SOME THOUGHTS ON BUDO AT THE TURN OF A DECADE

  

    The world has changed considerably since I first began to study Budō, several decades ago. It is now a much smaller world, due primarily to the innovations made in communications and computer technology. I can recall that in 1995, computers and the Internet were at best, an insignificant part of most people’s lives, and cell phones (mobile phones then) were large, cumbersome things: hardly anyone had one. In the ensuing fifteen years however, most of the industrialized world has been connected to the Internet and the phenomenon of mobile communications. Literally, billions of pages of information are at anyone’s fingertips with just a click of a computer mouse. Sadly, at the same time, the world has grown more violent and dangerous. In the United States, we witnessed firsthand the attack on the World Trade Center, the war in Iraq, the war in Afghanistan, countless terrorist attacks, and assassinations, not to mention innumerable homicides and heinous crimes here at home. Domestic and foreign terrorism, in all its forms, have become almost daily occurrences, and news of them is now almost instantaneous. We now see crime and violence even as it occurs, often graphically, from the comfort of our easy chairs. When examined, even superficially, the sum of all this tends to reinvorce my feeling that the need has never, in modern times, been greater for people to train in traditional martial arts, such as Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu.

      I have no personal knowledge of any official study, however my own understanding is that few, if any people, classically trained in martial arts, have committed the types of violence and terrorism that fill our computer and television screens, as well as the front pages of our newspapers. Acts of terrorism and violence run counter to the very nature and intent of traditional martial arts programs. Classic Japanese martial arts, Budō if you will, is in fact the art of peacemaking. I continue to teach Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu, not simply because it trains one to perform acts of violence, but rather because it trains both mind and spirit to seek out peace and harmony while preparing one to defend against acts of violence; the end result of which is creating, in some small way, a more peaceful world for its practitioners.

      While Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu, on the surface, would appear to have little application to contemporary ideas of self-defense, I cannot help but feel that it truly does have practical applications. A broomstick, a mop handle, a cane, with training, can be a real boon for a person threatened with attack. Beyond that, these arts are simple serene, and elegant, bereft of the splendid embellishments and gymnastics assigned them by the cinema and print media, such as manga. In a real sense, however, this simplicity, serenity, and elegance, and the absence of superficial flourishes, have at least in the United States, been self-defeating. It is difficult for the uneducated and the unsophisticated to see how Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu could be of any use in self-defense; thus, such arts have little attraction to those who are instead drawn to more brutal forms of “combat,” such as grappling, Brazilian Jiujitsu, and “mixed martial arts,” which many traditional instructors, including myself, regard as nothing more than fighting. Fighting is what is cool. Fighting is “in.” Fighting is power. Skill in fighting makes one a “tough guy,” which assists in maintaining the “thug is good” thinking, propagated by television and movies, manga, music videos, and worst of all, violent video games. Indeed, contemporary, violent video games occupy the minds and time of American youth far more than such mundane pastimes as study, reading, or active participation in sports. Absent are the enduring values and ethics of traditional Budō, now set aside for the less endearing and enduring values of contemporary “martial arts” training.

      Sadly, I do not foresee much change in the way that the “samurai arts” will be presented in literature or the entertainment media. Looking back, I think that the contemporary view of Budō began with the larger-than-life, naïve, unworkable, and improbable portrayals of traditional martial arts by works of fantasy and fiction such as the Teenaged Mutant Nina Turtles. Since their inception, the media has inundated us with anime, manga, video games, television programs and feature films highlighting samurai-like characters that perform gross representations of sword and other martial techniques; which in turn, have created false impressions and therefore expectations, that make legitimate martial arts at least disappointing if not totally unattractive. I say disappointing in view of the large number of would-be students who are disenchanted early on in their training, or even before they begin training, when they come to a dojo in the hopes of learning the “moves” that they saw in some movie or video game, and the dojo is either unable, and often unwilling, to do so.

