Old Age and Treachery

Despite having practiced kendo with single-minded intensity two or three days a week, sometimes more or less, for almost a quarter-century, I'm still not very good at it to tell the truth.

Whenever I begin practice, I spend a few moments in zazan--clearing my mind of outside distractions from the dojo and kendo, calming and preparing my body as well for the next hour or two of vigorous workout. Often by the end of the warm-ups my legs and arms are pained and trembling, I'm winded and beginning to sweat already. I am old and weak, I'll never keep up with these hungry pups.

But then comes the kihon, the basics practice. Kirikaeshi, then the basic strikes--men, kote, do, head, wrist, body. And waza practice--learning various techniques of fighting, combinations and variations of strikes. And every parry is the beginning of a counterstrike, every attack creates an opening for counter-attack. Tactics. Strategy. And I realize that I know this, I've done it before. I can do this, not as good as some, but better than others. Sure, I'm stiff and slow. My posture has never been correct. And my footwork...well, I've lamented that before.

The fact is---and this blog proves it---I am morbidly and wretchedly addicted to self-critique. Is it the insecure need to point out my own faults before another can discover them? To overcome one's enemy, one must know one's enemy, so it follows that one must know one's self in order to overcome one's self, but is that not self-defeating? If I ponder as I practice, I get hit.
Pay attention!

Ji-geiko, self-practice. Free sparring with a partner, each working of their own technique, their own style. I need to work on my basics. How do I hit a good men? My speed, intensity, follow-through...enough? Too much? Am I blocking too much? Afraid of being hit? Every three minutes or so we change partners. One must adjust one's level to that of one's opponent. Remember, this isn't a fight, it is learning how to to fight. To learn what does and doesn't work for you, and to help raise each other up, not to crush each other's spirits and beat them mercilessly.

Some of my juniors, I think, fear me. At least, my ego lets me flatter myself to think so. My intensity and seme (pressure, control of the center, sword point) intimidates them and they don't know what to do. But then, some of them eye me with what I recognize as contempt. They know they are younger, quicker, stronger, and some of them can hit me at will (or so it seems to them), although they often get hung up on the point of my sword, or every so often receive a solid whack that they weren't expecting.

My peers, I think, regard me somewhat more warily. They know my weaknesses, but also my strengths. And we are all working along the same path, some farther along than others. There are children I saw brought to the dojo ten or twenty years ago who have reached or far surpassed my rank and ability, and there are men and women who were my peers or seniors once upon a time and who can thrash me like a raw beginner, and whom I revere as "Sensei". And then there are many others who have left the path altogether and given up the sword. Each must follow their own calling, and the Way of the Sword is not an easy one.

Old age and treachery overcomes youth and skill, so the saying goes. But, Oh, to be young and full of beans again!

Why the sword? Part II

The sword has always been a symbol of the nobility, of justice, righteousness & honor. In Japan it is one of the crown jewels, associated with the mythic creation of the islands, and in Europe the code of chivalry defined the swordsman as a gentleman. Class and elegance, I must confess, hold a powerful attraction for me. As my mother has often told me, I have champagne tastes with a beer budget. But the Art of Swordsmanship is more than an affectation.

When one holds a sword face to face with another, time slows. The pulse quickens, but the mind and body are forced to calm alertness, and each breath, each movement, becomes pregnant with meaning. Victory or defeat--life or death--are determined by one inch, one step, one fraction of a second. It is said that when one has faced death at the point of a sword that one has a heightened understanding, and I can attest for certainty that when one has a close brush with dying one gains a greater appreciation for what is important in life.

Standing up in the face of one who is intent on taking you out, whether in the boxing ring, the kendo hall, the racetrack, in a barroom brawl or on a battlefield, one can rely only on one's self. Personal courage, integrity, attitude and training are the only things that will separate the victor from the vanquished. The higher morality of who is right or wrong has no weight; to the victor go the spoils and the winners write the history.

