A sampling of books from my martial arts library
Almost exactly
seven years ago, in the dead heat of a New England summer, I roasted on the
fourth floor of an old brick building in Watertown, Massachusetts. Wrapped in a
thick cotton dogi and heavy twill
hakama, I struggled to catch my breath as I sat in seiza
with two dozen other Aikidoka at Shobu Aikido of Boston. Gasping for
air, I furtively wiped the stinging sweat from my eyes with the sleeve of my gi
(a bit of a breach of etiquette) only to find more trickling down from my
forehead. It was nearly 8pm, and the sun was setting hot in the humid air
outside, shooting in through the western windows to cast a glow on the sweat-soaked
tatami beneath us. The class collectively struggled to silence our rapid
breathing as our teacher, William Gleason sensei, was explaining the
significance of several Japanese myths on the origins of the martial arts. As
he explained the relevance of these texts, he presented a simple idea which I
had never before considered.
“It is so
important to read,” he said emphatically, sweeping his gaze across the
class, “to be aware of what else is out there, and to have an idea of where you
and your training stand. It is a part of training off of the mat.”
I was struck by
the idea, and how blatantly I had ignored it up until that point. Having only
begun my training in Aikido a little over a year before, I had jumped in
head-first, attending classes almost daily and practicing hard in my spare
time. During summer break from high school, I was free to train with even
greater intensity, and had began running to increase my endurance for an
upcoming rank test. I was always moving and sweating, and never really thinking
about my training, always developing my body and never my mind.
This was
probably the product of overcompensation, since I had been a skinny, sickly,
and purely intellectually focused person before starting the martial arts, and
had a powerful longing to change that.
What I had missed, however, was the juncture of my two growing passions at the
time; non-fiction literature and the martial arts. This I found as I began
reading.
Though martial
arts training is primarily physical—that is, lessons are committed more to
“body memory” than conscious thought, and emphasis is on feeling and experience
over intellectual reflection—to constrain it to that level is limiting. Part of
what many argue distinguishes a martial art from a combat sport is its ethos,
and the teaching of moral, ethical, and spiritual principles beyond martial
technique (for a deeper investigation of what constitutes a martial art, see Defining "Martial Art").
In reading about
the martial arts, a martial artist can learn more about the origins of his or
her art, as well as the philosophy which went behind it. Furthermore, books
offer the opportunity to research other arts, discovering the similarities and
differences in thought and technique which exist between them. While technical
points can be useful and illustrative, I would argue that they are best learned
first-hand and are not to be relied upon when taken solely from the pages of a
book. Reading nonetheless offers the martial artist the continual opportunity
to broaden their horizons and re-examine their motivations in training.
Reading also
offers a chance for the martial artist to take their learning into their own
hands. While it is expected that a student generally focus on the curriculum
taught by the instructor, a student (especially in today’s busy world) need not
limit their growth to the few hours per week they can spend on the mat. I’ll
discuss independent training in greater depth in a future post.
In some
traditional schools philosophical lessons may be built into the curriculum or
offered freely by the instructor, but in more technical schools such education
may be more difficult to come by. Reading provides a great opportunity for
students whose training focuses more on technique to gain a deeper
understanding of how and why they are training.
That being said,
I want to make it clear that reading can never equate to real training. The
martial arts must be experienced first-hand to be learned, and cannot be
deconstructed into a technical manual. While manuals, guides, and philosophical
essays are an incredibly helpful supplement to training, they cannot constitute
actual training. The best way to consider reading in the martial arts is as a
supplementary benefit, like a daily multivitamin. Real training, on the other
hand, could be compared to a hearty meal. A human being can’t survive on
vitamins alone; nor can a martial artist get by on just being a bookworm.
Next month, I
will begin posting my own reviews of martial arts books, in the hopes of
recommending good literature to other interested martial artists. I am also
interested in compiling a list of high quality books on the martial arts to be
used as a reference guide for those in search of good literary resources. If
interested, please comment and leave the titles and authors of your favorite
books on the martial arts; I am always looking to add to my library and
wishlist.
The following is
a selection of ten books which I have found both influential and instrumental
in my training, in the order I encountered them:
1.
The Tao of Jeet Kune Do—Bruce
Lee
2.
Zen in the Martial Arts—Joe
Hyams
3.
The Spiritual Foundations
of Aikido—William Gleason
4.
The Way of Kata—Lawrence A.
Kane and Kris Wilder
5.
Warrior Mindset—Michael J.
Asken, Dave Grossman, and Loren W. Chistensen
6.
A Tooth from the Tiger’s
Mouth—Tom Bisio
7.
Ki in Daily Life—Koichi Tohei
8.
The Martial Way and its
Virtues/Tao De Gung— F.J. Chu
9.
Aikido and the Harmony of
Nature—Mitsugi Saotome
10.
Living the Martial Way—Forrest
E. Morgan
In Mesopotamia, 3,000 BC-2,300 BC, to be exact, primitive human beings depended on their bare hands and feet to battle enemies, animals, and obstacles to survive everyday life. In fact, these were considered as martial arts back then.
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