have to be careful." And he entered the main hall ready for the challenge.
They faced each other, the sword master and the storyteller. The sword master looked at the kaniai of the storyteller and thought to himself, "What is this. This guy does not even know how to hold a sword properly. Why, I can attack him any time I please. He is full of openings. But for him to issue such a strong challenge, I must be careful. He may be as good as Miyamoto Mushashi, who is famous for looking sloppy."

The storyteller looked at the sword master and thought, "What's the matter with this famous master? Why doesn't he get it over with? I'm so hungry I can hardly stand." But he waited. After 15 minutes had passed without a move by either man, the sword master, realizing his reputation was at stake, grimly made up his mind. "I don't care if this unknown is a Miyamoto Mushashi. I must get it over with, even if it means my life." And he prepared to attack.

Just at the moment he was ready to strike the storyteller dropped his sword and said, "Stop. I am just a storyteller, hungry, and tired. I thought by issuing a challenge I would be able to get lodging money so that I could eat. I have not eaten since the last town. I am sorry. I do not know anything about the sword, but since you are a famous master, I thought you would go easy on me and send me on my way."

The master, on hearing this achieved myo (a state of marvelous truth), realized the fantasies that the mind can play on the person. He thanked the storyteller and re-named his style, munen ryu (the no-thought school of swordsmanship). Many off-shoots of mu-nen ryu exist today.

"LADY, FIGHT LIKE A MAN"

One of the most significant developments in the martial arts during the last ten years ias been the increasing enrollment of women. The reason for this flood of enrollment is elf-evident and it is not my purpose to discuss that part of the phenomenon. Since women rnw form a sizable part of the practitioners in the martial arts, they not only encounter Jifficulty in finding qualified teachers but also encounter the same type of discrimination is practiced outside in the business world. It appears that men in the dojo expect women to "look like a woman, but think like a man; and act like a lady, but fight like a man."

Without question women need a slightly different type of supervision because their ieeds are different. Their physical differences, their psychological makeup, their lack of a lighting background, all tend to make their instruction a special kind. Over the years, teaching and researching, I have noticed that women are more interested in the quality of the teaching than in the art itself. Also, they are more likely to take criticism personally. They need more reassurance than men and like to be encouraged, but in a sincere manner. Although men deep inside may be just as emotional as women, women display emotion more than men.

'The biggest obstacle that women meet in the dojo is that of discrimination. Discrimination is totally pervasive. Although the organization-the dojo-does not discriminate by itself, it is an instrument for accomplishing the act. Most would agree that there is a correlation between discrimination and prejudice. Discrimination is an action, prejudice is a state of mind, and from prejudice springs discrimination. Hence, a woman has two strikes against her when she enters a dojo.

We all have personal preferences of one sort or another and these preferences should be respected; but when any preference becomes a factor in the quality of teaching because of sex, then the question of discrimination arises since learning opportunities for women are affected. Generally, women have a greater urgency to learn good self-defense than men. Although some may be attracted to the sport end of the art, their primary interest is definitely on self-defense. When a woman enters a dojo to learn a martial art, the main hindrance to her learning is not her limitations as a woman, but the attitude of the men themselves. Of the utmost significance is the inability of most men to give her a decent chance and help her to get adjusted. In a dojo, where traditionally only men have tread, most of them do not feel at ease or know how to respond to a woman. Change of habits are required in a mixed dojo and the use of language has to be tempered. Off-color jokes cannot be told, as when only men are present, and the slightly different type of supervision required for her sometimes brings on an invidious discrimination by the men who feel uncomfortable with her around, especially if she happens to surpass them in the subtleties of the art.

To add to the problem, there is some legitimate basis for this discriminatory practice, which gives the men logical rationalizations to support their case. The majority say that she should know what to expect when she enters a dojo, and while there is a certain grain of truth here, men conveniently forget that her needs are different. And until she can find a truly qualified and sympathetic teacher, she will always encounter the phenomenon that men expect women in a dojo to "look like a woman, think like a man, act like a lady, and fight like a man."