      My own experience recently is that interest in traditional Japanese martial arts, in the United States, does not support nor will it sustain classes in such subjects as Kenjutsu or Iaijutsu; individual, private students yes, but classes, no. In a country that would seem to pride itself and take comfort in its ignorance, obesity, and laziness, and its attraction to that which is crass, serious students are far between. Certainly, I have received inquiries from parents who want to enroll their children in classes; yet, what is the point when the child does not want to attend and has little or no interest beyond the “flash,” nor the common sense or sense of responsibility that goes with learning potentially dangerous techniques? There is none. Even parents are disappointed when they discover that it takes years upon years to achieve the proficiency to earn a black belt, the “holy grail” of American martial arts: not six months, not a year, but years. It is no better with potential students in their late teens or in their twenties; indeed, such students are almost totally absent. The discipline of mind and body that is required is simply not there. What few potentially good students there are tend to be over fifty, college educated, accomplished, and disciplined. Interestingly, these are mature people who potentially suffer more aches and pains then younger students; and yet, are more than willing to endure such discomforts, for the sake of the art.

      What the coming decade will hold is of course a mystery. Perhaps, with the diminished American economy and the austerity that it demands, some small side effect will be a turn away from crassness, lack of discipline, and lack of responsibility, toward a new embracing of good, traditional values. Only time will tell.

THOUGHTS ON TECHNIQUE IN BUDO I

     One should train themself meticulously and then forget about it. 

  Ultimately, the reason one practices Budō or a martial art is so that one can make the art an integral part of one’s self.  In order to achieve any degree of mastery, that is, competence as well as confidence, it is necessary for one to attain a state in which he or she is able to use the best possible techniques instinctively:  without thinking.  The only way that one can accomplish this is by learning to deal with every conceivable circumstance.

      Alone, our imaginations are not always able to conceive of every possible situation; consequently, in the classes I have taught, as an unwritten adjunct to the curriculum, students are encouraged, actually they are expected, to bring possible variations to a situation up to the class, so that the other students may consider and discuss the circumstance and actively experiment with the various ways to deal with it:  good and bad.  They work out solutions and in a sense the student becomes a teacher.  By doing this, it is possible, through slight variation or innovation, to transform one technique into ten.

      One must, however, be wary of allowing their “soul to attach itself to a technique.”  That is to say, one must not become obsessed, when for example engaged in combat or practice with a sword or shinai, to become solely focused on technique.  If one is simply centered on technique, and not freeing up his mind, if one’s actions and reactions are not instinctive, then the opponent will ultimately have the opportunity to not only strike back but to win. 

      When in combat or practice, one should not think about “killing” their opponent or what technique will do the job, but rather merging and flowing with an opponent and allowing the techniques to select themselves. 

      Remember that no matter how wonderful one’s technique may be, if one is focused solely on that aspect of their art, then one, simply put, cannot win.  Once techniques are learned, practice without thinking of simply striking, parrying, or thrusting.  Let the mind go free so that the movements and techniques come freely from within one’s self.

      It is a simple fact that once one has trained themself well, their body, arms, and legs will move automatically; that is, without any conscious effort.  So, one’s mind will not be overcome by their physical movements and be able to make use of the techniques they have learned and practiced without having to think.  Once this state of mind has been reached, no misgivings or wavering will occur.  There is no enemy or opponent, not even a tengu or a demon, who will be able to find an opportunity to effectively attack.

      One should train themself meticulously and then forget about it.  One should toss aside their mind and thus follow the Way without actually being conscious of it.  This is a obscurity of all ways and arts, be it Aikidō, Iaidō, Judō, Karate-Dō, Kendō, Aikijutsu, Iaijutsu, or Kenjutsu.

Copyright 2010 by Hayato Tokugawa, Sekishinkan Tokugawa Dojo, and Shisei-Do Publications.  All rights reservffed.