Training in kendo is hard and painful. Not just physically, but mentally and spiritually as well. This was the warning I received on the very first day that I began my study in the dojo, nearly 25 years ago. I was set to suriashi, okuriashi--one step footwork. Simple. Repetitive. After all this time I still practice this every day. One step. One step. After all this time, I still don't have it right--each one perfect, each one the same. Feet straight, left heel not raised too high, left leg straight but not locked, posture correct. Left foot snaps quickly back into place beneath you. Maybe I'm just a slow learner. Maybe I'm just lazy, addicted to bad habits that hold me back in life as in the Way. But then, kendo is a life study, a microcosm and the dojo an artificial world. Everyone I know who trains and has put in years of study considers themselves to be no more than travellers on the Way, and still far from where they want to be.

The Way is the journey, the path. The Way is in the travelling of it, not the destination. Train hard, be diligent. Follow your heart in honesty, and take pleasure in every step of the Way. Ultimately, life is too short to waste otherwise.

Why the sword?

Many years ago, a wise friend told me, "The sword is the sword of peace; the sword is the sword of justice." Later, I was introduced to the concept of a life-giving sword as opposed to a death-dealing sword. The idea is that the sword is an extension of the swordsman's intent, and that swordsmanship becomes an expression of his or her soul. "What is in you will come out of you," as my wife says, and in the potentially lethal art of the sword, as in all other human endeavors, this is so.

Why does one train one's body in a thousand or more unnatural and painful ways to perform acts which have no constructive value in and of themselves? Yoga, dance, distance running, weight-lifting, martial arts. Will we ever have the need to outrun a hoard of hostile pursuers like Henry Fonda in "Drums Along the Mohawk"? Or to cleave the skull of an enemy bent on skewering us with a sword? Pray to God never! I am a peaceful man. I hate conflict and respect the principle of non-violence. Yet I follow the Way of the Sword, and I recognize that violence is natural and in accord with the rhythm of the universe. In a perfect world this might not be so, but last time I checked this world had yet to find perfection. Nor have I.

By training our bodies, we discipline our minds. By polishing our sword, our art, we are polishing our souls. We are challenging our bodies to become a more perfect physical expression of a mental self-image we carry. We are striving to become better people, more complete and accomplished human beings.

Who among us can stand up and say, in all honesty, "I am good. I am perfect, the best that I can possibly be."? The only man I know of who could possibly make that claim was nailed to a tree over 2000 years ago, and since that time many have tried, and failed, to live up to his example.

So what are the more humble, the more self-critical among us to do? Each of us must polish their own sword. We must challenge ourselves to be honest with ourselves and in our dealings with others. To exercise compassion and restraint. We live in a world of imperfect beings, ourselves among them, and we need to have the courage and self-concept, as well as the sense of self-sacrifice, to live honorably. To look life in all it's adversity and hardship, as well as it's joy, right in the eye and spit. Take what it has to give and give back as good or better than we get.

In kendo we say, "Ki Ken Tai no Ichi", the Spirit, Sword, and Body come together as One. To achieve a perfect strike, one's mind, intention, breath, sword, body, feet, arms, physical location displace that which opposes you in an instant. Before, there is nothing; afterwards, there is nothing. In the words of Musashi, "In the Void is virtue, and no evil. Wisdom has existance, principle has existance, the Way has existance. Spirit is nothingness."

Welcome!

Welcome to my blog! I will look forward to discussing various things with you all, sharing views, debating issues, etc. I will strive to maintain a polite, civil board, and I will appreciate it if you would do the same. Heated, passionate discourse and strongly held views are respected by me even if we don't share the same opinions, but I don't like to have my feelings hurt any more than you do, so please--no insults or out-and-out rudeness. Thank you in advance.

About myself--I'm college-educated, married with 2 teenage children and a 4-yr. old. I'm in my mid-forties. My interests include music, movies, reading, history, politics, and swordsmanship. I have studied the Japanese martial art of kendo since 1982. Feel free to visit my channel on YouTube, you may find some things there you like. Or not.

Again, welcome.