My Two Halves and the "Shaho Kun"

I live in two halves.

One half does this so the other doesn't have to.

One half does this so the other can do the opposite.

Even if this side dies, the other lives on.

If one side dies, another will grow according to that other existing half.

If both sides disappear, it's over.

...

Because one half isn't doing it, I'm not doing it at all.

But if both halves are spreading equally in opposite directions, there can be one purpose in the center.

So, as a whole, I am fully doing this.

...

In kyudo we stand firm deep into the ground while also stretching our spine like an ivory tower through the clouds. Our hands must be so supple as to handle towels and flowers and babies, must have the intelligence to know exactly where to be, and must be strong enough to hold the position for all else to bloom. Though those hands have extreme similarities in shape: tightly curled pinky fingers, straight extending thumbs, connection between the thumb and middle finger, they have just as many differences: spiraling in different directions from the arms, one perpendicular to the ground while the other is parallel, connected to the back and elbows one hand is pushing will the other is pulling ... or maybe it's all just pushing.

So much of the time in shooting technique is slow calculated movements of not releasing the arrow. Yet, at the very climax and arrow-head purpose of it all, there is that electric snapping release where finally that shooting action is experienced.

Before you shoot, you sit, before that you walk, before that you bow, before that you enter, before that you practice.

All of these opposites, both equal and not. For what? All for the physical purpose of shooting an arrow. All for the spiritual purpose of perfection. All for the plain existence of us with the universe.

I practice kyudo because it is a way of expressing myself that utilizes civilization. I use my conscious mind and will to practice this one thing over and over again which I learn from others who have done the same. It is cultivation in the purest sense. It is the development of human society. But I also don't practice kyudo in case it's all just a false dream. I put everything into kyudo, and then take it all out. Like blood flowing in and out of the limbs in varying degrees. I do this because one is not enough. Maybe I'm lost.

I step too far mentioning and purposes and such. It's funny that we build a practice around a purpose, when really the purpose may be the last thing we understand.

For more credible wisdom I present below the Shaho-Kun, "Principles of Shooting", written by Master Junsei Yoshimi which is contained within the Kyuhon, official Kyudo Manual. I'll talk more in the future about the Kyuhon, but for now, we'll begin with the Shaho-Kun.

"The way is not with the bow, but with the bone, which is of the greatest importance in shooting.

"Placing Spirit (Kokoro) in the centre of the whole body, with two-thirds of the Yunde (left arm) push the string, and with one-third of the Mete (right arm) pull the bow. Spirit settled, this becomes harmonious unity.

"From the centre line of the chest, divide the left and right equally into release.

"It is written, that the collision of iron and stone will release sudden sparks; and thus there is the golden body, shining white, and the half moon positioned in the west."

-Master Junsei Yoshimi

Budo Changes You

 

I am always somewhere in nature. I am thankful for this. No matter what city I'm surrounded by, or what room I'm in, I'm also always in the natural world exactly where I want to be. For a while, I have been in a forest. Just trees in front of me, an articulate realm of green to progress slowly through. But lately I've found an outcropping cliff hanging over the sea. My blackbelt test in kyudo must be the biggest part of this. In a way, the greatest single physical reason I came to Japan was for budo, and such progress is most clearly represented by rank. A black belt, is a very clear spot in the progression. It is a point alone above the surrounding area.

 

I passed the test, got the belt, and feel some satisfaction, but much more angst, for some reason. It really has little to do with kyudo. When I think about it, it has little to do with anything. I don't know exactly why I feel the way I do, even though I've found such a vantage point to sit and look out at it all: the forest I've been through, the body I am, the feelings I have, and an ocean spanning out beyond.

 

After the test, I went to a two-day heavy metal festival in Tokyo (Ozzfest, and actually it was in Chiba). It represented something significant as well, and provided me with tremendous experience and inspiration. But as I'm finding with such experiences, they are as epic as I imagined, but make much less sense in the end. I came back, got sick for a week, and am just now re-emerging back into the normal world I live in, but it's really different. That weekend concert is a dream world nobody else knows about. I can't talk to others about it here, because they wouldn't understand. It's the same with the mountains. It's the same with budo. Certainly I've found myself on lonely quests. But I guess it's what I wanted from the start.

 

So now I'm looking at all these things that are normal, and I'm not sure what to think, all of these things in my life. Some of them I don't like. Some of them I don't mind, but wonder why they're there. I look at the things I've treasured, and watched how they have changed or faded, or have gotten more complicated. The issues I have now are very tricky knots I can't just slice through. I wondered before why they wouldn't go away, or why they would always come back. Now I can look at them and see their nature a little better, and I can see them moving ever-so-slowly, further on their path. I've never really stopped to see them before. Now I am. I can't cut through them.

So I need a bomb.

And some acceptance.

 

I need to accept the tendencies of certain things in the world. But those which I don't agree with, or those which I believe I can alter, I need to shock with all of the thunder and lightning I have.

This pair of circumstances is very important in budo. Seeing this pair is very important in my life. Sitting on an elevated rock at the edge of the ocean, budo is a very important part of me, and a part  I think will survive the atomic blast.

Budo changes you.

But not really you.

Rather, it changes the way you interact with the world. Budo is a system that becomes a mode of communication between you and the outside world.

Budo is a system to be utilized. Budo is a system that will teach you to process and handle things in a way pre-determined to be effective.

First, it does so by affecting how you unconsciously make decisions in the world. The purpose of technique is that you practice physical responses to the point at which you don't think. In self-defense, this means moving your body in a way to avoid attacks and execute your own. In kyudo, this means having your body go through the myriad physical checks necessary in order to focus on the shooting. We retrain our natural physical reactions by practicing budo.

Secondly, budo changes how you consciously deal with stimula. This is most clearly seen in encountering adversity. In budo, obstacles are overcome by eliminating all extraneous stimulation in order to focus on the matter at hand. Emotions are not the sole base of decision making, and attempts are made to try to figure out what lies beneath or beyond them. Natural reactions are studied, "Why do I feel this way?". Decisions are made to the best of ability and are followed through with resolution. Success and failure are less about the results and more about one's own effort.

