TAKING THE FIRST STEPS

Do the difficult things while they are easy and

 do the great things while they are small.

A journey of a thousand miles

 must begin with a single step.

`                               Lao Tzu

     “Oh, that old chestnut,” one might be inclined to comment out of modern cynicism. True, this simple quotation from the Dao De Jing (道德經), may seem trite, a cliché; however, such an adage, a truism, which dates back to the 4^th century BC, holds a truth, a simple truth, that should not be so easily dismissed. As a teacher of Japanese budō, martial arts, I have often used this quotation in order to explain to new students or frustrated, disappointed students alike, that the path that they follow, be it a long one, must be taken in small steps. So it is if one chooses the path which will lead to the simplification of one’s life. Small steps are one of the keys to studying the arts, or the use of the Japanese katana (sword), playing the piano, or even learning something new on one’s computer — one foot in front of the other. Such steps need not be great steps, long steps, gigantic leaps, but only small ones. One should never rush down a path to their destination — small steps are better.

     So to, when one begins on a resolute journey toward the simplification of their life, small steps are better. Indeed, small steps means that such a passage will take time, but isn’t the rush-dash of modern life one of the very things we hope to pull ourselves away from?

     Clichéd or not, if one is able to accept this simple admonition, then they are thus freed to begin to achieve their goal of simplicity. Remember, as Confucius said, “Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.”

     The first step one must take is indeed seems a simple one; yet it is deceptive. It requires discipline. To quote the Dalai Lama, “Spend some time alone every day.” Yes, alone, with no distractions; just you and your thoughts. Once one has become able to spend time just with themselves, they can progress to the next step. In that solitude, one should list for themselves the top five or six things that are most important to them in their lives. One must ask one’s self honestly, what is most important to them? What is of the most value to them? What five or six things do they most want to do in and with their life? The process of simplification begins with the setting of such priorities. One should ask, “How can I make room for these priorities? How can I make the time?”

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SIMPLE LIVING PART I

     A very wise man has pointed out that “simplicity is the peak of civilization.” If one were to apply those words to one’s life, I am certain that they would, in one way or another, take on a different meaning and a dissimilar significance for each person. For me, “simplicity” signifies the elimination of all but what is essential in life, exchanging chaos for peace, and enabling myself to spend my time doing those things that are important to me and with those people who are most important to me.

     A simple life means getting rid of those many things that gnaw away at the time to spend with those people and to follow my passions. It means getting rid of the clutter around me, so that I am then left with only that which makes my life worthwhile.

Easy enough said; however, achieving simplicity is not always a simple process. In a sense, it is a journey rather than a destination, and it can at times, be a journey where one finds themself sliding backward a step for every two steps forward.

     If I were to sum up what attaining simplicity entails, I would be inclined to say: first of all identify everything that is important to you, and then eliminate everything else. Pick out the best and get rid of the rest. That, however, may be too simple a description of the process. One must not only identify and eliminate, but must learn how to apply “identify and eliminate” to the different facets of one’s life.

     For a while, on these pages, I will attempt to present ideas that I believe should help just about anyone who is either interested in or actually attempting to simply their lives. Not everything I will write about will be totally suited to every person. One must then decide which ones appeal to them and then apply them to their own lives. The path may seem even complicated to some who seek simplicity; yet, one should take their time, read, think, apply (if they can) and then move on.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT FROM 1890

I was reading through Lafcadio Hearn’s Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan, Volume II, Chapter XXVI, “The Japanese Smile,” published in 1984, and once again came upon the extracts from an essay by Viscount Tōrio. The ideas expressed in his essay were at times critical of things Western, of trends within the Meiji government Japanese society; yet, as I read through them, I began to think that there existed in his words of more than one hundred years ago, important lessons for modern Japan as well as contemporary America. I present them now, as Hearn did in his time, as if nothing else, food for thought.

Order or disorder in a nation does not depend on something that falls from the sky or rises from the earth. It is determined by the disposition of the people. The pivot on which the public disposition turns towards order or disorder is the point where public and private motives separate. If the people are influenced chiefly by public considerations, order is assured; but if by private, disorder is inevitable. Public considerations are those that prompt the proper observance of duties; their prevalence signifies peace and prosperity in the way similar to families, communities, and nations. Private considerations are those suggested by selfish motives: when they prevail, disturbance and disorder are unavoidable. As members of a family, our duty is to look after the welfare of that family; as members of a nation, our duty is to work for the good of the nation. To regard our family affairs with all the interest due to our family, and our national affairs with all the interest due to our nation, this is to fitly discharge our duty, and to be guided by public considerations. On the other hand, to regard the affairs of the nation as if they were our own family affairs, this is to be influenced by private motives and to stray from the path of duty.

