I Figured Out That I'm Still Afraid of Kyudo

 

(picture found at http://www.gundermann-berlin.de/tenouchi.html)

So this is part of a double revelation that happened in the past 24 hours considering my falterings in Kyudo. Total out of the blue flashes of enlightenment light-bulbs, it's moments like these one can see the magic in life and budo.

As I've mentioned a lot lately, I went through a huge phase of injuring my hand a few months ago, got over it, took a break from kyudo, and it's come back, seemingly impossible to fix. There are a LOT of factors to this equation. These details are what make kyudo so difficult, and at the same time so intriguing. I won't go through all of them here, but there is one major ... probably THE major reason why I have been injuring myself, and that is because I'm gripping the bow too hard with my left hand. Our hands are so important in kyudo, they are each delicate minds that communicate with the bow and arrow. Our hands must fit the right shape so as to act as the proper tools to allow superior technique to flow, but they must be as soft as possible so as to get out of the way of that superior technique.

I have been told this numerous times: "Zac, you need to relax your hands more."

"Easier said than done!"

This is the difficult truth. Our hands must fit the right shape, and in order to do so at first we will inevitably insert tension into our hands. We must graduate from this as soon as possible. Why I haven't done so initially is a whole 'nother question, but now I see that I am definitely hurting my hand because I'm gripping the bow too hard in my left hand.

This is what I realized while soaking in an onsen yesterday. Submerged up to my nose in steaming sulfur water, this realization blasted me with light and I felt like jumping out of the pool and telling everybody around. (I wonder how many people get these kinds of epiphanies in the hot springs? Like the toilet, I think it's quite the convenient spot for grand realizations.)

I need to keep my thumb straight and extended (that is where my tension should go), I need to keep the connection between my middle finger and thumb through the daisan posture (one reason why I haven't been able to relax my hand), and I should curl my pinky around the bottom of the bow (but I haven't been able to do that well so far, and I don't think it's causing too much problems with my injury). Other than that, my hand needs to be soft, and merely act as a shaft in which the bow turns. There is no other tension I can put in my hand that will help the technique.

I must relax my hand or I will continue to injure myself.

The second realization came today, but I can't remember when exactly. (Maybe when I was eating oyakodon for lunch in a small cafe?) Basically, I realized that I wasn't overcoming this problem due to the fear of further injuring my thumb.

Until now I have made blisters and torn through them, keeping me from practicing kyudo. So I wait for them to heal as calluses and go back, only to tear through them again. Why does this happen? Basically because I won't relax my hand, but more specifically, because I'm afraid of reinjuring my hand. Because of this subconscious fear I focus ALL of my attention on my hand in daisan, which is too much, and do small strange things to avoid it's injury, instead of not worrying and just relaxing my hand. This is not a fear I am fully conscious of which has made it hard to detect.

I've never practiced a martial art which has delt with fear in the way kyudo has. Fear has been directly related to all three painful experiences I've had in kyudo.

First was when the string would slap my arm at the release. This made me afraid of the release and I would flinch just before, making my hanare (release) shit. Next was the string slapping my face during the draw, which made my hikiwake (draw) shit. Now I have the injury of my thumb which makes my daisan (transition after lifting the bow above you and before the draw) shit.

It's so strange that my injuries occur earlier and earlier on in the form. Perhaps I'm getting closer to the core of the technique (as everything stems from the movement earlier). That's really interesting. I wonder if my next injury will happen in uchiokoshi (raising the bow), or in simply just standing there. It sounds silly, but I never would have guessed that kyudo would go like this for me.

Well, just like it was when I got over getting slapped in the face, generally, I'm plain sick of it happening and am going to not let it happen anymore. Specifically, I'm going to relax my hand.

I'm sick of this bullshit, I'm going to get past this and progress in this art. This is the strength of endurance and perserverance in the martial arts, and it's a little different than blind bull-headed wall smashing charging (although it is kind of like that though, I guess).

My hand has healed sufficiently, I've understood why I'm causing an injury, and I'm ready to get past it. Wish me luck.

Pray to the gods, but don't rely on their help.

Tomorrow is a big day on the budo path.

Half Learning, More Internalization & and Meeting Sensei

It's difficult to drawn the line where one must seek teaching and where one must forge on one's own.

I'm talking about kyudo, but this is evident in other martial arts, and life as a whole.

This is evident everywhere, but it seems to be more distinct in kyudo. Receiving guidance from a teacher is so necessary in certain specific spots and times in kyudo. That line between receiving careful instruction and not is extremely thin. One day a teacher will tell you one small detail, or keep you from making one small habitual mistake and everything will change. Writing this, it is the same in other arts such as aikido, but I find that in open handed arts the line seems wider and more blurred. Of course you can't do the technique perfect in aikido at first, but you can do it to a point of sufficiency. After that, a teacher will continue to tell you these details you probably won't do immediately. You're listening to the teachers' instruction, but at the same time, when you finally are able to do that technique, it is a product of your own body finding the result. Looking back, it's really amazing.

