Samurai Gwynne

2006-12-04T04:21:00.000-05:00

For those of you who want to continue to follow the adventures of Samurai Gwynne, please look for more posts in the future as I begin to dissect all that I have learned here in Japan back in my hometown in New York. Also, please browse through my dojo blog for information on the White Shadow Dojo and more articles on the martial arts. http://whiteshadowdojo.blogspot.com Thank you to my loyal readers!

Journey's End

2006-12-04T03:28:00.000-05:00

The sun set this evening in a flash of warm yellow hues, but the wind was cold and biting, reminding me of my arrival one year ago. This is the last day of my ten month journey in Japan, an experience that has been unforgettable. This has been a journey of cultural exploration and learning, but it has also been a journey which has tested my innerself and my convictions. I have been overjoyed at some of my discoveries, entirely disappointed at others, but what remains is the fact that you must always know yourself and that you must have a little faith.

One of the things which I will take away with me is the assurance that no matter where I am, no matter how long I am absent, friends will always be here waiting for me when I return. Friendship is one thing which transcends all barriers, it is hope for mankind. Through the friendships I have made and the mentors I have met, I have learned about both Japan and myself. I have no doubt that I will return to Japan, and although this journey is over, I will continue to pursue the arts which I have studied here. They no longer represent research or hobbies, the virtues and skills I have learned from Kenjutsu, Koto, and Sado have become a part of my life and guide the way I live. They continue to affect the way that I grow and think as a person. A special thank you to all of my friends who have made my experience in Japan unique and memorable.

Above: My host family and long time friends- The Suzuki's

Below: All my good friends

A Touch of Whimsy

2006-11-30T03:09:00.000-05:00

The Japanese tea ceremony isn't always about formality. Last Saturday I had the pleasure, and the pain, of participating in the full length traditional tea ceremony with six friends and my teacher. We met at my teacher's small tea house in Asaba at ten in the morning to enjoy a day of tradition, music, incense, food, tea, good company and a touch of whimsy.

Entering the tea house garden, we knelt down at the stone wash basin (right) and washed our hands and mouths to purify ourselves before entering into the ceremony. The sun was glowing brightly in the clear sky and the leaves were just changing into the warm hues of the season, setting the stage for a day of warm laughter amidst the chill of autumn.

Five of us wore traditional Kimono, which we found quite inconvenient when trying to climb through the small tea house door. This added to our appreciation of the ceremony when we thought of past eras, when guests wore kimono on a daily basis, not just for special occasions such as this day. Our youngest guest enjoyed entering through the small door despite his kimono and hakama. (Left) Each guest followed one another into the tea house and we seated ourselves around the perimeter of the room. The first part of the ceremony was a musical performance of the Japanese harp, or Koto, by Ai (age 14). She played a lovely traditional song.

After this we exited the tea house, the first of many times we would exit and re-enter the tea house, much to our amusement. Since we only had 4 hours to complete all of the parts of this engagement, instead of a full day, we were constantly going in and out as you would in the true sense of the ceremony, yet there was no large garden to stroll about while waiting. Instead we chuckled amongst ourselves while standing in the driveway waiting for my teacher to finish the preparations for the next stage of the ceremony. Ten minutes later we would again file alongside the tea house and prepare to squeeze through the little gnome door, something that we became proficient at by the end of our four hours.

The second part of the ceremony was the incense game, which I have written about previously. This time we had an old key sheet, which listed the patterns of possible answers. There were five samples of incense and we had to choose if there were repeat samples of the same fragrance. The key sheet used five thick black lines to represent the samples, then bars connecting the samples in the various possibilities. For example, if the second and fourth samples were identical, then a black line would connect the second and fourth bars. We were given a piece of paper on which to draw the figure which best represented our guess about the incense samples. We had two winners this time with number three and number four being identical.

Before the tea we took some light refreshments in the tea house for lunch. My teacher prepared a beautiful lunch of rice with toppings, various cooked seasonal vegetables that were cut into maple leaf shapes, soups, and homemade pickles. This was served on individual lacquerware trays to each guest. The attention to detail was amazing and the dishes were truly works of art. Although we had yet to drink any tea, I was slowly realizing that the stiff formality which is usually associated with the tea ceremony was absent. There was an atmosphere of mutual respect and friendship, and a somber appreciation of the beautiful surroundings and hard work that was required to make this event a reality. Yet we laughed freely, teased and joked with one another, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Was this the real nature of the tea ceremony? I decided to pass judgement after the tea was served...

Again, we left the tea house and re-entered. This time we began the tea portion of the ceremony. Each guest entered the tea house and approached the tokonoma to admire the beautiful scroll hanging there. To my surprise, this scroll was cleverly chosen by my teacher to reflect the hard work and dedication I showed under her tutelage as a student of tea. Next, we each walked to the opposite side of the tea room to examine the iron tea kettle and the tea implements next to it. One by one we took our places along the perimeter of the room.

Perhaps the most important part of the tea ceremony is that which is usually not seen, the building of the fire. This process is equally as ritualistic as serving the tea, with the charcoal careful arranged in the brazier to create a robust fire. There are many different sizes, shapes, and cuts of charcoal logs, which are placed strategically to ignite the fire and then to burn slowly in order to suit the prolonged ceremony. If the fire is not prepared skillfully, it will be impossible to boil the water for the tea. Shima-san did a wonderful job of placing the charcoal around the single glowing ember in the brazier. Soon the fire was glowing cheerfully, crackling and singing as whisps of smoke and incense drifted up from the brazier.

My teacher honored us by serving the koicha (thick tea), which is the first of the two teas served during the full ceremony. During her preparation of the tea, the guests sat quietly, admiring her elegant technique and graceful movements. She moved with such naturalness that the ritual of the ceremony seemed to evaporate and I could clearly see the simplicity of the whole event. The tea bowls were stunning with the inside surfaces covered in gold and silver leaf. She prepared two bowls of tea, the first shared amongst three people, the second amongst the remaining four guests. The communion of sharing a tea bowl is quite special and nurtures the relaxation and intimacy that is created by a few friends sharing time together.

The second tea served is usuicha (thin tea), which I prepared. This tea is always prepared individually for each guest in separate bowls. Since our fours hours were almost at an end, I prepared only the main guest's bowl of tea, my young friend who had jumped through the tiny tea house door. I made a few mistakes, but in the company of friends, who offered constant encouragement and compliments, we all enjoyed the experience. I realized it wasn't just the tea that was important, but the anticipation, the mood, the smiles of my companions, the entire journey through the ceremony was the important part, not necessarily the end results. If my tea had been terrible, no one would have complained because it was the time we spent together that was important. I think that this spirit is probably closer to the intention of the original tea ceremony, but as time passes, many times the meaning of rituals gets lost and surpassed by the empty ritual itself. This ceremony was a celebration of laughter, friendship, even whimsy, a little tea with a lot of meaning.

Looking down from the mountain

2006-11-17T21:49:00.000-05:00

On a recent trip to the northernmost island of Japan- Hokkaido- I came face to face with an idea and an entity that is always present in my subconscious but which rarely comes into my conscious thoughts, my free will. I think it was the complete non-Japanese character of the land which prompted my will to expose itself after a long hibernation of living in Japan.

It has long been said by the Japanese people that the island of Hokkaido is not really Japan. In fact it was not called Hokkaido until 1869, at which time the island came under the colonization office located on the main island of Honshu and was officially recognized as a part of the nation of Japan. Prior to this time, Hokkaido was the realm of such natives peoples as the Mishihase, Emishi, and Ainu tribes whose cultures were different from what we know as "Japanese." These tribes were slowly pushed out by mainlanders who emigrated to the island for several reasons including: political exile, insufficient income to live on the mainland and own land, lack of work in their home areas. Hokkaido was considered a territory on the fringe of civilization by many because of its harsh climate, remoteness, and the presence of the ethnic tribes. To this day Hokkaido continues to be a curiosity for the Japanese mainlanders, who join group tours to visit this strange land. This was how I came to visit Hokkaido, on a pacakge tour with my Japanese host sister.

When I arrived in Hokkaido I was struck by the distinctly European architecture, the haughty friendliness of the people, and the wide expanse of open fields and nature untouched by human hands. The scenery reminded me of my home town and the surrounding lands and touched me deeply. Inhaling the icy, crisp air, which was free of pollution, cigarette smoke, and the scent of human crowds, I felt a spark of rebellion ignite in me. A mantle of stress, conformity, homogeneity, and blandness was blown off my shoulders by the chilly winds as they skipped across the mountain peaks rising all around me. In that moment I felt as if I was looking down from the mountain and beneath me, in the gathering clouds and fog, was the population of Japan, moving through daily life like the well-rehearsed steps of some primordial dance. Separated from this mainstream lifestyle during my tour of Hokkaido, I reflected on the clear and voluntary suppression of the free will by not only those holding power in Japan, but by the Japanese citizens themselves. What has become of the stubborn fighting spirit of the samurai, the clever and quick witted legacy of the Japanese poet, or the uniquely designed kimono of the flower and willow world? When did the Japanese exchange their spirit, character, and passions for the drudgery of the black business suit and the glittering sheen of cosmetics that transforms individuals into manequins?

In the Yagyu Shinkage ryu, we say that when you face off with an opponent, you must "look down on him from the mountain." I believe that this act is equal to collecting your total spirit into one powerful unit, an essence that asserts who you are, what you believe in, and what you will do to preserve that which makes the collective You. This flame of life is what the warrior fought to protect, this is what is slowly being extinguised within humankind. Life without the presence of free will or passions is the life of a machine. I can't help but wonder if Japan has become a nation of machines devoid of free will, existing without the need for true beauty or self awareness. I use Japan as an example because of the blatant endorsement of the group lifestyle which has drugged the population into complacency. Japan is not unique in this respect however, America is also slowly sucuumbing to the opium of characterless homogeneity. This is evident in the lack of public opposition against immoral corporations, deliberate government infringement on individual rights, and the willful abuse and destruction of family and cultural systems within our society.

I believe that until the individual rediscovers his free will and asserts his need for a passionate, fulfilling, and happy lifestyle that our world will continue to sink deeper into the fog which lays at the bottom of the mountain.

Issyoukenmei- The Art of Giving

2006-10-30T03:14:00.000-05:00

Hot, sweaty, tired, and facing my usual three hour journey home, I wondered to myself last week after practice, what exactly am I doing in Japan? I had plenty of time to mull this question over in my head as I took the subway and train back to Kakegawa, walked twenty minutes from the station to where the car was parked, and finally drove the car home. The conclusion I came to in the end was the same one that brought me to Japan in the first place- Issyoukenmei.

In Japanese, Issyoukenmei means to "try one's best" or "do as well as one can." At once a curse and a blessing, this phrase has guided my entire life. I feel blessed for the things which I have been taught and given by my parents, my friends, and my mentors. Giving something to someone, whether it be a physical object, or the more valuable gifts of time, experience, skill, guidance, and friendship, creates a special connection with another person. I give to someone and they give to me, and although we may not be on the same level and we may benefit differently, each act of giving is just as important as the other. The art of giving is a two way road. Consider the student-teacher relationship for a moment. Without a wise and giving teacher, a student will struggle endlessly to master an art. Likewise, even the most skilled and knowledeable teacher is useless without a student who truly seeks to learn and to whom he can impart his skills. Issyoukenmei represents the acknowledgement of the mutual sacrifice, effort, and commitment inherent in the giving and receiving process.

To truly learn something, you must be willing to give and to sacrifice your own desires to receive. The art of giving is devoid of ego. In order to truly learn all that your teacher has to offer you must be able to master your own ego, or you will never be able to give yourself up completely to the study of the art. This also applies to teachers. Too often I have seen instructors who are unable to transmit their vast knowledge and skill because of their own ego. The students become disillusioned when the teacher does not embody the values he lectures about in his class. The teacher's time, research, and experience are lost to the next generation because his ego gets in the way. A good teacher will command respect and admiration by his mere presence in the room and always tempers his confidence and skill with humility. If you find a good teacher, you will never have to ask, he will always give you more than you need, although you may not recognize this at the time. It is the student's responsiblity to practice even the most mundane of techniques to the best of their ability, because after all, sometimes the simplest are the most important.

Issyoukenmei means that in kenjutsu class I work hard to remember the important lessons my seniors impart to me, so that at my next practice I will not make the same mistakes again. When playing the koto, I strive to pour my own emotion into the music, breathing into it the spirit of life. Sitting in the quiet of the tea house I focus all of my attention on the progression of the ceremony and I try to create that restrained, yet graceful atmosphere that epitomizes the art. These are but simple examples, a fraction of the entire picture and effort.

In this age, the art of giving has been overshadowed by the immense personal desires of humankind to receive without thanks or repayment. Too often these gifts are taken for granted or their value is missed because of their intangibility. This is especially true when these gifts take the form of advice, caring, or the seemingly futile, endless repetition of one technique that your teacher makes you practice until you have perfected. For me, the most valuable form of repayment I can offer to those people who have given me so much is my promise to always do my best. My promise is to open my ears, my eyes, and my heart to what they have to teach and to embody those things to the best of my ability.

For four years my teacher lived a mere six hours away from my home. For four years he lived in a foreign land far from his family, he spoke my language, he struggled with my culture, and he taught me what he knew without ego. Now I am here in his country, speaking his language, commuting three hours one way to take lessons, and practicing issyoukenmei with every swing of my sword. I am here because I have a desire to learn kenjutsu to the best of my ability, but I am also here to repay him for his time, experience, skill, guidance, and friendship, all of which were given so freely and generously.

