Photo Courtesy of Richard Stonell (C)2009
Authors note:
This article emphasises a “lateral” view in that I am by no means a master or even seasoned teacher of Jodo. I believe that insincere humility is as bad as arrogance and so I would not go so far to say that I am a rank beginner in Koryu Jodo either. I do consider myself to be an avid student of the art and suffice to say I have been fortunate to have been taught by some excellent teachers.
My personal lineage follows up the Tokyo-ha route of SMR Jodo starting with my own teacher Chris Mansfield Sensei 7th dan Renshi; Ishido Shizufumi Sensei 8th dan Kyoshi; Hiroi Tsunetsugu Sensei 8th dan Hanshi; Shimizu Takaji Sensei 8th dan Hanshi etc. I have also been very grateful to have had the chance to meet and receive instruction from Namitome Shigenori Sensei 8th dan Hanshi and Yano Shoichiro Sensei 8th dan Hanshi (both Fukuoka-ha) as well as many of their personal students.
However with all this in mind, the following article is based on my understanding and all mistakes or misinterpretations are my own.
I would furthermore like to thank all the people who over the years have inundated me with photos. I have lost track of who I have actually gained permission from to use their photos. Should you find one that belongs to you and would rather I did not use it please let me know.
The following is the translation of some notes written by Furuya Fukunosuke hanshi during a kendo lecture at a Yoseikai gasshuku in Nara, 2001*. Furuya hanshi sadly passed away in 2008 but his teachings have been recorded by one of his top students – Uegaki sensei – and published in book format. The book is not on sale to the public but I hope to post other items from it in the future.
I’ll stress that I didn’t attend these lectures. Whats presented here are translations of notes found in the book. As such, I can’t impart any of the verbal teachings behind the words. Apologies in advance.
* 95% of the following is from a gasshuku in 2001, the other 5% are additions from a different gasshuku in 1999 using notes of with a very similar theme.
The reality of seme
* The main components of seme:
- Capture the initiative with your spirit (気)… by doing this you can create openings (隙) allowing you to execute various waza;
- Control the center (中心)… forcing your opponents sword tip from the your center line, break his center and strike;
- Develop your understanding of advantageous spatial distance (Maai 間合い)… by this I mean understanding the spatial distance between you and your opponent and using it to your advantage.
Sawaki Kodo (沢木興道, 1880-1965) is considered by some to be the most important Japanese Zen master of the 20th century. His parents died early and he grew up being adopted by a gambler and an ex-prostitute. When he was 16, he ran away from home to become a monk at Eiheiji, one of the two main temples of Soto Zen. At first unsuccessful, he was finally ordained as a monk and began his Zen studies.
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The following is a translation of an extremely interesting hand written note given to Jim Gucciardo (NYC kendo club) by Nishino Goro hanshi in 1998.
Nishino Goro hanshi was born in 1923 in Kochi prefecture. After graduating from Tokyo Normal Higher School he became a school teacher in Hokkaido. After the war he returned to his home prefecture and worked as a high school teacher. He has taken part in the Senshuken Taikai (“All Japans”), the kyoshokuin taikai (All Japan teachers championshop), kokutai, etc. He is the honourary kendo teacher of Kochi Prefectures Medical University.
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It’s a not uncommon sight on sword-related forums these days. An aspiring student of the Japanese sword arts, left-handed, joins the forum and asks about studying ken (be it kendo, iaido, or aiki-ken) with a left-handed grip. He is quickly informed that no, Japanese swordsmanship is a right-handed affair, that all Japanese swordsman were right-handed, saya were worn on the right and saya-ate avoided at all costs, and trying to learn it left-handed would be weird at best, uncouth and disrespectful at worst. Veteran lefties give him “Ganbare! I’ve been there, too!” encouragement. Righties tell him about all the things he’ll find easier because he’s lefty. Sometimes the lefty responds with resignation, and sometimes he rages against the system. The left-handed grip is natural for them! This adherence to right-handed grip only is outmoded, discriminatory, and stupid! This, predictably, turns just about everyone against him, lefty and righty alike.
“Motomereba Mugendai” (求めれば無限大) is my favorite Kendo book. It is a small, easily readable book composed of 100 short essays on Kendo training and leadership topics. One of the things I like about it (in addition to the uncomplicated, straightforward word choice and sentence structure) is the way the author has divided the book in to chapters based on the themes of the essays. The first two chapters are devoted to the practitioner’s personal technical and spiritual development. The third chapter is focused on advice for the kenshi as an instructor. The last chapter is for parents, both those with children already practicing Kendo, and those considering encouraging their children to start.