Selfishness is born in every man; to indulge it freely is to become a beast; therefore, sages preach the principles of duty and propriety, justice and morality, providing restraints for private aims and encour- agements for public spirit… What we know of Western civilization is that it struggled on through long centuries in a confused condition, and finally attained a state of some order, but that even this order, not being based on such principles as those of natural and indisputable distinctions between sovereign and sub- ject, parent and child, with all their corresponding rights and duties, is liable to constant change; according to the growth of human ambitions and human aims. Admirably suited to persons whose actions are controlled by selfish ambition, the adoption of this system in Japan is naturally sought by a certain class of politicians. From a superficial point of view, the Western form of society is very attractive; in as much as, being the outcome of a free development of human desires from ancient times, it represents the very extreme of luxury and extravagance. Briefly speaking, the state of obtaining things in the West is based on the free play of human selfishness, and can only be reached by giving full sway to that quality. In the West, little notice is given to social disturbances; yet they are at once the evidence and the factors of the present evil state of affairs. Do Japanese, enamored with Western ways, propose to have their nation’s history written in similar terms? Do they seriously contemplate turning their country into a new field for experiments in Western civilization?

In the Orient, from ancient times, national gov- ernment has been based on benevolence, and directed to securing the welfare and happiness of the people. No political creed has ever held that intellectual strength should be cultivated for the purpose of exploiting inferiority and ignorance. The inhabitants of this empire live, for the most part, by manual labor. No matter how industrious they are, they hardly earn enough to supply their daily needs. They earn, on the average, about twenty sen daily. For them there is no question of aspiring to wearing fine clothes or to inhabit handsome houses. Neither can they hope to reach positions of fame and honor. What offense have these poor people committed that they also, should not share the benefits of Western civilization? Indeed, by some, their condition is explained on the hypothesis that their desires do not prompt them to better themselves. There is no truth in such a supposition. They have desires, but nature has limited their capacity to satisfy them; their duty as men limits it, and the amount of labor physically possible for a human being limits it. They achieve as much as their opportunities permit. The best and finest products of their labor they reserve for the wealthy; the worst and roughest they keep for their own use. Yet, there is nothing in human society that does not owe its existence to labor. Now, to satisfy the desires of one luxurious man, the work of a thousand is needed. Surely, it is monstrous that those who owe to labor, the pleasures suggested by their civilization, should forget what they owe to the laborer, and treat him as if he were not a fellow being. But civilization, according to the interpretation of the West, serves only to satisfy men of large desires. It is of no benefit to the masses, but is simply a system under which ambitions compete to accomplish their aims. That the Western system is gravely disturbing to the order and peace of a country is seen by men who have eyes, and heard by men who have hears. The future of Japan, under such a system, fills us with anxiety. A system, based on the principle that ethics and religion are made to serve human ambition, naturally agrees with the wishes of selfish individuals; and such theories as those, embodied in the modern formula of liberty and equality, annihilate the established relations of society, and outrange decorum and propriety. Absolute equality and absolute liberty being unattainable, the limits prescribed by right and duty are supposed to be set. But as each person seeks to have as much right and to be burdened with as little duty as possible, the results are endless disputes and legal contentions. The principles of liberty and equality may succeed in changing the organization of nations, in overthrowing the lawful distinctions of social rank, in reducing all men to one nominal level; but they can never accomplish the equal distribution of wealth and property. Consider America…It is plain that if the mutual rights of men and their status are made to depend on degrees of wealth, the majority of the people, being without wealth, must fail to establish their rights; whereas the minority who are wealthy, will assert their rights; and, under society’s sanction, will exact oppressive duties from the poor; neglecting the dictates of humanity and benevolence. The adoption of these principles of liberty and equality in Japan would annul the good and peaceful customs of our country, render the general disposition of the people harsh and unfeeling, and finally prove to be a source of calamity to the masses…

Though at first sight, Western civilization presents an attractive appearance, adapted as it is to the gratification of selfish desires; yet, since its basis is the hypothesis that men’s wishes constitute natural laws, it must ultimately end in disappointment and de- moralization. Western nations have become what they are after passing through conflicts and deviations of the most serious kind; and it is their fate to continue the struggle. Just now, their motive elements are in partial equilibrium, and their social condition is more or less ordered. But if this slight equilibrium happens to be disturbed, they will be thrown once more into confusion, and change; until, after a period of renewed struggle and suffering, temporary stability is once more attained. The poor and powerless of the present may become the wealthy and strong of the future, and vice versa. Perpetual disturbance is their doom. Peaceful equality can never be attained until built up among the ruins of annihilated Western states and the ashes of extinct Western people.[i]

