Reconsidering Bujutsu and Budo
Here, I would like to once again discuss the difference between bujutsu and budo, as well as the relationship between them. As I have repeated before, these are merely my own personal ideas formed through the practice of my own budo.
A person who continually pursues something through the concept of “the Way” (do) is called a kyudosha—a seeker of the Way. I have previously stated that budo is a form of physical activity whose deeper understanding has still not been fully shared or mutually understood. But perhaps that is because budo, at its core, is something each martial seeker pursues individually, striving toward the heights they themselves have discovered through the values cultivated over the course of their own lives. If that is the case, then perhaps budo was never premised on complete mutual understanding in the first place.
Rather than being something already perfected and simply passed down unchanged from the past into the present and onward into the future, budo exists in a state of continual transformation, shaped by the thoughts, philosophies, and preferences of the people involved with it both now and in the future.
In Japan, there is a Buddhist phrase: shogyo mujo—the impermanence of all things. It means that everything in this world is in constant flux, and nothing remains eternal or unchanging. Budo, as a physical practice, must likewise continue to evolve as the passions of martial artists clash and interact in countless forms throughout each era, changing its scale, social significance, and meaning within the lives of its practitioners. And now, we who live in this age must also create new transformations through the collision, convergence, and dispersion of many forms of energy: physical and mental strength, intellect, creativity, love, and compassion.
The recognition that one continues martial training amid this impermanence overlaps with the concept of the Way itself. In other words, for those of us living in the present, there is never any true completion in the practice of budo. Budo should therefore be pursued with continual reflection on the future and on what one is practicing. It is not blind loyalty to tradition.
On the other hand, the traditions of bujutsu often carry the weight of lineages preserved over centuries. Therefore, I believe it is only natural to respect the attitude of faithfully preserving and transmitting the traditions of a school or lineage into which one has devoted oneself. It is here that I draw a distinction between bujutsu and budo.
In other words, bujutsu places importance on the faithful transmission of techniques inherited through generations. Budo, meanwhile, is the act of drawing from those traditions to creatively develop content worthy of being passed into the future—content that can also elevate and mature oneself as a human being. It must always maintain a perspective that seeks usefulness and relevance within the conditions of contemporary society.
The relationship between the two is similar to that between modern music and classical music. The roots of many existing genres of modern music lie in classical music, and classical music itself continues to be passed down into the present day. When contemporary musicians who inherit those roots seek greater depth and breadth in their own creations, they inevitably arrive back at classical music. When I think about the relationship between bujutsu and budo, I carry a similar image drawn from the world of music.
A budoka should constantly study and engage with the philosophies and body mechanics of bujutsu. However, the purpose is not preservation alone—it is creation.