Some of the advice is highly Japan-centric (such as one vignette in which the author posits that people with dyed hair shouldn’t be put in leadership positions). But anyone doing Kendo should enjoy this book. I re-read a page or two every few days. The book is beneficial to me because I am wrestling with my own challenges as a student and junior instructor, and hope soon to be a Kendo parent as well. I don’t believe that a translation exists yet, so I have included some of my own translations of my favorite passages below.
From chapter 1, which is entitled “When you start practicing Kendo, so that your efforts will yield results”
Essay 5: If you want to become strong, develop two rivals
One’s approach to keiko is very different depending one whether or not one has a rival. This is particularly true if there is a person to whom one does not want to lose. When your rival is from your own dojo, and is always in sight, you never let you can’t get lax. When your rival is in another dojo, since you can’t see what he is up to, you can’t get lax because you are always concerned that he or she might be working harder than you. So it makes sense to have a rival both inside and outside of your dojo.
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This was a question that was asked in an interview with Iho Kiyotsugu hanshi in 1993.
Iho hanshi held various kendo teaching posts during his lifetime (Police Academy, Kokushin university, Chukyo university, etc), had a successful shiai career (All Japan high school championships 1st place 3 times, 9th All Japans 1st place, Nippon Budokan 15th Anniversary hanshi 8dan shiai 1st place, once defeated 26 opponents in the tozai-taiko, etc), and is the author of numerous kendo books. He is said to have been of the most influential figures in the kendo scene during the kendo-boom in the late 60s and early 70s. He died in 1999.
This is his reply to the above question.
The reason that kendo has changed is because of the changes in the shiai rules. These changes have made shiai both better and worse at the same time. When I was a student (before the war), there were no lines marking the competition area, no time limits, and only 2 judges (omote and ura shinpan). I wonder if the rules today have become too restrictive.
I think the biggest problem lies in how we time a competition. Once the time of the closing ceremony has been decided – which is something that usually happens first – this basically decides the length of individual shiai. From that stemmed the introduction of the hantei [where judges decide on a winner without a point being scored. Used exclusively with children]. Back in the day, there was no ippon-shobu. The shiai went on until one of the kenshi got 2 points.
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Background
The Mito-han was a highly influential domain during the entire Edo-period. As a senior branch of the Tokugawa clan their prestige was immense. Mito-han became one of the leading intellectual centers in Japan, and its daimyo and scholars became more and more vocal in challenging the central authority of the shogunate, eventually being instrumental in its dissolution. During the turbulent years leading up to civil war and the Emperors restoration, the domain school that produced these young intellectuals was Kodokan.
The following introductory text is taken from the English leaflet called “Kodokan” (I have slightly reworded sections of it). I will add my own thoughts at the end.
Kodokan: the biggest domain school in Japan
Kodokan was built by Tokugawa Nariaki (1800-1860), the ninth daimyo of the Mito-han in 1841. In those days the Mito-han was facing the fear of the baku-han system crumbling (centralised Shogunate relationship with the provincial clans/domains) and threat from foreign colonial powers. Nariaki initiated a reform of the han administration. As a part of this, he aimed at to introduce higher education for his clansmen. Kodokan was built to achieve this.
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Kondo-sensei (Hachidan, Kyoshi) is one of Aichi Prefecture’s most well-repected kenshi. He often discusses kendo in terms of character building and its benefits to modern society. In this brief post, I have attempted to covey some of his feelings on these topics.
剣道とは、相手と気を合わせることを学ぶ第一歩である。そして人の心を大切にすることにより完成し、「武士道」は「もののあわれ」日本人特有の感情である。無常感である。思いやり、繊細、風流、風雅さなど。ここにいたって諸行無常という仏教の根本的思想やキリスト教の愛の精神と一致し、一種の宗教的境地まで達したのである。
人と会ったら挨拶する、何か教えを受けたら感謝する、集団の中ではお互いを思いやる、人として最低限必要な礼儀、心を重視した教育を実践致します。
近藤勁助 剣道教士八段
財団法人 全日本剣道道場連盟理事
愛知県剣道連盟参与
愛知県剣道道場連盟副会長
名古屋市剣道連盟居合道部相談役
About 2 years ago I was to be given a hand made shinai bag as a gift. On it I could chose to have any embroidery that I wanted. After some thinking and speaking to my sempai, I chose the phrase “ippo furyu” from the Itto ryu gokui (written/compiled by Sasamori Junzo).
So what does it mean? Looking at the kanji we have:
一歩 a single step
不留 without stopping
There are many valid ways to interpret this, so for this posts sake I have chosen to present a simple one:
向上は一歩だけではなく、次の二、三歩を目指して努力を重ねるべきだ : Advancement/improvement (of yourself, your kendo, your life, etc), is gained by repeated hard work over time.
