I started training in the Bujinkan in 1997 because I wanted to be a badass ninja. No bones about it. What kept me going, though, was that the art turned out to be much deeper than I expected. Taijutsu had layers I didn’t even know to look for at first—layers that unfolded through years of training, testing, failing, and returning to the mat. Over time, it stopped being just something I did and started becoming a way of understooding movement, conflict, strategy, and life.

I’ve been teaching for over a decade now, and my approach to teaching is grounded in exploration. I try to help students develop a systematic understanding of the art—one they can apply for themselves. That means asking real questions, experimenting with variations, and testing ideas in live training. I want my students to understand what they’re doing, not just imitate it. That’s how you grow. That’s how you make the art your own.

I believe taijutsu is something you can actually learn—not just mimic, not just memorize, but learn deeply. That means understanding how posture, position, and principle interact to produce effective movement. I focus less on perfecting forms and more on helping students see the underlying mechanics: what’s actually working, what isn’t, and why.

I’m not here to be anyone’s guru. I’m still a student myself. But I’ve put in a lot of time, and I’ve thought hard about how to make this stuff make sense. What I offer is a practice space built on respect, curiosity, and honest inquiry. If you’re serious about learning and willing to engage with the process, we’ll get along just fine.