 

We get confused with the world. "Why is this happening? Why did that happen? What is going to happen? What should I do?" In order to put their minds at ease something they can believe, what we cannot control is believed to be reigned in and taken care of by ourselves, or a system with which we employ. But these are all false. From that very beginning, us not knowing, we must accept this, not because it is good, or the way it is, or it will make us happy ... pehaps I am wrong myself, and the word "should" has no place in this idea. There is us, and us not knowing. That is all. In that moment our reactions may trigger emotions, which may trigger thoughts, which may trigger actions.

Budo is a system, which changes how we deal with the world. Yet, it is advanced compared to many other systems in that it provides itself with a skapegoat to survive definition. Budo is a way of doing things, but it is also a way of not doing things. Budo exists, and yet the fact that it exists means it also doesn't exist. Budo should be employed, until it shouldn't be employed. Budo is, and is not. This is what makes it a living entity. This adds to its continual misunderstanding.

Our actions are the only things that belong to us. Budo is not one's identity, but a way in which one's identity can interact with the world. It is also it's own entity. That being said, our identities are not even our's to own. We are born into the world without a choice, given circumstances without a choice. But if there is anything we can control, it is our actions. This is where our reality meets with a system, and our lives are altered. So Budo is the closest thing we have to affecting control in our lives, while also realizing the chaotic lack of control we have. It must be both. If not, it is not Budo.

 

Budo makes me curve and dull my edges in order to blend with the world. Become safe in the world like a blanket, like pastel colors, like happiness.

But it also sharpens me to an edge, made as fine as possible to slice through all of existence. I don't understand this. I would say it's like war or violence, but I can't make a connection with them easily.

When the budo takes a hold of me, I am completely submerged in it's grasp, enthusiastically following it's tenets. I become an incredibly productive and safe individual. I am so much so that the longer I practice, the deeper I find myself in it's periodic delusion. Only when I step back do I realize how blindly I ran into the dark. I'm somehow ashamed of that when I realize it. That sharpened edge, the violence of my will, it's the purpose of the system, but that system is smaller than the whole living organism. I am larger than the system. Budo is a foolish tool I worship. Budo is not the master of me, but backwards. But budo falls through my grasp, because it isn't mine, and actually isn't anything at all.

People naturally use their surroundings to support and enact their will. People manipulate their pasts, their memories, so support beliefs of their own, which is false. The past does not belong to us, just as nature. Just as this living system, Budo.

Well, I didn't talk about anything I planned to when I began this entry, so the conversation will surely continue! Just not here and now. Thank you for reading.

Points of Focus: Kyudo

I need to be sure my back is straight and that my body weight is on the balls of my feet. I need to suck in my butt and hips so that they don't stick out the back and contort my spine.

When I hold the bow with both hands before the uchiokoshi (raising the bow) I need to keep my elbows out so that I stretch my triceps and create tension.

When I go through uchiokoshi I need to keep my right hand slightly higher than the left.

When I move into daisan (turning the bow and spreading the arms a bit before the draw) I need to make sure I move my left arm before my right creating the right tension and preparing my tenouchi with the correct turning of the bow in my hand while keeping them connected at the appropriate line in my palm. In this position I must not bring my right hand too close to my head contorting my wrist, and maintain a slightly downward angle of my arrow to the target; so that water could just slide down the arrow.

When I start the kai (draw of the bow) I need to pull the string way over my head as far as possible, without bending the wrist too much at the full draw. In the full draw I need to touch the string to my chest and the arrow to my face at the level of my mouth. Then I must aim; see the target hiding behind the grip.

I must hold this position until I can't anymore, then it's all quiet; hanare (release).

There are many more things one is doing when they are doing kyudo, but these are the places my mind must be to ensure correct shooting at this moment.

Is this not the same in our daily lives? It's as complicated as managing all of these steps, all of these steps which may be more than our attention can be given too; so much in fact we can't get it just right. And yet there is so much more going on, but belonging to things we do which we need not put much conscious thought into.

Then it's so simple. You just do it right, and you do it to the best of your ability, but you don't worry about missing the target. This is kyudo. This is what my life feels like.

I have my first test this weekend for ikkyu. So instead of worrying too much about the actual shooting, everyone is concentrating on the approach; all of the ceremony leading up to and following the shooting. And that's a whoooollllleeee 'nother pile of cheese.

The Fall Routine: It's a Revolution!

 

I can only get two days of kyudo this week.

Just like last week.

I can't study Japanese like I used to.

What the hell am I going to do on the rush hour train to aikido tonight?

I can't save money like my friends.

All the complaining.

 

This is not OK.

I am "bad".

No. Fight.

But I won't be able to relax?

Shutup. You'll have skills.

I'll be tired.

Then drink coffee.

But what about having fun?

Drink at night.

What about something new?

Schedule it in.

The other weekend I went out drinking all night with the other English teachers after a seminar. I realized how amazing some of them realy are, especially one. He'll be leaving soon, and it disturbs me that I totally overlooked his presence. I wish I could have hung out with him more. There's just no time.

The other morning I slept in with my girlfriend and had all morning and afternoon to hang out, and we did. I struggled to relax as my mind searched for ways to make the day useful.

I'm waging a war with life and it's costing me everything: My health, my sanity, my friends, and anything else that isn't part of my megalomaniacal scheme to be different, better, or worthy.

The stagnant gargantuan summer humidity has dissipated across the sea. Now, red autumn razors fall from the sky. The early night breeze slices eyes and I see that I have never been here before.

 

There is so much of me I don't need. Collections of habits and modes of thought I've been reluctant to let pass. I've just been collecting and adding them together, conscious that it is too much, but negligent of the results it will bring. Well, it's time for a revolution. Not just a reformation, but a complete turning upside down of the central mode of thought. Until now the idea has been to fill every second with something contributing to my betterment. It's been a year. If I actually upgraded skills as I had planned, then I guess I have them. What I see now is that what it really did was create or reveal a lot of monsters. What I have learned is that it cannot go on like this. Now I understand what needs to happen: relaxation, enjoyment, Truth, being.

 

How does that sound? A bit too much like the New Age section in Barnes and Noble?

Well, lets get back to budo.

If there is one most fundamental and ultimate principle I've experienced in my martial arts experience, it's ...

 

Relaxation.

But relaxation alone won't get things done.