*I want to thank in particular Mr. Yagyu Koichi, Soke (22nd Headmaster), without whom I might not still be practicing Yagyu Shinkage Ryu.

Half Tones

2006-10-17T05:24:00.000-05:00

During my koto lesson last week, I was having a particularly difficult time with one score I was practicing. The problem was transitioning between a whole note and a half note which were next to each other in the melody. This seems like a rather inconsequential thing until you realize that the note is played on the same string of the koto. The whole note resounds when the string is left naturally, while the half tone note is achieve by partially pushing down on the string. The sequence of the melody was whole tone-half tone-whole tone. As anyone knows, when playing a stringed instrument just a slight change in the pressure on the string and the sound will change. My fingers needed to memorize exactly how much to push down on that string in order to achieve the right tone and then to release the string to its natural position again so that there was no sliding sound on the last whole note. The slighest mistake and anyone could hear that the note was wrong and out of place in the composition. I practiced this over and over with my teacher and continue to practice to achieve that muscle memory which will guide my note to the same tone every time I play it. I suppose this little problem in particular caught my attention because of an issue I have been trying to resolve in my study of swordsmanship.

For eight years I have been trying to figure out the exact grip used when wielding the Japanese sword. This is because gripping the sword is a delicate balance between retaining the sword firmly in the hands and not clenching it so tightly that you end up chopping firewood instead of drawing the cut as the katana was designed to do. Add onto this the power and motion of the body created by executing a cut, and you have a very complex movement. Your grip must hold fast so that when you cut, the sword is not ripped out of your hands when it makes contact with its target, but if gripped too tightly, you will reduce the cutting ability, distance, and speed that the sword is capable of executing. This is why the sword is gripped with the last three fingers of the hands, while the thumb and index finger are left gently loose. The heel and last three fingers of the hand keep the handle securely in the hand, while the gentle guidance of the thumb and index finger push the tip out ahead of the rest of the blade, creating a draw cut.

Now perhaps you see the similarities. Just as the half tone note of the koto required a firm push to the exact position to achieve the correct clear sound, so also must your movement be restrained or else you will pass over the half tone entirely to the next whole note. A balance between firm confidence and restraint must be used to hit the right note. This is also true in swordsmanship. You must guide the sword, yet let it cut smoothly without tension from the body.

I find it intriguing that the more I study the arts, the more similarities I find amongst them. Although swordsmanship and playing a musical instrument are two different activities, the methods of learning are not so different. If you break these two arts down into their fundamental principles, similar problems emerge with similar solutions. It is like looking at a series of concentric circles. In the beginning, the arts all seem to lie scattered at points around the circumference of the outermost circle, with lots of space inbetween the points or differences which make them unique as an artform. As your studies move deeper into the heart of the arts, the circles become smaller in circumference, each time bringing the points along the outside closer and closer together. Until at last the inner circle seems to fuze into a dot and it becomes clear that all of these arts share one thing in common- the Way. At the heart of all these things you will find the same beauty, the same dedication, the same mind.

Crickets

2006-10-05T06:27:00.000-05:00

Downstairs I can hear the kendo class shaking the floor as pairs of players vie for strikes and parry blows. A single voice drifts over the others as he yells his kiai. In my mind he must be the strongest player for it is always his voice that pricks my ears. His yell has become a comfort, a kind of timepiece during my practice of hitori-geiko (practice by oneself) on Wednesday evenings. By the time I arrive and have changed into my keikogi (practice uniform) I can already hear his voice clearly echoing in the archery dojo where we practice, two floors above him. Around eight o'clock his voice has disappeared and the class is over, his kendo armor put away for the evening.

I arrived early on this evening as it was my first keiko since I have returned to Japan. I wanted to take time to relax and gather my thoughts in preparation for another two and a half months of study. I stretch, warm up by practicing my three cuts, practicing the student's side of three kata forms, and still my teacher has not arrived. It is getting late and I wonder where he is on the one evening of the week when he can focus entirely on his own practice. My own mind is in a tumultuous state. A seemingly neverending flow of thoughts slipping in and out of my head, making it difficult to concentrate on anything. Thoughts about coming back to Japan, leaving home once again, about my career, money, and every other daily concern that could impossibly jam up my brain, this when I am seeking to do the exact opposite- clear my mind. I turn around to gaze up at the purplish black sky hovering over the archery range. All of the overhead doors separating the dojo from the open air range on the roof of the building are open and the sky looks like the ceiling of a planetarium dome, motionless and mysterious. I set my bokken down on the floor and try to find just one star in the sky, but they are all lost in the hazy glow blanketing the city. I suddenly realize that all of the sounds of the city, the hum of traffic, the cry of sirens, the voices from the kendo dojo have receeded and all that I can hear is the steady vibration of the crickets, crying in the night. I sit down on the floor and close my eyes, honing in on the symphony of a thousands of crickets. I can feel my body releasing the weight of my thoughts. It feels like a a soft flow of air pouring from my head to my knees, tucked under me on the floor. This air manifests itself in a cool breeze blowing in from the night, caressing my brow and cooling my body. It smells sweet and welcoming, not like the city air from the ground. For the rest of the evening I hear the calls of the crickets ringing in my ears, drowing out the din of the city and smothering any extraneous thoughts. I am allowed to practice in peace. Meditation is truly the secret of the sages...

When I close the overhead doors before heading home, the sweet wind blows through again as if it knows I am there, it is my comforting friend in a foreign land.

~Nagoya Castle, which can be seen from

our fifth floor dojo on Wednesdays~

Tea and Tactics

2006-10-02T01:50:00.000-05:00

“There is a subtle charm in the taste of tea which makes it irresistible and capable of idealization…It has not the arrogance of wine, the self-consciousness of coffee, nor the simpering innocence of cocoa.”[1]

Water, leaves, and heat, a simple combination of elements that has influenced civilizations and eastern cultural traditions for centuries. For over one thousand years, tea has been cultivated and appreciated by people around the world. Tea was first recognized and embraced by the Chinese who used it as a medicine and a social amusement. Tea was a beverage of contemplation and calmness, possessing a charisma all its own, which soon developed into its own philosophy, teaism. In the ninth century, the Japanese adopted tea drinking from China and by the fifteenth century it had evolved into an independent artistic tradition[2] and highly ritualized ceremony.

The ideals and philosophy behind the tea ceremony share much in common with many of the other cultural arts of traditional Japanese society. Above all, the tea ceremony stresses simplicity, naturalness, and efficiency of movement, atmosphere and suggestion over conversation, the enjoyment of the present, and the appreciation and recognition of the mundane. The art of teaism was more than the simple act of consumption, tea stood for the continual struggle one faced in acquiring wisdom; tea was a symbolic doorway to another way of understanding and a tool for unlocking the mysteries of the inner self. A Monk by the name of Myo-ei Shonin recounted that the virtues of tea were many and said that tea,

Has the blessing of all the deities.
Promotes filial piety.
Drives away the devil.
Banishes drowsiness.
Keeps the five viscera in harmony.
Wards of disease.
Strengthens friendship.
Disciplines body and mind.

The characteristics of teaism are also shared by some of the traditional martial arts schools of Japan, including Yagyu Shinkage Ryu. All of the attributes of teaism can be equally applied to the fundamental teachings of the Yagyu school because they are principles rooted in the Japanese psyche and the search for self enlightenment.

In all aspects, the tea ceremony stresses simplicity, naturalness, and efficiency, from the movements of preparing the tea, to the interior motif of the tea room. The tea room itself is built of natural materials and of simple construction. The tools used in the ceremony are simple, yet elegant. Even the seemingly complex set of prescribed movements for making the tea, are in fact the most efficient combination of movements for preparation. There is no place for overt decadence, grandeur, or excess in the art of tea. After all, tea is only water and leaves. In his book on tea, Okakura Kakuzo says of the tea ceremony;

“Not a colour to disturb the tone of the room, not a sound to mar the rhythm of things, not a gesture to obtrude on the harmony, not a word to break the unity of the surrounding, all movements to be performed simply and naturally…”[3]

This feeling of naturalness and simplicity is also shared in the practice of Japanese swordsmanship. In the Yagyu Shinkage Ryu style, all of the techniques must be executed in accordance with the natural movements of the body. The body should also be kept relaxed, yet attentive. If the swordsman tries to move against the motions and physics of his own body, he forces unnatural movements and causes tension within the body. The sword is recognized as an extension of the body and operates most effectively when used in such a manner. Thus, if the body becomes tense and forced, the sword will also, leading to inefficient or failed techniques. Swordsmanship also embraces efficiency of movement. Overly complex or time-consuming techniques in the heat of battle might cost a warrior his life. Thus, simple strikes and parries with dependable results were chosen over ostentatious techniques that might look impressive but lack practical application. Okakura cites Taoism as the origin of this philosophy and reveals its influence on the cultural traditions of Japan asserting that,

“Taoists’ ideas have greatly influenced all our theories of action, even to those of fencing and wrestling…one seeks to draw out and exhaust the enemy’s strength…while conserving one’s own strength for victory in the final struggle.”[4]

The tea house; A nearly barren room, lit only by the sunlight filtering in under the low eaves, with a single flower and a single scroll gracing the small alcove. Incense swirls, hinting at a mood, a yellow camellia, suggestive of a season, the water in the kettle begins to boil almost noiselessly, these elements subtly stir the senses. These elements create the desired ambiance for the Japanese tea ceremony. The guest is only given suggestions of an environment, a season, an atmosphere, and from these things the guest conjures images, impressions, feelings, and memories of his own. In this way, the tea ceremony is like a piece of blank paper which the host and guest collectively compose. If there were too many objects or the interior of the tea room was too busy, the guest’s mind would find no refuge and be unable to settle into a calm state. As Okakura suggests in the above quote, “…one seeks to draw out…”, this idea is about creating a gap where the tea guest is able to find his place within the tea house and within the development and progression of the tea ceremony. The tea ceremony will draw out the guest, engaging him through all of this senses until he becomes a part of the service.

In martial terms this is called a suki, or gap in one’s defenses. Like the host and guest of a tea ceremony, two swordsmen engaged in combat create a connection. The outcome of their battle is unknown, as blank as unmarred paper, which will only be disturbed by their engagement with one another. One warrior will create a gap in his defenses as a way of baiting the opponent by suggesting what angle or technique the warrior might employ. If used skillfully, the opponent will feel the need to fill that gap, just as the tea guest fills the empty space of the tearoom with his thoughts and feelings based on the stimulation of his senses. In each case, the object is to draw out the other person so as to involve them in the situation and to form a connection with them. This technique is used frequently within the Yagyu Shinkage school as it is a reactive, yin style, rather than an offensive style.

Tea is evanescent, meant to be consumed, thus it inspires thoughts of living within the present moment. The tea ceremony seeks to create its own time and existence, separating itself from reality, if but for a few hours. Thoughts of pressing issues or future plans, past regrets and lost opportunities retreat from the mind as the host and guest engage in the enjoyment of the moment, letting themselves absorb the immediate world around them through their senses.

“It is in us that God meets with Nature, and yesterday parts from to-morrow. The Present is the moving infinity, the legitimate sphere of the Relative.”[5]

It is for this very reason that many warriors sought out the tea ceremony. Tea allowed them to escape the rigors and horrors of a soldier’s life by entering into an environment which had no agenda or threat. The tea house offered a place of repose, where a warrior could focus on only the present moment, pushing aside the trials and duties of his profession. In Yagyu Shinkage Ryu there is a philosophy that says the key to swordsmanship is not letting the mind tarry on any particular thing. This is referred to as mushin (no mind) or heijoshin (natural mind). Exisiting within the present moment means that the mind is not focused on any particular thought or technique, thus it will be able to react naturally to an attack and win. Living in the moment occurs by letting the mind carry on in its natural state.

Tea was originally brought to Japan by Buddhist monks who had visited mainland China on spiritual or intellectual pilgrimages.[6] For this reason, tea became associated with temples and the monks who often consumed this exhilarating liquid to sustain them through long hours of meditation. When the tea ceremony and tea drinking became a popular pursuit among the nobles and warriors of Japan, it retained its association with Buddhism and the monk’s lifestyle. The idea that god’s presence could be found in even the most mundane things was derived from Buddhism. Zen Buddhist followers believed that
“…in the great relation of things there was no distinction of small and great, an atom possessing equal possibilities with the universe.”[7]

Thus, everything in the ceremony is admired and appreciated for what it is, even the mundane becomes appreciated. This notion of appreciating the mundane along with the extraordinary can only be accomplished if you leave your own ego and expectations outside of the tea house. Then you will enter the ceremony with an open mind that will allow you to see true beauty with new eyes.

In the Yagyu school of swordsmanship we have a concept called, Shinmyoken. Translated as the divine sword, this technique reveals the belief that god is hidden deep within the soul of every man. If the warrior releases his own ego and returns to his natural state of being, then god will express himself through the warrior’s actions. Okakura says in his book of tea that, “The seeker for perfection must discover in his own life the reflection of the inner light.”[8] That inner light is the sacred essence contained within every human being, the light which the tea master and the sword master both seek to understand and liberate from the restraints of their own ego. The tea master Sen no Rikyu, founder of the Sansenke[9], the three famous tea schools of Japan stated that;

Chanoyu is nothing but this:
Boil water, infuse tea, and drink.
That is all you need to know.[10]

This persistent emphasis on simplicity is the basis for both the tea ceremony and Yagyu Shinkage Ryu Kenjutsu. Only by focusing on the simple, the natural, the present, the beauty in the mundane, can life be understood and appreciated. The art of teaism parallels the path of the swordsman in the search for self enlightenment. The tea ceremony focused on the attainment of tranquility in both mind and body. Teaism distilled the fundamental qualities of life into an essence that fit in the embryonic space of a tea bowl. In a sense, a bowl of tea became a metaphorical symbol for the macrocosm of life. For the warrior, the same could be said of his sword and the relationship he cultivated with it as a tool of enlightenment. Whether through the tea bowl or the sword, both these arts pursued the elusive inner self by addressing the human character, essence, and senses, seeking out the simple among the complexities of life.