"IDENTITY IN KARATE"

If Gilbert and Sullivan were alive today they would write a pretty little operetta about the activities of the karate movement in America, true to life and highly diverting. Looking at the ever burgeoning spate of dojos springing up all over the country, professing to teach karate, one should be thrilled at the thought that the art of karate is here at last.

But when your lessons begin you will be learning a set of stereotyped techniques that can be seen in many self-defense books on the market, and depending on the background of the teacher your lessons may go to ten or a hundred techniques according to the number of books he has read. If you are one of the fortunate few who have perused a few gyms here and there and have seen karate in action, you may ask the teacher for a few katas. He will then proceed to tell you that this is American karate and that he has cut off the "superfluous junk" associated with the Orient which he calls "the classical deadwood," and that what he is teaching is the new, the dynamic, the truly American-as American as apple pie.

After you have finished the course, if you remain long enough and pay enough, you will receive a card and a certificate stating in no uncertain terms that you are now a deadly weapon and a possessor of the black belt. If you happen to encounter a thug in an alley, you may show him your card, and with justifiable pride expect him to run from you in terror having met a black belt; but do not be too surprised if you wake up in a hospital sans wallet, sans false confidence, sans everything.

How can I avoid such teachers you may ask? How can I identify true karate? What criteria shall I use? True Okinawan or Japanese karate as taught today sprang from two fountainheads; namely, Itosu-Ha and Higashionna-Ha. All schools in Japan or Okinawa are teaching katas which find prototypes in the Itosu or Higashionna forms. Either a dojo has the katas: Naihanchi, Ping-An, Batsai, Kushanku and Seishan, or the katas:

Sanchin Tensho, Saifa, Sanseiru and Sepai. In other words there are two main-streams, but the katas are identifiable.
And with the katas you have identity for without identity you have no strength or purpose. The colored peoples of the world are seeking identity and that is how strong a spiritual force can be. And that is why it is the warp and woof of true karate. The fabric of karate cannot be woven without the katas. If you want to learn true karate you must find the dojos that teach these forms as well as other advanced forms. However, these basic forms must exist. And it is the best criteria to judge as to who and where true karate is being taught.

What is easy is not worth having. And it is not easy to learn the katas. But once learned, how much it is worth having! A great Zen master, Takuan, once said, "An inch of time is worth a foot of jade." Your time spent in learning the katas is worth more than a mountain of jade.

HE WHO SEEKS A COMPLIMENT FINDS TRUTH

"The truth rarely makes a person happy," my sensei was saying, "it ought to but it does not." He was talking and waving his spear for emphasis. Sweat was running down my brow and every once in a while I had to wipe my face to prevent the sweat from getting into my eyes.

As uncomfortable as I was physically, I was much more uncomfortable mentally and squirming inside. I looked at my friend, Seki, and felt sorry that he had come to this. But it was inevitable, the way it happened.

He was a student of Shinkage-Ryu and bragged about his prowess with the spear. He was a very affable person. Often we took a cup together. It was when he was in his cups that he was always seeking a compliment about how great he was with the spear. The patrons at the bars he frequented enjoyed his hospitality and agreed with him that he was the greatest. The better he felt,the more money he shelled out.

One day Seki found out that Yoshida Kotaro was staying at my house. He could hardly control his excitement. Seki grabbed my hand almost spilling my beer. He shouted, "Why didn't you tell me that the great martial artist, Yoshida Kotaro, is staying at your place? I must meet him."

"Why?" I asked. "You are studying another ryu and your teacher is very good." But he interrupted. His words gushed forth. "If Yoshida sensei should see how skillful I am and acknowledge it, I am made. You are my friend. Please introduce me."
That is how I brought Seki to my house. That is how we came to learn that truth does not make people happy; especially for a martial artist who thinks he is the greatest-drinking in a bar, yes-facing a master, no!