There's focus. It's in a look. The spine is straight. There is tension. They eyes are open, focused on everything; the essence of looking is found in just "looking" itself. No extra anything is being used. Deep breathing.

I didn't really talk about budo there, but how about here. I have never had a teacher tell me to tense up before a technique (with the exception of kiai, but even that isn't a simple tensing of muscles, or even contradictory to relaxing). If there's one most commonly used phrase from all of the budo teachers I have ever had, it is "relax." Looking now at any budo skill I employ, all of them would be instantly improved by more relaxation. In fact, it seems that what martial arts are trying to teach us is that it's about relaxing and then putting things in the right place in time. If I could learn to do this in the martial arts, it would help my daily life, and vice versa wouldn't it? That's the idea at least.

Then there's "fun". I remember listening to my coaches in sports give long explanations on strategies and the need to give it our all, but they always finished with, "And don't forget the most important thing to do out there is have fun." I didn't think much of it then, but it's starting to make sense.

Fun is really why I continute to put so much time and effort into martial arts. I perform my best when I'm having fun. But it's not just that immediate feeling of fun, it's also propelled by interest. If you are interested in something, and having fun, then you are already in the best possible position to progress. Interest is what really allows me to practice consistently. Practicing consistently is what leads to progress. Progress is what I want. So I must follow that small gem of "fun" if I want to get what I want, or perhaps good things I've never even thought of.

Let's go back to relaxation for a second. Relaxation isn't merely the physical relaxation of muscles which will enhance the physical movement required in martial arts, it opens up one's awareness. If you are full of stress, then that is all you have. If you fill your mind completely, then whatever it is you filled it with is all you are going to see. How are you supposed to react to violent physical threats if you can't see them coming? How can you experience anything new at all for that matter? It's the same with our bodies, if your arm is tense and you want to throw a punch, you first have to relax your arm and then move it. This is a big waste of time and energy. However, if the arm is already relaxed, it can freely move to it's target. Economical action of the body, and mind, are what allow for survival and growth.

With my new adoption of relaxation and fun, I've been playing my Nintendo 3DS on the trains. The other day I was playing the new Super Mario. It was frustrating. In video games you operate within a limited world of places you can go and things you can do, etc. You have to do just what you're supposed to, but why do you do it? The answer usually is because you want to, because it's fun. Otherwise you just wouldn't play the game. This human life is just like that! But it operates on a much broader scale; one we are submerged in and cannot escape from.

 

So why do we do what we do? Because we like it? What about it do we like? How do you know?

There is so much in my life that I don't have to do, but I do anyway. A lot of those things I am convinced are needs ... but how do I know if I really need them or not?

By seeing them.

Seeing is separating yourself from yourself, creating a space in which you can breathe and see. From that space you can see patterns and causes and effects more clearly, you can see better what is really needed. Seeing is the key.

In order to see we must wait. In order to wait we must be patient. In order to be patient we must relax.

In order to wait we must be OK with not-doing, not-having.

This runs contradictory to myself, and every human being I suppose. This not-doing, not-having, not-needing self. If there's space, then you fill it. Space is nothing. "Space is waste!" they say.

But this seeing is wisdom, this separating ourselves from ourselves. This is a good thing. And yet, it is still a small picture, because we are one and everything, we really can't separate ourselves from ourselves. So, the commonality is being. Just being itself. This being is "us" no matter what, in a direction of absolute honesty, absolute survival. No matter which "ourselves" we are looking at or thinking about, I believe this is true. We can do it well, or we can do it not well. I'm not sure how to explain it, but something is better when our wise effort is utilized.

 

I'm rambling into the pits of things I cannot accurately describe. But do you see what is the logical result of this discussion? Do you see what action is needed to put things right? That action to see, to relax, to be?

Zazen.

But I'm not going to say zazen anymore because it is a very specific word with a particular practice and image, and I don't follow it exactly. But the basic idea is the same. What I do is sit; sitting Zacky Chan style. Perhaps I'll describe it in a post in the near future, but for now, this is fine.

This is the revolution: A dropping off of the need to need all of these things that I really don't need, and in that fertile ground that is left, sitting. From there, seeing those things that I want in my life, and seeing what kind of routine follows, which is certainly not empty.

So here is my fall routine.

     Do:
          -kyudo and aikido
          -sit everyday
          -read what I like (English fantasy novels and Japanese manga) and play Nintendo 3DS
          -write on the blog

     Don't:
          -have my own personal martial arts routine
          -have a Japanese study routine
          -fill up every second of time
          -do extra eikaiwa for money
          -buy food and drinks just to distract or energize myself
          -worry

 

Nobody knows these mountains.

Where are the bears and boars?

It's so simple. I'll never get bored here.



the "Art" in "Martial Arts": Part One of Many

 

I think in images. They are followed by feelings. This is largely how I make decisions in my life.

As a young boy, I was a drawer. Of all the childhood activities that were scattered through my time, it was putting a pencil to blank white paper where I practiced with the most enthusiasm. I remember it well: the complete freedom of a blank page, that one simple instrument. I didn't erase much. If I did, the previous line would be replaced by a better one, and I would move on. I would draw a picture for maybe thirty minutes to an hour, then put it somewhere never to be seen or thought of again.

 

I don't draw anymore. Since then I've attempted several returns to that age, but they just don't work. So, I don't try it often. The great change came with puberty. A maturation of muscles and development of desire in a social world ushered in an age of physical activity: namely organized sports and skateboarding. A creature of activity, satiated only by physical motion. But not just physical motion itself, physical motion with a goal. I'll get back to that in a second.

I am still like that, I think. My life is largely determined by physical motion. The difference is that it started in organized team sports and has evolved into practicing Japanese martial arts; namely aikido and kyudo. (One interesting constant though has been board sports, skateboarding when I was in middle and high school, and snowboarding now in Japan). I said "Japanese martial arts", because it's a very specific practice within the umbrella of "martial arts" as a whole: its differences greatly affect my experience of martial arts. One of the most intelligible differences can be found in the suffix "dou" (karate-do, aiki-do, kyu-do, etc). But that is a topic worthy of another post to come. What is relevant to this discussion is the image of Japanese martial arts, and the feelings produced from those images and its practice. I express my tendency to images by being interested in the image of Japanese martial arts, and by most of all being the image by participating. By participating in the art, I am using my physical body in motion, and the combination of my imagination working with the images and my body with the physical world, a certain feeling arises and exists. Kind of like the kokyu that arises from correct form in aikido, or a clean hanare (release) built from proper form in kyudo. Everything together is the picture of art that I make, each segment playing its respective part, yet totally inseperable from each other as the whole. This is my art. I practice for a couple hours at a time, consciously making corrections by the guidance of my peers, and forget the experience after I'm finished.

