Rank, indeed, has its privileges. First and foremost the belt wearers are able to perform arts that mystify and boggle the minds of those of us in the kyu ranks. But they also have the obligation to disseminate and propagate their magic to those coming up behind them, and this they did at a frightful pace at the latest incarnation of Camp South held in the piney mountains east of San Diego. Each time I attend the three-day session I experience or witness something extraordinary owing to the concentration of so much experience and wisdom there. In this case I witnessed what could be called the evolution of Harai Goshi but on another level watched a spectacular change in confidence and attitude as a result of that evolution, which is why the subtitle is more appropriately Jujitsu power.

Professors Tom Ball, Robert Hudson, Geoff Lane and Dennis Estes attended along with Senseis Tom Ryan, Jeff Penner, Frank Ferris, Kevin Colton, Randy Shuster, Nancy Bigham, Tim Merrill, Tim Clepper and Eric Atienza. Members of my dojo, Pacific JuJitsu Kai, straggled down from various points, one from as far away as Boston, Massachusetts. We all try to better cope with what inevitably become mere superficialities, such as using GPS technology to arrive in a more timely fashion, or dojo members bringing down their own sleeping quarters, or better food to supplement the admittedly Spartan fare. Yet, in the end, the reason we attend is for the work, and once we start working the incredible slate of classes quickly show up the amenities as mere window dressing.

I was a white belt when I first attended Camp South, and I remember feeling like I was in a toy store. Even though most of the games were beyond my age range, I was overwhelmed by all the shiny boxes of arts that were on display. My experience as a blue belt was much the same, it felt as if I were in a Jujitsu theme park running about blissfully while my parents supervised and took care of all the details.

Inevitably, though, as I advanced through the ranks and age my attitude changed. I supposed one could call my experience more layered, or complex, tempered by injuries and at least the perception of my own limitations. Instead of approaching each and every class with uninhibited expectations I often found myself taking a deep breath, hoping that I might measure up to the effort and care I knew were being expended for my benefit. I was a Sankyu when I attended this camp and threaded throughout the schedule was the task of keeping an eye out for the lower ranks. Things happen quickly out on the mats and sometimes even in open ranked classes you can find yourself being asked to perform skills beyond your customary level.

Which brings me to the art Harai Goshi, or hip sweep, what some senseis have told me is a counter to a counter of Ogoshi. Like all the arts, Harai Goshi is a complex series of steps and body mechanics which must all blend to perform the art well. It was taught to me as an introduction to the hip sweeps using various techniques such as mental imaging (imagine yourself like those bird toys that dip their beaks in water and then right themselves), or foot placement, with some saying forty five degrees while others say twenty two and a half. In any case no matter how many descriptions of the techniques you may hear you can only learn by doing. Somewhere along the path the throw will begin to resemble the actual throw. Professors and upper Dan ranks throw it as easily as pouring a glass of water but to those just learning, the art isn’t so simple. There is a lot of struggling involved and plenty of frustration.

So it was for one of my dojo members, a young blue belt named Tony. At fifteen Tony was more accomplished than he knew. In fact, for those of us who started in our forties, we look at Tony with a sense of awe as we register where he will be in a few short years. Nevertheless Tony had only recently been introduced to hip throws and he was struggling with them. Either the leg was bent or he didn’t raise the leg at all. He didn’t tip his head, he didn’t place his foot under the center of the uke, he didn’t use enough kazushi or it wasn’t the right kind, or his foot was at the wrong angle or whatever. Remember? We have all been there.

Tony would work hard. He would try. But inevitably the blush of embarrassment and frustration would show up on his face. As I moved through days of classes I made sure to indulge in my first classes as a brown belt (in Prof Lane’s Knife and Gun class I learned if you don’t pivot on the balls of your feet you are quite simply dead) but also to keep an eye on my fellow dojo members as they selected their classes. Tony wanted to attended Sensei Schuster’s class on moving from yawara to throws or vice versa using the concept of inexorability, namely using the arts to convince your uke beyond any doubt that they wanted to go in the direction you wished them to go. People of all ranks quickly crowded onto the mat and I took one look at Tony there and stepped on next to him.

One of the examples in the class was going from a Katate Tori to a Harai Goshi. It was the ability to use the Katate Tori to take your uke to exactly the right position to throw him with Harai Goshi. Sensei Schuster demonstrated and then I demonstrated on Tony and then he tried on me. Uh oh.

We all know what “uh oh” feels like as an uke. Sutemi implies some momentum and it is hard to manufacture any momentum when you are being dropped (unless you are Sensei Clepper or Atienza, I guess). In class we digressed when it became apparent that some of the ranks hadn’t quite mastered the throw. There were spirited discussions about the angle of foot placement, the method of kazushi, etc. But each time Tony tried I felt that same feeling…uh oh.

And then something happened, that amazing phenomenon that results in the transmission of knowledge. It is quite simply Jujitsu Power. Something sank in. Many things sank in. Quite suddenly I was lifted high into the air after which I fell in very much the right place as I looked up into a wide grin. Tony was throwing Harai Goshi, and he was throwing it over and over again. And he was very proud. During the class he was picked by Sensei Schuster as an uke for his beginners mind, his ability to relax and not to fight the art. He embodied “ju.” His smile lit the entire room and the spirit there transformed him.

Was it as much fun for me as mastering an art? Yeah. Because it changed something in me too. It yanked away that feeling that I was chained by my limitations. There at Camp South I had the honor to be at the exact spot where the art was transmitted Kodenkan style. It had an energy and spark all its own, a before and after there in the southern oasis of jujitsu camps. Not exactly what I had anticipated but one thing I have tried to absorb in my learning is not to anticipate too much. It reminded me to “Expect nothing. Be prepared for anything”. I too will continue to learn.

Tony is a green belt now. He attended the convention in San Ramon and is getting better and better at everything he does. Like him, at Camp South, we have all been transformed. Next year we will again all straggle down to expect the unexpected. To experience Jujitsu Power. See you there.

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