I find kyudo to feel different. I make a mistake and can't see how to fix it. A teacher will explain it to me, but my hands just can't do it immediately, and the result is still horrible. In aikido I could do these things almost immediately, but in kyudo the time is infinitely long, impossibly long. The dissent between what a teacher does and what I do is so vast, the immiediate results so unsatisfying.

Interestingly enough one of the other members in Kyudo was helping me out and told me a couple things that revealed some inspiration. First, he said that it takes about 6 months for the things we're working on now to finally show their effects. That doesn't just mean we practice something today and it magically becomes a reality in six months time. It means that after six months of focused effort, some flowers will begin to bloom ... due to that focus and hard work is the point. Second, he tried to explain tenouchi (the left hand which holds the bow) which is a term used in lots of martial arts, but is mainly concerned with the yunde (left hand) in kyudo. We can watch each other out in the open, even give pointers to each other, but essentially the tenouchi is our own secret to unravel. Everyone's bodies are different, so what works for one will not work for another. Also, a lot of what happens goes on inside of the hand happens where nobody can see. We imitate the shape of our teachers and let our insides form according to our own evolution.

We need instruction to begin and progress, but I'm beginning to think that we learn all of this mostly on our own, and the end result reflects our individual selves. Mr. Parker over at the Mokuren Dojo (http://www.mokurendojo.com/) often talks about this and calls it "Watakushi-do", I'll take the liberty of calling it "the Way of Me".  We are studying these arts that have specific names and ways, but we are really creating our own style. In this I'm not sure that it matters so much what art we study, as long as we do our best to strive for progression, listen to those who have come before, and internalize the world to make it our own.

I met the main sensei for the first time the other day. Being a hanshi (8th dan [8th degree black belt]) he has a bit of fame in the area and is certainly considered the head of the dojo. Until now I've only had one chance to go for night practice, but I went yesterday and finally was able to meet him.

He's great:

A strange balance of what I expected and an unknown I wish to explore.

Physically, he's pretty much like a normal Japanese dude. He's a few inches shorter than me and not particularly fat or skinny or anything at all. His hands are smaller than I expected. This might be a weird thing to notice, but so much of kyudo has to do with the hands, it's hard not to apply reasons to success or failure in technique to such a physical part. My sensei in Toyama had long fingers, and the way he held the bow seemed so easy for him, where as I have smaller hands and shorter fingers. I know technique depends upon technique itself, not just our physical bodies, but for some reason it was harder to see with him. Now with this sensei in Nakatsu, I can see hands similar to mine reach success, and that gives me hope.

He certainly has a presence, but I have to say "presence" in Japan is largely affected by the surrounding people. Because he is who he is (not just his title, but his vast experience and history with all of the other people, I'm sure) people make way for him and hold him up in a certain way. Aside from that, I perceived the calm strength that usually marks an aged practitioner in budo.

He's super nice, but won't bullshit you. When I first met him, I was nervous and polite (probably two characteristics I've subconsciously been adopting in Japan! Not too much though ... enough to translate my feeling in Japan effectively, I think ...) he saw this, but also saw that I came seeking knowledge and teaching, and I think he understands me pretty well though we haven't had much time together. He was super nice and talked and joked and relaxed with everybody, while also shooting with others in zassha (sitting form), and would give advice freely about people's form.

But like he said, he also won't bullshit. I feel as though when I left Toyama and first came to Nakatsu my technique was as good as it could be, and something I'm not ashamed to show. But after a month of not practicing, and then a month of sparse training due to messing with my hand, my technique has crumbled to something I'm embarrassed of, but have to progress on nonetheless. Anyway, so I went and shot and knew he was watching me. I got worse and worse and just went straight up to him and asked him questions about my tenouchi.

This is strange in Japan, I think. For a beginner student who only just met the head sensei to walk straight up to him and ask questions. I think the mark of a good teacher is one who will take the question as if it came from anybody and answer to the best of his ability. A lesser teacher may be offended that you don't respect unsaid rules concerning a certain distance from the teacher until after a long time. I don't know. These are unsaid and unwritten rules sensed by feeling, something I will not be very good at being gaijin. Maybe I violated some kind of faux pa, or maybe it's nothing at all. Anyway, I'm gaijin, so I do have a bit of leeway with such things, because I'm not expected to know, or maybe we do things different from where I'm from ... well, both of those are correct I guess.