[1] Okakura, Kakuzo, The Book of Tea, trans. Hideaki Oketani, Japan: Kodansha, 1994, 211.
[2] Okakura, Kakuzo, The Book of Tea, trans. Hideaki Oketani, Japan: Kodansha, 1994, 219.
[3] Okakura, Kakuzo, The Book of Tea, trans. Hideaki Oketani, Japan: Kodansha, 1994, 198-197.
[4] Okakura, Kakuzo, The Book of Tea, trans. Hideaki Oketani, Japan: Kodansha, 1994, 188.
[5] Okakura, Kakuzo, The Book of Tea, trans. Hideaki Oketani, Japan: Kodansha, 1994,
190.
[6] De Bary, William Theodore, et al., Sources of Japanese Tradition Volume One: From Earliest Times to 1600, second edition, New York: Columbia University Press, 2001, 388.
[7] Okakura, Kakuzo, The Book of Tea, trans. Hideaki Oketani, Japan: Kodansha, 1994,184.
[8] Okakura, Kakuzo, The Book of Tea, trans. Hideaki Oketani, Japan: Kodansha, 1994, 184.
[9] Rikyū, under the name Sen Sōeki or by his tea name Hōsensai, is considered the founder of the Sansenke, or three main schools of tea ceremony: Urasenke, Omotesenke and Mushanokōjisenke. [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sen_no_Rikyu]
[10] Varley, Paul, Kumakura, Isao, eds., Tea in Japan: Essays on the History of Chanoyu, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1989, 4.

A Nation Aflame- Tracing the Loss of Cultural Identity in Modern Japan

2006-09-24T04:09:00.000-05:00

As early as the 18th century, before any actions had been taken to forcefully open Japan’s shores by western powers, interest in European medicine, science, and warfare had surfaced in Japan. Having been isolated from the rest of the world, particularly the West, Japan nurtured a kind of hesitant curiosity for the culture and civilization of the Western hemisphere. The Japanese were aware of the potential value to be found within aspects of western society, but feared being overrun by the imperialistic European and American militaries. This was a well-seated fear, for now, more than two centuries later, Japan is losing her identity in the tide of westernization and modernization sweeping the globe.

The old feudal system nourished the development of Japan’s unique culture for many centuries and the clan system led to the development of distinct cultural, social and artistic traditions. With the unification of Japan beginning in the Meiji era, many of these individual traditions were lost as the government attempted to standardize and homogenize the nation. Termination of local control over the ancestral lands and fiefs meant a reduction in status for many lords. Unfortunately, the cultural and artistic traditions that had grown up around the country were most often patronized by these nobles, who, stripped of their lands and money were unable to continue their support. Without patronage, many of these traditions began to decline until World War II, at which point all cultural pursuits settled into a period of stagnation. Then at the close of the war, culminating in Japan’s defeat, the nation felt an immediate acceleration of westernization and modernization as the Americans set about rebuilding the nation. Japan’s acceptance of western infrastructure and ideology was a reaction motivated purely out of a desire for national survival. The decline in traditional cultural practices and arts became more rapid than ever with the introduction of industrialization and mass society from the West.

With these changes came a decline in the interest of studying traditional arts and crafts. Many people, driven by the need to support their families in the new economy, were pushed away from their family trades and into the newly built factories in the urban centers. Also, many of the traditional products, which had been necessary twenty or thirty years earlier, were becoming obsolete with the introduction of technological advances in Japan. A particularly gruesome evolution in modern Japanese culture, which was introduced by the west, was consumerism and the sickness that comes with it.

"Before the war Japanese regarded consumer buying as a kind of vice; now, while not exactly a virtue, high consumer spending is acceptable, or even prestigious…television sets, washing machines and refrigerators were bought widely at that time and were dubbed the ‘Three Sacred Treasures.’ They were soon taken for granted as household necessities by the average person…[1]"

From the proper way to wear a kimono, to the writing system and the martial arts, traditional arts and skills were tossed aside in the industrial, mass-culture, consumer- driven society that was modernizing Japan. These are but a few aspects which were pushed to the brink of extinction by the massive influx of western institutions, culture, and technology.

A simple example, but one at the heart of cultural loss, is the abandonment of traditional garments. With the rapidly developing job market and legal equality granted them by the new constitution, women began to enter the male-dominated professional and industrial workforce. This was no place for the tight and restrictive bonds of the kimono. Out of necessity, women exchanged their kimono for the looser, more casual attire of western women. Dresses, skirts and blouses became a popular trend that made women feel modern and free from the gender barriers of the past. As the daily practice of wearing kimono faded into history, other intricacies associated with its use began to be lost. Wearing a kimono requires time and a knowledge of the garment in order to wear it properly. Wearing the kimono could almost be considered an art form in and of itself. Underneath the kimono is an entire world filled with complicated knots and carefully layered pads that are necessary in achieving the desired overall shilouette. Also, the selection of kimono for different ages, occasions, and seasons requires a detailed knowledge of how color, design, material, and aesthetics influence the total visual impact of the kimono. Kimono are now a nostalgic remnant of the old culture and women rarely wear them except for special occasions such as annual festivals, graduations, or weddings.

Literature and the writing arts are another skill that has decreased in recent years. This is illustrated in the decreasing usage of Chinese ideograms, or Kanji, which are being substituted with Japanese Kana. The introduction of western concepts and words into the Japanese language has spurred a trend that continues to eliminate the number of traditional Kanji used in the written language. This is because there are no corresponding Kanji available to represent these loan words. The simple Japanese kana do not offer the depth of description and meaning which are inherent in the Chinese ideograms and the art of writing has degenerated as a result of advancing technology.

"…Japanese has been adjusting to the social needs thrown up by time, as well as to the demands of fashion and technology: simplifying its structure and to a limited degree its writings forms, borrowing words and phrases from a variety of other languages, inventing new expressions of its own.[2] "

Hopefully this trend will not lead to a loss of vocabulary and more shallow understanding of language, as has happened in America with the English language. The eventual downfall of Kanji in the Japanese language will most likely be due to another western contribution, technology. The undeniable convenience of the computer will probably result in the elimination of many Kanji in exchange for the easier-to-process Kana characters. In addition, the ability to write verse and prose, two highly regarded skills in traditional Japan, are succumbing to the ravages of Internet Chat and email composition, two popular activities of Japanese youth. Subsequently, the arts of penmanship and calligraphy will most likely decline or be lost as they lose their viability in the evolution of the modern Japanese language.

A defining feature of Japanese culture for nearly a millennia was that of its warrior class and martial leadership. Within this inner sphere of society a great tradition of martial strategy, techniques, and militarism grew up. This led to the development of various schools of martial arts. Until the opening of Japan to the west, these skills often determined if a person or clan would thrive or perish. Society was based on a feudal system of lord and servant where the Samurai, or warriors, dominated political and social positions in the Japanese system. Their skills came to embody something that was uniquely Japanese and their traditions produced some of the greatest warriors in history. When Japan conceded to the western powers in the middle of the 19th century, the lifestyle and skills of these great men immediately became archaic next to the modern technological weapons of the west. This destroyed an entire way of life and nearly obliterated a class of people. Following the end of WWII, in an effort to stave off potential uprisings, the martial arts were banned as a military training tool. Western methods of training were adapted and the only way that these traditional arts survived was by assuming the characteristics of a hobby, sport, or form of exercise. An example of this is the modern style of Japanese fencing, known as Kendo.

Kendo derives from the older tradition of the Japanese warrior class, the combat oriented Kenjutsu. Kendo has now become a national sport in Japan and is treated as such. The techniques do not carry the same meaning or implications as its originator, Kenjutsu. Additionally, many of the old martial traditions have given way to western sports such as baseball, basketball, and soccer, which have gained great popularity amongst Japanese of all ages, but particularly the younger generation. In fact, much of the cultural deviance from the traditional ways has occurred as a result of the present generation.

The Classical arts and skills of Japan have diminished over the past two centuries and at a particularly alarming rate since the end of World War II. The younger generations have not bothered to reinstate these traditions, but have fallen victim to the driving forces of consumerism and modern culture.

"…The culture of the masses’ became predominantly western-style within a generation or two; tradition became more and more traditionalism, a conscious evocation of the past. Neither the Meiji government and its censors, nor their successors, made much attempt to check the trend… [3] "

This is perhaps because of the overwhelming appeal of western culture and entertainment. This reveals the lackadaisical and almost negligent attitude of the youth toward Japan’s time honored traditions. Western culture offers instant gratification through the relatively short period of time that is required for learning many modern arts. However, one cannot deny the value in those past traditions, which cultivate patience, knowledge, dedication, and passion for the arts. Indeed, these old traditions were the very definition of Japan at one time. Although a small number of Japanese still practice these old arts, most of them are elderly, and if they are young, those children were fortunate enough to be brought up in a family where the past is respected as a valuable asset in preserving the Japanese spirit for future generations.

This is not to say that Japan should practice its traditional arts merely for the sake of preserving history. If this were the case these rich arts would become a shell of their former selves, with only superficial understanding and appreciation. Rather, these arts should be preserved because of their great value as artistic forms, tools for self-improvement, and as a part of the soul of Japan. They should continue to evolve with the culture of Japan as it evolves, finding their own niche within modern life. In this excerpt from a speech given by my Japanese swordsmanship instructor, Yagyu Nobuharu, he talks about the value of preserving the past as a tool for improving the future.

"Some traditional fencing schools are still available in Japan and they have a very long tradition. Some of them are mainly proud of their long tradition however, and you must be careful…as they may now be only the remains of an old tradition, just like remains in a museum. We may recall only the remains of old traditions unless we keep the vital and vivid elements of the tradition alive. As time passes and history continues, the content of our art must also change to reflect the needs and requirements of each time period, of each era.[4]"

Unless the Japanese unearth and reconnect with their traditional culture, many of the traditions, art forms, and beliefs that were once sacred and essential to the Japanese people will be lost in the sea of modernization and westernization that is engulfing Japan.

[1] Tadashi, Fukutake, Japanese Society Today, Second Edition, Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 1981, 102-103.
[2] Beasley, W.G., The Japanese Experience: A Short History of Japan, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999, 266.
[3] Beasley, W.G., The Japanese Experience: A Short History of Japan, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999, 227.
[4] Yagyu Nobuharu, A Brief History of Yagyu Shinkage Ryu, from a presentation to the Japan Society of New York, 1993, 1.

Voluntary expatriate

2006-09-20T20:48:00.000-05:00

Although it is only 9 am in the morning, the autumn sun burns fiercely in the cloudless sky. There are dozens of bronze colored dragonflies hovering over the small river across the road. The rice has been harvested in some fields, straw bundled together and stacked criss-crossed along the banks of the paddies and along the roadside. Royal blue morning glories are fading and withering on the vine as the summer season comes to an end, but nothing has really changed. Life in Osuka town continues on and I am back in Japan.

My first step out of the Nagoya Centrair airport ten months ago was fraught with anticipation, worry, and determination. When I arrived once again, a day and a half ago, it felt like a homecoming. There was no cultural anxiety, no worry about the inability to communicate, no doubt as to how things would work out. These foreign shores now feel comfortable, predictable, manageable. Perhaps I am a voluntary expatriate, tired of the continal debacle that shrouds America in these tense and amoral days. I go where I can find peace and the quietude to think about things other than the lastest crime and the vast corruption of my home nation. I continue my search for cultural understanding and the expression of true humanity. I continue to seek the path of the true warrior. I wonder what the next two months will bring...

2006-08-19T08:42:00.000-05:00

Gwynne is on vacation and will return to her musing in mid-September. Thanks for reading!

Bushido's legacy

2006-07-17T20:09:00.000-05:00

September 8th,1868 marked the end of the feudal period in Japan and the beginning of the modern Meiji era. A wave of modernization and westernization swept across the country eroding the foundations of feudalism and ushering in new institutions and ideals. This was an important turning point in the history of Japan as a new government was adopted, new laws instituted, compulsory education was introduced, and a national military was established. However, the Meiji era also saw the demise of the long reigning samurai warrior and his legendary code of bushido. The following will examine how the values which epitomized the medieval ideology of bushido have translated into modern Japanese society.

With the installation of the new Meiji government came the dissolution of the feudal class system, which was replaced by a more democratic social policy. The Five Charter Oath of 1868 included regulations designed to develop western democratic methods of governance through: “the establishment of deliberative assemblies, involvement of all classes in carrying out state affairs, freedom of social and occupational mobility, replacement of "evil customs" with the "just laws of nature", and an international search for knowledge to strengthen the foundations of imperial rule.”[1] The feudal class system was the mainstay of bushido, providing the ideal environment for nurturing a class-based philosophy. This hierarchy also nurtured the development of a kind of mysticism and dramatization surrounding the samurai, his duties and his doctrine in the eyes of the general populace. With the introduction of democracy and the removal of this restrictive social hierarchy, the ideological theories of bushido and of the samurai were unveiled and debunked in the context of the new modern era.