 

So there's my current practice of martial arts which I consider to be a legitimate medium of creativity. There's the little boy who used to love drawing pictures. There's sitting zazen. These are like islands of definite something rising above nebulous mists. I don't often try to draw anymore because I just don't know what to do. I sit there for an extended period of time, draw a few lines I'm disgusted with, erase, try again, and give up. I have such a strong desire to "create", but it doesn't come through. When I was a boy, I had a strong image my hand just seemed to create with purpose. Now all of those pieces are hopelessely disparate. I like writing. Actually I love writing on this blog. I always carry a pen and paper with my and on average scribble about 2 to 10 pages a day of varying levels of nonsense. Sometimes I write uncontrollably. Sometimes only a few words a day. This tendency is very important, but its focus also belongs in another post. What's important is that sometimes I want to write something poetic. Then ... blank whiteness. I'll have some kind of image, and the intense desire to create something of worth in writing, but all else is lost. I'm sure other writers must find this strange desert in the imagination as well. On the contrary, writing on this blog is where I feel best, and within all of my range of blogs, it is the ones of very specific detail that I am most fond of. Usually either communicating specific realizations found from training sessions in aikido or long stories of bike rides in the mountains. (Funny thing is that I haven't done that much in the last year) What is the difference between my desire to write poetry and the documentation of my blog?

Purpose.

My personal expression of art needs this kind of purpose. If any of my writing could be called art, or skilled in a kind of art, that is other than just relaying facts, it is not of conscious design but merely an effect of the overall mission to write. If there is beauty or art in my movement of martial arts, it is not for that purpose, but merely an effect of that specific technique. This truth is not built by thought, but an effect from my life. This is very important, and it finds its way snaking deep down in the depths towards some kind of core from which the roots of other arts blossom.

 

The other day I visited an ikebana (the art of flower arranging) exhibition and was absolutley blown away. First of all it was just beauiful; and there were so many different kinds. This is a kind of art that is designed for beauty. It's different from my arts. But it is all art. I don't know ...

I don't really know what it is like to create art for the sake of beauty; I wonder how much I can relate to painters or practitioners of ikebana. I think of music as well, an art designed for creating sounds. That is very different as well. That is very interesting to me. That is all.

The "art" in martial "arts"; it's real.

Kyudo Problems and the Philosopher Dragon

(yugamae - starting position)

 

So, I've generally solved the problem with the string hitting my arm. First of all, I bought a sweat band to put over my forearm. HAHA! That's not cheating. Secondly, I've made a lot of progress with Sensei discerning the problems with my shooting and putting correct form to practice. The overall problem is that I have to consiously think of each of these things when I shoot. So, as is, kyudo to me is like this fiery red raining apocalypse where I have to mind all of these different demons with all of my strength and concentration in order to do what I gotta do. It is not the tranquil zen practice that maybe you are imagining. Well, this morning I went from not even realizing all the immediate problems to generally handling them all at the same time when I shoot. That's a big jump and I can't wait until the next training session to progress further.

                                                       (uchiokoshi - raising of the bow)

(tenouchi - hand position)

 

Concerning the specifics, the main problem is my tenouchi, holding the bow with my left hand. When holding the bow, there are some things that should absolutley not change from begninning to end, like a 90 degree angle with the bow and the bottom edge of my hand (tegatana in aikido language), firm and steady contact between the bow and your hand in a perpendicular fashion (in accord with that 90 degree angle just mentioned), there should be a space between the bow and your second knuckles on your fingers, and your thumb should be basically straight because you're essentially pushing forward with your first knuckle that connects the thumb to the hand. A week ago, I wasn't doing any of this. Sensei says this is the most important part of shooting, yet the most difficult to teach because you can't see any of it; it's all happening inside of your hand grip. This is why these problems need to be dissected as such because we can't see directly what's happening.

 

(daisan posture)

 

The next specific problem relates to my daisan posture, that position you keep for a moment between the uchiokoshi (raising of the bow) and kai (drawing of the bow). While some things are supposed to be consistant from beginning to end, it is in this motion from uchiokoshi to daisan that the bow is supposed to slide in the middle of your hand. How are you supposed to protect all these things while the bow moves in your hand? That seems to me one of the great skills of sensitivity in kyudo that takes years of internalization in order to perform well. Anyway, so the bow spins in your hand. From daisan until the release, the grip on the bow should not change, and from daisan you should lower the bow as is. When in the daisan position, the angle between the bow and yourself stemming from your arm should be at about 30 degrees. Before, I was pulling it too far, to about 5 or 10 degrees, and this was also greatly affecting my shooting, most noticeably in making the string whip my arm.

 

(kai - drawing of the bow)

What I've been experiencing with these problems is a kind of stacking of sorts. Problems that start at the beginning, build throughout the process of movements, triggering other problems, that make for a very poor form at the end of it all when you finally come to shoot. I have a lot of these problems, which is why it feels like a fiery red apocalypse raining down on me while I'm standing there just before releasing the arrow.

 

(zanshin - position of mind and body after the release)

 

One other main problem I have has to do with my aiming. Whenever I pull back, I'm always a little too high or low or left or right, and to be honest, I don't feel like I have much bearing at all as far as what I should be doing. But this is secondary to those problems previously mentioned concerning tenouchi and daisan.

With my mind on all of these things, I have totally forgot the other most important part of shooting in kyudo: hanare, the release. Sadly, that will have to wait until the intial problems at hand are tended to. But I'm sure hanare will be the focus of many future posts on kyudo.

