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Thank you to everyone who has dropped by here,

but don't stop there!

Go to the new site for your gaijin fix.

It's not quite exactly what I want, but hopefully with time it will improve and better serve it's purpose,

expressing myself and entertaining you.

Yoroshiku!

Putting Down the Sword, For Real This Time

I can't help but remember breaking up with a girlfriend I had in college.

We had been together about a month. She was amazing. But it just didn't fit.

It was something I thought about for a long time. When it happened, I said we were finished, and she didn't really understand why, but also did.

I had tears of sadness and frustration, listened to loud music, and indulged in herbal remedies not uncommon for a student in San Francisco.

But then I felt better, and it was something that needed to happen.

That's kind of how I feel right now.

I just called my iai sensei and said that I'm doing too much and that I'm going to quit iai for now. We talked about this at length before and it's not completely out of the blue.

I dreaded making the phone call, but knew I couldn't put it off any more. (This is something I feel like I've gotten stronger at with age ... dealing with these types of things immediately and swiftly.) Sensei was super understanding and accomodating and said I am welcome back in the dojo anytime.

That made me happy. I respect him greatly as a teacher in this.

I feel bad and want to do something to compensate for the feelings, but there is nothing to be done or said. Just move on to the next step in life.

Iai is great. The dojo here is awesome. But trying to fit iai into my life is too much.

It's extra money to be sucked out every month when I'm worrying about bills.

It's a day taken away from kyudo which I only want to practice more.

Perhaps I could move the iai day to Thursday when the kyudo dojo is closed, but then I'm full everyday. I haven't been to the mountains in so long. I haven't comfortably relaxed on a weekday morning in a long time. Writing projects keep getting moved back for training. Time spent in the house is overcome by the desire to swing the sword.

I just have too much going on right now with things I want to progress. I had a great couple months with iai and feel like I learned a lot ... far too much to write here now, but there are a lot of important subjects I will touch on in the near future.

Generally, I feel like I have made some large steps in my mind and heart concerning budo practice.

We only need one.

If that one is good, it will be complete, and worthy of your whole attention. For now, kyudo is that for me.

Budo is not my entire life, and does not deserve all of my free time. I thought maybe it did, which is why I started iaido, along with a genuine curiousity. But it is not everything.

Budo is a very important part of my life, but just a part of the whole.

Budo is my study of life, in a very physical, intuitive way. It is a practice that is made rich by the people I meet along the way. I don't think I could live happy without my budo practice now, but that does not mean there aren't other similar things as well.

I also work full time. I'm looking for more work. I'm studying Japanese.

And that's just the bolts and nuts not so important stuff.

I'm also a husband, a son, and a brother. I have a life to live and experience.

In the big picture ... it's just that ...

A big picture.

Busy/Changes/Wordpress

Whatup!

Been a while.

Been busy.

So much to write, not enough time or space allowance here. But I've had serious withdrawals from being away from the blog, so I hope this little post will give me some peace.

So what's been happening lately?

-Trying to get my driver's license which is as long and drawn out as I've heard from the horror stories. Hopefully that can end Wednesday as Oita Prefecture hands me a license, or maybe I'll have to go back again.

-Been getting paperwork for getting married lined up. Not too difficult, but lots of time and thoughts. Perhaps in an ideal world this happens in a flash. Or maybe it's supposed to be drawn out.

-Getting used to bills in the new apartment which are way more than I was informed about in the beginning. Wife looking for a job.

-Been going through a plateau in kyudo, but last week I feel like I've unlocked something huge in my tenouchi (hand that holds the bow) and I think my kyudo will change greatly for the better.

-I don't feel like quitting iaido, and am just trying to enjoy it and keep that one day of practice alive while swinging the sword when I feel like it 15 minutes here and there in the apartment. Hopefully I can move it to another day which will give me more time for kyudo.

-Been exploring some really cool places around the new area of northern Kyushu I hope to post about in the near future.

AND MOST OF ALL...

getting ready to change the blog. I'm preparing a switch from blogspot to wordpress.

WHATCHA THINK OF THAT!?

I've read enough times that wordpress has more options and is a bit of an upgrade from blogspot, and I want some kind of change, that I'm ready to make it happen.

So over the past couple weeks I've been getting started and setting things up ... and like I've read, it's definitely not as simple as they make it out to be. I remember when I started this blog I basically spent about 15 minutes getting things started and I was rolling. Given I'm trying to add more things from the start and make it a bit nicer, but holy crap, I don't know how many hours I've spend already and I'm not ready to start rolling. IT BETTER BE DAMN GOOD! Through all the frustration I feel confident about some of the options that wordpress has, and yet on the other hand feel a bit skeptical of all the change.

I don't know.

Is it worth all the trouble?

Is any of this worth all the trouble?

Who cares! This is life.

Any thoughts?

Any advice from wordpress users?

Can't Put Down the Sword

(cool pic found at http://educarneiro.blogspot.jp/2010/10/cold-samurai.html)

Today I rode to the dojo planning to tell sensei that I was going to stop iaido.

As I rode up to the dojo I saw his silhouette swinging the sword and flowers flooded my mind. My courage wavered and when I walked in and said goodmorning I didn't want to quit. As I got changed I thought about how I could tell him my decision, and as I stepped out my volition shrank to the size of an umeboshi (very small Japanese plum fruit) and I knew it wouldn't happen today.

The number one thing we learn in the martial arts is not to worry.

When you have a problem you think. You think why this problem arose, how you can fix it, and the worry disappears. Then you move and live.

It's all just cause and effect.

Technical perfection and a complete absence of fear are both impossible abstractions. We are not perfect and we are going to have our Great Failure: death. We must accept our mortal fate and continue our lives the way we want, maybe that means the best we can. Maybe that's the -do, "the way".

Aside from that we're focusing on the details, the jutsu (technique).

So we don't worry, but that's just what I've been doing.

Issues of time, I guess. I don't feel like I have enough for all the things I want to do. I've gone far enough in kyudo to see what it takes to improve. I know we should not obsess or worry about success, but I want to be better. That's not a bad thing. I want to improve and I want to spend the time with it to do so. I want something I can put my full effort into and progress in. If I'm spending more time thinking about kyudo than doing it then it bugs me. This is kyudo for me. It is an art and a source of deep friendships and love. If one made me choose one art for the rest of my life right now, I would choose kyudo with confidence, as strage as that may seem.

I think if I could put all of my effort into kyudo it would be beautiful. If I could just cut off iaido, my kyudo would bloom to what I want...

but I just can't.

Thinking is what trips me up. I make demons and angels, but the actual practice is unexplaninably fulfilling for me. I've grown very attached to my sensei in these last two months, and I think he has to me. I love my iai practice.

What it really is is fairly small. It's Friday morning for about an hour and a half and $50 a month. In time if I continue I'll start the jo which will add about another hour a session and another $40. It is a day away from kyudo. It is money I could otherwise use for savings, bills, or anything else. (It's also about not doing martial arts, and the vaccuum which would allow me to enjoy other things and subconsciously process better what I have already learned ... but that's a whole discussion for another post.)

I don't know.

On the paper in my mind I should quit. It moves my emotions to want to quit.

In real life I can't. My body and the outside world draw me in.

Now I'm back in the mind, and I'm being drawn into the labyrinth of details that are too much for this blog ...

but I do have a big point here I want to communicate:

The good thing about all of this is that there is no need to rush, and no decisions to quit are forever.

I don't have to make any decision now. I can think and see how things go and quit next week or the next, or next month, or next year. There's no need to decide right this second.

This is HUGE for me. I usually deal with such matters with an apocalyptic urgency. It's unecessary and unbecoming. This is something I want to change.

Also, even if I stop I can always start again.

I know this cause I talked to sensei about this last week.

I've had thoughts of quitting for the last month and finally voiced them with sensei last week.

