Benefits of Fear

Fear sucks, but it's often said that it can help you improve.

How?

I'll give you a few reasons here stemming from one example: the string pre-releasing in Kyudo.

First you raise the bow in front and above yourself in uchiokoshi.

 

(Dude, I think I know this guy! I found it off a website from Oyabe which is in Toyama. I'm 99% sure I've seen this guy at tournaments. Pictures found at http://oyabekyudoukai.web.fc2.com/shaho.html)

 



Then you pull a third of the draw moving into daisan.

 

From there you perform the draw, hikiwake, and settle into the full draw, kai, in which you stretch yourself out in both directions for about 8 seconds.

It's usually in the drawing process (hikiwake or kai) that the string can slip out of your grip and slap you in the face. I went through a phase of chronic pre-slipping, and it still lingers everytime I pull in the guise of fear. When the string slips, it either completely ruins the technique or most likely slaps you in the face which really hurts, is a huge shock, and is incredibly embarrassing. This sucks. The prospect of this happening sucks. There is fear, and that initially sucks.

However, that fear can help us improve in two important ways.

First, the fear makes us smarter.

When I enter the draw, I know that if the string slips it's a direct result of bad technique, specifically, not turning my right hand inwards enough to hold the string. When that fear flushes my mind, I know that I must turn my hand to the right degree. So, I do so and my technique is improved by the fear. I have overcome the fear with reasoning and can rest easy with my manipulation of physics in the draw.

Second, it gives us courage.

It's often said that we cannot be brave without fear. I'm not sure if it's exactly that simple, but in this case, that fear does in fact directly give us courage.

After understanding that the string slips out because of mis-applied technique, I should be able to rest easy knowing that the string will not slip out as long as I adhere to the fundamentals. However, that fear still slips into my being. Even though we know that what we fear will not come to pass, we are still afraid. We can overcome this fear with faith: trusting with complete confidence that that string will not pre-release. To take it a step further, we must pull the string with the faith that it will not release even though we don't know for sure if it will release for some reason or not. At that point we must realize that anything can happen and accept that no matter what happens we will be OK. If you're not OK with any potential mistakes, then maybe you shouldn't be doing Kyudo in the first place, or whatever it is you're doing that induces fear.

I've overcome my chronic sting pre-releasing, but still fear it, and so I often go into the draw with the string a few inches in front of my face and then after I have entered the full draw I bring it to touch my cheek, which is definitely not good technique. Instead, I need to make sure my hand is turned sufficiently, and then pull the string back in a straight diagonal line from the daisan to the kai.

Fear can make us smarter and give us courage, but that's only if we're willing to take the time to analyze it and prepare to make our stand against the pain.

Interestingly enough, we could be talking about "failure" and it's the same dark Sensei that threatens our success.

Be brave and smart! That's what budo is trying to teach us.

No More!

(This great photo was found at http://taintedink.com/hit-the-heart/, a site well worth a check. Though I'm not sure if it's the original source. If not, I will cite it correctly if notified.)

 

The other morning I really didn't want to go to kyudo. But that's not interesting, because it's niether strange or rare. Most mornings I awake early after long hours of       dreams, and the long trip to training ranks below more sleep on the "want-to-do" list. However, I've realized that this is the best omen for a good practice. On the contrary, it's when I'm going to kyudo full of enthusiasm and confidence that I usually am greatly disappointed. Actually, it's not quite disappointment, as much as stark reminders of my humble less-than-master state; the epic ego battle within myself is just a side effect of the greater force of Truth in cause and affect. For example, I'll go in with a plan to fix whatever problem I find most important, only to have Sensei demand my attention elsewhere. Or maybe I go in with the intention to hit the target. That's when I miss the most. Maybe I'll go in thinking everything is OK, and then I'll find another way to misuse the equipment so that it injures me. I'm already well practiced in the string slapping my forearm and face. What other forms of budo masochism can I find? Basically, it's when I go in expecting the secret skills of budo to reveal themselves to me that I get slapped in the face.

Speaking of that particular issue, it's pretty well taken care of. It doesn't happen anymore primarily for two reasons. First, I just don't want it to. I won't let the string hit me anymore. I won't tolerate it. I'm so sick of it that lousy situation, it's just not going to happen anymore. Make sense? It's the same thing teaching particular kids that make my life a living hell for the hour they are in my classroom. I would spend weeks devising new plans to break them, but usually it wasn't until I finally said, "No, they're not going to do that anymore. They're not going to f$#k with my class anymore" that they magically stopped being so powerful. This does not mean beating your kids physically or emotionally into submission, and it's not overcoming the kyudo bow with invincible strength. It's a very soft and quiet strength: it's fact. It doesn't need loud proclamations or physical effort. It's fact. "I'm not going to get slapped in the face anymore."

