New Embroidery... Circumscribing

Last night I got the embroidery on my iaido keikogi redone. I also had the rare opportunity to chat with one of the higher ranking practitioners at Suimokai who relieved me of some of the anxiety that I had been feeling about the way the organization is run. The fact that I had just spent 8000 yen to have the embroidery redone sparked a bit of shared cynicism, and I felt better knowing that we were on the same page.

The orange embroidery used to be for hombu dojo practitioners, but Gosoke changed some of the Suimokai policies regarding jikimon (direct students of the Soke of the style who are entrusted with the responsibility of carrying the art into the next generation of practitioners). Rather than creating a new symbol for the jikimon, he decided to apply the then current hombu mark to the jikimon-bu, which means all hombu members who are not eligible for jikimon (like myself) have to revert back to general members embroidery.

Spending 8000 to change my embroidery: not a problem, don't care. Not being eligible for jikimon-bu (because I can't cut on the draw and don't want to rush to take 4th dan): couldn't care less. The fact that there are nearly a dozen different "bu" within the organization all requiring different embroidery and/or colors: pricelessly pointless. Here's why:

Traditionally, budo is taught by increasing the students' level of awareness so that they can inevitably train themselves. Learning how to train properly and progress in budo requires a heightened sense of awareness that needs to be developed in the early stages of training. This is accomplished not only through the sempai/kohai system, but also through individuals recognizing certain characteristics about their own bodies and minds that are different or similar to those around them. Singling out certain individuals as being worthy or unworthy/talented or inept, contributes to the limitations already present in the minds of beginners, intermediate and advanced practitioners alike. In effect, it says, "Watch this person because he has a blue mark on his gi. That means he's better than everyone else," even though the moron with a blue mark on his gi probably got that blue mark for reasons unknown. The converse is also true. Let's say there's an individual who has the most general kind of mark embroidered on his chest but is in fact one of the most talented individuals in the organization. Since this individual has not been singled out in any way, he has a much higher chance of being disregarded, when in fact, simple observation of said individual might be a better learning opportunity for those around him. To have ascension to these various "bu" within the organization as incentive to continue to train is ridiculous. What that says to me is that simply training in the art is not enjoyable or productive enough to begin with, and that this metaphorical carrot is a necessity to get people to "stick around."

Let's look at aikido for a moment. Every aikido practitioner in the world is required to wear the exact same outfit: a white gi and a blue or black hakama. Some people have their names embroidered on their gis and hakamas, but there is no rule about color or character type. Patches representing someone's dojo are looked down upon even though there are a handful of dojos out there that do require their students to put a small patch on their gis. The result of this system is simply amazing. Since instructors are supposed to wear the exact same kind of gi and hakama worn by the students, the atmosphere is clean and clear-cut. It says, "even the teacher is here to train, and therefore, we are all equals." (And to those of you who may comment on the "politics" of aikido, to you I say this, what politics?) Of course aikido is still a traditional Japanese art form where the sempai/kohai, sensei/deshi system is still alive and well, but the fact that there is no distinguishing between teachers and students tells us two things: 1) no matter why we come to the dojo, while training, we are all on the same mat, training to develop ourselves without exception. 2) The instructors are thrown into the same mix, cementing this notion of brotherhood even further. It tells us that there are no goals to achieve, no ladders to ascend, and that no one is better or worse, more privileged or deprived than anyone else in the dojo.

In short, the singling out of individuals merely contributes to the disunity of the community and should have no place in a modern, twenty-first century establishment, especially one that bares the responsibility of preserving a dying cultural tradition or art. The role of budo in modern times is promotion of a harmonious and peaceful society. How can this be accomplished if the unity of the preserving community is compromised by something as petty as embroidery?

After having a much more dumbed down version of the above rant with my iaido sempai, it dawned on both of us that some of the most talented swordsmen we had ever met (who were at one point active members of our organization) left the organization for reasons as simple as this one. I guess Osensei knew what he was doing when he developed the initial polices for the Aikikai.

Sheer Passion

Last night after JASSO, rather than hitting our usual Italian place, for some ungodly reason we opted for greasy Chinese (the floating white chunks are tofu, rest assured). I was feeling it this morning... You know it's a reliable sign that your metabolism is about to start caving when getting up in the morning after a night of all-you-can-eat sludge just about does you in. I couldn't even sleep on the subway this morning, which is unheard of for me. After only 5 hours of sleep the very LAST thing I should be is awake on the train at 7am.

I'm trying to save up what energy I can for aikido later this afternoon by just sitting at my desk and reading Gerald Clarke's biography of Capote. I'm just about at the part where Capote starts a job at The New Yorker. There's something appealing about a job like that where everyone is so fascinated by what they're doing that time seems to have no meaning; they just work with only their deadlines in mind. I guess what I mean to say is that there's something grossly unappealing about always counting the number of days left in the work week no matter how rewarding you find your job to be. To be busy on Saturday and Sunday would be more than a fair exchange for creative work that always kept you enthralled. Who's with me?

Rebirth

This is my second attempt at blogging, and I've decided to be as discreet as possible this time. My last blog ended in utter disaster, and I'd rather not have history repeat itself. From here on out, I'll be writing mainly about iai, zen, and the day to day grind of working in The Concrete Jungle. I enjoy writing, but I'm much more of a visual person. Hopefully I'll have a fair amount of pics to upload as time goes by. But for now, here's a taste of what's to come.