There is of-course a more literal meaning that can be applied to kendo as well about the workings of seme… but I will leave that for you to ponder should you choose to.
Bringing this short post to an end, here is my personal interpretation of the kanji and one that I strive to follow on a daily basis:
“Do not limit yourself or be satisfied with what you are today.”
One of my teachers is an accomplished painter as well as being a 7 dan. In mid-December he chooses a theme for the following years keiko and paints a picture illustrating it and hangs it in the dojo. The painting is always bright, positive, and sports the following years animal zodiac.
This one is from 2007. It reads:
自ら燃えなければ火はつかない.
Translated liberally into literal English:
If you can’t fire yourself up, then your flame will never catch light
I will leave it for you to decide your own interpretation.
My area as some of you know is teaching kendo to young people. In high school I teach kendo as an elective subject to 12 and 13 year olds. One tool I have found very useful for firing their imaginations is telling them stories from Japanese history, stories that most of us have read or heard at some point I’m sure.
The other day I was telling the story about the student who went to learn from a teacher in the mountains but instead of waza, he was made to cook and clean for sensei. Most of my students even today have seen the movie “The Karate Kid” so this was something they recognised. The next part of the story tells how the teacher starts hitting the student out of the blue, to the extent that the student is on edge at all times, never sure when the next blow is coming. The resolution of the story is, of course, the moment when the student spontaneously reacts and protects himself from the unseen blow, the teacher says, “Now we may begin”. I realised as I finished that some students were looking at me puzzled as if to say, “so what is the moral of that story?” Indeed what is it? Is it that there is something inherently abusive in traditional sword pedagogy?
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The Japanese budo are upheld by many that practise them to be an aspect of traditional Japanese culture. That many budo have taken their current shape quite recently is not important, as many of the arts can easily be followed back to far earlier roots and can easily be shown to be heavily influenced by more “traditional” ideologies (sometimes even neo-traditional). When we – as non Japanese people (especially if we are living and studying these arts outside Japan) – take to seriously study these arts there is always the question of “how much of Japanese tradition do we adopt?”
This is an extremely complex subject (and one that i’ve touched on before) but I would like to take a very easy and uncomplicated example and look it it with the above question in mind:
Wearing an obi for kendo practise
Seems simple enough – almost nobody uses them, right? The odd iaido person will start using an obi for kendo practise because it feels more stable, or because they have one keiko after the other. I don’t think i’ve ever met a kendo practitioner outside Japan who started using them on their own steam (though i’m pretty certain they must exist). I have, however, noted that many older people use them here in Japan, and I have received (always positive) comments about the fact that I use an obi for kendo.
Why would we want to wear an obi anyway? There are a few reasons that I could write down here: increased stability for your back; it helps to keep your hakama/keikogi on straight; improves your posture; helps you concentrate on your tanden/hara areas and improves your breathing; etc etc.
There are of course reasons that people don’t like wearing them as well: they get a bit hot and uncomfy; they rub against the bone when moving; they seem complex to tie; etc etc.
So, do you need an obi? Thats completely up to yourself (of-course) and nobody will/can force you to use one. However, assuming that my opening statement is largely true – about studying budo as a part of a larger culture (kendo’s “Japaneseness” is unequivocable) – then perhaps the questions is not “do you need an obi?” but rather “why aren’t you wearing one?”
p.s. note that although I wear an obi I haven’t gone all the way to wearing a fundoshi. Yet.
p.p.s. and where does this fit into things?
Shisei wo tadashi! Mokuso!
These “commands” should sound familiar to most Kendoka. Sometimes the order to straighten up isn’t included, just plain “mokuso.” According to my dictionary it simply means “meditation.” But what is it that we’re supposed to do before and after practice? The common explanation its for getting rid of your thoughts, clearing your mind, or/and emptying your mind. All this seems kind of difficult to perform, especially after the last jigeiko when adrenalin is rushing through your veins and there is a throbbing in your head. Still, you have to clear your mind and don’t think.
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Sometime in early 2006, I was sitting in the Toyota City Central Library. I suddenly heard a loud crash and a thud to my left, so loud that I immediately looked for the source of the sound, startled out of my reverie. On the ascending escalator was a little boy, probably all of two years old. He was falling down the stairs…only, because it was an ascending escalator, he wasn’t coming any closer to the ground. He would fall down one step, and you’d think he was okay…and then he would suddenly turn like a rotisserie, and fall down the next step, and the process would repeat itself. He was essentially falling in place. Something had to be done, so I stood up…
After three years in Japan, I went back to the States and back to school, doing a BA in Psychology, particularly focusing on social and cultural psychology. I was quite fascinated at the idea of Japanese and other East Asian cultures thinking and even perceiving the world differently. Returning to Japan in 2005, I had a vague idea of wanting to get insight into that way of thinking, take what I could from it, and integrate it with my own Western way of thinking. The best of both worlds. But I had no idea how to really do that, other than living in Japan and picking it up via osmosis.
