#KoyamaShihan

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Kancho Hatsuo Royama introduces, Taikiken basics Han zen and Ritsuzen also used in Iken (Yiquan.)

They say age is just a number in sports. In the realm of martial arts—especially within the Kyokushin tradition—that sentiment rings truer than ever. If you ask Kancho Hatsuo Royama, one of the leading figures in Kyokushin-kan, real karate training doesn’t begin until after 50. He’s not suggesting you wait until the big five-oh to throw on a gi, but rather pointing out a universal truth: as we grow older, we often find ourselves searching for deeper reservoirs of power than we ever needed in our physical prime. Muscles tire. Bones protest. In that second phase of our martial journey, we no longer rely solely on brute strength. Instead, we tap into something more subtle, something that can feel downright mystical: Ki—known as Chi in Chinese. The powerful subcurrent of energy that flows through us all.

It’s in this quest that Kyokushin-kan members have found themselves stepping back to the origins of the art, when Sosai Mas Oyama was first forging his groundbreaking blend of karate styles. One of his inspirations—integral to early Kyokushin—was Taikiken, also known in Chinese as Iken or Yiquan. It’s a martial discipline emphasizing “intention” and the cultivation of internal power. Some outsiders glance at it and see echoes of Tai Chi, with its focus on harnessing energy rather than just muscle. Others recognize that, despite the smooth, patient training methods, Taikiken practitioners develop a truly destructive power when used for self-defense. For Kancho Royama—and for Kyokushin-kan in general—this dimension of training is more than just a novelty. It’s a return to fundamentals.

Kyokushin-kan’s Vision: More Than Meets the Eye

Kyokushin-kan, under Royama’s guidance, has sought to refine and expand upon the building blocks of Kyokushin karate. That includes the usual cornerstones: kata, bunkai, and tournament kumite. But it also means reintroducing several core training elements that had, over time, become overshadowed by the explosive growth of Kyokushin worldwide. One of these is Taikiken (or Iken-Yiquan) training. Others include Bukijutsu (weapons training), head/face-punch kumite (expanding beyond the typical ruleset limiting strikes above the collarbone), and a revitalized standard for etiquette and grading. The idea is simple: keep the Kyokushin flame burning hot by staying true to the original inspirations and methods that defined Sosai Oyama’s vision.

And Taikiken was, in fact, part of that original vision. Master Sawai Kenichi, who also taught Mas Oyama himself, shaped many of the early lessons that became cornerstones of Kyokushin. It might surprise some karateka to learn that when Royama started training for his first All-Japan Tournament, he practiced Taikiken extensively. For him, it wasn’t an experimental footnote—it was essential.

Youthful Power vs. Mature Power

Royama’s viewpoint about training “after 50” might seem radical. After all, conventional wisdom suggests that you’ve hit your prime earlier in life and gradually fade as the years progress. Yet, Royama insists that’s where Taikiken becomes your secret weapon. Instead of relying on biceps and quadriceps that may no longer respond the way they did at 25, you begin to channel Ki, that deep reservoir of energy that comes from proper alignment, breathing, and focus.

What’s more, those who begin Taikiken at a younger age—like Royama’s own top uchi-deshi, including Okazaki Shihan and Koyama Shihan—experience exponential growth. Not only do they gain an earlier appreciation of Ki, but they can combine it with their still-thriving muscle systems. The result is power that’s not just formidable, but also enduring—a well that doesn’t run dry with age.

A Closer Look: The Standing Practice Called Ritsuzen

If you were to drop into a Taikiken session without any prior introduction, you might wonder: “Why is everyone standing still for so long?” That stillness is known as Ritsuzen—standing zen meditation—and it’s the core kihon of Taikiken. Think of it as the foundational drill, just like you would consider basic stances or punches to be the building blocks of karate.

But, much like zazen (the seated meditation practiced in Zen Buddhism), Ritsuzen is deceptively complex. On the surface, yes, you’re simply standing, arms in certain positions, knees slightly bent, spine straight. The deeper aim, however, is to align the body so that you become intimately aware of how you’re using (or misusing) your muscles. In so doing, you discover how to release tension and tap into your Ki.