Regardless, sensei seemed happy to receive me and went in depth to answer my questions. He explained the basics of what one should do, and how that was different from what I was doing. This is good. How could it be better? But it's also what I've heard before, what I don't quite understand, and what I can't quite do yet.

What I was really happy about though was the attention he gave to the condition of my hand.

What has happened is that I push the bow with part of my thumb instead of the the base of it where it meets my hand, and so a blister developed. The blister didn't heal correctly so it was torn and a cut-like injury appears. I'm doing my best to hold back until it's healed completely again, but this happened in the past and instead of waiting for it to heal, I trained through it and developed scar tissue that has built up underneath the skin. It's relatively harmless and will go away with time if I practice in the proper way. But the issue is, the problem has come back (WHY IN THE LORD'S NAME I DON'T KNOW!) and the wound has reopened.

Anyway, I showed this to Sensei and he recognized it immediately and said lots of other people get this. One surrounding guy came in and showed me he had a callous as well from past mistakes. Sensei had me look at and touch his hand which had absolutley zero marks. No one needs a callous there, and if you're doing the technique right you won't have one.

From there he felt my hand and squeezed the skin as if searching for that built up scar tissue. It's as if he could see exactly everything that had happened and went straight to the source. In the past I've had discussions with this problem with my sensei in Toyama, but never got any good answers I felt. The fact that this sensei felt my hand for the scar tissue makes me feel at ease, as if he knows just what I'm going through, and whether I should continue or rest.

That's the real question. I have the image of perfect technique in my mind, but I can't do it. When my hand hurts, I certainly can't do it, but how should I progress? Should I wait a long time until it is completely healed? Train through it regardless? Wait a bit of time and accept it won't be perfect right away while progressing slowly?

These are the answers I must give myself.

In this light, it's a dark world where only I can hold the torch.

I'm impressed with sensei and will go as often as possible to night training to meet with him as well as all the other extremely talented archers.

But what to do with the mornings. Of course I will go to kyudo ... but my angst is so persistent ... should I inquire about the iaido and jodo???

Life is a mystery we unravel with our actions. Nobody knows what will happen. All we can do is quiet ourselves to better see that path which lies before us.

The weakest part in the grass.

Liquid Tai Chi Chuan & Kyudo Injuries

A clear body of water moving through another clear body of water. Floating, gliding, being the flow of nebulous movement. Stasis does not exist, but is washed away, spiraled into the next infinite swirl. No stopping, no flexing, no trying, no fighting. Just movement, and that movement is nice. It smells like natural perfume and soft bright colors shifting into each other. It's just water, always has, always will, nothing needs to be here. It isn't strong, it's invincible. Or rather, immortal. Not not-mortal, but simply is.

This is my tai chi today, and it's what I want. It is a practice only for me. Nobody sees my tai chi but the inside walls of my apartment and classrooms. Nobody feels my tai chi. Because of it's lonliness, I often neglect to visit, and so it hides in these spaces. Why would I forget it such? Tai chi isn't what it simply is, but whatever I want it to be. I can use that most powerful weapon of the mind, and mold tai chi to be exactly what I want it to be. But no, I don't always see that.

I've been away to war in kyudo, and aikido as well I suppose. I don't know how it starts, but all of a sudden I'm smashing my fists against the wall demanding the power I desire. They are bloody now, and useless: weak. I had to have it, but I couldn't, so I cried and scream and fought. I still don't have it, and so I'm disappointed in myself, the world. My failure reveals my weakness, thank kami I didn't actually get what I wanted, those false declarations of success.

That need is not strength, and niether is a stance. The movement, seeing, flowing, understanding, not-understanding, contentment: these are signs of strength.

Quite literally, I have hit kyudo hard enough lately to injure my left hand that holds the bow. When you hold the bow with your left hand, the bow turns slightly in your hand, and you focus all of your energy into a single point in your hand near the base of your thumb. I've been doing kyudo lately to the point where I've got pain when I push with that point against the bow. If it hurts, you shrink away from the pain crumbling your kyudo form to uselessness. No longer is that single point in your hand winning against the bow, but the bow beats you, and that point becomes some smudge of broad contact, putting pressure in your shoulder, your right hand holding the string, caving in your chest, and imploding upon release instead of expanding.

I suppose this happened due to an upcoming tournament. In order to hit the target as much as possible, I have been training harder and harder, putting more pressure into my kyudo practice. It's fun at first, but when the pain begins, it all falls apart, and my mind is always one step behind when I put on the blinders like that.

If the choice was to die or shoot an arrow, I could pull that bow, but I don't think that's the purpose of what I'm doing.

Training to the point of injury:

Weak.

Time to rest and remember the flow. Maybe when I go to that tournament I will hit the target everytime. The truth is I don't know. In that darkness, anything can appear.