Sensi Kotaro was not in when I brought Seki home, so we went into the front yard and went through our warming up exercises while we waited for the sensei to come back. After an hour or so sensei returned. I took him aside and told him about Seki. "Reality is hard to take," sensei responded. "In the make-believe world of the bars, truth fits the pocket book and becomes twisted. It is better for your friend to stay there."

Seki heard him and prostrating himself, said "Onegai, itashimasu." "Let your friend have your spear, if he wants the truth, he shall have it today."

Seki, smiling, grabbed my spear and went into a kamae.

"Excuse me," sensei said, and thrust his spear towards Seki. Seki gave a big jump but the spear was at his throat. "I was just testing you," sensei continued. "Now get ready," and he thrust again. No matter what Seki did the spear was always at his throat. Finally he backed up against the fence and could not move at all.

I felt sorry for Seki and looked around to see if anyone was watching. There was no one around. I felt better. I liked Seki, and knowing him I knew that a few beers would fix him up and restore his spirits. My sensei then told us this tale:
"There were times when Mercury, between errands on Olympus, yearned to know whether he still was held in high esteem by mankind.

So one day, disguising himself as a traveler, he visited a sculptor's studio. Walking about among the many statues displayed there, he pointed to an image of Jupiter. 'How much are your asking for this odd piece?' he asked. 'I'll let you have that one cheap,' replied the sculptor. 'It is one of our less popular numbers. One drachma.'
Mercury laughed in his sleeve. Then he asked: 'How much for this stout lady here?'
The sculptor said: 'Oh, that one is Juno. I have to get a little more for females.'

Mercury's eye now caught sight of an image of himself. Thinking that as messenger of the gods and source of all commercial gain his image would command a gratifyingly high price, he said: 'I see you have a very handsome statue there of Mercury. How high do you value that excellent likeness?'

'Well,' replied the sculptor, 'I am willing to make you a bargain. If you will pay me the price I quoted to you on the other two statues, I will throw this one in free.'

HOW STRAIGHT THE GAIT

"He is too much!" Sato complained. "I am a man, not a slave. I've had it, i'm leaving. The heU with his art."

And Sato kept on beating his gums. He was complaining about sensei finding fault with him. Nothing he did seemed to please sensei, if you believed what Sato said. No matter what he did, sensei found something to correct with pedantic regularity. And yet, on the surface, our sensei, Lieutenant Jean Martinet, was, by comparison, permissive about discipline.
As Sato was my senior, I kept my mouth shut and listened. Martial arts etiquette held my tongue in place. I wanted to say, "I see no difference in the way sensei treats me. He is a little harder on you because you are the senior."

Anyway Sato did quit and went back to Hokkaido from where he had come. Later, it was rumored that he had opened his own dojo, joined another ryu and received a much higher dan.

I knew sensei was hurt. Not the kind of hurt when one loses a student, a good student. But the kind of hurt when one loses a possible successor. Sensei was grooming Sato to take over, but Sato never knew it. Sato, in his selfish pride, believed that sensei was picking on him and in his imagined humiliation he resented sensci.

It surprised me when this fact was made known to me. Sensei never told me. I heard it from Sawai.

"Sato is Japanese, he should have known," I said in surprise. "If he was foreign born, without the cultural background, maybe there would be room for a different perspective of mercy."

"Even among the Japanese," Sawaii said, "there are those who look for the easy way and confuse sensei's mercy for pedantry and humiliating insult. If Sato had been able to weather the stqrm, sensei would have gone to the great beyond satisfied that he had left his art in good hands. The undisciplined false pride of the egotist must never be given the tools of the martial arts to use as they please."

I made up my mind then to thoroughly immerse myself in Japanese culture for I realized that I would never be able to see the world in Japanese perspective unless 1 could think like them.

I have never regretted it. For the martial artist in Japan, no matter how straight the gait, he suffers the insufferable, bears the unbearable, endures the unendurable, because the sensei says so and society expects it to be so. When it all comes out in the wash, sensei knows best because he has been there. The following is a favorite Japanese dojo story exempliflying the Japanese way: Matajuro wanted to become a great swordsman, but his father said he wasn't quick enough and could never learn. So Matajuro went to the famous dueler Banzo, and asked to become his pupil. "How long will it take me to become a master?" he asked, "Suppose I became your servant, to be with you every minute; how long?" "Ten years," said Banzo.