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[i] Author’s Footnote: These extracts from a translation of the Japan Daily Mail, November 19, 20, 1890, of Viscount Tōrio’s famous conservative essay do not give a fair idea of the force and logic of the whole. The essay is too long to quote entirely; and any extracts from the Mail’s admirable translation suffer by their isolation from the singular claims of ethical, religious, and philosophical reasoning, which bind the various parts of the composition together. The essay was furthermore remarkable as the production of a native scholar, totally uninfluenced by Western thought. He correctly predicted those social and political disturbances which have occurred in Japan since the opening of the new parliament. Viscount Tōrio is also well known as a master of Buddhist philosophy. He holds a high rank in the Japanese army.

GREEN TEA + T’AI CHI = HEALTHY BONES

Modern medical science is just now, it would seem, catching on to what many Asian people have known for centuries; green tea (nihoncha) when combined with the practice of T’ai chi can improve bone health and reduce inflammation in postmenopausal women.

      Research by Dr. Chwan-Li Shen, an associate professor at the Laura W. Bush Institute for Women’s health, who has studied Eastern lifestyle traditions recently made public the results of her most recent research, which presents results that, in fact, are no great surprise but serve as reinforcement for what has been common knowledge.

      Dr. Shen studied one hundred and seventy-one postmenopausal women who typically had weak bones, focusing on the effects of GTP (green tea polyphenols (antioxidants)) when combined with T’ai chi. In short, her findings ere that those who took GTP, equivalent to 4-6 cups of nihoncha per day and participated in T’ai chi significantly enhanced bone growth in both three and six month periods. In addition, of note was the fact that participants in T’ai chi also reported significant positive effects in relation to quality of life and improved emotional and mental health. Certainly one can then extrapolate that what is good for “baa” is also good for “jii”. Men may also realize distinct benefits such as stronger bones, increased joint flexibility, decreased joint inflammation, increased bladder and prostate health, and lower blood pressure.

      If one is skeptical, one need look no further than the morning T’ai chi classes conducted in a dozen cities, Tokyō, Ōsaka, Kyōto, or even in Gifu or Tajimi, (not to mention Saigon, Hanoi, Shanghai, Beijing and a thousand other places) and see the healthy, happier women and men over 50 who combine green tea and T’ai chi as part of their daily routines. And in my classes? Well, we always finish up with a nice bottle of cool nihoncha to cool down.

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.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part 3)

     One might well ask, “What is the difference between strategy and tactics, or between tactics and technique?”  Well, they are each distinctively different; yet, they also go hand in hand.  Remember, we have defined strategy as a plan of action that is intended to accomplish a specific goal.  Tactics can be defined as a procedure, or a set of maneuvers which one engages in to achieve a particular end or goal.  So then, strategy refers to one’s general plan of action and one’s tactics are the methods used in order to accomplish the plan.

      Methods can be categorized even further into techniques.  Techniques, with practice, will instill in one the intuitive response that will enable one to act within a tactical frame of mind and efficiently accomplish their strategic goals through the interaction of the sword.

      As mentioned above, strategy, tactics and techniques go hand in hand and thus, often overlap.  It is important to keep in mind however, the distinctions between them.  Too illustrate, let us consider a reaction to a straight, downward strike with a katana.  The basic goal, the strategy, is to cut the opponent without being cut.  There are numerous ways to accomplish this particular goal.   One tactic that could be employed to achieve this end would be to move to one’s side, then counter strike.  A technique which could be utilized to do this would be for one to step forward and to the right with the right foot, whle rasing one’s sword overhead; then pivot back and out of the way with the left foot while executing a downward cut or lateral, decapitating strike.

      Strategy then, is something that is accomplished by means of tactics, which in turn, consist of techniques.  By being aware of the different facets of each encounter, one allows themselves the opportunity to focus their attention in such a manner that the effectiveness of one’s training is taken full advantage of.  By examining an encounter in broad terms, one can determine their goal.  By narrowing one’s perspective, one can then determine what tactic(s) best suit the accomplishment of that goal.  Having done so, one should then select the techinque0s) which will make up the tactics and then practice them until they are literally done without conscious thought:  automatic or intuitive.  Practice, however, does not stop there.  One needs to practice and practice more until one’s reflexive abilities and knowledge are such that we perform them at the very instant they are needed.  One might consider it in this way:  one’s goal is reflexive abilities and knowledge that “kick in” automatically the second they are required.  The tactic to accomplish this goal is study and practice of the techniques we are taught.