“The irresistible tide of triumphant democracy, which can tolerate no form or shape of trust- and bushido was a trust organized by those who monopolized reserve capital of intellect and culture, fixing the grades and values of moral qualities- is alone powerful enough to engulf the remnant of bushido.”[2]

The age of bushido was being engulfed by the age of reason, logic, and science. Despite these forces, and the death of feudalism, within the sophisticated, feverishly changing world of modern Japan the embers of bushido still burn in the character of the Japanese people.

The face of modern Japan bears little resemblance to its feudal predecessor, however the intrinsic nature of a race and culture is enduring. The modern face of bushido has more to do with those characteristics and values embraced by and embodied by the Japanese samurai, than any adherence to a mystical, romanticized warrior code of literature and legend. The essence and reality of bushido survived the reformation of feudal Japan as intangible moralistic concepts. These continue to impact the Japanese perspective, philosophy, and sense of aesthetics.

“The character which bushido stamped on our nation and on the samurai in particular, cannot be said to form “an irreducible element of species,” but nevertheless as to the vitality which it retains there is no doubt.”[2]

Those timeless principles of wisdom, benevolence, courage, honor, loyalty, self-control, and sacrifice maintain a place within modern Japan. However, their interpretation and applications may have changed, altering original definitions or straying from them completely. After all, morality is an elastic idea, stretched to fit an individual’s perceptions and understanding of the world around him.

Dedication to the attainment of wisdom is clearly demonstrated through the modern Japanese educational system. This is one institution which is all-encompassing within Japanese society, affecting the lives of nearly every citizen and striving to instill in them a collective set of life skills. The ideal of providing a basic knowledge of common sense, communication skills, literacy, and problem-solving, which was a part of the training of a samurai, is still enforced through the nine year compulsory education program.

“Much of official school life is devoted directly or indirectly to teaching correct attitudes and moral values and to developing character, with the aim of creating a citizenry that is both literate and attuned to the basic values of culture and society.”[3]

Modern theories on education have encouraged even greater achievement and scholarship, ranking the Japanese educational system as one of the best in the world with ninety-six percent of high school students continuing on to universities and other post-secondary institutions. Certainly today’s notion of wisdom expands upon the model set by the ideals of bushido so long ago.

The complex system of politeness which is still pronounced in the mannerisms and language of modern Japan is also a throwback to the samurai ideals of benevolence and consideration for others. The Japanese people are always courteous to one another, they employ polite language, are respectful of public space, are gracious and hospitable, and uphold strict ideals about how to treat others in public situations. They are reserved in expressing verbal judgment and anger because of their concern for hurting others.

“Politeness is a poor virtue, if it is actuated only by a fear of offending good taste, whereas it should be the outward manifestation of a sympathetic regard for the feelings of others.”[2]

After World War II Japan adopted a new national constitution, which included an article on the future status of the Japanese military. Article nine states that, "The Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes."[4] Stripped of their long standing military traditions, the samurai spirit of gallantry has survived through other outlets. In stark contrast to the Japanese legacy of combat, the country has recently applied its famed gallantry toward the cause of helping others in need around the world. They are involved in international aid and development, as well as in peacekeeping efforts, and hold a non-permanent position on the UN Security Council. From a different perspective, the samurai paradigm of bravery is still visible in the Japanese spirit through their determination within the international arena and their strong work ethic.

“Government-industry cooperation, a strong work ethic, mastery of high technology, and a comparatively small defense allocation have helped Japan advance with extraordinary speed to become one of the largest economies in the world.”[5]

Japan is constantly pushing itself to be at the forefront of new opportunities and inventions, a fairly volatile and precarious international position requiring confidence and daring. Modern Japan has been on the cutting edge of developments in fields such as technology, medicine, chemicals, optics, and robotics, exposing groundbreaking information and discoveries. Nevertheless, courage on an individual level has been further suppressed within modern Japanese society in favor of maintaining a homogenous and group-oriented nation.

Still notorious within the international sphere for their reservation and stoicism of character, the Japanese continue to prize self-control as a society. The needs and desires of the individual are subordinate to the success and image of the group and of greater Japanese society. The motivating factors behind the modern image of the self-controlled, reserved, dutiful citizen reveal an ugly and corrupt body of corporations. The influence of commercialism, profit, and material culture has completely overshadowed consideration for the individual. At the core of this we find the true definition of greed and can discern many of the practices and norms that once belonged to the merchant class of feudal Japan. The samurai disdained the merchant class for these very reasons, and during the feudal period the merchant occupied the lowest position, below the samurai, the farmer, and the craftsman. Many of the ideals of bushido, such as simplicity, frugality, humbleness, and sacrifice contradict the modern consumer culture that has engulfed Japan.

“Before the war Japanese regarded consumer buying as a kind of vice; now, while not exactly a virtue, high consumer spending is acceptable, or even prestigious…”[6]

The irony is, the more society tries to exert their personal self-control through their purchasing power and indulgence of material goods, the more the worker and businessman are suppressed by their companies in an effort to increase production and profit.

This brings into perspective the clear persistence of sacrifice within Japanese society. The most common sacrifice made in modern Japan involves the forfeit of family and personal time, energy, and goals for the sake of ones employer. In order to succeed at work, improve the company, and gain the respect of peers, employees work long hours with few holidays. In addition, managers often pressure or demand that employees attend after hours events, parties, and seminars, further diminishing the time an employee has to spend with their family or enjoy hobbies. Unpaid, mandatory overtime is also a common occurrence with most companies. As a result of this, the Japanese family system has suffered. Increasingly common among families is the trend of sending elderly relatives to nursing homes and care facilities. This is altering the long standing tradition of the extended family in Japan. A further impact on the family system is the lack of paternal participation within the family. Following World War II, several generations of children have grown up without the presence or influence of fathers. These fathers spent most of their waking hours at their companies working to support their families and propelling the Japanese economic miracle. Thus, the younger generation lacks the family structure of previous generations and this sacrifice has affected their perspectives and beliefs. The family system has been an enduring part of Japanese society for centuries. The changes taking place within that structure affect the morals and philosophy of the new generation, in some ways pushing them even further from bushido’s characteristics and ideals.

As Inazo Nitobe suggests about the feudal era, but which is equally applicable now, “the ways of wealth were not the ways of honour.”[2] This being said, what constitutes the notion of honor? I think that the concept of honor is no clearer today than it was in the time of the samurai. Nitobe points out that, “It was a great pity that nothing clear and general was expressed as to what constitutes honor, only a few enlightened minds being aware of it “from no condition rises” but that it lies in each acting well his part…”[2]

This is perhaps due to the intangible and highly intimate nature of honor. Assuredly there were dishonorable samurai just as there are dishonorable citizens in Japan today. Again, we must consider that bushido was an idealized code which tended toward the vague and obscure, aspiring to an almost god-like perfection of the human character. No one can assert that there is a tangible character trait which defines an honorable from a dishonorable person. Rather, honor is expressed through a variety of things such as a person’s morality, convictions, social behavior, personal endeavors, spirituality, and environment.

The demise of feudalism brought an end to the institution of loyalty as a relationship between lord and servant. The old style of loyalty, which had divided the country into various domains, lacked a sense of unity and nationhood. At the dawn of the Meiji era, “…there were about 260 domains, which were largely self-governing so long as they acknowledged the ultimate overlordship of the shogun. These domains were competitive and quarrelsome. People in the domains identified themselves first and foremost as people of Choshu or Tosa, not as Japanese…[7]

This system of regional loyalty was a barricade to the new government which sought to cultivate a sense of a national pride and dedication. Eventually the idea of national patriotism and unity was forced upon the Japanese through the “Emperor Meiji's controlled revolution” and reformation of the social, educational, economic, military, political and industrial spheres.[8]
Since then loyalty toward the state has matured and been accepted by the population, which can be seen today in the characteristic racial and cultural pride of the Japanese people.

Bushido is no longer recognized in its entirety as a guiding philosophy, nor as the domain of any one particular social class, but the basic virtues which constituted bushido are still cherished by the Japanese people. Inazo Nitobe asserts that,

“What Japan was she owed to the samurai. They were not only the flower of the nation, but its root as well.. Though they kept themselves socially aloof from the populace, they set a moral example for them and guided them by their example.”[2]

The ideals of wisdom, benevolence, and loyalty, can be exemplified and discussed in somewhat tangible terms in the context of education, language, manners, and patriotism. These virtues find definition within physical expressions toward others, and thus are more easily recognizable. Yet many aspects of bushido continue to exist within that intangible, immeasurable realm of the personal psyche, such as honor, self-control, and courage. Nevertheless, the Japanese continue to strive toward embodying these principles and they influence the perspective, philosophy, and sense of aesthetics that continues to shape and guide Japan.

[1] Wikipedia. July, 2 2006. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.22 June 2006, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meiji_era.
[2] Nitobe, Inazo, Bushido: The Soul of Japan, Charles E. Tuttle Publishing Co.: Tokyo, 1969.
[3] Wikipedia. July, 1 2006. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.22 June 2006, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Education_in_Japan.
[4] Wikipedia. July, 1 2006. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.22 June 2006 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japan#Foreign_relations_and_military.
[5] Wikipedia. July, 2 2006. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.22 June 2006, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japan#Economy.
[6] Tadashi, Fukutake, Japanese Society Today, Second Edition, Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 1981, 102-103.
[7] Heinz, Carolyn Brown, Asian Cultural Traditions, Illinois: Waveland Press Inc., 1999, 363.
[8] Wikipedia. July, 4 2006. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.22 June 2006, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japan_history#Meiji_Restoration.

The Code of the Feudal Warrior Part 3: East Meets West

2006-07-10T23:11:00.000-05:00

Centuries of warfare and the fragmentary division of power in feudal Europe and Japan, gave birth to two of the most historically influential philosophies of the feudal period, chivalry and bushido. These ideologies were created and nurtured half a world away from one another, yet they share similar definitions for the true warrior's path. At the same time, they also exhibit disparities in their ethics and ideology. The differences between chivalry and bushido stem from the cultural and philosophical differences which existed and continue to exist between Europe and Japan. Individualism, the institutions of suicide and sacrifice, the influence of religioun and the practice of courtly love are four aspects in particular which differ under the ideology of chivalry and bushido.

One fundamental difference which affects the entire set of values and ethics contained within these two systems is the notion of individualism. By examining this idea we may begin to understand many of the disparities between the codes of bushido and chivalry. Chivalry sought to emphasize loyalty to one's convictions, duties, and lord, but still grew out of a society that embraced individuality and self-reliance. While chivalry entailed allegiance to a lord, it also endorsed the idea of a knight carving his own path in life, building his own reputation, and forming advantageous relationships. In this way, the knight became dependant on his own skills and wit to gain the respect of others and to improve his lot in life. For the samurai, his path in life may have already been pre-determined at birth, depending on his family’s social position and fealty to a lord. He was bound by his lineage to perform a certain role in life and to stray from that path was disrespectful of his ancestors and to the system on which the country was founded. Individualism was discouraged in favor of meeting the needs of society as a whole. The presence or lack of individulalism within these two socieites affected the way in which other virtues and duties were interpreted in relation to the codes of chivalry and bushido.

The hierarchy of Japanese society was based upon the five Confucian cardinal relationships of ruler and subject, father and son, husband and wife, elder and younger brother, and friendship. Through this filial web, a strong sense of devotion and sacrifice developed within the Japanese psyche. Nitobe explains that,

“When a subject differed from his master, the loyal path for him to pursue was to use every available means to persuade him of his error… Failing in this, let the master deal with him as he wills.”[1]

It is from this belief that the institution of seppuku draws its origins. Seppuku is the act of ritual suicide in atonement for real, or perceived, disloyalty to ones lord. This concept, which to many European ears sounds barbaric and extreme, was in fact esteemed by the samurai as an honorable way to die and a part of his responsibility within the strict social system of Japan.

“…It was a process by which warriors could expiate their crimes, apologize for errors, escape from disgrace, redeem their friends, or prove their sincerity…It was a refinement of self-destruction, and none could perform it without the utmost coolness of temper and composure of demeanour, and for these reasons it was particularly befitting the profession of bushi.”[1]

There is no parallel convention to seppuku within feudal European culture. Indeed, suicide was considered an unholy act and those who committed suicide were condemned to hell by the medieval Christian church and buried in unconsecrated ground. As interpreted by the clergy of medieval Europe, to commit suicide was to break one of the most important commandments contained within the bible, “Thou shalt not kill.” Also, medieval Christianity reasoned that;

“... suicide is contrary to nature: every living organism naturally desires to preserve its life. Second, it is contrary to our social obligations: the whole human community is injured by self-killing. Third, suicide is contrary to our religious rights: God alone should decide when a person will live or die.”[2]

The idea of seppuku is difficult to grasp, but perhaps even more disconcerting for the western mind is the notion that ones family and vassals may be bound to sacrifice themselves out of duty to their condemned warrior or lord. The code of chivalry called for the protection of those who could not protect themselves, thus the sacrifice of family and servants because of their relation to or association with the guilty man would be seen as a contradiction to the ideals of chivalry. The knight would do everything within his power to protect those who were innocent, shielding them from unjust persecution. Again, the contrasting theories of individualism versus a group-oriented culture are revealed. The European mind judges each person on his or her own individual deeds and holds them accountable for those deeds. If a wife’s husband was guilty of disloyalty, she was not necessarily guilty by association, but would be considered separately. Likewise if a father failed to uphold his duties to his lord, his son would not be held responsible simply on the basis of filial relation.

Examining the institutions of suicide and sacrifice as understood by European and Japanese warriors, inevitably the role and influence of religion must also be considered. Chivalry is inseparably linked with the Christian church of Europe, while the code of bushido cannot be connected with any one religion, but draws its ideals from several faiths. The Christian church sought to find a means of civilizing and justifying the widespread warfare rampant during the feudal age of Europe, viewing war as both an atrocity and as a necessity. Therefore, the church contributed greatly to the creation and endorsement of the code of chivalry.

