As many of you already know, Kimo Wall sensei passed away on Thanksgiving. I have already written something about his history here, so I won’t be going into that again. While his death is not unexpected it is sad news. The last year plus had been very difficult for sensei and so I take comfort in knowing he is at rest. And yet, while I cannot speak for anyone else, the impact sensei has had on my life is difficult to even begin to assess and right now more than anything else I am sad, and wishing we could, once more, be sitting down to dinner after training together.

I first met sensei in 1986. I was 18, starting college, and knew nothing about martial arts. I started training and sensei introduced me to a path that has shaped my life. We shared travel together- around the US, in Japan, and in Puerto Rico. Countless meals, conversations, and so many shared friends and training partners. And of course countless hours in the dojo. He has been part of my life for over 30 years now and his passing, while not a surprise, somehow comes as one.

In El Morro, Old San Juan, late 1980s.

It is impossible to sum up a person, or more than 30 shared years, in a few words. I can’t really say much about sensei as a teacher or martial artist that has not already been said. Of course he was my teacher, and training with him taught me things I have taken into all aspects my life, lessons of perseverance, will, adaptation, and calmness that have served me well. But that is only a part of it. As he has passed I find myself thinking much more of the person, and our experiences together.

Mostly I find myself remembering little moments- sensei laughing when I dumped a straw filled with pickled jalapeno juice in Mike’s mouth when he was sleeping in a chair in Tennessee- sensei talking about his bulldogs, his “brother,” his family, his students- the deep respect and love he had for his teachers- sensei at dinner eating through what I thought was going to be a couple of days worth of sukiyaki lunches- listening to music together at a street party in Puerto Rico- him having a pan of brownies in his apartment in Japan when I arrived, saying “bet you haven’t had these in a while”- coming home to him parked in the driveway “hey hey Fred san, I am a few days (it was weeks..) early. What time is training and what’s for dinner?”. I find myself remembering his good humor, his occasional bad humor, his discipline and dedication, and what some people may not have noticed but how sentimental he was, and how sensitive to the relationships in his life.

Opening the new dojo, 2009. 

Of course there was training and the after-training lectures. Things like his taking my feet completely out from under me and the immediate “kamae!”, no break, no room for pause or even checking myself out- us working through part of papuhaku dai bunkai in the big gym in Totman. He hadn’t quite finished it yet, and it felt passing strange to be helping him work through a piece instead of just learning. (Help might be a strong word here, but he did ask me what I thought at one point.)- “ahm bah bunkai”-  “you no be minus, you be plus”- struggles with “chicken fight bunkai” and a room of people in their 40s instead of college students- “sometimes demonstrations go well, sometimes they don’t, let’s eat.”  But even in the dojo, right now my thoughts slide towards silly, personal moments. Yes, some are funnier in retrospect, but that too is a part of all that time.

One thing about all that time is that you come to know someone as they changed. He was not static. There was always something new. Even his last visit here held something I believe we could all learn from. I think we were the last dojo he trained and taught in, just a few days before his stroke. I truly wish I had been able to get him to go home to PR and rest, but he was adamantly having none of it. Instead, he was in the dojo, teaching and training. Utsu bo, kama (a terrifying moment with him, somewhat unsteady on his feet, holding a live blade between my legs to demonstrate a technique….) all sorts of karate and kobudo. At times he asked a student to help hold him up so he could demonstrate. What shone through was the passion. Regardless of his condition there was nowhere he would rather be than on the floor, with students and friends. But what is most important is that he knew it. This was where he wanted to be, what he was supposed to be doing. Do you know what you want so clearly?

Smiling and training, of course. Spring 2017.

I will miss him, both the sensei I met in 1986 that scared the bejesus out of me when I came to kamae in front of him and the friend I would find sleeping on my couch in the afternoon when he was visiting, one eye opening and then dozing back off with a slight nod and a smile. He was a friend and teacher to many. Over the years and the miles many people had different experiences of him. Much of that I cannot speak to. He was a part of their lives and their practice. As a teacher and martial artist I know that the impact he has had on so many will be a lasting legacy that he can be rightly proud of. But that feels a little distant right now. For me, I will simply miss my teacher, and my friend.

Touguchi Seikichi sensei wrote this about the passing of his teacher, Miyagi Chojun. It seems fitting here.

A Tiger dies and leaves its skin

A Man dies and leaves his name

A Teacher dies and teaches death

And from a book that, for some reason, comes to mind I will leave you with this:

“I repeat again that first thing my teacher or my own madness revealed to me, on the cold stone flags of an ugly brick building, at the raw age of nineteen.