That was a very good decision. I think the worst thing you can do is just show up one day and resign out of the blue leaving no room for discussion or goodbye's. What you do in training is learn from a teacher. Of course we're learning physical skills, but I think we can learn much more about living our lives and how to make decisions at the various crossroads we come to. My sensei is there to help me and wants me to succeed, even if it means discontinuing training. A good teacher will always help you on your way no matter what.

So I told sensei about my worries and asked him as someone who has practiced various arts over a long time, what he thought about my worries. He sensed my direction pulling away from iaido and I could see him feeling a big distraught. Wse talked a lot but basically there were 3 main parts.

First, if you're practicing too many arts and your time is spread too thin, you won't learn anyhing in either of them. That's not good, and in that case, you should pick one.

Second, I can stop and restart anytime. The dojo's not going anywhere and nobody would harbor any malicious memories towards me for taking or break or making the decision to focus on other things.

Third, if iaido takes over your life and takes precious time away from my wife and relaxation, then it is not worth it.

There is no need for the sword, but there is a need for our contentment.

Art should support our life, not replace it.

So I continue.

But I don't know.

Talking With My Iai Sensei: Difference between "Jutsu" and "Do"

Budo.

This is a word I use more than any other in my blog. It's what I believe it is that I'm doing when I practice various disparate arts. It's the connection between everything. It's the reason. It's what I seek.

I feel like it is the best word to describe what I do, and yet I've only rarely heard it used by Japanese people. The few times it has been used, I think it was used directly for me because my interest is in the specific term of "budo," whatever that really means.

I think the topic has come up more with iai than any of the other arts I've practiced.

Why?

Perhaps the biggest reason is just myself: I deem it an important part of my practice and life, so I use it more and make it more relevant, though others may not think so.

I use the word "budo" because I'm looking for the connections between lots of different arts, many of which are practiced by my iai sensei, and I think he must have the same thoughts as me.

When I first joined the class and sensei asked me why, I said it was because I had an interest in budo.

When I say this, it is very clear to me, and is certainly a specific term in Japanese, but do we really know what we're talking about?

There are a lot of words Japanese people skillfully avoid saying. Usually they are words that specify a subject, which is usually averted. This can be in the simple words of, "I" and "you". I think the term budo is avoided on purpose often, because people shy away from using a word they aren't completely sure of.

Does anybody really know what budo is?

Sensei helped clarify this the other day. I'm not sure how the conversation got started, but the important part went something like this:

"What we are practicing are various types of jutsu (technique [not necessarily including the "-do" part of martial arts, and budo])". Sensei looked up at the scrolls on the wall that have all of the techniques of the various arts he teaches. "All of these jutsu have been used and cultivated since hundreds of years ago, and they are a kind of treasure. Because we're lucky enough to have these techniques passed down to us, I think we should practice them and pass them on. But this isn't necessarily the "do" that is connected to various arts like iai-do, karate-do, ju-do, etc. As the arts left the battlefield, they have very little practical application today. We have no reason to carry swords or bows and arrows or settle arguments by punching and kicking. Instead, it was decided that we should practice these arts for self-cultivation, and we call that -do, as opposed to just -jutsu which is bare technique. But what we are training here is jutsu.

"Budo is a very difficult thing to describe. Though I've been practicing these arts for decades, I don't think I can describe it very well. I think it's something that at the very end, if you can find some kind of definition for budo for yourself, you can be happy. What we do here is practice these jutsu techniques. After a while, perhaps it seeps into our daily life naturally. Maybe that is budo.

"Perhaps budo is the way of living.

Budo is the way of being human."

Budo: not the way of martial arts, but the way of being human.

This has been ringing inside of me for the week that has passed since we had this discussion.

I don't need to practice swinging a sword. Perhaps it's good to carry on the tradition. By swinging the sword we can perhaps learn valuable lessons of being human.

Budo is not a cheap term to throw around. It is also not a magic term that I should substitute for what I'm really trying to say.

I shouldn't substitue budo for what I really want to do.

There is a big discussion about the difference between mindless jutsu and soulful do. I think the popular trend is to follow the latter while condemning blind techniques. I believe in this as well. However, to ignore the jutsu while that is specifically what we are doing because of some elated ideal of "the Way" ... I think we're being lazy, overconfident, and self righteous. We should be honest with ourselves and our practice and each other.

In the end the jutsu is what we're doing but it's not really a big deal.

Learning to be human ...

just being human.

We are human.

A Line

Seen from the sky with crystal perfection,

stuck in the dirt,

we are the just the same,

and yet,

there is a line.

There is a spark and we CAN see the difference.

I'm not supposed to be here. I've done this before. I graduated a long time ago.

Today I'll make things right.

So Many Bees

 

So many flowers. I don't have time for them all.

 

 

So many bees, so busy busy.

 

In great numbers the mind is broken and our parts just start moving on their own.

 

I dream of one flower, and the space to be with it.

 

We're all just ghosts, and tweets, and hotmail accounts, and leaves, and feasts, and farts...

 

but we're also everything packed into a tiny ball as seen from space,

 

there where everything is perfect, and everywhere else where we scramble as demons,

 

we are the same.

I Am Not an Empty Cup

(pic found at http://blogs.yahoo.co.jp/don_babacho2002/9927771.html)

 

Improving the ability to empty on demand, little hesitation to spill what's given to fill up with something better.

For a guarantee I'll spill anything I already have.

Calculating gains I wake up already with a cup full of crimson desire, this hungry blood infection. Give me give me give me something new.

I'll empty my cup cause you told me I should.

...

In budo there is the analogy of the empty cup. If our cup is full we can't receive anything else. In order to learn or experience something new we must empty our cup. By practicing budo I've learned to cultivante an empty mind to learn new techniques. When I go to a class I have confidence in forgetting all else in order to focus on what I'm doing at that moment. However, the rest of the time my cup is overflowing with ideas of gain and elaborate plots of attainment at a terrifying speed.

On a day off I wake up and before I get out of bed I already have planned a day using every spare minute to achieve my desires. I leave nothing up to chance, the unknown, or the people around me because I'm just following the track of my obsessions. In that there is no life, no inspiration, no experience. Instead of taking advantage of the life I have and enjoying it, I'm wasting it all on mindlessness.

My cup is always full until someone tells me to empty it for something new.

What a waste.

What a low level of budo.

What small understanding.

Like this we wear budo apparel without changing anything on the inside. We are merely consumers paying for self-esteem and entertainment, but really it's just a lie.

I think if we want to really become the budo we practice, if we really want to experience the world honestly and do honor to the people we encounter, we must cultivate an empty cup from the beginning, and for no purpose at all.

We must be ready to accept whatever failure or success may come our way instead of paying for something before we even get started.

I'm sure I will experience more pain and suffering than I can ever imagine in my future. I'm also just as sure that I'll find joys I could not possibly comprehend.

I don't know these things, but I am not afraid.

An empty cup just because.

Mugai Ryu Iaido

(A picture of the founder of Mugai-ryu: Tsuji Gettan Sukemochi found at http://www.fudochi.org/cat11/cat15/)

DISCLAIMER: I have only been practicing for about two months, have no other experience in iaido, and have not read much on the art. Also, everything I take in from my class is in Japanese and I don't understand 100% of everything that is said.

You shouldn't believe everything you read anyway.

But to the subject at hand!

I practice Mugai Ryu iaido, one of many different styles in the art of iaido, and I've been anxious to learn what makes it different from other styles.

I've done some research on my own in the internet but haven't found much. Most of the information I got I found on Wikipedia where it talks about the founder of the style, Tsuji Gettan Sukemochi, who was born in 1649. He practiced Yamaguchi-ryu iaido and also studied Zen Buddhism and Classical Chinese Literature. Eventually he created his own style, Mugai, a word taken from a poem that was given to him by his zen teacher (which I have included at the end of this post). Other sources I have read said that Mugai-ryu is influenced greatly by zen philosophy. Like many other budo during the time of relative peace in the Edo Period, budo underwent a lot of transitions from the battlefield to the abstract.