"My father is getting old. Before ten years have passed I will have to return home to take care of him. Suppose I work twice as hard, how long will it take me?"

"Thirty years," said Banzo.

"How is that?" asked Matajuro. "First you say ten years. Then when I offer to work twice as hard, you say it will take three times as long. Let me make myself clear: I will work unceasingly, no hardship will be too much. How long will it take?"
"Seventy years," said Banzo. "A pupil in such a hurry learns slowly." Matajuro understood. Without asking for any promises in terms of time he became Banzo's servant. He cleaned, he cooked, he washed, he gardened. He was ordered never to speak of fencing or to touch a sword. He was very sad at this but he had given his promise to the master, and resolved to keep his word. Three years passed for Matajuro as a servant.

One day, while he was gardening, Banzo came up quietly behind him and gave him a terrible blow with a wooden sword. The next day in the kitchen, the same terrible blow fell again. Thereafter, day in, day out, from every corner and at any moment, he was attacked by Banzo's wooden sword. Banzo began to look like a demon. Matajuro learned to live on the balls of his feet, ready to dodge at any moment. He became a body with no desires, no thoughts-only eternal readiness. Banzo, smiled, and started lessons. Soon Matajuro was the greatest swordsman in Japan.

CLOTHES CANNOT CHANGE THE SKILL

More and more martial artists are adopting a tendency to appear in flamboyant dress during meets, exhibitions and demonstrations.

Some argue that the flashy clothes they sport are meant to psyche opponents and dazzle the public, but all that is a matter of opinion. Clothes certainly cannot change the skill.

This harsh lesson was learned by one of the greatest martial artists in Japanese history. His name was Muso Gonnosuke, founder of Shindo Muso Ryu. He had first studied Katori Shinto Ryu and was proficient in all weapons of that ryu. He had fought every swordsman in Tokyo (Edo at that time) and had never been defeated. Constant praise and victories had given him a swollen head; he even changed his style of dress and eight students followed his every step throughout the city and its suburbs.

The sight of Muso, glittering, with eight students close behind him was sight enough to draw a holiday crowd. Muso was on his way to Kyushu with his students and he decided to stop in Akashi, a city approximately in the middle of Japan. It was there that Miyamoto Musashi was home sculpturing a piece of wood under the noonday sun, interrupted only by the occasional buzz of a fly that Musashi ignored with the peaceful calm he had developed by years of deadly matches. "Muso Gonnosuke has come!" His servant announced while Musashi sculptured quietly. "He is outside your door with eight students. They are awaiting an audience with you. What shall I tell him?"
"Show him in." Musashi requested.

The servant soon reappeared with Muso and his eight students around him. The student in front carried a huge boken.
Musashi saw Muso was a tall man, nearly six-feet tall and noticed the similarity of build between teacher and the eight students. Muso, although it was summer, wore a haori (coat) with the Rising Sun emblazoned on the back and the symbols "Heiho Tenkai Ichi" (Number One Strategist Under Heaven) embroidered down the entire left side of the coat. On the right side Musashi could read "Nippon Kaizan Muso Gonnosuke."

"So you are the famous Muso Gonnosuke. Your fame has spread far in advance of you." Musashi greeted him.
"I, too, have heard of you, Musashi. I have seen your father's style of swordsmanship. The talk is that you have improved on his style. Can I see what you have done?"

Musashi knew this was an indirect challenge, and he calmly replied, "If you have seen my father's style, then you have seen mine. There is hardly a difference between the two."