Not long after I joined Shinkage Ryu, one highly respected senior showed me a book, and suggested I read it. The book was by Professor Shimizu Hiroshi, and the title was (translating from the Japanese): The Theory of Ba (Place) As Life-Knowledge: the how of co-creation as seen through Yagyu Shinkage Ryu.
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I’ve heard it said that people who practise budo with a poor attitude either quit or change. When I look back (just a few years ago!) on my first days of iaido in Japan, I wince. Initially, my attitude was terribly poor; although I performed no worse than most beginners, I didn’t have the willpower to work really hard to overcome my problems. I was overly critical of myself, analysing my mistakes too much, when all I should have done was shut up and got on with it.
At some point, though, something clicked and I simply began training: no specific goals, no getting distracted by mistakes, no trying to pick apart the waza. Day by day, imperceptibly, I improved. It was only once I became aware of this gradual improvement that I began to grasp a little of the meaning behind the kakemono in my sensei’s dojo: 百錬自得 (Hyakuren Jitoku), or roughly, ‘natural acquisition through repetitive training.’ The meaning runs a little deeper than this (百錬 literally refers to tempering metal, and 自得 can mean ‘being paid back for one’s efforts’) but the translation above reflects the main sentiment. If you keep practising long and hard enough, the waza will naturally become yours.
This mindset became the basis for my incremental progress. I managed to let go of my distractions and got on with the task at hand, and my efforts were rewarded. Realising this also helped me come to terms with the fact that the longer I train, the more I have to work on.
The few short years I’ve spent training in iaido have completely changed my attitude, very much for the better. I know that even if I can’t see improvement, hard work will bring about a gradual shift in the right direction. And now I enjoy having difficult problems to work on – when I finally get something right that I’ve been struggling to do for months, it makes it all the sweeter.
When I entered my new kendojo this week, the first thing that caught my eye was the kakemono on the shomen. It read 百錬自得. My sempai told me that it was written by a sensei in his eighties, who had only recently passed hachidan. For such a kendoka, I can’t think of a more fitting phrase.
「其れ剣は心なり。心正しからざれば、剣又正しからず。すべからく剣を学ばんと欲する者は、まず心より学べ – 島田 虎之助
“The sword is (like) the heart (心). If the heart is not correct, then the sword is not correct. For anyone who wishes to study the (way of the) sword, you must first study your heart.” – Shimada Toranosuke
Everyone who has ever studied a bit about kendo (or any sword based Japanese martial art) will have come across the saying above. But what do you know about the man that wrote it?
Shimada Toranosuke was born in 1814 in Kyushu and became a one of the three most renowned kenshi in the Bakumatsu/Tenpo eras. He began learning itto-ryu at the Han (Japanese fuedal domain) school when he was 10 years old. By 15 it was said he was so strong that no one could be his partner thus, at the tender age of 16, he set off on a Musha Shugyo (“warriors pilgrimage”) around Kyushu, securing his infamy.
In 1838 he headed to Edo (now Tokyo) and became a pupil of the highly renowned Otani Nobutono and studied Jiki-shinkage-ryu kenjutsu under him. Achieving his teachers license in a year he at first taught at Otani’s dojo, before opening his own. His most famous student was Katsu Kaishu.
He died of natural causes at the age of 39 and is buried in Asakusa in Tokyo.
I only went to the old Noma dojo once. I watched keiko, I didn’t take part. The next time I had a chance to go, I made an excuse because – although I woke up early – I’d had a bit too much to drink the night before and was still a bit sleepy.
Soon after, Noma dojo disappeared from existence.
I regret a lot of things in my life, but this is probably my greatest kendo regret. I had multiple opportunities to go over the years, but didn’t take them for one reason or another, all of which seem quite superfluous today.
Looking at pictures and video of the dojo from various sources afterwards, one piece of calligraphy that used to hand on the wall stood out to me. It read: 剣徳世正 (kentoku seisei). Although there can be many definitions of the meaning for this, here is mine:
“Through the virtue of the sword make a correct society.”
Although the old dojo was replaced with a new one, for those of us that never had (or took) the chance to add our sweat to those of kenshi gone by, we can – I believe – continue at least part of the philosophy of Noma Dojo by contemplating the meaning of 剣徳世正 and, if possible, by making a pilgrimage to the new dojo and crossing shinai with the regular day-to-day members of the dojo. If you don’t, you may regret it.
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