      

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: FURYU

Fūryū (風流)

            The Japanese aesthetic Fūryū (風流) was derived from the Chinese word fengliu, which literally translated meant “good deportment” or “manners.  After its “importation” to Japan in the eight century, the word came to refer more directly to the refined tastes of a cultivated person and to things what were associated with such people.  When applied in a more aesthetic sense, the word fūryū took on a reference to the refined, even elegant behavior of an sophisticated person.  As time went on, the word was applied to all things that were regarded as elegant, sophisticated, stylish, or artistic.

      By the twelfth century, with the evolution of semantics in Japan, fūryū  began to evolve into two distinct variations.  The first variation applied fūryū to more earthy, ostentatious beauty as marked in popular art forms.  In the second variation, people attempted to find fūryū in the beauty portrayed in landscape gardens, flower arrangements, architecture, and poetry about nature, normally written in classic Chinese.  It was this second “branch” of fūryū that in part gave birth to cha-no-yu or the tea ceremony, during the Muromachi Jidai or Muromachi Era (1333- 1573).

      During the Edo Period or Edo Jidai (1603 – 1868), a form of popular fūryū became evident through a style of fictional prose known as ukyo-zōshi.[i]  A second popular interpretation of fūryū became apparent in such art forms as haikai[ii] poetry and the nanga[iii] style of painting; an interpretation that advocated a withdrawal from all of life’s burdens.  An example of this version of fūryū may be found in the following poem by Bashō      :

the beginning of fūryū

this rice planting

song of the north.

      A more contemporary interpretation of fūryū, strongly influenced by Zen, lies in the two characters which comprise the term, 風流, wind and flowing.  Just like the moving wind, fūryū can only be sensed:  it cannot be seen.  Fūryū is tangible yet at the same time, intangible in the elegance which it implies; moreover, just like the wind, fūryū puts forward a wordless, transitory beauty, which can be experienced only in the moment:  in the next it is gone.  Interestingly, several styles of folk dances, yayako odori and kaka odori, have come to be referred to as fūryū or “drifting on the wind” dances and are quite popular.

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[i] Ukiyo-zōshi (浮世草子 ) or “books of the floating world” was the first major genus of popular Japanese fiction, by and large written between 1690 and 1770, primarily in Kyōto and Ōsaka.  Ukiyo-zōshi style literature developed from kana-zōshi (仮名草子 ) [a type of printed Japanese book that was produced largely in Kyōto between 1600 and 1680, referring to books written in kana rather than kanji].  Indeed, ukiyo-zōshi was originally classified as kana-zōshi.  The actual term ukiyo-zōshi first appeared around 1710, used in reference to romantic or erotic works; however, later the term came to refer to literature that included a diversity of subjects and aspects of life during the Edo Jidai.  Life of a Sensuous Man, by Ihara Saikaku, is regarded as the first work of this type.  The book, as well as other passionate literature, took its subject matter from writings of or about courtesans and guides to the pleasure quarters.  Although Ihara’s works were not considered “high literature” at the time, they became extremely popular and were crucial to the further development and broadened appeal of the genre.  After the 1770s, the style began to stagnate and to slowly decline.

[ii] Haikai (俳諧 , meaning comic or unorthodox) is short for haikai no renga,  a popular style of Japanese linked verse that originate in the sixteenth century. Unlike the more aristocratic renga, haikai was regarded as a low style of linked verse intended primarily for the average person, the traveler, and for those who lived a less privileged lifestyle.

[iii] Nanga (南画  , or southern painting) also known and bunjinga  (文人画 ) , intellectual painting) was a somewhat undefined school of Japanese painting which thrived during the late Edo Period.  Its artists tended to regard themselves as an intellectual elite or literati.  The artists who followed this school were both unique and independent; yet they all shared a high regard for traditional Chinese culture.  Their paintings, most often rendered in black ink, but at times with light color, were inclined to represent Chinese landscapes or related subjects, much in the same form as Chinese wenrenhua or literati painting of the nanzonghua or Chinese “southern school” or art.

Copyright 2010 by Tokugawa Hayato and Shisei-Do Publications.  All rights reserved.