Other than that very small research (please notify me of other sources if you know any on this style!!!) I have what I've been absorbing in the physical practice and talks with my sensei. I'm not sure how much of it overlaps with other styles of iaido, because I don't know anything about other styles, but I'll just mention what my sensei has said is characteristic of Mugai-ryu, which may also be similar to other styles.

When we swing the sword, we don't merely swing down, hit, or rip through anything ... we swing the sword using our wrists to snap the blade forward so that at the moment of impact the tip of the sword falls first (not the hand falling with the blade following), and from there we pull the sword. When we swing forward in the standard strike, we raise the blade above our head, swing forward snapping the wrists so that the blade finds the target as quickly as possible, and then we pull the blade towards our bellies.

Mugai-ryu emphasizes speed, because once you're hit with a blade a cut can be made. Cutting with the blade happens at only a few inches at the end of the blade. Contact with that part of the blade is made, and then pulled to rip open a long cut. There is no idea of cutting all the way through something using bull strength and momentum. We're not focusing on cutting people in half in Mugai-ryu. Mugai-ryu utilizes fast precision cuts to take advantage of distance and timing.

One interesting idea which I think may be very different in other styles is that Mugai-ryu doesn't seek to overtake an opponent with one deadly strike. Many of the wazas I've learned utilize two strikes on one opponent. Often, the first is more of a movement to move faster than the opponent and set him off balance, once that is achieved, the final strike is made.

For example, in one waza we begin sitting in seiza imagining an opponent sitting across from us. Once the opponent starts to move unsheathing the blade, we begin as well. Once the opponent raises the blade above his head for a downward cut, we cut with a diagonal upward slice, but this is not intended to end the opponent there, but more so set him off balance. Once that balance is upset we step forward and strike down on the open opponent. A lot of techniques seem to follow this practice, and sensei says this is characteristic of Mugai-ryu.

To be honest I didn't really like this at first. Idealizing in my head without practice, I would think that you should end an opponent as simply and quickly as possible. Shouldn't you try to do this in one move? Why waste an initial movement that isn't even intended to cut?

I don't have clear answers for this right now, and am left to my own mental meanderings.

One thing our sensei says is that what we are practicing has a long history that is based on real experiences. This style developed this way because of millions of people using the swords over hundreds of years. It was not thought up in isolation and practiced without experimentation. Some of the practices or reasonings may seem strange to us, but then we have 0 experience using a sword to kill someone in battle. With that, you kind of have to trust what your sensei says on this, experience different styles, and judge for yourself.

Another main point sensei is trying to teach us is that the first person who moves or initiates an attack is at a great disadvantage. He tries to explain to us using physical examples and parts of it make sense. This is familiar to me in aikido where most all wazas are in reaction to an incoming attacker (though there are pressing instigating movements like atemi-waza as well). However, something about this seems a bit strange to me, and there's something stuck in my mind similar to Bruce Lee's theory that the best defense is a good offense, that you never defend, and rather press on an opponent to win.

It is on this subject that we begin talking about Katsujinken and Satsujinken. Katsujinken is translated as the life-giving sword. I first read about this from the Edo Period's Yagyu Munenori in his book, "The Life Giving Sword." The implication of this term is that the sword should not be used to kill, but to protect. This is in contrast to the Satsujinken, which is the life-taking sword. Perhaps a Satsujinken style is one that focuses only on successfully killing an opponent with the sword.

The description seems simple, but it's really difficult to differentiate the two isn't it? Of course the sword is used to kill people. In iaido we're learning to swing a sword in order to defeat opponents. If we're not using a sword with the intention of cutting something, then what is the point? Why not do something else? If you're so worried about taking life, why even have a sword?

This conversation seems to come up in my mind and in conversation with others in relation to the martial arts. I think it's popular in the West to practice a martial art with "real" practical ability. What the means exactly I'm not completely sure, but people seem to want to practice the "most effective" martial art which can defeat an opponent as simply and quickly as possible. Though this is said, the image is of violent fast strikes with big muscles. I think of UFC and the idea that it's training the "best" warriors because it pits styles against each other and you're seeing lots of very ferocious young men who probably could kick a lot of people's asses. It's funny that budo also seeks the "most effective" way of doing things by completing an act as simply and quickly as possible, but the image is completely different. But then there isn't one image, because each martial art in budo is completely different.

Back to the point ...

I could imagine talking to a lot of people who would say, "I want to practice the real iaido, the one that is the best at killing people, not some pussy knock off that idealizes not using the sword at all." Perhaps the discussion doesn't have to have such a violent intent, and one could say that they want to practice the most effective sword style, and with that superior ability, develop an idealogy of not killing others. Maybe that's what Mugai-ryu is?

I've had this discussion in aikido often as well. People ask why practice a martial art that emphasizes evading and moving an opponent around instead of just striking and ending an altercation immediately? There's a lot of different ways to go about this, and the discussions could last for hours, and pages, and lifetimes. It's interesting though that although people accept that martial arts aren't used often and that we should follow peace, but then desire to practice the most vicious violent arts out there. It's like they're just saying, "Oh yeah, we shouldn't hurt each other and the art isn't used in practical life ... but I could kill you in two seconds if I wanted to." I think it's an obsession with power and a fear of loss.

The most interesting about all of this though, is the mental position one takes when adopting a particular style. People like to think they can do one thing and yet think another, for example practice a deadly martial art while advocating peace, but people underestimate the ability of the techniques they seek to imprint on their subconscious.

I first realized this idea when practicing Tai Chi and reflecting on my Karate practice. In Karate we practice wazas that are meant to defeat opponents using strong fast strikes. We practice these wazas until they are ingrained inside of us so deeply that we can react using them without thinking. Well, what happens when someone comes up behind you and taps you on the shoulder and you turn around firing a strike right into their face? What happens when you get in an altercation with a drunk person at a bar and end up using a strike that kills or debilitates them? Maybe they hit their head on the curb and bled to death because you knocked them out cold on the street.

What happens when you meet an opposition and your natural inclination is to "defeat" it?

This is dangerous physically to ourselves and others, and develops an aggressive success-obsessed mindset that is afraid of loss. This is an angry prison world damned for hell. You cannot win. You cannot be happy.

To me, this is the Satsujinken, life-taking sword.

So after class I asked sensei about the characterstic of Mugai-ryu where one doesn't seek to cut someone in one strike, but utilizes a few strikes to knock the opponent off balance and then finish. He said it was particular to Mugai-ryu. I asked if there were other styles that focused on cutting someone immediately with one strike and he said of course there were a lot. He then showed us a couple wazas from the Eishin-ryu. I was surprised to see this, and asked him about it. He's practiced different kinds of iai but he decides to teach and follow Mugai-ryu. I asked him if he like Mugai-ryu better than other styles he's known. At an older and higher ranked teacher with a lot of skill and experience, I would assume that he would choose "the best" style.

When answering he said, "I guess it has to do with katsujinken. In Mugai-ryu and in accordance with the katsujinken, a practitioner doesn't necessarily seek to fight an opponent. In fact, a Mugai-ryu practitioner would wait for an opponent to begin a move, but if nothing happened, then nothing happened and there is no reason to fight. Furthermore, maybe someone draws their blade against a Mugai-ryu person and so the Mugai-ryu practitioner draws. Maybe they stand there and the other person realizes the Mugai-ryu person is stronger and decides not to fight. At that point the Mugai-ryu won't mind and the problem can cease. Maybe the other person swings and the Mugai-ryu person cuts them and then they run away. The Mugai-ryu person will not chase them, but will be content without having to kill."

These are all just ideas and discussions. We are talking about various scenarios and ideas. This is a big part of iaido I think.

In aikido we are utilizing practical empty-handed movements, but shy away from talking about it too much and just train having the techniques ingrain themselves and naturally effect us.