Second, and perhaps more important, is that I understand completely that I need to keep my hand properly rotated throughout the pulling back of the bow so that the string doesn't slip out. That is another fact. It doesn't matter what I do otherwise, if I turn my wrist the wrong way, the string will come out. This is something I made sure to fix the other day, and I got hit a total of 0 times. But I still have a bit of the fear in me. I pull with confidence, but I'm incredibly sensitive to the potential of a slipping string that more than a couple times in the middle of the draw I got spooked and returned. This isn't good, and Sensei reminded me of it when he caught me.

Also, this may be the most important part of the post, in case people are actually reading this blog looking for technical pointers on how improve their kyudo. Luckily, I don't think that's the case. People shouldn't take my words of technique as fact for quite a long while. Anyway, in a post or two back I mentioned one method of pulling the bow back which would better ensure my safety from the string. Instead of pulling the string straight back to the position it should be behind my head in one motion, I would pull it back in front of my face, and then touch it to my face in it's proper position. This way, in case the string pre-released, my face would not be in the way. Seemed like a brilliant idea, actually. Well, the day after I wrote that post I went to kyudo, and the first thing Sensei said to me, even before I took my first shot, was to be careful of not doing that. I didn't understand completely at first, but it makes perfect sense now for three reasons:

First, it makes your shot incredibly innacurate. After you raise the bow over your head and move into the daisan posture, the arrow should be aimed at the target, and aimed thusly until it's stuck right through the middle of the bullseye. If you pull the string back in front of you, the arrow points far to the left, so that when you are in the full draw, you have to readjust to the target. Aim, misaim, aim again. That's no good. Your arrow should be locked into the target from daisan until the very end.

Second, you can't pull back fully, which also makes your shot innacurate. This has been my number one immediate issue lately: not pulling back enough. More than anything else, Sensei is always telling me "More!" "Pull back more!" "Farther!" Those words are pretty well burned into my head whenever I'm going through the motions, which I'm thankful for. He says once I start pulling to my full potential, I'll begin to hit the target a lot more. Those few times I do pull back successfully, the result is usually a hit target and a great feeling, not just because of hitting the target, but because of the great release from the maximum tension. For one to execute an effective release, one must pull back as far as possible. All afterwards depends on this.

Thirdly, it's not economical movement. If there's one common theme my teachers have linked to the theory of budo, it's economy of motion. The shortest path between two points is a straight line and less is more. By pulling the string in front of my face, I'm adding superfluous movements which weaken the structure of the whole.

So yeah, no more string slapping. That's really exciting. Hopefully I won't have to talk about it anymore in future posts.

Now for a couple exciting improvements to my kyudo.

Sensei started teaching me his style of shooting. In this area of Japan, the most commonly practiced style of kyudo is reisha 礼射, which is what I started learning and what probably 95% of practitioners in Toyama Prefecture practice, but it's not what my Sensei does. Reisha is basically the standard form of shooting. But what my sensei does is actually called musha 武射, because he spent most of his formative years in kyudo in Fukuoka City in the southwestern island of Kyushu where this style is more prevalent. He says you can shoot more accurately with it, which is probably one of the many reasons he uses it instead of the reisha. To be brief on the subject, this is very exciting to me because he's teaching me this style which he doesn't do for everyone, and I believe it has more roots in the practice samurai used back in the day. Soon I'll do some more hard research on the subject and let it be known here.

Also, I upgraded to a stronger bow, 16 kg to be precise. As you practice kyudo, it's natural to move up, and symbolic of one's progress. The feeling is completely different. It wasn't so hard to pull as I had expected, but when you release there's a lot more force going into the shot, which is really fun to feel. I'll have to speak more on this in a future post.

Obviously I'm running out of juice here, but I'd like to say one more thing about kyudo before I sign out.

I feel incredibly lucky to have the teacher I have who spends so much uninhibited time and effort into my progress. My kyudo would be completely different without him, and lacking I think. One cannot do kyudo alone, and it cannot be well without an excellent teacher. This is true with all budo, but for some reason, it's really that way with kyudo.

From an eager practitioner to all teachers: please continue to give your absolute excellent best no matter what.

From an eager practitioner to all other eager practitioners: give everything you can every second the light shines on you, and just as much when you're in the shadows. It is indeed a privelage to receive and give to the various practices of budo.

That is all.

Meeting Fear on a Winter's Morn: The first practice of the New Year

(Why can't I post any friggen pictures?!)

It's been a long three and a half week hiatus from kyudo, and I really didn't want to go this morning when I heard the alarm. However, every day that struggle grows larger, and the fear monger inside scratches deeper on the inside of my skin. Sitting up in my futon, I made the courageous decision to confront all, and put my feet beneath me, gripping a slight pain in the ribs from my two week old run in with the tree on my snowboard. But after I'm up I'm all good. Today is the day. I can sleep when I'm dead; or just take a nap when I get home before work.

It was an uneasy morning. The excitement of returning seemed overwhelmed by an unexplainable anxiety. I didn't know how my ribs would hold up to the bow. I knew I owed money to the dojo. I spent the dark hours of early morning anticipating the alarm. I have extra preparations to make for work this week. I had slight feelings of a stuffed nose which usually come before a cold. And most of all ... my last practice in kyudo was full of getting slapped in the face by the string. In my time away from a real bow and arrow, I've been practicing a bit every few days on a small rubber apparatus meant to replicate the feel of the bow (hey, now), trying to get over the fear of the impending slap, but it doesn't directly help; at least it didn't feel like it this morning.

