The “Budo Beat” Blog features a collection of short reflections, musings, and anecdotes on a wide range of budo topics by Professor Alex Bennett, a seasoned budo scholar and practitioner. Dive into digestible and diverse discussions on all things budo—from the philosophy and history to the practice and culture that shape the martial Way.

If you want to witness the best and possibly the worst aspects of human nature distilled into a single weekend, throw a group of long-term foreign budoka resident in Japan into an intensive budo seminar—that is, the now annulled annual “International Seminar of Budo Culture” (1989~2018). The purpose of the “Budo Seminar” was to provide foreigners who study traditional and modern martial arts in Japan with knowledge in the theory and techniques of budo, and also deepen their understanding of the historical and cultural aspects of the various disciplines. The seminar was sponsored by the Nippon Budokan, Japanese Budo Association, and MEXT in the hope that it would contribute to the international development of traditional culture, and foster goodwill through budo.

The annual event was always a spectacle to behold. Some arrived at the Budokan’s Kenshuu Centre in Katsuura with the solemnity of a samurai on his last march to battle, others with the enthusiastic flailing of a person who just discovered their limbs for the first time. But all, by the end, walked away with something: bruises, bewilderment, a fleeting touch of enlightenment, a sore stomach from laughing uncontrollably at the “Dai-ni Dojo” sessions, and more often than not, a bloody awful hangover. Yes, my old Budo Seminar mates, that means you. You know who you are. And yes, I also realise I shouldn’t be throwing stones in this particular glasshouse, because… guilty as charged. Ah the good old days.

I was present at very first seminar in 1989, and almost all of them since. For the vast majority, I have worked for the Budokan as one of the main interpreters, taking over from the venerable Meik Skoss-sensei when he departed Japan’s shores. I never got tired of it, as this remarkable seminar brought together participants from many different walks of life and countries for an immersive deep dive into the world of budo. I made many friends for life there.

This was my first year as an inteptreter at the Budo Seminar. From memory, I think it was at the 6th Seminar.

The seminar has recently undergone a massive transformation. What once was an animated, sometimes chaotic gathering of seasoned gaijin budoka in Japan has been reimagined into a more regulated and focused event, aimed at those encountering budo for the first time. Gone are the familiar, jaded faces of old seminar veterans swapping war stories over drinks into the early hours—replaced by fresh-eyed students and embassy staff stepping onto the tatami with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The Budokan’s decision to somewhat abruptly revamp the format in 2019 was likely a deliberate effort to bring the seminar back to its roots: a gateway into the world of budo, rather than a reunion for those cynical, smelly old buggers already well-versed in it.

This year (March 7~9, 2025) marked the “7th International Seminar of Budo Culture for Foreign Exchange Students and Embassy Staff”. It is an event that can only be described as equal parts academic symposium, hands-on training camp, and a merry gathering of young people enamoured by Japanese culture. As always, I was there as a Budokan staff member and interpreter. (You can check out the schedule for this year’s seminar here.)

Group photograph from the 7th International Seminar of Budo Culture for Foreign Exchange Students and Embassy Staff. This year there were 50 exchange students and 3 embassy staff from 24 countries. You can check out the content of this year’s seminar here.

From the elegant precision of kyudo to the controlled power of Shorinji Kempo, to the slapping of bare flesh in sumo, participants don’t just observe—they actually step into the arena. Under the watchful eyes and tutelage of top-notch instructors recommended by the nine modern budo federations, they bow, they listen, they do.[1] And somewhere between the first cautious steps in the dojo experiencing all nine budo and the lectures on its culture, they begin to understand that it ain’t just about fightin’—it’s about something deeper.

One of this year’s participants poses with sumo lads from Nittai University. Both of these boys are collegiate champions and very good teachers.

Thus, the seminar is by no means merely an academic exercise. It’s an exercise in experience—a living, breathing introduction to Japanese culture through the lens of its martial heritage. With expert-led lectures, demonstrations, practicums, and participant presentations, the event fosters a growing fascination with budo, leading more than a few to seek out dojos and take up training in some budo that tickled their fancy.

This year’s 7th International Seminar gave me pause to think about what it is to be a newbie in budo again. That’s because nearly all of the 50 odd participants were absolute novices. Anybody who does some kind of budo outside knows the word “shoshin-sha”, which means “beginner”. Shoshin (初心) is a Japanese term with multiple meanings, depending on the context. Literally “start heart”, It is often translated as “beginner’s mind” and is widely encountered in Zen Buddhism, the arts, and learning. Originally, shoshin referred to the first thought or determination one has when beginning something. It represents the purity of one’s initial resolution or aspiration.

Shoshin is not just a concept in Buddhism, but a principle deeply ingrained in all forms of learning. Even the most esteemed experts are admonished to continue embracing the spirit of shoshin. To have a ‘beginner’s mind’ is to remain open to new possibilities, unshackled by the weight of experience or the rigidity of expertise. It is a state of curiosity and humility that allows for genuine progress. In the context of budo, it is what keeps a weathered practitioner from stagnating, and it enables a complete novice to absorb lessons at a remarkable pace. Without it, learning turns into mere repetition, and growth slows to a crawl. This idea, though ancient, is as relevant today as it ever was.