Kyudo is so disconnected to modern self-defense that we don't even need to talk much about practical application. We just practice the technique in an honest fashion and that's good enough.

But Iai is another strange world where practicality, cutting instead being cut, and life and death is heavily considered, yet actually using a sword in an altercation is as unlikely as finding a dragon. Like the other arts I've practiced in Japan, I'm focusing on the physical technique: reaching out with the tip of the blade and pulling towards me, moving through the movements of the particular waza. But I'm also thinking and talking a lot with sensei about the philosophy. Perhaps more than other arts Iai allows for philosophical meandering.

But then I don't really know. Practice is fun, so I'll keep going and learning.

I here leave you with the poem from which the Mugai name came from:

一法実無外
乾坤得一貞
吸毛方納密
動着則光精

Ippou jitsu mugai
Kenkon toku ittei
Suimo hou nomitsu
Douchaku soku kousei

"There is nothing other than the One True Way
Heaven and Earth profit from this single Virtue
The fluttering feather knows this secret
To be settled during confusion is to be enlightened and pure"

Why Hit the Target?

(I have no idea who this guy is, but I think he knows what I'm talking about. Pic found at http://afreefaith.com/2011/08/19/the-shinto-way/)

Because it's cool!

This is by far the best reason ever to hit the target in kyudo.

Hitting the target does not mean you're:

-right

-strong

-better

-or even that good.

It also doesn't necessarily make you all that cool, but if you want to hit the target because it's cool, I think you're on the right track.

In kyudo we're doing a lot more than just trying to hit the target, so accomplishing that goal is only just a small part of the whole practice. Hitting the target isn't bad, in fact it's great. It's just that it's not the only thing we're doing in kyudo, so focusing only on that will make you ignore all of the other aspects and then what you're doing is not really kyudo, but just shooting an arrow at a target. Just shooting an arrow at a target is also not a bad thing, it's just not all we're doing in kyudo.

Technically, we do things with the body to create results that lead to better shooting which allow us to shoot the arrow straight to the target, increasing our ability of hitting the target. The techniques are difficult enough to take a long time to cultivate, so we must work on them often and consistently. The techniques are so many we cannot possibly think of them all at the same time consciously and do them effectively. A teacher cannot just say, "OK, do this and this and this and this, and that is all the technique of kyudo and you'll hit the target." The mind cannot possibly think of all these things at the same time. Can the mind even successfully think of two things at the same time?! We practice little by little and eventually we'll hit the target more and more without even trying, though we're also putting all of our effort into the practice.

Through our great effort, we hit the target effortlessly.

But then that's only technique for hitting the target, which is still such a small part of the practice of kyudo.

After that there's etiquette: relating to other people, the equipment, and yourself.

There's also maintenance of equipment and facilities.

There's also ceremony.

As a culmination of all the different facets there is the soul practicing that we so often hear of with kyudo. Kyudo is not just shooting an arrow at a target, but an entire realm of life.

It's kind of like studying the world. We can take a class, look at a map and some pictures, and read descriptions of places. In doing that we can create images and meanings to places. I think people (me included!) do this with kyudo. I remember meeting a young guy who practiced kendo and aikido and when he heard that I practiced kyudo he said, "Oh kyudo's about the ritual, right?" Well, that's a part of it, but there's also actually hitting the target, I thought. But now in this writing I'm trying to convey that kyudo is not just hitting the target. When we talk about kyudo, we are talking about ideas, and we can use those ideas to balance out our over-emphasized impressions. We use words and ideas to balance our training though they are not completely accurate.

So you can study the entire world, even visit lots of different countries and say that you know the world, but until you've completely indulged in one place until you forget about everthing else can you really know,

I think.

In kyudo you have practices working only on ceremony where you completely forget about shooting and you think it's stupid because it becomes something that has nothing to do with shooting. Then you practice only shooting and hitting the target for a while until you think that's all there is, and then have to work on something else, like fixing your bow and then you realize how narrow and close-minded just trying to hit the target is. You see others trying their best though not hitting the target, and that is much more beautiful than those focusing only on hitting the target and being satisfied with just that.

Kyudo is an entire realm of it's own, in which hitting the target is a small part. What to do with that small part which seems to be the focus of it all? How do we focus on it? Why do we focus on it?

Because it's cool!

We have a lot of other things to worry about. Shooting an arrow into a target is really not so important.

Just do it because it's fun and you think it's cool.

Sensei's Greatest Concern

(Cool pic found at http://stevegoad.deviantart.com/art/A-Place-Called-Haven-170206281)

Will I continue?

I'm thinking of my specific situation in iaido, but it relates to all sensei and students everywhere.

In my experience, and from what I've read of other traditions of martial arts, meditation, or anything in particular involving a teacher and a student, the number one most important factor, and so therefore the most brooded over by teachers, is this question:

Will the student continue training?

On the one hand, the idea of all of these practices is that one's training is never finished, so we must continue cultivation until our end. In a way, once a person stops, it's all over. One could say it's a waste of the teacher's time if the student quits early. In that respect, ideally a student should practice until they improve beyond their master and can then pass the teaching on to someone else, who will then again surpass the teacher. This is an idea you can rationalize, but it's also the number one most serious feeling I've ever sensed from my teachers. I've practiced many martial arts, and so I've moved and stopped training in many of them. I've said a lot of goodbyes, and aside from the excitement of moving on, the goodbye's totally suck, because of a hidden love between teachers and students, and the hope that the student will continue on even though they move.

On the other hand, such transitions are inevitable in life and should be understood and accepted by teachers. I've moved many times and changed teachers and arts, and though I've chosen to do so everytime, it feels inevitable. This is my life, and I am just the person who can't sit still in his 20's. Though I've moved around, I feel as though I've been cultivating the same internal practice, be it karate, tai chi chuan, ba gua, aikido, kyudo, iaido. I am continuing self cultivation by using the body, working towards some invisible goal with kindred spirits. I feel as though I am doing honor to the teachers of my past, though I may not continue their art. There is a practical aspect of passing on an art where such movement doesn't help, but for that overall picture, I think a student and teacher should trust that this journey will not end, and blessings should be given instead of dark judgements. Like, "Great. What a waste of time. He doesn't respect the art and will lose all he's gained." But then again, if a teacher feels that way, they're probably not a very good teacher.

Back to the specifics, I think this is something my iai teacher is really thinking about with me. He knows about my past trainings and movements and must think that this will be no exception and I may just leave in a couple years. If such is the case, why would he teach me? It is a service of sorts I pay money for, and I'm not a bad student, so I don't think he'll just refuse to teach me. But assuming I do just leave after a couple years and not continue iaido, this isn't desirable for the teacher.

The issue is, I don't even know what I'm going to do. Who knows how long I'll be here. At least a couple years. A lot of years? Forever? Nobody really knows the answers to these kinds of questions.

As much of a hassle it may be for a teacher to lose a student, it is also undesirable for me to invest so much time and money and effort into an art that I will just forget.

So this is life. The teacher and student come together and have an experience in that very moment. It's not just for the future, it's not for physical gain, it is an experience of life. This is where we are now, and I know we are both doing our best. He's watching me giving me little bits here and there, and I am practicing like I'll be here forever.

We'll see how it goes.

I Don't Know

 

(picture found at http://www.businessinsider.com/touching-the-void-2012-10)

I have no idea why I do the things that I do.

Kyudo. Japanese. Iaido. Live in Japan. Enjoy the things I do.

Why instead of pursuing monetary gain or fame or more practical skills do I do the things I do.

On a perfect day off I'm lost in the woods or on top of a mountain.

Why?

I can think of reasons, but in the end, when I don't do the things I want to do it eats away at the inside of my stomach. Like a legion in my brain it consumes all in the black thought that I'm not doing what I want.

A part of me wants to do it.

A part of me feels like it has to do it.

Like a sticky living pieces of thread wound together, I don't know which is which.