Muso insisted on seeing the improvements and finally Musashi said, "If you insist, I will demonstrate. My heiho (strategy) is basically defensive and I am told your style is based on the offense. Therefore, attack at will." Musashi picked up the piece of wood he was sculpturing and went out to the courtyard. Muso grabbed the boken his student held and followed to face Musashi. Muso attacked vigorously, but Musashi blocked every blow. Finally, Muso faked a blow to Musashi's temple ahd slashed across with a side-arm stroke, touching Musashi on the sleeve under the arm.
"There. I have scored a hit!" Muso shouted excitedly. His students also shouted with joy.
"It was not a hit. Only an insignificant touch on the sleeve under my arm," Musashi replied. "But if you want to know what a hit is, I will gladly show you."

Then Musashi attacked.

Muso was hard pressed and could do nothing but retreat. He had never faced such a formidable opponent. The slab of wood Musashi swung seemed alive. Muso could not muster enough speed to counterattack. Musashi then tapped Muso on the sleeve under the arm and, as the students gasped in amazement, he dealt Muso a terrific blow on the forehead, toppling him like a log.

Musashi smiled, turned to face the students and said, "Take your teacher away. He is not hurt. The only thing bruised is his ego and he will probably have a slight headache.

Tell him that the essence of the martial arts is self-development. Clothes cannot improve the skill."

AMERICAN KARATE: BUDO VS. ECLECTICISM

There is a large movement to develop an eclectic Western style of karate. It is a commendable movement, and in general the intentions of these reformers are good. However, good intentions must be constructively directed and the proponents of such a movement should stop and reflect on how karate started, why it is practiced and what karate is.
Karate is an art, a martial art, and not a sport. It is part of what the Japanese call "budo," the "way of the warrior." It is practiced as a way of life and started in the crucible of Oriental culture.

Oriental culture emphasizes values different from the West. The Oriental ideal of men is of oneness, of being one with the family, one with the country. Participation with the whole is the natural Oriental culture pattern. In karate, or the cognate arts of judo, aikido, and kendo the repetitious training and emphasis on basics disappoint many Westerners who expect to flip an opponent with a simple twist of the wrist. They question the methods of training and keep searching from dojo to dojo for the magic formula that will make them supernormal. The Oriental accepts the premise that his teacher knows best. Psychologists tell us our behaviour is produced by the way our body and mind interact and in the same manner our personalities are produced by the interaction of our culture and our psychological constitution. Fundamentally, the philosophical concept of Western culture has been that of postulation, whereas Oriental culture has been that of intuition.
The Oriental psyche looks for an esthetic contact with reality through intuition. To him eternal truth is behind reality. Man is part of the universe-the cosmic whole. The Western man takes a diametrically opposed position. He views the universe and all objects around him with an Aristotelian logic. It must make sense-two and two equals four. He wants to survey, subvert and control.

Since karate is a way of life, the screening process in the Orient is very stringent. This process of careful scrutiny and constant vigilance is continued until the student makes blaék belt-an achievement, to use the Churchillian phrase, of "blood, toil, tears and sweat."

Where this screening process is lacking some practitiOners slip in, acquire some technical skill and for commercial reasons try to develop their own eclectic style. In this particular case the cry for an eclectic style is based solely on the inadequacy of the principals involved and their overwhelming need to control people. They come into the martial arts with deep seated feelings of inferiority and not being able to stand the rigorous training involved in the martial arts cry with their own self-justification for something eclectic. The Oriental martial arts have much to offer the West and those in the West would be wise if they try to understand and learn, before they cry to high heaven.

THE VOICES

This is one small voice crying out in the wilderness, seeking te make itself heard above the loud and shrill outcry against Oriental insistence of respect for tradition in the martial arts.

This is a voice that says, stop, look and listen; play down the shrieking and crying, otherwise the ceaseless din will tire out the public and turn their interest away from the martial arts, and thence, the demise of those arts, especially karate.
Recently and with increasing fervor, a spate of articles have appeared here and there, clamoring for practically complete severance of the ties to the Orient in the field of the martial arts. This is based on the premise that Americanization of the martial arts is a necessary adjunct to the pioneer spirit handed down by the Pilgrim Fathers. No one can quarrel with that aspect of American history. However, one must ask himself, what does Americanization of karate or any of the cognate martial arts mean?