I reflect on my kyudo, but perhaps it shouldn't be thought of so much. I can't help but criticize my progress. How is my progress anyway? Is it fast? Slow? Sometimes it can really be hard to tell. When you practice an art alone like kyudo, it can be particularly hard to gauge your progress because there's really no one to compare to. Do I hit the target often? Do I shoot without error? No. But not even masters do these things. I look at my sempai (seniors) and sometimes they hit the target and sometimes they don't. Sometimes Sensei praises them, sometimes he fills them with critique. The purpose of kyudo isn't hitting the target, and you really can't see a lot of the important things that affect shooting, so how can I gauge progress? Like I said, perhaps this reflection isn't so important as is. All that matters is, doing my best to see what's happening, doing my best to observe the kyudo around me, and doing my best to shoot as best I can. Concern without worry. It's like a taught line, not pulled too tight, but not slack.

I am the kyudo string!

 

Oh yeah, I am also host to a particular philosopher dragon. He seeks the freedom of cosmic contemplation; a mountaintop where he can sit and stare at stars. If something prevents him from such an activity, the dragon possesses me, and together we break the obstacles through time and mighty effort. Satiated the dragon is beautiful and merciful, deprived he is relentless. Every time my life changes, the dragon is pulled from the peaks and we work. The dragon is real, but he is not me.

I'm going to sleep now. I wonder what the dragon will do until I wake.

(The series of pictures above is from the website http://www.kyudo.org.uk/default.php?id=7&ad=1)

My Current Kyudo

 

At two months of traning I've learned to stand by myself and shoot at the target 99% sure I won't send an arrow flying over the roof of the dojo and into the nearby park. It's not that you couldn't learn to do it quicker, but this is my experience. This simple of act of shooting a bow and arrow in the tradition of kyudo requires a lot of skills that need internalizing. Like there's so many little things going on, you really can't just say, "OK, stand there, look there, pull the string, aim at that target, and shoot." It's not like that at all.

It's kind of like aikido in that you don't worry about getting all of the details at once. In aikido you get to a point where you can manage through techniques with others and then slowly work on the little details over a long period of time. As a millionth degree black belt, I think you're still going to be working ikkyo, one of the most basic of techniques.

The difference with kyudo is that you don't have a partner who can help you through a technique if you don't do it perfect. In kyudo, you're the only person holding the bow so its all on you. Also, in kyudo you're only doing one thing, and that's shooting at a target at a standard distance and height.

The thought of doing that same one thing over and over again until the very end is a bit ... something. As a beginner, this is realy hard to imagine. In other arts you practice something until you can do it well and then you're teacher will show you something new. But in kyudo, no matter how far you go, you're still just shooting at the target (as far as I know). Some say we're never perfect in our technique. I agree with this. As martial artists we reflect with this thought in mind. But man, kyudo focuses on this point.

Now when I practice shooting there are specific problems I need to assess in order to improve my shooting. There are so many of these problems that I think kyudo will be like this for quite a while. Maybe it will always be like this. I imagine it changes, but I can't see that from here.

A lot of reading material I find about kyudo is spiritually oriented; one could say the same about aikido. However, my experience in aikido for the past two years has been extremely practical. This has changed my perspective on the arts. It was largely due to the spiritual aspects in aikido that interest was sparked, but when starting to learn and practice the art, those spiritual aspects only seemed to get in the way of learning technique. I don't consciously think about the spritual aspects of aikido when I practice. My creed has been to watch Sensei and do exactly what he does. This I believe is the best way to "study" martial arts.

So, this is naturally the mindset I've brought into the kyudojo. It seems to be working well and my teacher appreciates it. Funny thing is that the friend I started kyudo with is completely into the mystical side of it all. As long as it helps you it's good I think, but I've noticed that it often gets in the way. For example, there is one analogy related to the pulling back of the bow. After lifting the bow in front of you, you push and lower the bow in front of you with your front hand, and pull the string and arrow back over and behind your head. The resulting arc can be related to a rainbow. However, if your hands do this in attempt to make a circular arc, your wrist that holds the string may bend excessively, which isn't good. If you're wrist is bent too much, it means you're pulling with your hand and wrist instead of your elbow and chest. Rather what you should do is just pull the string in a straight line from beginning to finish, and it will naturally arc. The final product looks like a rainbow, but trying to imitate a rainbow in practice disfigures correct form. I think the most important thing to realize is that you are not a rainbow. You are a person shooting a bow and arrow in the fashion of kyudo. It is no more related to a rainbow than an ice cream cone. So, I try not to employ these analogies and metaphors longer than their appropriate use. The only constant in my practice is that I watch Sensei and try to do exactly what he does. After building a solid base though, I do look forward to indulging in some of the spiritual aspects of the art; though it will not be without a critical mind.

                                                       ("uchiokoshi" raising of the bow)

("kai" completing the draw)

So that's generally what's been going on. Continue below for details on technique and masochism in kyudo.

The technical problem I must fix which is at the top of my "stupid-gaijin-can't-do-kyudo-right" list has to do with my front hand during the release. This I think is one of the strangest aspects of shooting, but one necessary in order to keep an arrow straight towards the target. At the time that you release the arrow with your right hand, your left hand which holds the bow must rotate to the outside. Just before shooting, your hand should look like a big "Y", and after you release it should look like a little "y".

                                                                              Y

                                                                                y

When I first started practicing, I took this very literally and just rotated my wrist. For some reason, it kind of worked at first, maybe because I had a very weak bow. But after a couple weeks, I got a stronger bow and something changed. Now when I shoot, the string slaps my front forearm causing a sharp pain followed by a fat welt. For a couple weeks it's gotten increasingly worse. One of the most important aspects of kyudo is zanshin. After shooting the arrow, one is supposed to keep their eyes on the target watching, seeing, being ... empty, and full. However, many people let out grunts or reveal faces of dissaproval at missed shots. That is not good zanshin. Their zanshin sucks because they take their failures personally. My zanshin sucks because after I shoot I inevitably feel this stinging whip in my arm. Usually my eyes bulge wide open and I let out an under-the-breath grunt. After this I prepare my second arrow in great fear for the next shock. Thinking about it now, it must look really funny and sad. Anyway, in attempt to turn my wrist appropriately, I simple rotated my hand, which is the problem. What you're supposed to do is propel the bone that connects the thumb to your hand forward, as if you're launching the arrow forward with your thumb, and you hand will naturally rotate. Sensei and I realized this just before finishing the last practice, so I am looking forward to a future in kyudo that doesn't involve injuring myself everytime.