“…If the western world in the ninth century had not been feudalized, chivalry would nevertheless have come into existence; and, notwithstanding everything, it would have come to light in Christendom; for chivalry is nothing more than the Christianized form of military service, the armed force in the service of the unarmed Truth; and it was inevitable that at some time or other it must have sprung, living and fully armed, from the brain of the church…”[3]

Christianity in medieval Europe abhorred the nature of war and embraced peace out of principle, yet at the same time embarked upon a series of holy wars in order to enforce Christian ideals upon those countries that were not Christian. On the surface Chivalry endowed the knights of Europe with a sense of holiness and justice, while in reality it disguised the private agenda of the most powerful faction in feudal Europe, the Christian church.

In the case of bushido, there is no distinct religious origin or association; however, certain ideologies contained within the code of bushido can be traced back to various religious schools that flourished in feudal Japan. The religious influences of Buddhism, Zen Buddhism, Shintoism, and Confucianism “-thoroughly imbued Bushido with loyalty to the sovereign and love of the country. These acted more as impulses than as doctrines; for Shintoism, unlike the Mediæval Christian Church, prescribed to its votaries scarcely any credenda…”[1] Instead of subscribing to one doctrine, bushido drew from many different theologies, incorporating the most applicable tenets of each. Buddhism introduced the warrior to the inevitability of death and thus the idea of looking beyond the limitations of present reality. It presented him with a way of mastering his fear through the understanding of reincarnation and existence. Zen Buddhism strove to instill a calm understanding of life in the warrior through meditative contemplation and the forsaking of earthly attachment. Shintoism instilled a sense of patriotism and communion with the earth by embracing the “… innate goodness and Godlike purity of the human soul, adoring it as the adytum from which divine oracles are proclaimed… Its nature worship endeared the country to our inmost souls, while its ancestor worship, tracing from lineage to lineage made the Imperial family the fountain-head of the whole nation.”[1] Finally, Confucianism contributed the ideals of loyalty, filial obligation, and social virtues to this formula, creating a unique blend of all these faiths, and a distinct philosophy. Ultimately, a samurai determined his own beliefs, owing no allegiance to any of these faiths. However, the ideals furnished by these faiths formed the basic philosophy of bushido to which all samurai deferred.

Based upon the Buddhist precept of non-attachment and the importance given to self-control, it is clear that the European institution of courtly love would find no equivalent in the code of bushido. Courtly love involved the flaunting of personal emotions and utter devotion to a noble lady as an object of love and admiration. This kind of behavior exhibits great attachment to earthly relationships and existence, something that buddhism disdained and thus many warriors would have shied from. In addition, courtly love with its trappings was fanciful and dramatic, quite the opposite of the simplicity the Japanese samurai seems to have strived toward. This is not to say that the Japanese warrior lacked emotion or passion, rather that such a convention was too indulgent and the expression of such emotions too revealing of the inner self.

“To give in so many articulate words ones inmost thoughts and feelings…is taken among us as an unmistakable sign that they are neither very profound nor very sincere.”[1]

There is however a concept which is called “Bushi no nasaké, the tenderness of a warrior”[1], which is understood as rectitude tempered with mercy. The heart of this concept is reminiscent of the true character of courtly love in that it is a softening force upon the hardened and zealous militancy of the warrior. Only the strongest warrior could exhibit mercy when he was on the brink of exacting rectitude and justice, because forgiveness is more difficult to deal out than revenge. In this way, “Bushi no nasaké” served a similar purpose to that of courtly love, without requiring the physical presence of a pacifying force, such as the noble lady. The lady and her virtues becomes an idea cultivated within the warrior himself as a force which he controls. As Nitobe points out,

“...not that the mercy of a samurai was generically different from the mercy of any other being, but because it implied mercy where mercy was not a blind impulse, but where it recognized due regard to justice, and where mercy did not remain merely a certain state of mind, but where it was backed with power to save or kill.”[1]

A comprehensive examination of the warrior classes of Europe and Japan reveals that the formula for creating the pure warrior was fairly universal among some of the great civilizations of the world. The two martial codes of chivalry and bushido share the same basic ideals of honor, loyalty, communion with and understanding of the inner self, a balance of compassion and justice, and a belief in some form of higher power, be it a godhead or the immortal essence of the soul. Their disparities can be recognized as arising from different historical, social, cultural, and theological contexts, yet these incongruities are also a matter of personal interpretation and application. This work examines chivalry and bushido as they have come to be interpreted from historical literature and legend, yet we must admit that reality and ideology rarely coincide making this a comparison of two philosophies, not necesssarily two lifestyles. Chivalry and bushido ultimately share one distinct characteristic; they are both idealized and romanticized philosophies which may or may not have been embraced by the warriors of feudal Europe and Japan.

[1] Nitobe, Inazo, Bushido: The Soul of Japan, Charles E. Tuttle Publishing Co.: Tokyo, 1969.
[2]Phipps, William E. “Christian Perspectives on Suicide.” Religion-Online. William F. Fore. September 12, 2005. Claremont School of Theology. 27 June 2006. http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=1924.

[3] Gautier, Leon. “Growth And Decadence Of Chivalry: Tenth to Fifteenth Centuries.” World History International. December 2005. World History Project Sacramento. 27 June 2006 http://history-world.org/Chivalry,%20growth%20and%20decadence%20of.htm.

The Code of the Feudal Warrior Part 2: Chivalry

2006-06-28T20:51:00.000-05:00

Chivalry was an ethical system tenuously constructed of ideals and heroism, more shadow than reality. This nebulous code was fostered by the warrior class of Europe where it flourished and evolved into a way of life. The basic tenets of chivalry emerged from the cultures of France and Spain, thereafter spreading to the whole of Europe, including the islands of Great Britain. The fundamental principles of chivalry “…represented a fusion of Christian and military concepts of morality and still form the basis of gentlemanly conduct.”[1]

Out of this shadowy philosophy a distinct warrior class developed, consisting of knights and their vassals. A knight was a professional soldier in the service of a lord and his duty was to protect those who were defenseless and helpless and to see to the general welfare of society. At the peak of feudalism in Europe a hereditary system had developed that automatically ensured a knight’s son would be given the position of squire. From that position, he might be able to achieve knighthood based on his actions in battle.

“The path to knighthood began at the age of seven, when a vassal sent his son to the lord's house to become a page. For seven years a page was cared for by the women of the house, who instructed him in comportment, courtesy, cleanliness, and religion. At 14 the page became a squire, a personal attendant to a knight. From the knight he learned riding and all the skills of war, as well as hunting, hawking, and other sports.”[2]

During his terms as page and squire a young man would learn of the six general virtues that a knight was expected to cultivate. These virtues were the fundamental characteristics of the code of chivalry and guided the knight’s thoughts and actions. These six characteristics were prowess in battle, loyalty, honor, courtesy, courtly love, and protection of and belief in the teachings of the Christian church.

The first virtue, prowess in battle, was a way of measuring a knight’s strengths through his military capabilities. As stated by one scholar,

“There was a kind of rude egalitarianism among the knightly class, but in reality a knight, vassal, or lord is measured by prowess in battle. The sword was the ultimate arbitrator.[3]”

Prowess in battle entailed both a mind for strategy as well as bravery in physical combat. Knowledge of military tactics and principles showed a good upbringing, as well as a keen mind, and the ability to solve complex problems under duress. Displays of selflessness for the preservation of the lord’s domain or to protect those endeavors carried out in the name of god were considered marks of a knight’s gallantry and courage.

There were three orders of loyalty in the chivalric code and they formed the foundation of the code. “The knight's loyalty was due to the spiritual master, God; to the temporal master, the suzerain; and to the mistress of the heart, his sworn love.”[4] Loyalty was an important personal asset and revealed the inner strength, sense of purpose, and understanding of obligation a knight possessed. It also played a key role in perpetuating the feudal system as knights swore an oath of loyalty to their lords, cementing their relationship of leader and servant. However, the knight’s loyalty was partially dependant on the character of the lord whom he served.

“Samurai warriors existed in a hierarchical and conformist culture that rewarded obedience and loyalty over individuality. Knights existed in a more complex and fluid society that emphasized self-expression with a long tradition of reliance on individual initiative.”[5]

A knight was expected to have sound moral judgment as a guardian of the helpless and defenseless. To blindly follow the orders of an unscrupulous lord, perhaps sacrificing innocent lives and perpetrating evil deeds was considered contrary to the ideals of chivalry. An honorable knight in the service of a morally corrupt lord might break his oath out of loyalty to a higher power, god. The European code of chivalry placed great emphasis on holding god as the highest power as he was the one who would ultimately judge a warrior’s deeds.

Honor, the third virtue, was held in high regard during the feudal era. Honor was a virtue that exhibited a knight’s inner character. The contracts and legal agreements between men in feudal Europe were based on the given word and not written documents. Many manners of business were conducted with honor as the underlying proof of intention, thus an honorable man could be trusted to uphold the agreement. An honorable man was also one who followed the rules of fair play, that is to say he was considerate and straightforward with others. He would never employ trickery or foul play, as that would be below him and smear his sense of honor. Honor demanded responsibility and accountability, thus setting the knight apart as a gentleman and separating him from the common people.

Courtesy also set the knight apart from the commoner. Courtesy was defined as the way in which one would behave at court. In modern terms, this could be understood as behaving in a considerate and professional manner. A knight’s presentation and comportment were the physical manifestation of the inner qualities he possessed, such as honor, loyalty, and education. Courtesy was given to all, but was considered especially important when dealing with superiors, opponents, and women. Courtesy to his superiors was shown through his politeness and deference, while courtesy to his opponents involved the European idea of “fair play”. “Fair play” was a governing set of rules for military encounters including the following: In a private duel, an opponent should be of relatively the same skill level, the established and accepted rules of warfare should be adhered to by all warriors (both within individual duels and during great battles), and devious or underhanded actions were considered ungentlemanly and cowardly. The last notion of courtesy paid to women stems from the institution of “courtly love.”

“Courtly love” was an ideal adopted at a later period as the code of chivalry evolved and aspired to a more aristocratic nature. The convention of “Courtly love” shows the refinement of the warrior class as it instilled a sense of admiration and romanticism to life, along with a sense of civility and strong devotion.

“Associated with chivalry were ‘romantic love’ and ‘courtly love’ in which men were supposed to act courteously in their romantic affairs with women according to certain codes of behavior. This romantic love was derived from certain ‘key elements...of feudal society’ which evolved from the relationship between a vassal and his lord; the male lover acted in many ways as the ‘vassal of his lady”[6]

The relationship with the chosen lady was abstract and idealized, a courtship that would probably never transpire. However, it added a sense of human intimacy and emotion to the otherwise strictly martial lifestyle of the professional knight. This convention also acted as a balance counteracting the strong masculine side of the warrior with the influence of the feminine, his bellicose lifestyle with a touch of the gentle and pacific. Further, “The courtly love tradition was non-Christian, providing an alternative to the love of God and the Church, placing salvation in the love of your lady.”[7] This alternative may have appealed to some knights who were disenchanted with the church or held different beliefs, or who felt that it held too much power within medieval European society.

The adherence to and protection of the ideology of the Christian church played a large role in the code of chivalry. During the medieval period, the Christian church became one of the most powerful factions within society because of its influence over the nobility and commoner alike. Thus, the Christian notion of right and wrong pervaded social and cultural norms, guiding a knight’s sense of conscience, honor, and loyalty.

“In the course of the 12th century, a social and ethical dimension is added...The strong influence of Cluny monks, who try to give an ethos to savage warfare, leads to the definition of the true miles Christi, a soldier who follows a certain code of behavior, which we now call chivalric.”[8]

Many wars were fought to uphold the ideology of the Christian church by the knights of Europe. In these battles, soldiers became warriors of god, fighting for just and noble causes. The infusion of Christianity into the code of chivalry elevated the warrior’s purpose to an ethereal level and also tied together two of the strongest forces within feudal Europe, the warrior class and the church.

The code of chivalry greatly impacted the development and evolution of European society for many centuries. The knight established through his example a model of behavior and ideals for all classes within society from the nobility to the common peasant. The virtues of the knight, prowess in battle, loyalty, honor, courtesy, courtly love, and advocacy for the Christian church brought a level of civility to the chaos and warfare of feudal europe. Although the medieval european institution of knighthood has passed into history, the tenets of chivalry live on within the western notion of gentlemanly conduct, revealing their timeless value and allure.

[1] Bartleby.com. 2001-2005 The Columbia Encyclopedia, Sixth Edition. Columbia University Press. 27 June 2006. http://www.bartleby.com/65/ch/chivalry.html.
[2] Britain Express. David Ross. Britain Express Limited. 22 June 2006 http://www.britainexpress.com/History/Knights_and_Fights.htm

[3] Rempel, Gerhard. “Feudalism.” WNEC Faculty Home Pages. 2000. Western New England College. 22 June 2006 http://mars.wnec.edu/~grempel/courses/wc1/lectures/19feudalism.html.

[4] Encyclopedia.com. 2001-2005 The Columbia Encyclopedia, Sixth Edition. Columbia University Press. 21 June 2006 http://www.encyclopedia.com/html/c/chivalry.asp.