It is only in the moment of no-thought, that I know I am right in the world.

But that action which propels me into no thought is fate decided. It is a step in the world which I cannot take back.

Perhaps that is courage, to take that step regardless of myriad fears, those purple clouds.

I want more and more of that time inside. I want to take those steps, but the outside world comes in eating away. Taxes, applications, messages, bills, TVs, toys, drugs, people ...

I sit now and look at all of this. I've been here enough to know I can't separate the two. It is taking that step how I want to, in this world I didn't choose. Half and half, the ultimate compromise. I can do that.

Then again, I never chose this situation. I can't decide to have or not have the sky or these cities, they live on without me. I am a noble guest here. It's half me and half everything else. Blurring those lines is becoming the undescribable art.

I don't know why I do the things I do. That thought doesn't change much either.

I guess we'll just see how it goes.

...

Funny thing is, I'm sitting next to my wife as I wrote this and she asked what I was writing about.

"I'm writing about why I want to practice budo."

"Isn't it because it gives you satisfaction?"

So simple! Such a simple answer. Because it makes me happy.

"But why when I could be out making more money and getting things done do I go and shoot bows and arrows at the dojo?"

"Then go make more money!"

Release the Pressure

Like overworked machines we combust all of this hot pressure, condensing the furious fumes inside of our constricting bodies, shaking increases speed and sharp high pitched sounds slowly spike until one giant very unsatisfying explosion occurs. Before you realize it, the pressure has already begun to build again.

We need to release the pressure before all of this happens.

We need to just relax and not care so much, and the magic will just happen.

I used to read and hear stuff like that and consider it bullshit, or something you can do after you've acquired the skill that you want. I used to say, "Ha, that's nice but bullshit, tell me exactly how to acquire the physical technique and I'll do it." Perhaps a lot of other people feel the same way. If that's how you feel though, I'm guessing you haven't spent much time practicing budo.

I think it's essentially an issue of power, strength and desire. These are all things that are utilized in budo, but in very specific instances, like little slivers of toothpicks inside of a clay mold. The rest is basically putting our bodies and selves into the right shapes, which doesn't necessarily require strength and power. We think it does, and in order to find the shape at first we use excessive strength to get there, but more than often it just gets in the way.

We want so badly, so anything less than what we want is considered failure and not tolerated. Effort and concentration is used to isolate problems and overcome them, but in budo we're dealing with a lot of factors of sensitivity beyond our seeing eye. We're dealing with our bodies which are far more complicated than understanding through logic in a moment, so we have to intuitively feel out the movements and differences of our bodies instead of just thinking. We're also dealing with pieces of equipment that are not us and completely foreign to our bodies. We're working on goals based on the works of masters, that cannot possibly be acquired by beginners. And yet we still strive to be perfect on the very first day.

I remember one of the best days I ever had in kyudo was when I was sufficiently hungover. I went into the dojo, sensei said I stunk like alcohol, I said I went to a farewell party the night before, and then started getting ready. I wasn't thinking about kyudo at all, because that function of my body was hindered incredibly by the hangover, so I just picked up the equipment and shot. For some reason it felt great and I hit the target twice as much as usual. It was uncanny. It was because I didn't care, and just subconsciously went through the motions ...　albeit it was a little sloppy.

Hail drunken kyudo!

It makes me think of the rest of the time I live a sober clean life where I do my best in everything. There are many benefits to that, but I can feel it when I go to kyudo, that I expect it all to be perfect. I appear "relaxed" and tell myself so because it's what I "should" be, but it's largely because I want to please myself and everyone around me. There, there is already pressure building. I pull the bow staring so clearly and focused on the problems that they are all I see. I don't do it perfect so frustration builds, concentration focuses, and then other problems start arising because of my tunnel vision and tension of muscles. Everything is a waste of time, and all you're doing is hurrying so you can try again and maybe get it right, but that rush already compounds it all, and you've already started your next shitty shot in your head.

Why?

I'm doing my best?

I didn't drink last night and am living healthily?

I'm nice to people and pay all of my bills on time. Kyudo is about having a correct spirit. I'm doing everything else perfect, why can't I do kyudo right?

This is how I felt today. Remarkably I hit the target 50% of the time, which is ridiculous because I used failing technique the whole time. I was either really lucky, subconsciously adjusting to my faults, or my desire to hit the target overrides my crappy technique. I'm not proud of any of those, and focusing on any of them I think will just breed worse kyudo. Today was a practice. Perhaps it's not my favorite, but I went, did my best, will go on to reflect, and it is a very important chink in my kyudo chain.

There is an obsession of sobriety that is incredibly dangerous.

We must release the pressure.

We must breath big and consistently. We must not care if we fail. We must accept our imperfections. We must see with our belly.

Who are you pullling the bow for anybody?

There's nobody else there. There's no riches to be made. You will die and be forgotten.

Why are you trying so hard?

Kyudo Progress

(picture found at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ky%C5%ABd%C5%8D)

 

Tonight was another classic case of having the chance to go to night kyudo, almost opting out in order to relax at home, but going and having an excellent session. It was a day off and I spent the day with the wife out exploring our new home of Nakatsu. It was raining and I thought about just relaxing and cleaning at home, but ended up going to practice anyway and it was definitely worth it. It's funny no matter how long you practice martial arts, this tendency to opt out of practice still remains strong. I guess I recognize it when it happens better, "Ah, I feel like not going, but I know if I don't I'll regret it." It takes us back to rule number one of practicing a martial art:

Just go to training.

Anyway, I went around 6 o'clock, just before most everyone shows up and the first person I see is the head 8dan (hanshi [8 degree black belt]). I perked up right away as we greeted each other. I knew right away it was worth it to come. Such a high ranking and highly skilled kyudoka is rare and to watch him practice, and have him watch you and comment is a very special opportunity. Getting changed I was aware of him the whole time, and knew he was aware of me. It's kind of like how I feel around the other head sensei in iaido. I feel like they're always critically watching, and so I'm especially sure to be on my best behavior, not without a little healthy anxiety.

When I first told my kyudo sensei in Toyama I was moving to Nakatsu, the first thing he did was grab the official book of kyudo dojos and looked up Nakatsu. When he found that Nakatsu had a hanshi sensei, his eyes widened and he said, "When you go to Nakatsu, go there immediately and start training with him." He also said I should do my best to be on good relations with him and talk to him as much as I can, and that was also the first thing I thought of. This is only the second time I've seen him at training because I can so rarely go at night when he shows up. But like I said, just having him there put me on my toes and made me excited about training.

Anyway, going back to anxiety ... I think it's really helpful in kyudo to have. When I first started, I was shocked at the amount of times that you shoot while other people watch you. At first it's like, "Please don't watch me, it makes me nervous," but I learned quickly you can't say that, and it's just a natural part of the art. We learn from watching and being watched by others. One of the most important things about kyudo is learning to get used to people watching you shoot alone. It feels like someone watching you when you're naked. You probably don't like it at first, but in kyudo it's something you have to get used to, and it will make you a lot better. This is also why it's important to participate in tournaments and tests. It's about doing your best and shooting as you are, even when everyone is watching you, especially under the pressure of competitions and exams.

I used to hate this nervousness and fight against it, trying to relax and eat away at the nervousness so shooting alone and shooting in front of others became the same, but I don't think so anymore. In fact, that nervousness I think makes you a better archer.

I'm not sure about how to explain it in a way that is honest to the feeling. Because it's mostly just a feeling. I feel nervous, and when I do, I shoot better. I miraculously do a lot of the things I've been trying to do subconsciously and for some reason snap into some ideal budo mode where I do my noble best without caring too much about hitting the target. It's when I'm left alone and without any pressure at all that it all falls away.