One interesting aspect to this is the need for communication with a teacher. Though you shoot the arrow alone, to progress in kyudo alone seems impossible. I shoot the arrow and realize there are a lot of problems, but what they are and how to fix them is largely lost to me. Sensei's pointers launch me far ahead into the future. However, Sensei couldn't see this particular problem in my technique on his own. Well, he might of, but maybe it didn't seem so high on the "stupid-gaijin-can't-do-kyudo-right" list. I had to tell him a couple times that it hurt when I shot, and then showed him the welt, and I read the look on his face: "Wow. OK, let's solve this problem right now." And from then we began to dissect the problem relevant problem in my shooting.

In aikido you wear a normal dogi (general Japanese martial art uniform) until your black belt and then you wear a hakama (usually black extremely baggy legged piece of clothing that looks more like a skirt) over the pants of your dogi. It looks really cool and has been demonizing me since I'm still just a stupid white-belt. However, in kyudo you generally wear the hakama from the beginning. Until now I've just gone to practice in track pants and a long sleeve shirt, but since I've joined normal classes I thought I should probably follow suit and get the hakama and kyudogi (the top is a white short-sleeved dogi). I asked Sensei about when I should start wearing the traditional wear and he said, "When I stop coming into kyudo with huge revealing welts on my forearms."

Yosh! Next week I'm going to begin consistent practice in kyudo and fix this painful problem. Then, I can don the hakama without embarrassment and enjoy kyudo as a safe practice.

Lonliness on the Budo Path

This morning I realized I practice martial arts to interact with people.

However, it is one of the most isolating interests I have.

My life is very big. Let's say it's a 360 degree circle I am standing in the middle of. Standing there, I cannot see my whole life. I can only see what I see, and that is what is in front of me. I know what is happening in front of me because I can see it, and I don't know what is happening behind me because I can't see it. There is nothing else in front of me other than what I see, and anything can be behind me because I can't see it. I could spin around in attempt to see everything at once, but there will always be a "behind me" that I cannot see. I could sit and close my eyes in attempt to subconsciously "see" everything around me, but that is nonsense; I would see nothing but what my imagination manifests. So, I can only see what is in front of me.

Of what is in front of me, I discern between things that I like, things that I don't like, and things I have little opinion towards. Depending on the situation, I am focusing my attention on some specific thing of what is in front of me. I engage these particular phenomenon and create relationships and reality.

I consider myself a fairly normal and healthy human because I like and try to spend time doing those things that I like. So, of all the things that I can see, my attention naturally drifts towards what I like. That area of "things that I like" is a microcosm of my reality. In that area, there are many different things that I like, and even some things that I don't like. Of the myriad things that I like, I could make one great polarizing distinction by separating everything into things that incorporate other people, and things that have nothing to do with other people. (Though I have to mention here, that in this 360 circle world I am describing, there is no area of complete lonliness or complete anti-lonliness, and often the disctinctions we can generally call alone, or not alone, can often be interpreted conversely as their opposite.)

Of all the things that I like (naturally bring my attention towards), there is one major activity for each category of  "things that have nothing to do with other people" and "things that incorporate other people." For the former, it is exploring mountains. For the latter, it is practicing martial arts. So, according to this analysis, practicing martial arts is my #1 social activity.

After this string of logic concerning my 360 degree circle world, I confirm this conclusion with a passionate intuition. "Yes, practicing martial arts is my #1 social activity." When I practice martial arts honestly with other people, inhibitions are dropped and I love the people I interact with. I look forward to practicing with other people, my martial arts skills improve with other people, and I feel lonely when not practicing with them for long periods of time. In this place, martial arts are a world synonymous with social interaction, and it's something that I like.

However, this is often a very small part of what I see. If viewed from the other side, that one of social obligations, martial arts become a lonely world where one must practice in the shadows of isolation. My world encompasses many different types of social interaction that I am supposed to like. I am supposed to like my coworkers, varous other acquaintances I meet regularly in shops, even people I don't know. What really gets tricky is that I am supposed to like the friends that I have, those whose initial purpose in my life was precisely to be enjoyed. They are separate from the martial arts, and so to them, my martial arts world is dark. This is no little thing, because in my favorite world, martial arts is king. Through this dichotomy I move with difficulty, and my stamina for the world separate of martial arts is not so enduring. In that social world, my focus is incredibly distracted, as well as everyone else's. The more the merrier? More like, the more the fuzzier and disparate. Intimate conversation is limited to small random snipits amid piles of fart jokes. Skill is determined by domination of others through witty rapport and social manipulation. Physical excercise designated to 10 minute periods of frisbee or swimming, niether of which are to be done at full exertion. Change and happiness to be found in mood altering substances.

Now, this world looks pretty dark, and some of you may be thinking, "Dude, you should get some new friends!" but that is not the case. I love my friends and enjoy what I do, but sometimes it carries this feeling, and because I think it, it is real. Anyway ... enough of the disclaimer and back to the discussion at hand ...

My martial arts world is one considerably different from the main circle of friends I frequent. Because my friends haven't visited that world, they don't know anything real about it; only what the media produces through Hollywood movies and video games. I don't look like Bruce Lee or Jean Claude Van Damme, so this is strange to them. Because they don't know, they don't understand. Because they don't understand, it's usually met with guarded views. Those guarded views make transitions between worlds very difficult. This is the exact reason why I practice martial arts: to be able to traverse new worlds. If I can make my mind sharper, my body more able, and my will stronger, then theoretically I can be functional in different worlds, namely those more difficult to endure or understand. Now, after about 7 years of practice, I see that those desired effects have come true, but I've rarely noticed it until now because I'd say most places in 1st world nations don't require such a high level of ability. I went to college ready for the world and found that the most highly acclaimed experience is getting wasted at a party or club. The pinnacle to many was ingesting drugs and doing ... what? I've also been to concerts to see incredible artists, and yet, all I'm doing is paying a lot of money and time to go stand and listen to something. Now I pay a lot of money and time to go on camping trips where I sit in a beautiful place in a chair and wait for meat to cook. Are these the pinnacles of human experience? Paying money to receive beautiful places, skillful art, and delicious food? In a world where that is true, I feel uneasy. Lately I've been looking around at everyone around me at their respective jobs and 98% of the time I think to myself, "Wow, I would hate doing that."

