剣禅一如

Sword and Zen are One.

This expression was used by Tsuji Gettan, the founder of mugairyu, to emphasize the importance of zen training in swordsmanship. Initially, all mugairyu practitioners were required to be active in the zen community in order to be permitted to train under Gettan. The zen aspect of mugai training is often overlooked nowadays, but there are a handful of people who still sit regularly. I started sitting a little over a year ago, and I now understand just what Gettan meant by "Sword and Zen are One." It just clicks.

Yesterday at Mugaido (see links), I spent a good hour with Sakaguchi weighing, adjusting and fidgeting with different tsuba to get the balance of my cutter to come back towards the tsuka. My cutter is on the tip-heavy side, which makes cutting on the draw a pain in the butt. I finally found a tsuba that brought 30 grams back towards my hands AND meshes neatly with Gettan's "Sword and Zen are One" philosophy. Check out the bald monk. Kewwwlll.

Nerf Bats, Video Cameras, and Swords: Swordsmanship for the Twenty-First Century

It makes me wonder how the heck they did it two hundred years ago.

Last night in Machida, I had a relatively productive night of cutting. In Mugai, I get free reign to cut any way I see fit. If I need to work on a specific technique, I can just start hacking away until I find what my body needs to get the sword moving through the target correctly. However, since I've only been doing Toyama-ryu for three weeks, I'm not allowed to cut anything but kesa. Kesa, kesa, then more kesa... All the while everyone else is getting to do weird, totally impractical waza like Nami Gaeshi. No matter. I joined the Machida dojo specifically because I wanted to slow down my sword training and let it ferment like fine wine. God I hate that cliche... but I used it anyway. Sensei also brought out his video camera and taped us during our last round of cutting. At least my posture doesn't suck.

After cutting, Sensei busted out the nerf baseball bats and thick foam headgear. He then proceeded to beat the snot out of me without warning. I thought he was just going to show me some hardcore technique, but he ran at me, dove to the floor, and started swinging away at my ankles instead. The only thought that went through my mind as I tumbled to the floor (cleanly... thank you aikido) was, "I wonder why he made me wear headgear?" His top student did the same thing but decided to go for my balls instead. Without nerf, I'd be sterile. Apparently it doesn't count unless you violently slap your opponent down, but I did manage to send a few tsukis to the faces of my various partners as they repeatedly dove for my feet and/or crotch. Free-for-alls might teach you about speed, timing, and ma-ai, but there's something about it that doesn't feel right. We spend all this time perfecting various techniques that we immediately discard in an actual combat situation. It's my mission to find that fine line and walk it. I lost every time, but I did come close to scoring on several occassions without breaking down my kamae or technique. One day at a time!

The Choice of a... Knock-off Generation

I've been passing this poster everyday for about three months and had not yet taken a picture until last Friday. This poster is on the door to a shop just around the corner from Aikikai Hombu, and I can't help being fascinated by the skill that's behind this advertisement for a blatantly obvious Pepsi knock-off. I mean, if you just glance at it, you'd think it was the feel frickin' thing! I pass some cool stuff in the streets of Tokyo. It's nice that my cell phone has a camera. This "Bepsi" pic goes right up there with the garbage bag full of mannequin heads.

Ukemi as a Learning Tool ... Zazen Helps Too...

I've been reminded the hard way recently in Miyamoto sensei's classes that ukemi serves several purposes, not the least of which is a conduit for learning techniques directly through the body. It dawned on me tonight in the Bucho's iai keiko that one of the drawbacks to iai training is the lack of ukemi practice. The feeling doesn't get pounded into you (literally), and second guessing the techniques is common practice in sword. But I think I've found the first link between my aikido and iai training (aside from the obvious stuff like moving from the hips, extending out big, relaxing the upper body, etc). Cutting recently has been very similar to ukemi practice in terms of feeling, and to a certain extent I could feel it in my iai kata-geiko tonight too. Cutting yokoichi on Sunday felt almost entirely from my center. There was hardly any extraneous tension.