The shrill voices should recognize a universal fact-when you play the game, you play the game within a set of rules bound by tradition. The rules constitute the framework, the environment within which the game is played. The rules are necessarily specific and without ambiguity with the terminology clearly defined. Take baseball for example. The rules are universal and consistent. A strike is a strike, whether it is played in Japan or the United States. The game originated in the U.S. and the rules and the terminology are American. How ludicrous it would be if an American were to go to Japan and watch a game of baseball which was unlike anything he had seen in his life, except the name was called baseball. Or for that matter, imagine your surprise if you should visit a country and see a game called basketball in name only, but totally unlike what you know basketball to be.

The universal applicability of the martial arts falls within the same generalizations as those just indicated. In the venerable art of karate a maegeri is a maegeri whether it is performed in Kalamazoo, Timbucktu or Tokyo, Japan. The question of physical superiority does not enter the picture. What counts is how well the game is played.

It has been said that "man only plays, when in the full sense of the word, he is man, and he is completely a man when he plays." I would like to add, only when he plays according to the game.

TELL IT LIKE IT IS

What is self-defense? According to Webster, self-defense is "the act of defending oneself or something that belongs or relates to oneself." But what does defending oneself really mean? Does it mean avoiding an attack? Does it mean the ability to block any blow? Does it mean the ability to nullify an attack?

One day while home in Yokohama. I asked my sensei, Yoshida Kotaro, this same question. This is what he said to me: "You will find all sorts of answers to that particular question, but in our system there is only one answer. Your real self-defense begins when you hit your attacker with your "best shot". If you knock him out or hurt him sufficiently to stop him from further attacks on you, that is real self-defense. If he laughs at your "best shot", then your real self-defense depends on how fast you can run. It is that simple. Never forget that. Indeed, I have never forgotten it!
Self-defense Jies at that particular juncture of the road where sport karate and the art of karate come to a parting of the ways. Needless to say, sport karate is exactly that-sport karate. Many movements used in sport karate are flashy, ineffective movements which, in reality, are not geared for self-defense outside of the dojo. Unfortunately, the stylish jumping, leaping and spinning kicks you see used in tournaments are meant to catch the public eye, not as a means for self-defense in case of an attack.

I take umbrage, particularly, at the rationalization that without sport karate the growth of karate would not he possible. Probably this is true in a relative sense; however, if you scrutinize carefully the claims of the adherents and propagators of sport karate, invariably you will find them pushing the hard-sell shibboleth, "the ultimate in self-defense, the incredible power of karate." Tell it like it is. Sport karate is not self-defense; it is not even geared for self-defense. It is only*a small part of the whole of karate. The bulk of self-defense instruction ought to be devoted to teaching how to lay out an attacker in the quickest and most efficient manner possible. And, in case they fail to "drop an attacker on the spot," students should know the next alternative-to abdicate the realm and get out of harm's way. My teacher told an old story which illustrated this point:

A cat and a fox were exchanging views upon the difficulties of living in peace and safetv from those who were ever ready to take their lives.

"I do not care a jot for any of them, "said the fox at last. "Things may he very bad, as you say, but I have a thousand tricks to show my enemies before they can do me any harm."

''You arc fortunate, '' replied the cat. ''For my part, I have on/v one trick which I learned well, and if that fails all is lost.
''I am sorry for you with all my heart, '' said the fox. ''If it was not so hard to tell a friend from a foe in these difficult times, I would show you one or two of my tricks.

Hardly had he finished speaking when a pack of hound.c burst sudden/v upon them.
The cat, resorting to her single trick, ran up a tree into the security of the topmost branches. The fox, unable to make up his mind which of the thousand tricks he would adopt, was torn to pieces before he could put even one of them into operation.