There is a famous quote by that enigmatic Zen monk Takuan: “That which is truly high becomes the same as that which is truly low…” This idea expresses a profound Zen insight into the nature of mastery and enlightenment. At first glance, it may seem paradoxical to suggest that the culmination of training and wisdom brings one back to the state of a beginner. However, this idea is central to many Eastern philosophies, particularly in Zen Buddhism, where the ultimate goal is not the accumulation of knowledge or skill, but the transcendence of the self and the effortless embodiment of wisdom.

This concept is encapsulated in the Zen phrase “satori owaraba imada satorazaru ni onaji” (悟了同未悟), meaning “If one thinks they have reached enlightenment, they are no different from one who has not.” It suggests that true wisdom dissolves the very distinction between knowing and not knowing. A master, having reached the peak of understanding, does not dwell in intellectual superiority but rather embodies a state of openness, much like a beginner who approaches everything with fresh curiosity. This is similar to the idea of shoshin, which encourages continuous learning, adaptability, and humility. In this way, enlightenment is not a final destination but a return to simplicity—where wisdom manifests not as rigid knowledge but as effortless action, free from attachment and self-consciousness.

Yes, I know it all sounds rather too esoteric, but I was reminded of this by a couple of things that struck me at this Budo Seminar:

The absolute enthusiasm in the participants’ eyes was the first thing. They were like blank canvases—wide-eyed, unburdened by years of training, free from preconceived notions, and eager to absorb everything. The longer one practices budo, the easier it is to become overly serious, rigid, jaded, and to lose that spark of curiosity that makes the journey exciting. But these beginners had this spark, and it really was refreshing to see.

If I’m being honest, it made me a tad envious, and so yet another old teaching came to mind. “Shoshin wasuru bekarazu”. This commonly interpreted as “In anything you do, you must always maintain the humble and earnest mindset you had when you first began.” However, the meaning that the legendary pioneer of Noh,  Zeami explains in his treatise Kakyo is slightly different.

What Zeami refers to as shoshin is the “beginner’s mind” in the literal sense—the state of still being inexperienced and unskilled. In other words, it refers to remembering the times when you were clumsy at something, the frustration and embarrassment you felt, and the effort you put in to get to where you are today. It is a reminder not to forget that journey of growth. Furthermore, Zeami emphasises that one should not only reflect on their past inexperience but also recognise that even in the present, they are still in a state of continuous learning and growth.

The second thing that slapped me in the face was the really ‘stupid’ questions participants would ask. Except that, in hindsight, they weren’t stupid at all. Some were so ridiculous they actually revealed deeper truths about budo that seasoned practitioners often struggle to articulate. Questions like, “Why do you hold the sword with the left hand on the bottom of the hilt?” “Why is it necessary to bow so much in all the budo? Can’t you just do one at the beginning and one at end, but with more feeling?” “Why does each budo kneel down into seiza in a different way?” My favourite being, “If aiki is about redirecting energy, what happens if both people try to redirect each other at exactly the same time? Do they just spin in circles?” (Definite anime influence here…)

Other questions followed the same pattern of appearing somewhat silly but actually raising interesting points: “If kata is about perfecting form, does that mean someone who only ever does kata would still win against someone who only spars?” or “Why isn’t ninjutsu included in the nine modern budo? Was it too strong, or just too sneaky?” Each one of these questions could well become a blogpost at a later date.

These kinds of inquiries, like playful Zen koans, prompt a re-evaluation of the principles behind budo in ways that seasoned practitioners rarely consider. Admittedly, some more than others, but I couldn’t help but smile as the various federation senseis were briefly thrown off balance, as if trying to parry an attack they hadn’t quite anticipated. The questions, delivered with the directness only beginners can muster, had a way of bypassing years of learned explanations and cutting straight to the heart of things—simple on the surface, but surprisingly difficult to answer without slipping into circular logic.

It was, in a way, like a shoshinsha-induced acid trip—where bizarre observations left the most experienced sensei momentarily questioning everything they thought they knew as they mapped out an image of the question in their mind’s eye. You could see it on their faces. As the go-between in these verbal exchanges, my actual eyes begged them to believe my translation was spot on—and to kindly refrain from shooting the messenger… But their grins clearly showed they were not “dwelling in intellectual superiority”. The whole scenario was actually a lot of… I feel compelled to use the F word here… Fun.

Ultimately, what I took away from this year’s seminar was a renewed appreciation for the power of curiosity. Watching these fresh minds dive headfirst into an unfamiliar world reminded me again that budo is not just about honing skills but about constantly questioning, adapting, and rediscovering. In the end, it’s not about how much you already know—it’s about how willing you are to keep learning. And that, perhaps, is the real essence of budo.

As the old saying goes “Tou wa ichiji no haji, towanu wa matsudai no haji…”—To ask may bring a moment’s shame, but not to ask and remain ignorant brings a lifetime of shame.[2]

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[1] All Japan Judo Federation; All Japan Kendo Federation; All Nippon Kyudo Federation; Japan Sumo Federation; Japan Karatedo Federation; Aikikai Foundation; Shorinji Kempo Federation; All Japan Naginata Federation; All Japan Jukendo Federation; Nippon Budokan Foundation

[2] 「問うは一時の恥、問わぬは末代の恥」