So the head sensei was there watching, I was nervous, shot a lot, and did fairly well. I was ever conscious of him, waiting for a chance to talk to him. Just to run up to him and bombard with questions or ask him to watch you seems a bit much. Everyone wants his help and attention. To single yourself out and just approach him like he's another archer seems to go against some unsaid rules of protocol. But then again, he is just another archer, and if I have a question I shouldn't hesitate to ask him. I shot a lot, felt pretty good, and right when I was going to go and sit next to him and initiate some conversation I got distracted by other archers who started talking to me. We talked for about 15 minutes and then I walked over to where I thought sensei was, to find him gone. I looked around for him, but apparently he had already sneaked out and gone home when I wasn't aware.

So I'll just have to wait until next time. But no one here is in a hurry, so it's all good.

I finally feel like I'm in a good place now in kyudo. My hand is completely healed and I'm doing my best not to instigate a reinjury, which shouldn't be a big problem. In fact, it helps me focus on proper technique. I've also been going consistently lately, maybe 3 times a week (I hope to make it 4 or 5 on the average) and so I've found a consistent rythm where I'm not embarrassingly bad. I've been around long enough that I recognize most people in the dojo and am not just "the new guy", and have developed friendships with others around. This is probably the most important part of practice, getting along with others. Once you establish that, everything becomes the best it can be. After that, I think at the one of the deepest levels, the greatest part about kyudo is the relationships with others that you make. Definitely.

I've said it before, and will say it many more times in the future, if it weren't for all the incredibly genuinely nice people in kyudo, I would have quit so many times a long time ago.

But anyway, specifically about technique, my two main issues are ones that have been around for a long time:

First, the string pre-releasing. It only happened once today, and I noticed it within the glove before it could slap me. In fact, it happened just before people were about to pull the arrows out of the targets and I was the last one shooting all by myself. I noticed that the arrow had slipped out but still in my grasp. I returned to the starting position, everyone looked at me strangely and I said that it slipped out, and then I told the people to take the arrows so they didn't have to wait for me. The other people around said, "No no no, wait, he's going to do this next one!" And told me to go ahead and do it again.

Goddamn. It's very unnerving to have that happen, and to have everybody watching and waiting while I try again is a special kind of hell. I realized the best thing to do was just bear up and do my best and try again, which I did, and I hit the target to my great surprise.

That was a little lesson in kyudo. We must face our fears and shoot in the face of potential failure and humiliation. Sometimes we will fail embarrassingly in front of everyone, but sometimes we will succeed.

So anyway, I said a long time ago that I realized this problem wasn't just in the kai (draw of the bow) where the string slips out, but in dai san (a transitional period where you change positions with the bow over your head), but then thought that maybe I'll realize it starts much sooner like in uchiokoshi (where you raise the bow). Recently I realize it's earlier than that at the very first moment you grip the string and arrow (torikake). Crazy, but I'm happy I've traced the problem back to here. I had a senior student show me how to do it right, and I did it with great success. But I've forgotten exactly how it goes, and am searching to find it on my own, to some success. This is another thing in kyudo. Learning how to fix something, doing it right, then completely forgetting. It's incredibly humiliating and embarrassing for your self and spirit, but we must accept these facts and humbly move forward doing our best. Failure upon success upon failure, we keep folding over this experience until one day we can just do it.

After that, there's my tenouchi (hand that holds the bow). I have certain bad tendencies I've had from the beginning but haven't fixed completely yet. I had a senior student help me out a lot tonight, telling me things I've heard maybe a hundred times before. I know this so well, but for some reason my hand won't do it. I am grateful for his help and don't regard it with frustration, but consider it helpful advice that will definitely contribute to my future success.

But then again there is no future,

and if something isn't a success now,

it's because I won't let it.

The beautiful humble path of an archer. I've never experienced a budo like this.

I can't wait to go back tomorrow morning.

We Are Not Samurai

(Cool pic found at http://idesigniphone.com/samurai-warrior)

In answering this question I want to get to the core of human physical emotional and spiritual movements but it gets really complicated in Japan due to a lot of social tendencies. I make it difficult because I have my own American social predispositions. I want to talk about the real underlying principles of it all but I'm afraid most of the discussion will fall into the category of cultural comparison.

Perhaps it's one of the first surface levels before the deeper layers of general human activity. Of course I can't put it all out here due to time and space restrictions, as well as the fact I probably don't see it all.

Anyway I can start with big cultural generalizations:

Americans want to be able to do everything.

Japanese want to do one thing really well.

When I was young and had my first curiousities about beginning martial arts I wanted to become strong.

I still do.

That strength is less about doing one thing perfectly and more about being able to do anything well. That in and of itself it's own own perfection of life, I think.

There's something about that independence and self reliance. I want to be able to survive alone and provide for myself.

For a long time being a 10th degree blackbelt was less appealing to me than being a 3rd degree blackbelt in three arts, or a 1st degree blackbelt in ten different arts. I'm not sure exactly how I feel now. I've naturally strayed from my original ideas, moving more towards the Japanese status quo, but this is an idea under great inspection now in my mind.

I think understanding what the different levels of early blackbelts mean changes my opinion quite a bit.

I think being a 3rd degree black belt in three arts, or a 10th degree black belt in ten arts is a lot less desirable than being a 10th dan in one art in Japan. It means you've drifted from here to there and without taking one seriously or devoting yourself fully to one single art. Also, in many arts, the first black belt means you're still a beginner and it isn't until after your 3rd degree black belt that you may be considered intermediate. Very generally, for me as a first degree blackbelt to visit another dojo, someone will realize I'm taking the art seriously, but have really just started. At second degree, you can see that someone has spent quite a bit of time in an art and is not necessarily just a beginner anymore. At third degree, perhaps you find some pretty skilled artists who are working on building their own style of movement, but aren't quite at the level to start offering what they have to others. Then at fourth degree, you'll be expected to have a pretty high level of skill and have something worthy enough of teaching others. Above that, I'm not really sure exactly how things go. In fact, I'm still just a first degree at best, so what do I know anyway. These are my impressions after seeing lots of different levels of practitioners in different arts.

Back to the argument of reaching high levels in one art, one could also say there's no way to be good at everything, and trying to blind yourself to that is just an illusion. We only have this much time with our lives on Earth and we can't do it all. We must accpet that limitation and do the best we can with one art.

One could also say that each specific art is a complete world and separate entity on it's own. Filling in it's weaknessess with other arts is uncessary because the system was made to be complete.

The Japanese way of doing things is backed by it's history of tradition spanning many generations with lots of participants. The American vein is benefitted by it's lack of history and freedom to create based on idealizations.

This is where history comes in and the benefits of Japanese culture are largely in debt to it's own.

But how long is that history really?

I am not an expert in Japanese history, but I believe it goes very generally something like this ...

A long long time ago in Japan humans began to fight, and so strength, numbers, and weapons were utilized to win fights.

Theories were borrowed from abroad, states and armies were raised, and warriors became a social class on their own.

With many generations of warriors and wars, martial arts techniques were used to effectively kill in the nature of war.

Then Japan entered 200 years of relative peace in the Edo Period and martial arts left the battlefield and were connected to philosophies and religions like zen. (It was also just before this time that guns were introduced to Japan and adopted in favor over traditional weapons if possible. Perhaps Japan also entered many small periods of peace where this happened.) Martial arts during this time didn't die, but they changed in many ways focusing on art, specialization, and perfection as opposed to immediate practical ability.

Then Japan entered the Meiji Period where the samurai class was abolished and Japanese culture was largely abandoned in favor of the West. Popularity and utility of martial arts in Japan dropped dramatically during this time.

After WWII, martial arts were banned in Japan for a while and lost more favor.

Eventually popularity rose again in the 1960's, thanks a lot to Western curiousity perhaps, and now budo is commonly practiced again in Japan. (I once met an Australian who practiced iaido in Takayama City, Gifu Prefecture who said that budo would be lost without the curiousity of Westerners. I resented this comment at the time, thinking of all of the Japanese budoka I know who practice with no thought for popularity or westerners. I think of all the people who have continued practicing budo through the ups and downs of history. But who knows.)