[5] Clements, J. “The Medieval European Knight vs. The Feudal Japanese Samurai?” ARMA: The Association for Renaissance Martial Arts. John Clements. The Historical Armed Combat Association. 22 June 2006 http://www.thehaca.com/essays/knightvs.htm.
[6] Lawson, Rich. “Chivalry during the Reign of King Edward III.” Shadowed Realm: Medieval Content and Discussion. 20 June 2006 http://www.shadowedrealm.com/articles/exclusive/article.php?id=2.
[7] Answers.com. Answers Corporation. 19 June 2006 http://www.answers.com/main/ntquery;jsessionid=rp50hx9jbu3q?tname=courtly-love&sbid=lc05b.
[8] Velde, Francoise. “Knighthood and Chivalry.” Heraldica. François R. Velde. June 1, 2002. 19 June 2006 http://www.heraldica.org/topics/orders/knights.htm.

The Code of the Feudal Warrior Part 1: Bushido

2006-06-28T08:30:00.000-05:00

“It is not a written code; at best it consists of a few maxims handed down from mouth to mouth or coming from the pen of some well-known warrior or savant. More frequently it is a code unuttered and unwritten, possessing all the more the powerful sanction of veritable deed, and of a law written on the fleshly tablets of the heart.”[1]

The fundamental principles and virtues of the feudal warrior were shaped and directed by the cultural mores and social and political environment of feudalism in the middle ages. A strong feudal system dominated Europe and Japan for many centuries, producing a military class in both cultures that was famed throughout history and celebrated in legend and literature. These two regions boast vastly different cultures, yet the emergence of the quintessential warrior occurred in much the same way. Consequently, their basic code of conduct contains many similarities in regards to the virtues, duties, and role of the warrior. Although they share certain universal principles, there are also ideals which separate the knight from the samurai, revealing the profound moral and theological differences between the cultures of Europe and Asia.

In the next three entries I will explore the Japanese code of bushido, the European code of chivalry, and the similarities and differences between them.

Japan has a long and tangled history of warfare. From ancient times the islands have been home to various groups and clans of people, each trying to hold onto their own territory. At the close of the Asuka period (538–710 AD), the dream of unifying the country under one ruler would take a stronghold in the minds of many powerful men, initiating warfare that would last for centuries.[1] The scattered clans engaged in civil war with one another in the hopes of dominating Japan.

“Some clans were originally formed by farmers who had taken up arms to protect themselves from the imperial magistrates sent to govern their lands and collect taxes. These clans formed alliances to protect themselves against more powerful clans, and by the mid-Heian period they had adopted characteristic Japanese armor and weapons, and laid the foundations of Bushido, their ethical code.”[2]

Out of these clans came the samurai, the warrior class of Japan. The position of the samurai in medieval Japan was parallel to that of the knight in Europe, the samurai holding a position just below that of lord. These warriors developed their own code of behavior and morality which came to be known as the code of Bushido. This code was highly developed and fairly rigid in relation to the code of chivalry. No set written doctrine existed, but the social pressure to uphold the accepted behavior of the code was immense. To break with the code was disgraceful and therefore unacceptable to the samurai himself, his peers and his lord.

The basic principles of Bushido are the three attributes of wisdom, benevolence, and courage, as well as honor, loyalty, self-control, and sacrifice. These ideals were learned and honed within the family environment and within the group oriented society of feudal Japan. The first three principles, Chi, wisdom, Jin, benevolence, and Yu, courage, are referred to by Inazo Nitobe in his book Bushido: The Soul of Japan as the “tripod which supported the framework of Bushido.”[3] These three attributes were essential for the development of the samurai. The wisdom represented by Chi is an understanding of everyday life and not necessarily knowledge acquired through scholastic endeavors. Intellectualism and book learning were considered secondary to a firm grasp of common sense:

“The first point to observe in knightly pedagogics, was to build up character, leaving in the shade the subtler faculties of prudence, intelligence, and dialectics…literature was pursued mainly as a pastime, and philosophy as a practical aid in the formation of character, if not for the exposition of some military or political problem.”[3]

Benevolence was defined as feelings of consideration, sympathy, and love toward others. This virtue was important for the warrior on an individual level because it instilled a sense of communion with humanity and also developed in him a conscience and a sense of morality. Although it was considered a valuable personal virtue, benevolence also affected the lives of others through the samurai’s deeds and decisions. On a large scale, a warrior class without benevolence would be merely a network of barbarians inflicting ruin and chaos. Nitobe refers to Confucius and Mencious, two renowned Chinese scholars, who cite that a benevolent government and warrior class cultivate trust in their people through their compassion, thus building a strong nation:

“Instances are on record where individuals attained to supreme power in a single state, without benevolence, but never have I heard of a whole empire falling into the hands of one who lacked this virtue.”[3]

Courage is a necessary virtue for any warrior, especially a professional soldier. However courage is not just the act of sacrificing oneself needlessly in battle. In his explanation of Bushido, Nitobe refers to a Prince of Mito who states that;

“To rush into the thick of battle and to be slain in it is easy enough…but, it is true courage to live when it is right to live, and to die only when it is right to die.”[3]

Courage helps a soldier uphold his convictions in word and deed, gives him the strength to make difficult decisions, and gives him faith in himself. From a young age, tales of valorous warriors were recounted to children, giving them an image of the ideal warrior who was heroic, but wise. To temper their fears and mould them into daring young men, parents would sometimes place their children in difficult or intimidating situations as a way of preparing them for their future position in the warrior class.[3]

The honor of a samurai was his ability to embody all of these traits, and also included his reputation and social identity. In this respect his honor was carefully guarded as the true nature of his soul and considered the culmination of all his personal virtues. Possessing a sense of honor the samurai created for himself a set of standards to which he would hold himself accountable. Honor was often prickly in feudal Japan and many times led to unnecessary bloodshed where no real quarrel existed. The warrior who truly understood the significance and responsibility inherent in honor, was a wise man.

Loyalty was one way of expressing a warrior’s honor through his devotion to his lord and his oaths. In the code of Bushido, loyalty was placed highest, even above a man’s personal honor.

“…loyalty as we conceive it may find few admirers elsewhere, not because our conception is wrong, but because it is, I am afraid, forgotten, and also because we carry it to a degree not reached in any other country.”[3]

To the samurai, his devotion and service to his lord was the pinnacle of achievement. If he disgraced or betrayed his lord, he failed in his duty and lost his own honor. The social and governmental systems of feudal Japan were based on a series of relationships that hinged on loyalty. Disloyal samurai were viewed as disrupting and disregarding these relationships, a serious offense. If a samurai felt that his loyalty to his lord contradicted his own sense of ethics, he exercised his sense of self-control, remembering his duty and his allegiance. This characteristic self-control was frequently revealed in the stern and stoic nature of the samurai, carefully concealing his true feelings whatever their nature.

In Japan, to openly display one’s emotions was considered inappropriate. Nitobe relates that for the warrior, “Calmness of behavior, composure of mind, should not be disturbed by passion of any kind.”[3]Particularly for the soldier, whose job was often fraught with fluctuating emotions as he was confronted with death, controlling ones inner desires and feelings was essential to maintaining objectivity, rationality, and mental coherence. Also, openly revealing emotions was looked upon as selfish in that it showed a certain degree of disdain and hesitation for the duties assigned. In regards to a warrior’s conduct within society, self-control was a necessary tool for him, just as his sword was necessary to fight in a battle. With his martial skills, an intemperate samurai posed a threat to his fellow man. Nitobe asserts that,

“A dastard or a braggart was he who brandished his weapon on undeserved occasions. A self-possessed man knows the right time to use it, and such times come but rarely.”[3]

The ultimate expression of self-control and loyalty can be seen within the samurai notion of sacrifice. This institution was highly refined and hauntingly common among warriors in feudal Japan. Japanese society and culture is group-oriented, emphasizing the needs of the whole over the needs of the individual. The individual owed his allegiance to the collective group because he himself was a part of that group, created and sustained by that group. In the warrior class the samurai dedicated his life to his lord and to the populace in serving his lord. If he failed in his duties, atonement was often offered in the form of suicide and sacrifice.

“Life being regarded as the means whereby to serve his master, and its ideal being set upon honour, the whole education and training of a samurai were conducted accordingly.”[3]

Part of the education and training of the samurai was taken up with preparing a warrior for the possibility of suicide. This reality was taken very seriously as it often involved not only the death of the warrior himself, but the sacrifice of his family and any vassals in his service. This was expected and understood by those in his care as part of their duty to both him and to greater society.

“The individualism of the west, which recognizes separate interests for father and son, husband and wife, necessarily brings into strong relief the duties owed by one to the other; but bushido held that the interest of the family and of the members thereof is intact, -one and inseparable.”[3]

Confronted with the tenuous nature of life and death as a professional soldier, the code of bushido offered the samurai a model of the true warrior, guidelines by which he could mould his character and understand his path in life. Embracing the virtues of wisdom, benevolence, and courage, and the principles of honor, loyalty, self-control, and sacrifice, the samurai of Japan created a class of great warriors marked by their philosophical depth, their admirable deeds, and their civility.

[1]Wikipedia. June, 27 2006. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.22 June 2006 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samurai#Origin_of_samurai.
[2] Wikipedia. June, 27 2006. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.22 June 2006 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samurai#Origin_of_samurai.
[3]Nitobe, Inazo, Bushido: The Soul of Japan, Charles E. Tuttle Publishing Co.: Tokyo, 1969.

Summer Camp in the Home Village

2006-06-28T04:24:00.000-05:00

Yagyu Shinkage Ryu Summer Camp 2006

Saturday, June 24th:

1-5 pm- Keiko at Yagyu Village Middle School
7 pm- A raucous and melodic banquet

Sunday, June 25th:

9 am- A buddhist ceremony, followed by offerings at the Yagyu family cemetary
10 am-An enbukai (demonstration) of Sangakuen no tachi kata by all attending
11 am- An enbukai by 12 chosen people demonstrating the following kata sets: Sangaku, Hassei, Chudan, Kuka and Enpi with advanced and beginning versions

Two long hours along the Meihan expressway, driving west toward Nara in the humid heat of June...suddenly we turn off the expressway onto the tightest off ramp imaginable, which seems to dissolve into a country driveway. The road dips, then climbs up to the top of a knoll to reveal a narrow two lane road winding along the edge of a deep valley. After only 5 minutes of driving, the marks of civilization clustered around the highway are memories, giving way to steep hills of conifers and bamboo. I know I am back in Yagyu territory, approaching from the opposite direction as my last visit in April.

Mr. Suzuki and I arrive at noon, followed immediately by Mr. Ban and Koichi sensei in another car. We sit down for lunch at a local restaurant and to rest before practice begins. After lunch we drive up to the middle school where practice will be held. There are already five or six cars there with students who have gathered in the parking lot waiting for the junior high schoolers to finish volleyball practice. Ten minutes later a bus arrives from the hotel where we will all be staying and another 25 members join us in the parking lot. People trickle in over the next 20 minutes from Tokyo, Nagoya, Osaka and farther regions for the annual summer camp.

Emerging from the ladies' changing room, I realize that space will be at a premium as there must be 70 people milling about the perimeter of the room. People are stretching, reviewing techniques from kata, practicing their straight cut, preparing themselves mentally. The gymnasium is alive with movement and energy. Scanning the room I see familiar faces scattered amongst others whom I have never met. I feel my tension dissipating, taking comfort in the fact that everyone in the room shares my passion. A hushed anticipation surges through the room as the first hour of warm up comes to a close.

At 2 pm Koichi Sensei opens the seminar with words of encouragment and laments the absence of Yagyu Sensei who declined to come because of the distance. The students are sent to one side of the gym, those who can perform the teacher's side to the other half of the gym. I gravitate in the direction of a teacher whom I know is skilled and spirited. He is from the Nagoya dojo, but I rarely have the opportunity to practice with him. I spend the next hour with him and learn a great deal. The humid weather sends ripples of sweat down my neck all the way to my ankles. I curse the gym with only two doors and a serious lack of ventilation, but the corrections and compliments I receive on my techniques make it worth my while. During the second and third hours I work with a member from the Kansai area and with a member from the Kanto area, both of whom are longstanding practitioners. Each of my three uchidachis offers different advice on how to improve my swordsmanship. Perhaps one of the most satisfying things about the seminar is looking around at fellow students and seeing them struggle with the same things I struggle with.

The day comes to a dramatic close with a large banquet and an all-you-can-drink-service back at the Lake Resort hotel. I thought the practice was intense until I saw the party afterwards...but then again those who play with sword have all the more reason to drink.

Saturday was a day of concentration and intensity driven by a serious desire to soak up as much knowledge as possible from the wealth of sempai present. The mood on sunday was much more subdued and relaxed. This was partly due to the fact that the majority of members were recovering from the previous night's revelries, but also because sunday was a celebration of the 400th anniversary of the death of the founder, Yagyu Sekishusai. All of the members gathered at the temple for a short buddhist ceremony during which the heart sutra was chanted and then everyone stepped up to the alter to offer their appreication to the Yagyu family, the founders of the school.

Right: The alter in the temple.

After the ceremony we all walked the narrow path behind the temple to the small family graveyard with its moss covered monuments sitting quietly among tall, straight cedar trees. We offered incense to the founders and to the other members memorialized there.

I felt a great sense of calm standing in that forest and this continued on through the day's demonstrations. The enbukai was held at the Masakizaki dojo, which stands on the edge of the hill overlooking part of Yagyu village. The floor was divided into three areas, the Nagoya members in the middle, Osaka on the left, and Tokyo on the right, with three sets of practioners demonstrating at all times in a round-robin fashion. I performed Sangakuen no tachi first for the Nagoya group with Mr. Ban, one of the most senior members.