Posture and Visualization

In Ritsuzen, posture is everything—and it’s guided by mental imagery. Imagine that a cord attached to the top of your skull is gently pulling you upward. Now, lower your stance just a fraction by bending your knees, but keep your spine tall. Your weight should be balanced on the balls of your feet, never sinking into your heels. The arms hang naturally, your palms facing inward, fingertips down. If you moved them outward just a little, about a fist’s width away from your hips, you’d keep that straight posture while also creating a kind of subtle, outward space of awareness around you.

It’s all about relaxation—and paradoxically, effort. You relax your shoulders, arms, and torso so thoroughly that when those muscles inevitably begin to burn from standing in one position, you teach them to let go. Instead of forcibly “powering through,” you let your Ki take over, so to speak. An old Zen adage says it best: “Doing work while not doing any work.” You’re using your mind, breath, and alignment to keep your body upright, rather than defaulting to your typical muscular-skeletal effort.

Staying Afloat with Ki

The imagery often used in Taikiken practice is that you’re standing on a small plank of wood floating atop a still lake. If you shift even slightly in one direction or the other, you’ll lose your balance and topple into the water. Meanwhile, imagine elongated needles—from each fingertip—reaching down into the depths of that lake, anchoring you. The push-and-pull sensations remind you to remain rooted while simultaneously lifting upward, bridging heaven and earth.

Over time, as your thighs tremble and your shoulders protest, you begin to realize that the more you engage your muscles in a forceful, tense manner, the more fatigue you feel. Yet, as soon as you “hand that load off” to your Ki—to your aligned posture, mental focus, and breath control—the tension dissipates. In a sense, your body is no longer fighting itself. It’s letting internal energy do the heavy lifting.

Unleashing This Power in the Dojo

So, what does all this mean for your actual karate? Quite a lot, as it turns out. In Kyokushin, we have kata like Sanchin, revered for teaching the principle of full-body coordination. Every inch of you, from your heels to your fists, is engaged, delivering power backed by intention. Now imagine adding the refined sense of Ki you develop through Taikiken. It’s like pouring rocket fuel into an engine already designed for high performance.

Taikiken isn’t just about “going slow.” The end goal is to unleash devastating power in self-defense. Once you’ve internalized the Taikiken principle of using Ki, you’ll generate strikes that feel surprising even to yourself—power that appears out of nowhere. Some compare it to how boxers learn to snap punches, generating explosive force not by flexing bigger biceps but by leveraging perfect timing and alignment. Taikiken takes that concept even further, tapping into an internal reservoir.

Not Just for the Black Belts

Beginners in Kyokushin might find this all a bit intangible. Yet Taikiken can benefit the white belt just as surely as it does the seasoned fighter. In the early stages, Ritsuzen training alone helps improve balance and posture. It offers an isometric-style workout, building stamina in the thighs and hips. For advanced practitioners, of course, there’s the added layer of Ki awareness. You don’t need to fully grasp it on day one. Like Zazen or Sanchin, Taikiken reveals its secrets gradually. The longer you practice, the more profound your understanding becomes.

Back to the Future of Kyokushin

Kyokushin-kan’s emphasis on Taikiken, or Iken-Yiquan, underscores a broader movement within martial arts: the desire to honor tradition while forging new paths. At first glance, it might appear that Royama is introducing something foreign to Kyokushin. But, historically, Taikiken was always in the mix. It simply receded into the background during the explosion of Kyokushin’s popularity, overshadowed by the more visibly dramatic elements of the style—like bone-crunching tournaments and hallmark knockouts.

But behind the scenes, Ki has never left. Ask any master who has trained for decades, and they’ll tell you that raw muscle only carries you so far. At some point, you evolve, or you fade. Kyokushin-kan’s renewed focus on internal power ensures that future generations of karateka won’t miss out on what made Kyokushin revolutionary in the first place.

Conclusion

Ultimately, Taikiken practice represents more than a simple training method. It’s a reminder that martial arts are as much about the spirit—and the energy within us—as they are about technique. For those in Kyokushin-kan, the lesson is clear: If you want to carry Kyokushin into the future, you must remember its past. Stand still long enough to feel your body protest, then learn to let go. That’s where the real journey begins—whether you’re 18 or 80.