      As will be discussed later, the value of all of this extends well beyond the walls of the dojo.  If one pursues their goals in this exact manner, one can accomplish great things and have a significant and pleasing upon their character.

     

Copyright 2009 by Hayato Tokugawa and Shisei-Do Publications.  All rights reserved.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part 2)

To cut the opponent while avoiding being cut is in one sense largely external, because it depends, in part, on technique and strategies which are taught and learned.  The second goal, to progress in the direction of perfection of character, is more internal, as it comes from within each of us; yet, it is equally as valid.  Both of these objectives are keys to the proper practice of the art of swordsmanship and every subsequent goal is derived from them.

      To cut an opponent while at the same time not being cut is, as noted above, a largely external goal.  It relates to one’s physical actions as well as to those of their opponent.  If one thinks about it, however, “to cut an opponent while not being cut” is also a theoretical goal, in that in modern Japanese society, we do not typically use the katana as a weapon.  The modern trend is to place far less emphasis on the killing ability of the katana and instead focus on its character as a tool by which one adds or modifies character and self-discipline.  It is however, necessary to keep in mind the true, fighting purpose of the katana.  One must maintain a concept of the practical reasons for the art of swordsmanship; thus anchoring one to a sense of martial practicality.  Each decision one makes; how to hold a sword, how to stand, how to move, how to think; must be based on the actual principles of fighting with the katana; otherwise one’s actions are no longer fixed in the art and its traditions.

      Within our dojo, “to cut an opponent while not being cut” is taken quite seriously, both in discussion of tactics and techniques, as well as in practice.  Wearing full bogu[i], it becomes a practical matter of not being “whacked” by bokken or shinai – both potentially a painful experience.  The intent of such a practice, among others, is not a competition, but rather to take matters one step further in providing a real, tangible means of fixing in one’s mind in the true, practical aspects, traditions, and history of swordsmanship.

      The perfection of character, an internal end, relates directly to the state of one’s mind and spirit.  It is equally a real goal although difficult to achieve.  It is possible through practice to improve one’s awareness, thought patterns, self-discipline, even one’s integrity and ability to live harmoniously within the community, in keeping with the principles of Wa-Dō.  Granted, there is no actual need to develop the skills of sword fighting; yet, there does exist a true need for one to refine themselves and to work toward the betterment of themselves and their community.

      The more one follows their quest to accomplish the first goal, the more one makes press along the path to the second.  Time spent well in practicing kata, in drills, and in other training with the sword, the more the internal goals are achieved.  Therefore, when one speaks of strategy, one addresses both the most successful ways to use a sword and the most effective ways to utilizing swordsmanship to fashion one’s spirit.

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[i] Bogu (防具) is the specially developed protective armor used in Japanese martial arts, particulary in Kendō.  A complete set consist of: men (面), the facefask and shoulder protector or helmet; the dō (胴) or torso protector; the kote (小手) or hand and forearm protectors (long, extended gloves); tare (垂れ) the leg and groin protector.

      The men which protects the face, neck and shoulders, consists of a facemask with several horizontal metal bars, running across the entire width of the face, from the chin to the upper forehead. To this is attached a long, rectangular, thick cloth padding, which curves over the top of the head and extends to cover the shoulders.  A plate to protect the throat is also attached to the bottom of the facemask.  The men is held in place with a pair of cords, which wrap around the head and are tied at the back.  Note that the men is left open for ventilation and thus the back of the head is left unprotected.  This is primarily due to the fact that there is no prescribed nor permitted stroke to the back of the head.

      The main component of the dō is the curved stomach and chest protector.  In its modern form, the dō has a distinct bulge, which helps convey the force of a strike away from the soft, middle areas of the torso.  Lacquered bamboo has traditionally used however, molded plastic or fiberglass is now frequently used instead.  The dō is held in place from the shoulders by two diagonal ties from the shoulders and a small set of ties at the back.

      The kote are gloves that resemble long-sleeved mittens, designed specifically for Kendō.  While they look cumbersome, they indeed provide a high degree of mobility for hands and writs in gripping in gripping and wielding the shina (the traditional split bamboo “sword” of Kendō.

      The tare is a thick, padded, cloth belt that wraps around the waist and ties under the front flap.  The padded flaps that hang from the belt protect both the upper legs as well as the groin area.