So, the point of all of this being, what we practice in modern budo is likely very different from what traditional samurai did a long time ago when the purpose of the art was to kill. I don't think it's bad for us to have some ideal of a samurai in our heads and practice trying to reach our goals, but I think we need to understand that if it's that, it's mostly just an image we've created ourselves, absent of historical fact and existence. I think we should seek to study the actual histories of the arts we practice if that's where our interest lays, and seek to practice arts in a way that works with our common era, and the future.

Trying to revitalize the practices of the ancient samurai is akin to preserving ancient art in a museum. That is not a bad thing. I love art, and I love museums. But it's not what I want to do in my martial arts practice. I want something alive and purposeful in my daily life. I want my martial art to change and adapt to the challenges of today. To believe that we are doing what samurai did hundreds of years ago, I think is a bit silly.

However, it is interesting to remember that these arts we are practicing are rooted in violence based on submission and survival.

...

Strange thoughts in these river flows.

Iaido Progress

Today I had my second practice with Yamada Sensei and it was invigorating. I was sure to get there early, and ready to see what was going to happen. When I went the door was locked and nobody was around, but I saw Sensei's car. Last week Sensei said I should go in myself and get ready before the lesson, but now it was impossible. Is this another test!? I mused wondering if sensei's trying to mess with my head in some extra training. But he came out of the nieghboring house, and showed me the key hanging just outside the door. So I went in, got ready, the other student came, and we started practice. Time disappeared as I focused on the immediate.  At one point I thought about looking at the clock, but decided against it. It ruins everything, and by not looking I think I build a habit of not caring. I had nowhere else to be that day, I was consumed with iaido at the moment. There's no need for clocks in this time.

Yamada Sensei is a great teacher. We start by practicing swinging the sword straight up and down, the most basic of techniques, move to something else, then go back, and I'm way better all of a sudden. He shows us the basic movement in so many different ways, training the little details of the single movement in various movements so each time we build and build these little bricks to make a big swinging sword castle. We move to something else, and come back and I'm way better again. In the end all we're doing is swinging a sword, but when you look closely, there's a lot more details than you noticed a first. I feel like I'm making a lot of progress with this practice.

Here's some of the details we worked on and things that come to mind now.

Changing tenouchi, position of the hand holding the sword. Sensei showed us that we change the tenouchi in iaido sometimes when we went to quickly swing the sword in the opposite direction it ust came. He said that when we change the grip with the jo (short staff) you change the jo within your hand because it's round and the same no matter how you hold it, so you can switch it easy in your hand. But the sword isn't round, so you change your hand around the handle of the sword.

I realized my worst habits are not keeping my back straight and bouncing when I swing. It's also not raising the blade in front of me from the tip. Then there's also squaring my shoulders straight when I'm facing forward (maybe a habit left from aikido where you're also in the hanmi position and never facing forward with square hips).

The two biggest things helping my technique are cutting with the back hand while the front guides the sword. Also stretching my self, arms, and blade at the furthest point of impact, extending completely. When I relax my front arm, extend fully, and snap with the back hand, it feels good and I can hear the swish of the blade through the air, which is a good sign.

This is one of the interesting parts of iaido, and perhaps where one can learn from the sword itself.

Sensei said we learn aikido using the 5 senses. We watch a teacher, we feel the weight of the blade, we listen to the sound of the  blade, smelling ... not sure about that one yet ... taste ... I'm not sure I want to taste the blade, but for some reason I can imagine learning iaido by taste ... I'll have to work on that in my head, though.

One other interesting point we worked on was the sensitivity of our hands on the sword. If we stand with another person and touch blades, we can sense so easily the slightest little bit of movement with the nerves in our hands. An amazingly small amount of movement or pressure is so clearly felt. I remember going over this in aikido, like when someone grabs our wrist, they can feel you react by flexing or moving our hand, so you work to move in ways that people can't detect what you're going to do. I forgot how sensitive we are to this without even noticing.

So yes, progress with the sword! Things are moving slowly and well. I think I'm building a good schedule between iaido and kyudo ... and everything else in life! I don't know what's going to happen in the future, but it feels good today.

Martial Arts Solo Practice: Good or Bad?

 

(Cool pic found at http://www.layoutsparks.com/pictures/forest-7)

I wander in the woods inside of myself, where I just move. Maybe I'm teaching myself. It's good because it's where I go.

But in the dojo I'm holding a tool. I'm working together with this foreign object to fly on invisible straight lines. Alone I warp myself into comfortable awkward positions and become acclimatized to my own particular grains.

Then someone comes and puts stints on my limbs, they turn my head, pull my shoulders back and paint a red dot to catch my attention. It is no longer me but the lines and a master. Because of the world as a whole, my arrow can fly straight.

...

Some say that the bow can teach ou how to shoot properly in kyudo. I've also heard the same with the sword. When I first heard this I thought that you could practice faithufuilly on your own and you'll naturally find the correct principles.

However, in my practice it seems that 95% of the time I just fall into lazy counterproductive habits. (But then that's where all my attention goes. Maybe that 5% is an unseen world of beautiful progress?)

After a while of swinging the sword and shooting the bow on my own, I go to practice to be corrected. A lot of it has to do with kuse. I didn't know what it meant at first, but I've heard so much of it lately I've come to understand it quite thoroughly. A kuse is basically a bad habit.

It's like changing your grip on the sword after everytime you swing it, or bob up and down when you swing the sword. It's like moving your thumb around on your left hand when you do you kyudo.

Perhaps one can learn proper technique on their own, but I'm guessing it would take a looooong time, with a lot of introspection and some natural genius. (but don't we all have these things in our own amount?)

Practicing kyudo and iaido and even aikido without partners or teachers is like falling in darkness alone. Working together with a teacher and other students is like rising to the sun with proper technique.

This makes me think of my solo Tai Chi and Ba Gua practice. I practice alone and believe that by doing it over and over again I can improve in my own way. Yet I don't know for sure because I have no teachers and partners here to check with. I don't know if I'm getting good. I'm not even sure what getting good is. I guess I don't even know really what I'm doing at all.

But I kind of like that. I worry about doing things right in my other arts. Doing Tai Chi and Ba Gua forms is my free time flowing through the movements. It is my own special experience.

I don't know if it's the best because some ideal of "the best" is not where I am. I'm just here, never stopping through the dark forests.

I'm just walking through the forest.

Meeting the Head Iai Sensei

(Cool pic found at http://wallpoper.com/wallpaper/samurai-347997)

So iaido is going well and slow. I meet on Friday mornings to practice with Yamamoto Sensei and one other student and practice on my own time in my apartment (trying my best not to slice up the walls and ceilings.)

But last Snday afternoon I got a call from Yamada Sensei, the head sensei of the dojo. I was surprised to get the call and picked up immediately. He asked if I had time to meet the next morning for training. I was caught off guard but accepted and told him I'd be there at any time in the morning or early afternoon. This is what I'm here in Japan for anyway, right?

So I showed up about 15 minutes early for our 10:30 training, earlier than I usually do. The dojo door was slightly ajar. I went in and said my morning greeting, but nobody was there. Maybe somebody was in the bathroom? I heard nothing for a few minutes, so I assumed I was alone. I thought about getting changed and ready, but then I decided against it. In Japan, and as a student, it seemed best to do nothing until I was specifically told to do something. But then maybe one plays into the stupid student role where the teacher comes in and gets mad at you for not getting changed, but if you got changed the teacher asks you why you took the liberty of getting changed without knowing if that's what you should do. Or maybe that thought is just silly. Regardless, I decided not to get changed.

