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!