KINDNESSES UNEXPECTED

Kindnesses Unexpected

In 1891, Lafcadio Hearn made a voyage to the Oki Islands or Oki-shotō (隠岐諸島), a group of volcanic, one hundred miles west off the western coast from Izumo and Shimane Prefecture.  As he put it, “Not even a missionary had ever been to Oki, and its shores had never been seen by European eyes, except on those rare occasions when men-of-war steamed by them, cruising about the Japanese Sea.”  It was here that he experienced some not-so-small kindesses and surprises.

     “On the morning of the day after my arrival at Saito, a young physician called to see me, and requested me to dine with him at his house.  He explained very frankly that, as I was the first foreigner who had ever stopped in Saigo, it would bring much pleasure both to his family and to himself to have a good chance to see me; however, the natural courtesy of the man overcame any hesitation I might have felt to gratify the curiosity of strangers.  I was not only treated delightfully at his beautiful home, but actually sent away with presents; most of which I attempted, in vain, to decline.  In one matter, however, I remained obstinate, even at the risk of offending:  the gift of a wonderful specimen of bateiseki (a substance which I shall speak of later).  This I persisted in refusing to take, knowing it to be not only very costly, but very rare.  My host at last yielded; but afterwards, secretly sent two smaller specimens to the hotel, which Japanese etiquette made it impossible to return.  Before leaving Saigo, I experienced many other unexpected kindnesses from the same gentleman.

     “Not long after, one of the teachers of the Saigo public school paid me a visit.  He had heard of my interest in Oki, and brought with him two fine maps of the islands made by him, a little book about Saigo, and as a gift, a collection of Oki butterflies and insects that he had also made.  It is only in Japan that one is likely to meet with these wonderful exhibitions of pure goodness on the part of perfect strangers.

     “A third visitor, who had called to see my friend, performed an act equally characteristic, but which also pained me.  We squatted down to smoke together.  He drew from his obi a remarkably beautiful tobacco pouch and pipe case, containing a little silver pipe, which he began to smoke.  The pipe case was made of a sort of black coral, curiously carved, and attached to the tabako-iré, or pouch, by a heavy cord of three colors of braided silk, passed through a ball of transparent agate.  Seeing me admire it, he suddenly drew a knife from his sleeve, and before I could stop him, severed the pipe case from the pouch and presented it to me.  I felt almost as if he had cut one of his own nerves apart when he cut that wonderful cord; and nevertheless, once this had been done, to refuse the gift would have been rude in the extreme.  I made him accept a present in return; but after that experience, I was careful never again, while in Oki, to admire anything in the presence of its owner.”

     Even now in the 21^st century, if one will take the time to meet people, and to experience the true Japan, he too is bound to experience such amazing kindness, which seems so lacking elsewhere in the world.


*Print by Mishima Shoso (1856 - 1926) titled Sparrow Grand-pa (c. 1900) illustrating a Japanese folktale about an honorable old man who rescued a sparrow (suzume).  later, he was invited to the village of sparrows and given a box of gifts.

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: Plants in the Visual Arts (Geijutsu to Shokubutsu)

The graphic or illustrative arts in Japan traditionally have relied on the sensitivity of the artist to nature and thus, have been likely to be simple, compact, and modest, yet elegant.  Traditional renderings of landscapes, for example, do not display the wide range of colors that is seen in Western oil paintings or watercolors.  This same simplicity and grace applies to sculpture as well:  delicately carved and small in size.

Plants, flowers and birds, or at least their outlines are frequently rendered in lifelike colors on fabric, lacquer ware and ceramics.  The love of natural forms and an enthusiasm for the expression of nature in idealized style have been the key intentions in the development of traditional Japanese arts such as ikebana (flower arrangement, chanoyou (the tea ceremony), tray landscapes (bonkei), bonsai, and landscape gardening.  It is through these arts that the Japanese people have attempted to incorporate the beauty of nature into their spiritual values and daily lives.