It was interesting to watch everyone do the form as each member showed their own unique spirit and interpretation of the kata. This is not to say the techniques were different, just that the feeling and mood differed between people. I thoroughly enjoyed watching everyone, from the beginner to the more advanced player. By 11 am everyone had finished their turn and the demonstration of all the Omote tachi waza forms began. These forms included Sangaku toriage, Kuka toriage, Hassei, Chudan, Sangaku Shitakara, Kuka Shitakara, and Enpi. Twelve people were chosen from amongst the three dojos to show their form, and I was chosen for Kuka toriage. Kuka is a set of 9 techniques that were designed as specific counterattacks to various schools of swordsmanship which were contemporary with Yagyu Shinkage Ryu. I worked with a sempai from the Tokyo dojo and executed the techniques to the best of my ability.

After the conclusion of the enbukai I received various compliments from many members of the kai and was pleased to have been able to show my form. In fact, my demonstration seemed to break the ice for many of them since they had never spoken to me before. I think seeing me perform the kata helped many of them to look past my gaijin exterior, where they saw a heart and mind akin to their own. I ended the Yagyu Shinkage Ryu Summer Camp 2006 with a great deal more friends than I came with and with a feeling that I had learned and done something incredible.

Subtlety and Naturalness

2006-05-27T01:57:00.000-05:00

Japan is a nation of subtlety, an elusive culture full of understated acts and words. A glance, a feeling, seemingly coincidental or fortuitous occurances, all of these comprise a sublayer of Japanese language, culture, and society. In Japan it seems as if subtlety has been elevated to an art, an art that I feel is on the verge of extinction in the western hemisphere.

All of the arts I am studying incorporate subtlety and the use of natural movement. Plucking the strings of the koto delicately with the left hand creates a soft harmony with the melody that the right hand plays. That harmony quietly mimics the sound of raindrops in the background. During the tea ceremony, when the breeze shifts blowing through the open window in the teahouse, the light fragrance of incense can be detected emanating from the coals of the fire. This gentle stimulation of the senses compliments the graceful hand movements of the host as they return the bamboo ladle to its resting spot on the iron kettle with an almost dance-like gesture. Subtlety and naturalness are often employed in swordsmanship and strategy, something I have become increasingly aware of recently in my practice.

In the Yagyu Shinkage school of swordsmanship natural movement, subtlety, and the feeling or energy between the opponents is very important. Throughout my time practicing in this style, I have observed that often if a movement does not feel natural, then I am usually doing it incorrectly. This seems logical and reasonable, however I have found that many martial arts work in contradictory ways with the natural movements of the body. A phenomena I have yet to comprehend.

Many of the techniques we use involve baiting an opponent to make a particular strike or to choose a particular angle of attack. Then if the opponent takes the bait you will have already determined a successful counterattack. This requires that you use subtlety to lure the opponent into thinking you have actually made a mistake, when in fact you have not. While practicing a particularly difficult technique last week with my sensei he told me that while my physical actions were alright, the feeling was completely wrong. In that situation I was supposed to offer up my hands as the target to my opponent, but he could feel my energy as we closed the distance and it was too aggressive and uninviting. It was my job he said, to welcome the opponent into the trap in order for the technique to work successfully. We started over and this time I changed the feeling of my approach. I did not change my physical movements whatsoever, but in my mind I created a mental picture of what I must look like to the opponent. Then, as if looking at myself omnisciently I realized I needed to look weaker, more unsure of myself so the opponent would confidently strike at that gap in my defenses (which I was providing him). In other words, I projected feelings of weakness and invitation so that I might convince my opponent to take advantage of the gap in my defenses (the gap I was giving him). This actually worked as my teacher said he could feel the difference in my intention and energy.

It is quite amazing what one can learn if they are acutely aware of all aspects of a situation, both the physically manifested movements or gestures as well as the underlying feelings or energy between people. I knew in the past that this was important but never realized how important even the slightest change can be.

"To cut a man with a single blow is easy. To avoid being cut by a man is difficult. Though a man intends to strike you and advances to do so, keep him at a certain interval, above all remain calm and allow him to advance, and then allow him to strike. Thus, even though your opponent has an intention to strike adn goes through the motions of striking, if you maintain a certain inverval, he will not make contact. The sword taht makes no contact is a dead sword. You then go over his dead sword, strike, and defeat him."

~ Yagyu Munenori, from The Life-Giving Sword trans by William Scott Wilson

The Virtuous Sword...part 2

2006-05-22T22:38:00.000-05:00

“When you count all the benefits of swordsmanship,
there are so many, encompassing the virtues of heaven and earth.”
~Yagyu Muneyoshi

The path of a swordsman demands dedication to a way of life, an ideal, a code. Some of these ideals can be found in the philosophy of Confucianism. A person who pursues the study of swordsmanship must hone his internal and external character in order to realize his greatest potential. The five Confucian virtues of On, Ryo, Kyo, Ken, and Jyo are very important to his development as an individual, as a part of greater society, and as a swordsman. These virtues have great meaning and carry immense responsibility; On, moral debt, Ryo, confidence, Kyo, humility, Ken, restraint, and Jyo, deference. Ryo and Kyo are internal complementary forces that balance one another, while On and Jyo deal with how one acts toward others, particularly to those who are senior in rank or age. Ken is the ruling factor among them as it applies to all the virtues.

On is a difficult idea to comprehend, especially for the western mind. On is a virtue which has grown out of a group-oriented culture and which seeks to maintain harmony and appreciation among the group. On is the idea that as a part of the world you have a responsibility to those around you. In my mind this idea combines several qualities. Initially, an understanding that each and every human being is part of a complex universe, which is greater than himself. Secondly, that as a part of that universe one should strive to be in harmony or balance with those around you. Thirdly, On implies that one should never take things for granted, but rather appreciate the give and take of relationships, the kindness of others, the harmony of the world. Finally, On demands a sense of humility and selflessness. Thus, On is summed up as moral debt. On a large scale, this includes the greater universe and reaches back to one’s ancestors and into the past. On a smaller scale it can be understood as a way to appreciate what others may have sacrificed for you, and then to reciprocate their actions in the future. On is selfless and brings with it an awareness that nothing is done independently but happens because of the interdependency of the world. In this way, On is also infused with the morality of the golden rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

This philosophy is important for a swordsman because studying the path of Kenjutsu means studying the nature of the universe and living in empathy with those around you. Thus if a swordsman does not live by the golden rule, and has no moral debt to society he becomes self-centered and perhaps a threat to greater society because of his lack of appreciation for those around him coupled with his ability to destroy life. During the samurai era, swordsmen were strong figures within society and viewed as either leaders or rogues. A samurai could be a life-giver or a life-taker depending on their attitude toward On. The samurai who protect those weaker than himself and who live in harmony with his fellow man follow On, while a samurai who takes advantage of others, is arrogant, or is unconcerned for the welfare of others lacks a sense of moral debt. In my mind On is also related to Kyo, humility. A swordsman who tries to embody On strips away the hierarchies of society and recognizes that everyone should be treated fairly, as he himself would want to be treated. Thus, he does not look down on others based on their misfortunes or weakness, nor does he excuse bad actions from those who are successful and powerful.

Ryo, or confidence in oneself, is essential to living a happy and purposeful life. Without confidence, people are disinclined to accomplish goals and are more easily persuaded by others. Confidence is cultivated internally and is necessary for forming your character and molding your own beliefs. A swordsman must believe in himself and in his technique. If he does this then others will not be so ready to distract or exploit him for their own purposes because they will know that he has confidence in himself and his own abilities. A person with self confidence gains the respect and recognition of others through their strength in their beliefs and need not perform outlandish acts to convince others. Confidence also nourishes inner peace. A person who doubts their own abilities and judgement will be in constant confusion and inner turmoil, unable to find their place in the world. Strategically, without inner peace, a swordsman will have difficulty tuning into the mind and actions of his opponent because he will be unable to tear his focus from his own problems.

A swordsman should realize that superiority and confidence are two different things. Confidence means an assurance of the self and is kept only for oneself, while superiority or egotism is one’s own feelings asserted over another person. Through confidence you will be able to continually learn and improve your skills. In practicing the techniques of swordsmanship, confidence is necessary to make a winning strike. If you lack confidence, it will show in your demeanor and posture and your opponent will take advantage of this weakness and use it to overcome you.

Kyo, or humility, is a virtue which everyone should strive to possess. Kyo is manifested externally and is a manner in which your thoughts and actions are conveyed to others. Kyo, humility, should be used to balance the idea of Ryo, confidence, and to combat any feelings of superiority. Yagyu Muneyoshi says,

“If you aren’t modest but show off your swordsmanship, you’ll be hated by people and be embarrassed.”

A person without humility reveals his ego to others around him and creates ill feelings. This may be done knowingly or unknowingly, the latter being the worse. Egotism gives a false sense of confidence, instilling pride, superiority, and ultimately self-centeredness. In turn, these attributes lead to the suppression and mistreatment of others verbally or physically. People who come into contact with you may become angry or lose respect for you if you are too egotistical. It takes more self control, more thought, and more discipline to be a humble person than it does to be an egotistical person. Humility helps to contain confidence within the self and is a judge of one’s true inner character and strength.

“In swordsmanship, always train and discipline yourself, but don’t show it- hide it, be modest about it.”

When learning, it is wise to be humble and take in all that is offered by your teacher. If you are too over-confident in your own understanding of techniques you will be unable to see what your teacher is showing you and may lose out on valuable information. Through humility you may also find unexpected knowledge or friendship with others, which would have been missed by the egotistical person. Humility allows you to look beyond yourself to see greater opportunities and to live a rich life.

“Having no conflict in association with friends…is a martial art of the mind. The mind that looks into the principles of associating with people in a particular setting is a martial art as well. If you do not observe these principles you may overstay yourself at a certain gathering and incur shame for yourself for no real account. Or, by prattling on without the sensibilities of the people with whom you are associating, you may invite an argument or even bring yourself to ruin.”

In this passage, Munenori discusses using Ken, or restraint, in your words and mannerisms according to the situation and atmosphere at a gathering. Here restraint refers mainly to restraint of the mind and of judging what is appropriate to say in front of whom. Munenori speaks frequently on restraint of the will and on restraint of physical actions. These are ultimately intertwined with one another but I will separate them and discuss each.

The act of physical restraint is strategically important for a swordsman. Restraint here means considering your options carefully without making a hasty attack. An example of this is the idea of “Ken-Tai: Attack Stance and Waiting Stance.”

“Put your mind in a waiting stance, your body in an attack stance. If your mind takes an attack stance, it will run ahead of everything and do no good. So you must hold your mind back and win by putting your body in an attack stance and making your opponent strike first.”

This scenario can be reversed as well with the body waiting and the mind attacking. The idea is to balance the body and mind and to use restraint in order to make the most efficient and successful strike. In the case of a duel, a swordsman should use restraint in participating in such an activity. If it is an even match, restraint must be used in order to win. The opponent’s stances, technique, demeanor, and mannerism should be observed first in order to gain some knowledge of his intentions before striking. If the opponent is vastly inferior in skill, then it is wise to use restraint and refuse the duel in order to avoid killing another unnecessarily.
Restraint of the will or mind is ultimately what controls restraint of the body. Restraint of the mind means that you carefully consider all options and judge things adequately before making a decision. If the mind is unrestrained it will be manifested in the body and may cause one to do regrettable things. A swordsman who employs restraint, both in swordplay as well as in social situations, will be respected for the fact that he does nothing lightly.

The final virtue is one which Yagyu Munenori seems to have understood well based on our knowledge of his life and career. Jyo, meaning deference, is the true test of one’s confidence, humility, restraint and moral responsibility. Deference toward one’s seniors, whether in skill level, age, rank, or power is important to a swordsman because it tests the balance of his character by testing all of the other four virtues. If he is confident, he will be able to yield to others because he will feel secure in his own abilities and judgement and will have inner peace. If he is humble he will understand that everyone has their own role to play and he will defer to the best suited person for the situation or endeavor. By embodying Jyo, personal feelings or opinions are restrained, and deference itself is an act of physical restraint. Finally, deferring to one’s seniors shows a great understanding of On because it shows you appreciate the give and take of relationships and the way of harmony. Deferring to them shows your trust in them and your recognition of the sacrifices they have made to make the world a better place for you to live in.

“If you become a teacher of swordsmanship, first teach your student the laws and look into his mind.”

This quote from Muneyoshi reveals to us the importance of developing an ideal, a code, a set of virtues. The teacher is instructed to look into the students mind to see what kind of a human being he is before instructing him in the ways of giving and taking life. A pure- hearted warrior will seek to improve himself as a person and to create harmony with those around him, taking on each challenge presented him. The virtues of On, Ryo, Kyo, Ken and Jyo distinguish that pure warrior.

Bibliography:

Sato, Hiroaki, trans., The Sword and the Mind, The Overlook Press: New York, 1985.

Yagyu Munenori, Wilson, William Scott, trans., The Life-Giving Sword: Secret Teachings from the House of the Shogun, Kodansha International: New York, 2003.

Ocha for Obaasan

2006-05-16T01:13:00.000-05:00

The Japanese family system is evolving just as all other aspects of society and culture are changing. One product of this change is the increasing number of nursing homes and care facilities for the elderly. There is a small facility in the town of Fukuroi (about 15 minutes from my town of Osuka) which offers various levels of care for the elderly. Every year in the spring, Kuwabara-sensei, my tea ceremony teacher, gathers a group of friends together to serve the residents of the care facility matcha green tea and sweets. This year I volunteered to help as well.

