The Saving Art of Ukemi

Demonstrating ukemi at the Connecticut College Martial Arts Club's annual demo night, March 2010

Shortly after my last post, I moved back from the North Shore to the Greater Boston area, where I will be starting graduate school in the fall. After more than six years training in other martial arts around the United States, I am finally back at Shobu Aikido of Boston; for the first time in just as long, I will be able to train there for more than a month without a significant break in between. Over the last two weeks, as I delved back into the style in which I began my formal training as a martial artist, I was reminded of the lessons which make it so valuable. Among these, one in particular is an often-neglected practice that I would argue is essential for complete martial arts training, especially for applied combat techniques. This is the art of ukemi.

Literally translated as “receiving body”, ukemi is a Japanese term referring to the art of safely receiving an opponent’s technique (be it a throw, hold, lock, etc.) in practice. My teacher, William Gleason, defines ukemi as the “Art of receiving, falling, and moving in such a way as to have no openings where one could be attacked” (In his first book, The Spiritual Foundations of Aikido); which I think is as good a definition as any. Ukemi is particularly obvious in such arts as Judo, Koryu Jiujutsu, Aikido, and Hapkido, which place emphasis on throwing and locking techniques from which opponents must be capable of rolling, falling, or positioning their bodies safely to avoid serious injury. However, all arts, in one form or another, involve some form of ukemi, and more importantly, I would argue that all martial artists should have at least some training to be realistically prepared for an actual physical confrontation. I perceive three levels of ukemi application in the martial arts, each of which is developed continuously as a result of sincere training.

        At the basic level, ukemi training involves learning to fall and roll on a mat when your balance is thrown off, thus preventing the crippling injuries to bones and internal organs which can result from slamming into the ground. A teacher of mine once told me that to learn to achieve victory in the martial arts, the first step is to learn to be defeated. The idea behind this is not to learn to “lose”, but to learn how to behave in a worst-case scenario. If a martial artist always trains how to fight when they are on their feet and on balance, they will not be prepared to defend themselves if they are knocked to the ground. With this in mind, I consider the reluctance of some martial artists to spend time learning how to fall down a form of arrogance; more likely than not, unless you are an absolute master of your given art, you will be knocked over, or at least knocked off balance, in a real fight.

Practicing ukemi, one learns to relax and be flexible; to know when one is “beaten”, and to resist only when in an advantageous position. Tightening or clenching the muscles or resisting foolishly when the opponent is about to throw can result in serious injuries. A good uke hits the ground like a wet towel, heavily and loosely, while a stiff and rigid one will fall like a grand piano and burst to pieces. On more than one occasion, this basic level of ukemi has saved me from serious injuries.

For example, while working as a Campus security patroller in college, I once slipped on black ice on a steep concrete slope, and rather than breaking my wrist or arm, I dropped to the ground on my side and dissipated my momentum with my palm. The movement had been unconscious but identical to what I might do if someone swept my feet from beneath me. I arose, hands trembling with adrenaline, but totally unharmed, and continued my patrol without incident.

The higher art of ukemi is one I have seen less often. This is the art of blending with and receiving techniques while not yet thrown, and of protecting one’s self through positioning and posture while sezing, grappling with, or otherwise attacking an opponent. This type of ukemi is particularly emphasized in Aikido, Systema, and the more advanced levels of Judo and Koryu Jiujutsu. The idea is not only to survive and recover from a fall or throw as in basic ukemi, but to have the sensitivity and adaptability to find your own openings and weakpoints and actively, continuously adjust your movements and positioning to eliminate them. This is what Gleason sensei refers to in having “no openings”, and what Bruce Lee described as “body feel”. It makes techniques "alive" and realistic, even in a controlled environment, and cultivates an ability to react instantaneously and harmoniously to a situation without the need for thought or consideration. Aikido techniques, because of their goal of nonviolence, depend on this level of ukemi. If an opponent leaves themselves open, even an Aikidoka must take this opening and attack. Only through a dynamic tension of the nage (performer of the technique, “thrower”) taking the uke (receiver)’s balance and the uke adapting their movement to stay safe, is Aikido technique possible.

                The highest level of ukemi is in some way comparable to the internal arts of Tai Chi and Ba Gua (e.g. push hands) or Systema, in which the martial artist becomes so sensitive that in contact with their opponent they can find his or her weakpoints and openings and exploit them the same way. This opens the door to the practice of kaeshi waza, reversal of technique, in which uke finds a weakness in nage’s technique and in turn performs his or her own.

This level of ukemi, as well as that before it, have both been invaluable products of my Aikido training thus far. In practicing with other martial artists, I have repeatedly been astounded by the unconscious connection I can make with their techniques, and how rapidly openings and counterattacks can manifest themselves faster than my conscious thought can process. On several occasions, I have practiced with wrestlers and Judoka whose techniques were repeatedly confounded by minute and subtle adjustments in my movement. While practicing Mixed Martial Arts at Sityodtong, I exhausted a sparring partner who continually clinched and attempted to throw me by blending with his movements. Rather than resisting as he was accustomed, I moved easily with his throws, either moving beyond his control or, when his technique was correct, rolling simply out of range and back to my feet before he could follow up his technique. As the sparring session went on, his arms were tired from their exertions, and I was able to take advantage of his dropping guard.

I would urge every serious martial artist to give proper consideration to the benefits of ukemi, and to investigate how such practice might apply to their training. Even if you don’t find yourself in a combative situation, it may be a real life-saver on a winter stroll.