For the decoration of a teahouse, a modest flower was selected to conform with the principle that flowers should always look as if they were still in nature.  The  Japanese have sought to express the immensity as well as the simplicity of nature with a single wild flower in a solitary vase.

Copyright 2010 by Hayato Tokugawa & Shisei-Do Publications.  All rights reserved.

Amatai no Shugo-ryū: Goals, Ki, and State of Mind

  

      Achieving our two essential goals in the practice of Amatai no Shugo-ryu, that is the cutting of an opponent while avoiding being cut and the perfection of character, require an keen awareness of both the physical and mental aspects of each interaction between training partners or opponents.  Equally important is the ability to feel the exchange of energy, ki, between the participants.  One’s state of mind is critical to this; for, a negative state of mind will interfere with one’s ability to achieve the purpose of each exercise in practice.   Anger, impatience and selfishness can limit one’s awareness and prevent them from determining their opponent’s intent.

      On the other hand, proper practice does have a significant, positive effect on one’s state of mind.  By putting one’s body and mind into action through the practice of kata and drills, while being focused on the key elements and asking one’s self questions about one’s strategy, the tendency is to disrupt anger and promote patience and cooperation.  Happiness, patience and cooperation:  all make the smooth flow of ki between training partners possible; therefore, each person is better able to react properly.

      The more one is able to live in the moment and put aside all irrelevant thoughts and respond intuitively to perceived subtle changes of strength or weakness, the more one is able to sense the ki.  To achieve such a state of mind is not easy; however, once one is really aware of the ki component in Kenjutsu, one can then begin to learn to control their attacker’s intent.

      This is a valuable goal and it is not by chance that the same qualities one develops in the dojo will help them to become better people outside.  Those who truly seek enlightenment, the “Way”, as Miyamoto Musashi put it, try hard to develop specific qualities within themselves:  to live within the moment, to put aside irrelevant thought, and to allow intuition to guide them to correct action.  As one studies Amatai no Shugo-ryū, they can attain a similar state of mind both inside the dojo and when they leave at the end of the day.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part 4): Strategies for 2010

      

     As we have seen, strategy is a plan of action that is intended to accomplish a specific goal.  Tactics are methods that one utilizes to achieve a particular end or goal; thus, strategy refers to one’s general plan of action and one’s tactics are the methods used to accomplish that plan.  Methods can themselves be categorized into techniques, which will enable one to establish the proper frame of mind and action that will lead to the efficient accomplishment of their goals.

      This is so vital to one’s success in the dojo and one’s success in Kenjutsu; however, with the new year of 2010, we should also be aware that it is these same things – strategy, tactics, techniques – which can play as equally vital a role in our daily lives as in the art of swordsmanship.  Let us look to Miyamoto Musashi for his insight into this “strategy for life.”

      In Go Rin Sho, his Book of the Five Rings, Musashi made two points concerning this.  First, that one must choose a goal before one can accomplish it; and secondly, the more difficult one’s goal is, the more effort they must put into achieving it.  Now, Musashi’s goal, one he established before even reaching his teens, was (even though perhaps unspoken) to become a great swordsman:  the greatest in Japan.  An extraordinary ambition for anyone let alone a youth in Sengoku Period Japan.

      There are probably few goals in modern life that could compare with the goals that Musashi set for himself; however, all accomplishment, all success starts with goals.  Musashi tells us to be ambitions in setting goals; ambitious goals will help one to focus their energies, abilities, and actions to their maximum effort.

      New years, it is said, is a time of resolution.  With the coming of 2010, we should reflect on our lives, what we have achieved and what we have failed to achieve.  We should take the time to think of what we want and can do in the coming year.  We should then take the time to form strategies, and determine the tactics and techniques that will enable us to achieve our goals and be successful; be it at our job, in our homes, with our families, or with ourselves.  Realistic goals, well-thought strategies, carefully selected tactics and techniques, should make 2010 a good year for us all.