After the Bucho's class tonight, a friend of mine and I had a discussion about why ukemi is so important. The only way I could describe it to someone who had never done aikido was to say that ukemi teaches relaxation and acceptance. Acceptance is a critical part of budo training. The budoka accepts what his opponent is doing, then avoids it rather than trying to counter his opponent's movements with brute force. This is why the smaller, physically weaker person has a good chance to prevail in such encounters: they let the big guy make mistakes before finding just the right place and time to counter attack. The only way to learn this principle is to relax and develop a heightened sense of awareness. Ukemi practice provides both by injecting them into the body through direct contact with a practice partner. As time goes by, the same awareness extends beyond the physical bod - the actual physical connection between two people - and can be applied to armed combat. Effective bujutsu works because there's no resistance, no conflict. This can be an internal conflict just as it can be between two or more people. I found that in places I stopped struggling in my kata but still retained power in my sword training, which might mean my mind and body have signed a temporary cease-fire. My mind is accepting the fact that my body can do some of the techniques without a chaperon. At certain points in my practice tonight, I just moved without second guessing myself.

I think it's the recent shift in my posture when I sit zazen that changed the feeling in my body when I do sword. Extending my ukemi practice into my iai practice is the last thing I thought would happen, but after talking to my friend about ukemi practice tonight, I realized that the feeling is the same internally. My mind could let go and trust my body just like I try to let go and trust my partner. Zazen is more than likely the mysterious catalyst at work here. This development is still rather hit and miss, but at least I'm on the right track(?).

What the Hell...?

Perhaps it has something to do with my aikido practice taking up nearly half of my short life thus far, which, by comparison, is a lot longer than the time I've spent doing zazen or iai. Perhaps not. Perhaps it's just blind luck that one day I'm feeling really good about my training (be it aiki, iai, sitting on the toilet, whatever), but the next day I feel like I've been hit by a bus and want to never ever put on a keiko-gi again. Who knows. Maybe I should just stop trying so hard like the Bucho says, but nothing seems to click now in aikido, which is really ironic since it's usually nothing that clicks in my iai training.

The past week happened to be some kind of paradoxical coalescence of several major (in the grand scheme of things, minor) milestones in my budo training. First, my posture finally fell into place in zazen. That doesn't mean I can keep it, or that I don't adjust as my sitting sessions wear on, but it's become much easier for me to "just sit" and let my mind do all the struggling. It took a year, but I can finally really begin to sit for extended periods without thinking about the sharp stabbing sensations in my lower back.

In iai, I finally figured out how to cut yokoichi. It was effortless when I finally did it this morning. I joined Hataya sensei's dojo last weekend, and even though they only let me cut kesa when I train with them, when I have the opportunity to cut with mugai folks, I'm free to mess around and cut any-which-way I want. Just watching one Toyama-ryu class was enough to get me on the right track to cutting with clean hasuji. Thank the lord. Now I can actually TRAIN and worry about cutting on the draw, which is what mugai is all about.

Nothing new in aikido. In fact, if there was anything to report, it would be that my ukemi is getting worse. I'm losing confidence in my ability to be a hara-responsive uke. It's frustrating... really really frustrating. Again, like the Bucho says, maybe I'm trying too hard, but every time I go to the dojo, I hit a new wall. Is this what getting better is all about? Finding flaws that were there all along but were undetectable because yours truly is just an unaware moron? Maybe so. Where's Yoda when you need him?

Complete Coincidence

This morning Kei and I went over to Ome with Kei's father to visit Hayakawa-san, a sword-savvy friend of his. The drive took about two hours one way, but we had a good time hiking around Tokyo's back country and looking at swords.

I was totally blown away when Hayakawa san pulled out the first of several impressive "bitoken," (swords of artistic value) from his collection. As he was wiping it down before showing it to us, I caught glimpses that hinted at it being an early Edo period sword, possibly from the Kanbun Shinto school of smiths in the Osaka area. At one point the thought that it might possibly even be a Kawachi no Kami Kunisuke blade crossed my mind, but I thought that would be too coincidental in the back woods of eastern Japan. I almost passed out when I looked at the nakago: Kawachi no Kami Kunisuke, second generation of the Kawachi line of smiths. I lost the ability to articulate any thought in Japanese, but I somehow managed to explain to Hayakawa san that I spent most of my senior year of college researching the Kawachi lineage.

I had forgotten that the Kawachi's trademark is length (even the current Kawachi Kunihira, a deeply moving individual who I had the honor of meeting a few times several years ago). The family specializes in a "kobushigata chojiran hamon" (fist shaped, random clove patterned hamon), but more than anything the length of their swords is the first thing to stand out. I thought I was holding a katana, but then I realized I had forgotten (yet again) that the Kawachi's primarily made koto style nodachi and tachi. What I was holding was classified as a wakizashi. Somebody pinch me... PLEASE!