I want to work hard and become something great. I'm young, white, American, and male, does society have an answer for people like me. YES! Skilled professions requiring higher education.

Dr. Zacky Chan...

That sounds like it involves an extreme amount of money and time. A lot of lonely time reading complicated texts I may necessarily not be so interested in, and a lot of social time with people I didn't necessarily choose to be with. I already have to fill up my time and money on things I don't necessarily want. I'll pass.

It's funny. Every once in a while I'll be riding the train and a fairly young intelligent male will start a conversation in English with me. I'll soon learn that they are engaging that highly respected world of specified professions and concerned about living a full life.  Computer technicians, robotic engineers, molecular biologists. I ask them about their lives and compliment them on their achievements. They ask me about my future and I tell them that I'm not really sure. Furthermore, I don't really care so much. I am living in Japan to practice Japanese. But these Japanese are already practically fluent in English and have other professions they are addressing. Foreign language seems like something that you should just know on the side. So the fact I'm learning Japanese doesn't seem so interesting to them. My interest is martial arts and hiking, but these are things unrelated to the innovative technologies that are defining the modern world; more a hobby than what one should devote their greatest efforts towards. And it doesn't make money. That is always where the conversation ends, and I think they eventually pity me in a way. But the feeling is mutual. For us, we who have such high ideals on the meaning of worth and happiness, will sometimes have difficulty with others who feel the same way but translate it through different means.

This professional world that society puts on a high shelf, just doesn't interest me. I don't judge it negatively, it just doesn't correlate enough with what I like. Unless you're rich and famous, I don't think martial artists and hikers are so important in their world either.

"What should a human do their life?"

The professional world says get a Ph.D.

"What should I do?"

My friends say sit down, get a beer, and say something funny.

Riding a bicycle up a steep hill or carrying a heavy backpack up a mountain just doesn't have much place in this world. Concerning budo, learning how to manipulate someone physically or utilizing archaiac weapons to achieve the same purpose isn't so popular either.

Let's go back to the 360 degree world I'm standing in the middle of. There are people that I can see in front of me. There are people I like, people I don't like, and people I don't have much of an opinion for. Of those people that I like, my favorites have been martial artists. Because of them I have continued on this budo path. I call that beauty. Where do they fit into the world? I don't think any of them have Ph.D.'s, and none of them spend all of their free time just watching the world in a lawn chair with a beer in their hand. However, they are all incredibly intelligent and know how to have a good time. In society's eyes they are probably incredibly normal people dwelling somewhere in the middle. None of them have been very rich or famous, but in their respective worlds of martial arts, life is unimaginably full. It's not that having a respected degree or big money are undesired, but there's just not enough time, and a big part of life seems to be choosing what we do with the time that we have. I generally choose to do what I like, which is exploring mountains and practicing martial arts, so I guess in one world I'm lonely, poor, and uninteresting.

The end of summer is in sight. My friends are busy scheduling camping trips with the remaining extended weekends, but I already have plans:

1.) 2-day aikido seminar with my sensei's former training partners from Tokyo.

2.) 3-day solo hiking trip to Haku-san (Mt. Haku) in neighboring Ishikawa Prefecture.

Nothing is going to mess with these plans because I love them very much.

When my friend's are sitting in their camping chairs I wonder if I'll be mentioned. In the mountains and dojos, I will think of them fondly.

Man, I can't wait to start consistent practice with other people again and get out of my head a bit. I guess I miss my budo friends.

Standing in the River

A crane stands in the river, doesn't move much. A lot of waiting. There are fish, but not enough to swoop down and expect immediate gratification. A crane waits in the river, staring at the river. Sometimes distracted. It's not a machine.

One could stare at the river for a fish. Clear flowing river until fish. Simple. Exact. The clarity depends upon the concentration. If you become good at concentrating, you are good at catching the fish. If the goal is the fish, then you are a success. If the goal is something else other than that fish, then you are completely lost. If there is no goal, then it really doesn't matter.

So the question is, what do you want to do?

Don't think.

Feel.

I wonder if the crane knows that there is a family of fish about ten meters behind him under the bridge.

My Morning Budo Routine

1.) jo (wooden short staff) - 10 minutes

2.) ken (wooden sword) - 10 minutes

3.) striking - 10 minutes

4.) stretching - 10 minutes

5.) standing meditation - 20 minutes

"No one messes with my mornings." is what my first tai chi teacher in San Francisco used to say. He is very much a great inspiration for my morning routine. This is a man who slept on average of three to four hours a night. He would wake up long before dawn and begin his four hour morning routine of various meditations and internal Chinese martial art forms. I asked him how he managed on so little sleep, and he said "naps." But he also mentioned the energy he gained from his morning practice, and that he didn't like sleeping anyway. Since meeting him, I've strived to create my own morning routine, and have generally been able to do so for the past year. The primary motivation for this morning routine is to not only maintain, but advance my practice as a martial artist since I've been away from regular training at a dojo. Above is the skeleton of my training. Below are the explanations.

1.) jo
 
    - basic techniques
    - 2 forms: "31" and "13"

I begin with the jo to wake up into the practice.

2.) ken

    - basic techniques

Ken practice comes after the jo because I think it is a little more difficult on the body. This is due to the stop-and-go nature of the sword which ignites certain muscles more than the jo, as well as an emphasis on deeper front stances.

The jo and ken practice are mainly used to maintain the fundamentals of aikido without practicing with a partner. For example, the movements of irimi and tenkan, and empty handed movements that utilize the same movements used in ken and jo training. I also focus on keeping my back straight, not igniting unneccessary muscles (especially the shoulders), smooth breathing, using my hips to generate power, and being as rooted as possible through movements. But all the qualities in that last sentence are something that I focus on in all parts of my martial art training. In my eyes, this is often all I'm doing when I'm training; it is everything.

3.) striking

    A.) upper body
          - right/left (r/l) jab
          - r/l cross
          - r/l jab - cross combo
          - r/l front/rear (f/r) hook punches to head and body level
          - r/l f/r uppercut punches to head and body level
          - combos chaining all previously practiced strikes

          (Generally I practice these with closed fists, but will often introduce different methods such as
            open hands, elbows, etc.)