QUALITY IS BETTER THAN QUANTITY

Size impresses people. The bigger the better. You see evidence of it everywhere-the size of automobiles, of buildings, of cities, of organizations. in the martial arts some operators have taken advantage of people's tendency to be impressed by size and have lured students to their dojo by proclaiming that their organization is the largest, and by inference, the best.
Americans are not the only people impressed by size; the Japanese are just as susceptible. I remember when I was teaching in Yokohama, I met the Prince. He, too, was impressed by size. His ambition was to have the biggest dojo and the largest number of students in the city. He took karate lessons from all the teachers worthy of note in the Tokyo-Yokohama area. He studied for five years, then quit to form his own school. The Prince finally convinced himself that he was a combination of Funakoshi, ltosu and Higashionna and started visiting the dojo in Yokohama proclaiming his proficiency in the art.

Since he could blow his own horn louder and clearer than anyone else, he attracted many students. However, when they discovered that he had nothing to offer, they left as quickly as they had come. One night when he was in his cups (the Prince had struck up a close acquaintance with demon rum), he met an untimely demise trying to contest the right of way with a truck.

There is nothing wrong with size per se; however, in the martial arts quality is better than quantity. This reminds me of an old tale:

There was much talk among the animals as to which of them could boast of the largest family. They decided to settle the matter by sending messengers throughout the length and breadth of the country to ask all mothers how many children they bore at one time.

Before the messengers had gone very far they came to the lair of a lioness. "And nd how many cubs do you give birth to?" they asked. "Only one, "she replied. "But that one is the King of Beasts."

MAN OF THE IRON FIST

On Okinawa, there is a small place called Gushikawa Village. It is off the beaten path and not too well known by the karate students of today, but it once was the scene of one of the martial arts' most colorful legends.
There is a certain tree in the village which is still the topic of much discussion among local residents. This tree first became famous around the turn of the century when a villager named Agena made history. Agena, nicknamed Tairagwaa (the small calm one), was born in the tiny village in 1870, the first son of an upper middle class family. As a youth, he became one of the first non-noblemen to take up karate and though only a commoner was affectionately referred to as a living bushi (a samurai warrior).

Despite his slight physical stature, he was obsessed with the thought of becoming a man of the "iron fist" and "steel fingers." He pursued this objective with extreme dedication, eventually developing a fist like Thor's hammer. Unlike most karate masters, Agena never opened a school, but instead continued working exclusively with his own fist and fingers until they were capable of performing the incredible feats for which he is now remembered.
One particular day, so the legend says, Agena visited his friend Tengan Matsu. Tengan knew Agena had developed his hands to an extraordinary degree which bordered on the supernatural. Tengan opened a bottle of sake and after a few drinks said, "Agena, I'll make a bet with you. I bet I can rip off the bark of that tree there faster than you can. The wager will be five pounds of meat. What do you say?"

"Aw, come on," replied Agena, smiling, "forget it. Drink up. Anyway, it is a silly bet. You have as much chance as a snowball in hell." "No, I'm serious," insisted Tengan. "But there is a condition. I use my chisel and you use your hands. After all, you are the man with the iron fist and steel fingers." Tengan smiled, feeling secure in the knowledge that even Agena would not take up such a bet.

Agena then jumped up and said, "Get ready to buy me five pounds of top sirloin. I'm not asking for filet, just top sirloin." And he ran to the tree. Tengan followed with his chisel.

Tengan called the village headmaster as referee, and on the mark, they started. Tengan was thinking, "Agena must be drunk. I wonder why he took up such a bet. How can he beat the chisel, no matter how strong his hands are?"
Agena repeatedly punched the tree with his fist, loosening the bark and ripping it off with his fingers. First punch, then rip, and the bark came off in wide strips. Within two minutes, he had punched and ripped off an eight-foot strip, while Tengan had barely come down only one-third of the way.

Tengan threw down his chisel and admitted defeat. By now the village people had heard what was happening and had gathered around the tree, wondering how Agena could manage to do what he did. Tengan went off to the market place and bought the meat. With the help of the village headmaster and his family, both friends finished off the meat and a few extra jugs of sake.

There are many episodes about Agena and his steel fingers, but it is said he never hurt another human being, and in times of self-defense merely subdued his assailants rather than killing them. Agena was a master of himself who behaved truly to himself. He died in 1924 at the age of 54.