Death is before life and after it and in it all together, suffused with a light as perfect as the rays of the sun. It comes not an an insult, nor as a defeat, nor does it serve as a boundary to the free soul.”

Goodbye sensei. Aloha nui loa, and nifeedeebiru. Rest in peace.

I just had another great weekend at the annual Okinawa Kobudo Doushi Renseikai gasshuku. Training was really good, Stolsmark sensei did his usual excellent job teaching and leading the group, and it was fun to see and train with a group of dedicated and just plain nice people, friends and fellow kobudo-ka. It also made me think about how much things have changed in the kobudo “world”. I started training kobudo in 1986 and got lucky in having an excellent teacher. In those days good kobudo instruction was rare. I remember seeing groups doing bo or sai and being confused by the clear lack of understanding of how the weapon worked. I don’t mean differences in style or flavor, I mean a real lack of understanding of how to even hold a weapon in a way that was safe and would keep it in your hand if you hit anything.

Indeed, back in the 80s while there were certainly people doing kobudo, there was little kobudo being done. Sure some teachers had some experience, a few had a lot and in addition to Kimo sensei there were certainly some good people out there. But in general kobudo was not that popular, and the average understanding and skill level, even among “instructors” was really low, at least in the kobudo I saw. I believe this was mostly due to people simply not having exposure to good instruction; they didn’t have the opportunity. But these days, I see something different.  When Gakiya Yoshiaki sensei founded the Okinawa Kobudo Doushi Rensei Kai in 2002, he also started coming to the states annually. On those first trips I remember still seeing the vast majority of people on the floor having a really hard time with the basics of moving the weapon, and of carrying their bodies in a way that would facilitate using it. But that is more than a few years ago now. (Which I will admit comes as a bit of a surprise at times!)

Under Gakiya sensei, and after he stopped teaching and Neil Stolsmark sensei took on leadership of the OKDR under Stolsmark sensei, I have seen a real change in the group. Where once most people were struggling with the basics and the elementary kata now there is a large group of people who are working with a lot of the system, training hard and bringing on their own students. Where once paired work was primarily paired basics done with a little trepidation now it ranges from beginners to seniors working all parts of the system with energy, creativity, and attention to detail. It is, in so many ways, a completely different group.

This change has, I think, been mirrored in the larger martial arts community in North America. Perhaps it just needed time, as people (to be fair, like me) who were juniors in the 80s, got their time in. But do I see much more good kobudo than I would have thought possible 30 years ago. Ryukyu Kobudo, Matayoshi Kobudo, the kobudo of various specific instructors or karate styles, there is just more of it, and better quality. To me, it is a really welcome change.

Why has this happened? Well, kobudo has certainly become more popular. Nakasone san, the owner of Shureido, remarked to me last January that all of a sudden he simply can’t keep up with orders of kobudo equipment. There are a lot more people interested for all sorts of reasons. But, to my mind more importantly, I also see a lot more quality instruction. People that were coming up under the few good instructors here in the 80s have keep learning and teaching. Other people have gone and spend years or decades in Okinawa and are now teaching here. They have shown people what kobudo can be- not karate with a bo but a deep and difficult art (as well as a ton of fun).  They have also maintained or deepened their ties to their roots, technical and social, maintaining contact with the teachers and seniors of the kobudo in Okinawa, helping it grow and maintaining standards. I believe that inspires people. While a few seminars or (gasp!) a book or video may have once sufficed in community with no real examples to emulate, now there are many more teachers with years or decades in their systems under their teachers and they are demonstrating the value of that depth of experience.

And that is what I saw this last weekend at the OKDR gasshuku. Stolsmark sensei has done a fantastic job moving the group forward. Leadership like that is hard to find. Where once I saw a room full of people excited but struggling to start their kobudo journey, this last weekend I saw a room full of excited, interested practitioners. People who would probably have stood out as “masters” 30 years ago due to their knowledge alone. How many people did I see easily demonstrate paired work with a nunti in 1988? Not too darn many, but I did see a dozen or so this weekend do so without seeming to think it was a very big deal. And most importantly, it wasn’t. It was just part of training, a step on the journey.

I am glad I can be part of a group of people so interested in and dedicated to an art that I love. It is fun just to spend a weekend training kobudo together. It is also really wonderful to see that where once there was a room full of beginners now there is a room full of people at all stages of the practice, experienced to new. Gakiya sensei told me once he hoped one day he could see a whole room full of OKDR members do Shinbaru no sai and guwa and eku, and, and… together. We did that this weekend. Seeing that growth, and knowing I have had a small part to play in it happening, is a fine feeling indeed. Makes me excited about what happens next.