I was a small brown leaf of holes floating down the river today. Absolutley powerless to the current, I felt like I was just drifting weakly towards the dojo. The only difference between me and the leaf is that I knew there was a waterfall at the end. How it would treat the little leaf left me less than relaxed. All I could do was go through the motions and hope for the best.

While walking through the park towards the dojo I noticed a goofy looking old man crusing on his granny-bike from the opposite direction; certainly not an unusual sight in a Japanese park early in the morning. But after he passed I realized he was one of the usual early-morning kyudo guys. Did he not notice me? I got to the dojo, took a deep breath, and reached to pull the sliding door back ... to no avail. It was dark and locked. Did he ignore me? Avoiding the hassle of explaining to me nobody was there or something else? Probably not.

So I sat and read. This was pleasant. For the first time in a long while I actually have a book that's hard to put down. Not five minutes later I saw Sensei coming in the distance and pretended not to notice, reading to the end of the page. I looked up and we met each other with big uninihibited smiles. Now thinking about it, I'm reminded of this same experience when going back to aikido after a long break. Budo buddies are not just normal friends, they're partners bonded together by very physical and emotional experiences. I say less but feel more with them. I like that.

Anyway, to get on with it so this post doesn't stretch on for another week, my first few pulls at the makiwara (practice hay-barrel you shoot at before the real target) went well. I was anxious about the string, but went forward with a relaxed courage and kept the string farther from my face just in case it did slip out. I was doing it more than one should, but until I get used to shooting without the fear, I'll make that small compromise. Doing that allowed me to pull back almost to my full potential, and Sensei gave me looks and words of approval.

WOW! I don't have to get slapped in the face to do what I love! The string pre-released only once today, but given my expectations, that was happily accepted. I calmly took a break, iced my ear, retrieved my arrows, and started again. In fact, today I hit the target maybe 35% to 40% of the time, which is excellent for me, especially considering the three weeks of no practice.

I left practice with a big smile on my face, and look forward to going again tomorrow morning.

Let's sum up with some bullet points:

Dealing with a hiatus from your practice:

-Just get back to it when you feel like it! I could've gone yesterday, but did have some things to take care of and decided to tend to them and worry about kyudo until the next day. It's just one day. No big deal. If you got stuff to do, you got stuff to do. Budo is supposed to help my life, not replace it ... or something like that.

-Just get back to it! The last point doesn't condone needless avoidance, which will actually enlarge any fears or worries about a return. Who cares about little details that find your mind in the morning just before you leave? Just go. Budo depends a lot upon discipline; this is one of those times you put it to use. Just get to practice.

-You and your training partners/teachers should be happy when you see each other. I'd say returning to a good budo practice should require that big smile you can't hold back when you see each other. I respect my teachers, and trust we are working on true technique. We are all there together to practice this very serious and important skill, and often do so with the strength of our will through great adversity. However, "fun" is the perhaps the single most important factor, I choose to be there, and genuine feelings of happiness underlie it all. Perhaps it's different with others. But I would be dead worried if I walked into the dojo to scowl at those around, and face a disapproving grin from Sensei.

Dealing with a pre-slipping string:

-Practice with the rubber on your own safely in small bits to build confidence. Do so knowing you will not get hit in the face. Breath deeply, relax, and visualize yourself completing the release of the arrow just as you planned, not getting hit in the face.

-Don't compromise the pull of your draw. It will put strange pressure on your hand which will make the string come out early more so than anything else. One must pull with the elbow, and must do so as large as possible. If you don't, your shot will be weak and inaccurate.

-Instead, you can try keeping the string from your face a little more than usual when you initially pull back. After you have pulled back as far as you can, then touch the string to your cheek before you release. Aim. Then release. The movements are supposed to go in that order anyway. During that time, don't blindly forget the possiblity of the string pre-releasing; be ready at any moment to release in case it happens. One shouldn't be afraid, but aware and prepared. (However this is just my opinion and experience now. This is how I am dealing with the issue. Sensei didn't teach me this, and it may be compromising the technique more than I notice. If I find further problems with it I'll post it. Don't take my words here as Truth.)

-The problem is in your hand, specifically, in not keeping the top of your hand flat with the sky and instead letting it turn away from your face allowing the string to slip out. If you keep your hand straight as it should, the string won't slip. I suppose it could be do to other strange things you're doing with your hand inside the kake (glove), like inserting uneccessary muscle tension, but essentially the string slips out because your hand rotates. If you recognize it is this very simple physical act, and not because you suck at everything or are doomed at kyudo forever, or some other imaginary unexplainable phenomenon, things are much more simple. Just take a breath, and practice keeping your hand straight.

...

When you're standing in front of the target at full draw, the cold winter and lack of coffee you had in the morning don't exist.

Kami bless all of you budoka out there on your quests in the new year!