    B.) lower body
          - r/l f/r snap kicks
          - r/l f/r roundhouse kicks
          - r/l f/r back kicks
          - r/l side kicks from neutral stance
          - r/l step behind side kicks transitioning into each other with one step
        
          (all kicks aimed at various targets throughout practice)

     C.) shadow sparring with all previously practiced strikes

This is the odd-ball of the group. Striking is the seemingly least relevant to my daily life and current formal martial arts practices. However, I maintain this practice for various reasons. First, it's a way to remember the techniques I first learned in the martial arts with Hawaiian Kenpo. Second, I feel these really help the self-defense side of my training. What if I'm in a situation where I need to use a strike to stop an aggressive attacker? Nothing seems to work more effectively in distancing an opponent than using a side kick, or turning the lights out on someone like a cross. However, this is also dangerous concerning the law, which I am constantly made well aware of thanks to the Isshinryu Blog by Mr. Charles James. Don't want to lose my case for self-defense with bloody knuckles, right? Perhaps it is really anti-practical ... mmmm. Thirdly, the training makes my body feel great. It gives my muscles the kind of workout I just can't feel with aikido and tai chi chuan. Some days I go through the striking at tai chi speed, and others I rage through it with all the power of a young adult male, and that is good.

One big flaw with this training, is that I'm never actually hitting anything. You could also say the same with the jo and ken training. Also, there is never a living partner across from me to work with. This is something I'm very conscious of. There is no way to effectively simulate a training partner in my opinion. However, I make efforts to imagine partners as clearly as possible. What this does is acclimatize my mind to practicing these against an aggressive opponent.

The other day my friend playfully reached out his hand to slap me. My instincts caused me to reach out and slap his slapping hand out of the way. Is this good? I'd answer, "No". In fact I was quite upset with myself afterward and thought about it over and over again. I wish I had just stepped out of the way. Much more simple and effective. The point of my martial training is to condition me to move in a relaxed and effective manner in the face of aggression. What I did was meet that energy, and inflame my muscles and mind reacting to it. Hopefully, if I imagine aggressive attackers in my morning routine, I can practice conditioning calm and effective movements. It might not be perfect, but it's better than not.

I really wish I had some dummies or bags to hit during the ken/jo and striking practice though.

4.) stretching

          -various stretches I've borrowed from all different martial arts practices

This is one aspect of my routine I wish I could spend more time on, but given the circumstances of time, it is what it is. Nothing makes my body feel more immediately better, or allows me to do everything else just a little better like stretching does. My tai chi teacher from San Francisco said to do the form everyday. But if you can't get to the form, at least do your stretching. I don't abide by this, but I trust his opinion, and this proves how important stretching is for someone who's main goal is to use their body more effectively.

5.) standing meditation

          -stand in the zhan zhuang posture

Could it be any more simple? Just stand. However, this is by far the most difficult aspect of my training. It's also gone through a lot of phases. This is another practice that is inspired by my tai chi teacher in San Francisco. He would have us stand everyday before practicing the form, but only as long as we wanted. I asked him about it more, and he said he stood for forty minutes everyday, and that it was arguably the most important part of his training. "Well, if that's what he says, then I'm going to do it too," I said to myself. Well, it definitely wasn't a consistent practice for me at the time. About 10 times in a couple years I stood for the full forty minutes. Without a consistent practice, that seems to me now and incredible feat for myself. One that was matched with unbelievable sensations in the body and mind. About a year ago I tried to make it a routine, and so I started at 5 minutes, and added a minute each day until I got to 40. It worked! And I did 40 minutes for about a month. By far the greatest self-practice I've ever had. It helped everything in my life, and I think I was learning aikido to my maximum potential. But, that practice fell off. How do we explain these things? I don't know. I've reinstated it into my practice in my morning routine. Just doing 20 minutes. Cake compared to the 40 minutes in some ways ... but that doesn't diminish it's difficulty. No matter the circumstances, sometimes standing for 1 minute is killer. Just standing for 20 minutes hasn't exactly been consistent. Some days I'll stand until it drives me crazy and then I'll sit half lotus until my unadjusted legs can't stand it, and then I sit in seiza. Some days I'll start moving around a lot and do small tai chi chuan form practices. Other days I just say fuck it and hit the shower. After all the frustrating transitions, now I just try to stand. Without any unneccessary pressures or worries, I just try to relax and stand where is comfortable. I think this is good, and a progression in my practice. But I don't really know. Someone with more experience may say differently. Anyway, I'm starting to ramble and could write 10 posts worth on this practice alone. So I'll leave it as is. Standing for 20 minutes.

The funny thing about this morning routine is that in September when I resume kyudo training, I plan to abandon it. If you would have asked me a week ago I would have said differently. Proud of my morning practice, I was planning on waking up ealier in order to do the practice before leaving for kyudo.

But then it becomes work.

Black.

A malignant chore in my mind that infects everything around it, like a spike into sweet mother earth. Some might call it "worry".

With this spike in my mind, the workout is an unpleasant routine. Getting ready in the morning with a shower, shaving, eating, preparing a lunch and class materials become work. Studying Japanese becomes work. Going to kyudo and actually doing the practice becomes work. Then actually going to my job after that is just superwork. Then I get home and the only way to balance the excess of the day is to drink an extra beer and watch more media. Then it's of to less sleep than I need in order to start it all again.

It's amazing how much one hour can affect your day.

How do you martial artists do this while raising a family?

Perhaps I'm being a bit dramatic again. But I've gone into new routines trying to arbitrarily insert this hour of self-budo practice more than a few times, and it's never done anything but stress me out. Going to kyudo, aikido, work, and getting enough sleep and relaxation are the bones of my life that I will settle everything else on top of. If there's space, I'll happily accept it. If not, well, then it's just not for me.

I like most of the things I do in my day, and just maybe it can be enough. I don't need to idealize about something else really cool, asign it a slot in my day, and then tell myself I have to do it or I'll be a failure. The world is too big for me to spend it bouncing around my apartment anyway. It's been a good year with this practice, and it's served it's purpose as martial art stimulation in my relative vacuum of formal training. But I've found something new. It's time to move on. I'll put this morning routine to rest, and resurrect it again one day in a new form when the time comes.

My life is a painting to experience instinctively with fluid excitement. Not a science textbook to copy all the details under the sun.