So I walked around the inside of the dojo looking at the scrolls and weapons on the wall waiting for something to happen. After about 5 minutes nobody came and I felt a little weird just standing in the dojo alone, so I decided to wait outside next to my bike. About 3 minues later Yamada Sensei came around the corner fully dressed and said good morning. We went into the dojo. He told me to go ahead and get changed so I did. When I got out we started talking about budo. He's a nice guy and was asking me the normal questions one would ask like, "Why did you want to start iaido?" This was normal, but he seemed much more inquisitive in a way. He was very silent while I talked, which made me a little nervous. I said that I have a great interest in budo, have practiced a few other arts, and since I found the dojo's website online and I've never done iaido before I wanted to give it a try.

We talked more and he mentioned another foreigner who trained with a partner dojo in Tokyo. He's an American and has been training for a while and is currently a 6 dan in iaido.

Then he asked me about reigi in the other arts I've practiced. Reigi is roughly translated as etiquette, and I thought he meant about formal bowing in and such, so I said that in aikido when you enter the mat you bow and then before beginning you bow one more time in the seiza sitting position. I think he was more concerned about timing. Specifically, I think he was trying to get to the point that in this dojo if the sensei says 10:30, then the student comes with enough time to get dressed, sweep the dojo, and get stretched so that practice can begin at the agreed upon time. At that moment is was about 10:43, and the point was made, those thirteen minutes should be spent training, any getting ready and chit chatting should be done before. He was very polite and matter of fact about it, but I laughed a little inside,

"This guy might be more strict than other teachers I've had before."

But that's good. Part of trying new budo is seeing the way other people do things, and I will do everything to adapt to this new environment. I'm happy he told me this straight up because I've actually been a little weary about the reigi of this dojo. The other teacher Yamamoto Sensei is much more informal, and when I was initially told to come at 10:30 the first day, I did and got changed and we usually just start when we do. Now I know, and if I go to another iaido dojo I'll do the same.

A little later on, the other woman who I usually train with showed up (she agreed to come at 11:00), but it was more like 11:04 and the sensei mentioned that she was late. I could see the look on her face which was the same as mine when he told me.

We got started and we did a lot of the same things we have done with Yamamoto Sensei. I think largely Yamada Sensei was gauging these two new students and making sure that we were clear on a lot of the basics. First he asked me to explain what I was doing when I swung the sword, which wasn't easy, but I did so and he reminded me of things I forgot to mention. He spent most of the time repolishing a lot of the things we had learned. It was great and made me much more attentive of the little details. He's the kind of teacher that will naturally make you a lot more conscious of doing the little details right when he's around.

Here are a lot of the specific details we went over in the class:

-Don't move the body up and down when you swing.

-Slice with the tip of the sword, the landing spot being an opponents face, and from there pull back to your stomach.

-10 back, 8 forward. This is with swinging the sword. Raising the sword to the ready position is arguably the most important, because if you're not there, you can't swing it down, so there is an emphasis getting to that ready position, which makes it a bit fast than the downward slice. Also, it puts a good tension in the movement, spreading the chest and elbows out.

-When raising the sword above your head with the previous points, act as though you're stabbing something behind you.

-The power of the cut comes from your rear hand, the forward hand is largely for guiding the blade, and so tension should be taken out of that front hand on the sword.

-When stepping forward, you step (pat-pat) instead of sliding the feet. Also, when stepping forward, the blade slices before the feet, because that is where speed is most important.

- Also practice in the left stance.

-Keep mouth slightly open to relax, act as though you have a small egg you don't want to crack in your mouth.

-Breath in as you raise the blade, out as you swing down. Hide the breath so that an opponent can't read your intentions and movements.


He's a very nice man, and seems proficient in his art, but honestly I really can't tell well what it means to be a great iaidoka yet. I enjoy his crisp and strict attitude and greatly look forward to training with him again. I'll go to the next normal Friday training with Yamamoto Sensei, but then he asked us students to come again on Sunday.

Anytime I hear the word "Sunday" come from a teacher is a small time of panic for me. I keep myself busy through the week, and Saturday is usually no different with work, errands, budo, or planned events, so Sunday really is my sacred day. I never really worried about this so much until I came to Japan, the number one offender of countries not respecting Sunday freedom. Generally, everyone in this country works hard at jobs or school throughout the week, and so when special group events happen (as they often do with work, school, extra curricular activities) it happens on Sunday. I think when Japanese do relax, they are really good at doing absolutley nothing or drinking a lot, because they usually do have to do something on their days off. Anyway, I cringed at the sound of Sunday training, but then again, this is what I came here to do anyway, so I agreed happily, if not a bit hesitant. The wife and I are strapped for cash after making the recent moves and perhaps this Sunday training will keep me from extra spending. No matter how awesome the budo, I don't think I could ever consistently give away the Sunday.

But then who knows.

The path of the sword continues!

My Greatest Budo Lesson

I don't need to be good.

Don't Rush the Blade

(picture found at http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%E8%8B%B1%E4%BF%A1%E6%B5%81%E5%9C%9F%E4%BD%90%E5%A4%A7%E7%94%B0%E6%B4%BE%E7%B4%8D%E5%88%80.jpg)

In iaido there are two big things I'm working on, that basically rely upon the same principle: getting out of the way of the sword to let it cut efficiently.

In iaido we rely upon straight lines and non resistance in order to make the most efficient cuts. The sword needs our bodies to manipulate it and execute its purpose, but we must not use superfluous movements and efforts that inhibit the swords function to slice.

So there are two things I'm working on:

1. Drawing the blade. When you draw the blade it is best to draw it along a straight line through the scabbard. When you do, it is effortless and silent. When you don't, you are using extra muscles and effort which will limit the following strike by making it waver. You can tell when someone does this by the sound that the blade makes coming out of the scabbard. If it makes a rough rickety sounds, it means you're banging the blade against the inside of the scabbard in the draw, which means you're putting unecessary strength into a movement that is not straight.

Our teacher has told us this from the start, and I've been conscious of it, however I get caught up in the moment and rush through the draw, which ruins everything. Rushing will do nothing but tense your muscles and make a loud rickety draw. Who cares if you're slow, if you don't do it right, you're not doing anything at all. I'm not practicing very slowly and quietly in my apartment, letting the sound of the blade teach me how to draw it.

2. Swinging the blade. When you raise the sword above your head and then swing down to slash, just like while drawing the sword, one must eliminate extra effort to let the sword fall upon the perfect straight lines of gravity. Our hands and bodies and souls handle and direct the sword, but we do not do the cutting, the sword does. Our teacher tells us to let the blade fall by itself with gravity. In doing this we do not insert unecessary effort.

When sensei swings his swords there is a loud slashing sound reflective of his skilled technique. When us lowly green horn whitebelts swing our swords, there is nothing but the tension in our shoulders and anguish on our faces. In trying to create that sound I naturally try to make that sound by using effort, muscle, and speed, but it won't work. The more I put myself into the sword, the farther I get away from that effortless echoing sound. I need to accept and trust that the sword will do it's job perfectly if I just relax and do only the movements I need to do.

Isn't the same in everything else we do in life?

Cleaning is a practice with a lot of parallels to budo. I like to clean, but I can't stand only cleaning one part of my apartment. I also like drinking lots of coffee and trying to clean in a short amount of time, which means I spend a lot of effort on this task without much of anything getting cleaned at all. Instead of trying to do everything at once in one full sweep, while doing everything else as well, if I can just relax and do clean one room right, that room will be clean and I will be happy ... accepting that maybe I can't clean my whole apartment in the time I've alotted.

Maybe I can accept that I can't do iaido perfect on my first try.

...

What we are training in budo is patience and an inquiring intelligence. We are learning to let things move according to their own ideal time. We are learning to let go of our great tragedy of effort. We are learning to be beautiful. We are learning to be effective.

Perhaps one of the greatest treasures in that great dark deep sea abyss is relaxing and slowing down. It is the key to happiness and relieving stress. Perhaps it is also the key to standing victorious amid violent encounters.

Maybe it's the key to understanding the Great Imminent Failure: Death.