Our group from left to right: Kuwabara-sensei (my tea teacher), Suzuki-san, Me, Ota-san, Nagai-san, and Shiozaki-san (who is 80 years old).

After a long, gloomy week of rain, monday brought sunny weather and renewed spirits. We arrived at the care facility around 1:30 pm and went to work setting up our table with a wide array of tea bowls, hot water pots, tiny tea sweet trays and boxes of sweets. I was given the task of sifting the matcha tea through a strainer to eliminate the little clumps and make the tea smoother and more delicious. Matcha green tea is quite bitter and any clumps left in the bowl after the tea is whisked together with the hot water interrupt the experience of the tea because of the sudden bitter taste of the unmixed clumps.

We served three groups of 14 people during three sessions. We began by introducing ourselves to everyone and then passed out the beautiful tea sweets, which were in the shape of pink flowers with white tipped petals. Kuwabara-sensei explained that the tea was from Kyoto and and that tea has slightly different tastes depending on where it comes from and the growing conditions of that area.

Left:The pink flower tea sweets being separated onto individual trays.

Below Right: Kuwabara-sensei whisking the matcha green tea in the tea bowl.

Each resident was given a unique tea bowl to drink from and everyone seemed to really enjoy the experience. After the tea there were lots of questions and everyone was curious about the blond gaijin who was serving tea. I explained my strong interest in traditional Japanese cultural arts and was greeted with broad smiles and gentle nods. Everyone seemed to enjoy the idea that there were still people like the six of us who enjoyed the traditional arts, such as the tea ceremony.

Below Center: While Kuwabara-sensei talked briefly about the tea ceremony and its long tradition, the rest of us worked to prepare the tea.

It felt good to bring an activity into the care center that the residents would not normally be able to enjoy. I hope that Japan can work to preserve its strong family structure, a system that has been in place for hundreds of years, a system that has been lost in America... The cultural gap between the elderly and the young generation of Japan far exceeds the actual age gap. I am afraid with the passing of that generation, a great deal of Japan's culture and arts will be lost forever. While a society and country must continually evolve, it would be a shame to lose traditions which have been cherished for hundreds of years by previous generations. If I could pass along anything to my young friends in Japan, it would be to preserve their own culture with its rich and beautiful traditions. As you can see from the picture below, I am doing my part to help keep the tea culture alive and the tea farmers in business!

My morning coffee has been replaced by Japanese matcha green tea, and of course who can drink the tea without the sweet?

Left:

Chawan (tea bowl)- my cherry blossom tea bowl Chashaku (tea schoop) - laid across the bowl Chasen (tea whisk) - made of a piece of bamboo which is delicately split into about 80 splines Higashi - dry sweets

The Road Less Traveled..."Shiyoganai"

2006-05-01T20:59:00.000-05:00

The Road Less Traveled-

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
~ Robert Frost

Above: A photo of my father and I working on a technique for our book- "The Rhythm of One: Hittatsu no Hyoshi, Self-Defense Concepts and Techniques Against a Knife Attack" (Nov. 2005) (If you are interested in this book, please leave a comment on this entry with your email address and I will respond. )

______________________________

The Japanese language is a complex, meandering path frought with pitfalls of politeness and relationship. Despite this, there is one word which I have recently adopted and which I find is helpful in almost all situations- "Shiyoganai." The meaning of this one word implies the following in English, "It can't be helped."

Even before I came to Japan, I often wondered how the serious martial artist could pursue his training amongst the demands of modern society. How do you balance responsibilities to work and family while following the road less traveled. Now that I live here in Japan, I realize this is much more of a problem than I could ever have imagined for many people. So how does one balance these demands while practicing a 400 year old style of swordsmanship? The answer is: "Shiyoganai." The deeper answer, which I have realized by observing my sensei and sempai and through a lot of soul searching, is that swordsmanship is not only practiced in the training hall. The principles and morals learned in class transfer into all aspects of life. Even some physical attributes learned in the training hall are applicable to daily life. A swordsman cannot live a dual life otherwise he is not a swordsman, he is merely a hobbyist: He is a business man getting an aerobic workout by means of a tool which resembles a sword. My understanding of swordsmanship has evolved as I learn that my life, my actions, my other artistic interests, my relationships with others, even my career goals, are affected by my martial pursuits. A friend once asked me, "what do you get out of swordsmanship?", and I think I finally have an answer...

"Among those who control the world and protect the state there's no one who doesn't employ swordsmanship in his mind."
~ The Sword and the Mind, trans. by Hiroaki

Swordsmanship, tea, the harp, what value do these things have in our modern world? Some would say none. I say that the creation of beauty and an understanding of life and what is most valuable are the only things necessary in a full and rich lifestyle. That is the road I have chosen. That is why I am here in Japan, studying archaic, and perhaps some might even say useless, traditions. I say, "Shiyoganai" and look past the fact that these practices developed out of a different country, a different culture, and a different era than my own.

When someone has a passion for something whether it is swordsmanship or windsurfing they pursue that passion wholeheartedly and as a way to improve their "self." They use their passion and the pursuit as way to unwind the tangled convolutions of the mind and soul created by the constraints of society, to free themselves of what others would push upon them and to make their own way in the world. Then the imagined duality of life, work, family, and social responsibilities harmonizes with one's passions and there is no longer the thought of separation. One learns to deal with all aspects of life in the same manner because, "It can't be helped."

"...and I took the road less traveled..."

The road less traveled is not easy. It requires great determination and a certain blatant disregard for the expectations and rules of today's society. It is often lonely. My road has led me to some very unusual arts, which I find all the more appealing because they are only practiced, understood, and appreciated by a few dedicated people. This is probably because they are arts that take more than a lifetime to master, but after all, who wants to rush life? Each and every day holds a new adventure.

From Yagyu Munenori in refernce to his father, Muneyoshi:

"My late father was mindful of this Way his entire life, never letting it slip his mind even while sleeping or eating. For this reason, he understood its mysterious principles. Keeping me at either his right or left, he would habitually discuss its subtleties and lecture on its profundities; and, whenever I heard even the smallest thing, I would respectfully and carefully hold it to my breast."

~"The Life-Giving Sword", trans. by William Scott Wilson

Into the Mountains....Yagyu Village

2006-04-19T02:43:00.000-05:00

In the pouring rain on a dreary saturday afternoon my companions and I ventured into the heart of ninja territory outside the city of Nara. Our destination was the sprawling hamlet of Yagyu Village where a Kendo tournament and the 400th anniversary of Yagyu Sekisyusai's death was being memorialize (the founder of Yagyu Shinkage Ryu).

My companions and I (henceforth known as my parents) arrived at Nara train station and climbed the stairs up to street level where the bus terminal was located. Passing underneath stop number one I spotted a sign in english denoting that stop as the departure point for many of the popular sites around Nara city. I was immediately doubtful upon arriving at the next sign, where no english explanation was given as to the buses departing from that stand. The third stop confirmed that we were definitely far from the main tourist route and I suddenly wished that I had written down the Japanese characters for Yagyu Village beforehand. This was how our journey began.

Left: The official Yagyu village tourist booklet
(In Japanese only of course...)

I stood thinking for a moment before asking the other man standing at the bus timetable which stop to choose. He immediately looked panicked and ran to the first bus that pulled up to ask the driver which stop. Number four was the answer, with no further information. So we moved down to stop number four and waited for the next bus. This time I asked the driver if his bus was going to Yagyu, to which he replied no and could not give me any more assistance. So there we stood, lost at Nara bus terminal because I can't read Japanese. At this point I am thinking to myself, "why didn't I find more time for studying kanji the past four months?" Then I happened to notice an unsuspecting middle aged woman with two plastic bags of produce standing on the other side of the sign for bus stop number four. I immediately set to action and approached with the stealth of a cat to gently ask for her help. She immediately took charge of the situation and began examining the timetable and a large temporary sign that had been erected nearby. At the
top of the sign was listed the bus times for Yagyu Village for the spring period. It had been right in front of my face for the last 20 minutes...

Right: The poster for the Kendo match on April 15th.

As we looked at the schedule for the bus running to Yagyu village I realized that we had missed the last bus by a mere 10 minutes. Had I known where I was going, we probably could have taken that bus. Instead we were stuck waiting for at least two more hours before the next bus came through. We decided to change our plans of touring Yagyu village in the morning and Nara in the afternoon in favor of seeing the Daibutsu (Giant buddha statue) at Toodaiji in the morning and catching the later bus into the hinterlands of the Japanese countryside in the afternoon.

Unfortunately, we had missed the demonstration early in the morning by my instructor, Mr.Koichi Yagyu, and six of the senior students. They presented a 15 minute performance of some of the techniques of our school as part of the 400 year anniversary of the founder's death. Shortly before noon my teacher called to ask if we were still coming out to Yagyu village as he, Mr. Ban, and Mr. Suzuki had the shinai (practice swords) my father had asked to take back to the US and they were ready to return to Nagoya. I told them they didn't need to wait for us and that I would mail the shinai to him at a later date. They said they might stay a bit longer and see some of the sights in the village...

Left: The Dojo in Yagyu Village set high on the hillside. This is where the kendo tournament was held.

After 40 minutes we arrived in Yagyu village, but the bus driver was not familiar with the name of the bus stop that my teacher had given me. Just as we were climbing the hill to leave the village we stopped at one last bus stop and we got off the bus to hunt down the dojo and the small shrine at the top of the mountain. The mist had descended into the valleys and a gentle rain engulfed the area. We stumbled upon the small sake shop that both my father and I had visited on previous excursions to Yagyu village and were sure we were in the vicinity of the dojo. We walked up the hillside toward the middle school, the most visible landmark in the area. The small hamlet was bustling with cars and pedestrians and as we approached the middle school we could see three figures in business suits standing outside the school gate. They waved and we knew it was our teacher and the senior students. They had waited for us after all...

Up on the hillside the Kendo competition had just ended and the young students were eagerly awaiting the awards ceremony. The whole dojo was alive with the voices of children and armor and bamboo tournament swords lay scattered all over the floor. We paused to survey the activity and then pressed on to the shrine at the top of the hill that still houses some of the Yagyu family treasures.

Left: A wooden statue of Yagyu Munenori
Center: A breastplate from a set of traditional armor with the Yagyu family crest of two hats side by side
Right: Sword guards in a display case with various designs, many in the Owari clan style

Behind the shrine in a large forest of cedar trees lay the old Yagyu family cemetary. A very peaceful, yet somehow eerie place amongst the creaking bamboo and cedars.

A walk back down the hillside brings you to a sharp corner and a small road branching off to the left hand side. At the top of the knowl is another cemetary with a small path running along one side. The path, which appears to vanish into the nearby forest, takes you to the Ittoseki stone. According to legend Yagyu Sekisyusai cut this large boulder in half with his sword. Following the path tall cedars crop up all around, straight as arrows bursting through the soft earth. The trees block most of the light from reaching the footpath and the air is close and cool.

"Swordsmanship is for yourself in impossible situations- keep this in mind and train hard."

~Yagyu Sekisyusai (Muneyoshi), From The Sword and the Mind, trans. by Hiroaki Sato

A Game of Incense and Seven Cups of Tea

2006-04-19T00:32:00.000-05:00

The Japanese incense ceremony, called Koudou, is an art that I knew nothing about until I recently attended a special tea ceremony. This art was perfected in the Muromachi period (1336-1573) and was influenced by Zen Buddhism. Today there are two main schools still being studied, the Oiye-ryu and Shino-ryu schools. The Shino school follows the traditions practiced by the Samurai and Soushin Shino, while the Oiye school adheres to the tradition created by the poet Sanetaka Sanjonishi.

The art of "listening" to incense involves several different tiny samples of incense passed around one at a time in a small burner. Each scent is inhaled and appreciated and then the fragrance filed in the memory for later identification according to the game being played. There are several types of incense games with various rules. The following are several links with information on Koudou.

http://www.scentsofearth.com/Kodo/Kodo-Home.htm
http://www.japanese-incense.com/kodo.htm
http://www.oller.net/Soradaki.htm

The game we played used five incense samples, two of which were identical. After inhaling all five samples you had to mark which two were the same on a sheet of folded paper. The incense samples were fairly similar making it hard to judge which two were correct. They were distinugished by things such as a faint hint of sweetness, or a somewhat bitter fragrance. This game was a wonderful addition to the tea ceremony as it gives great attention to the stimulation of the senses.

My experience with the art of the Japanese incense ceremony was as a means of enjoyment before the beginning of a tea ceremony. While my parents were visiting, my tea ceremony teacher and I planned a special gathering so that they could take place in the ceremony and learn more about the art I was studying. Three other friends attended the event, making seven in all. This was my first time serving tea as the host to others outside of my lessons. In the photo below my teacher is pictured at left, Kuwabara Teruko, helping me to remember all of the intricate steps of the ceremony.

Left: My mother

Middle: My father, Saito Yoshiko, and her friend.

Right: Saito Yoshiko admiring the alcove in the tea house.

Seven bowls of tea later, I finished serving and we all relaxed to talk about the history of the tea ceremony and incense ceremony, Japanese cultural arts, and frienship. As you can see from the photos below we tried out hand at all aspects of the tea ceremony, including climbing through the tiny door used to enter and exit the tea house as well as purifying our hands at the stone basin in the small garden.

Above: Mom coming out of the little door in the teahouse.

Left: Me at the stone basin in front of the teahouse.

Below Top: The five guests and I

Below Bottom: My family with my Sado teacher

Text and Technique

2006-04-11T03:58:00.000-05:00

Atsuta Jingu (Shrine)- Nagoya city

Once a month the Yagyu Shinkage Ryu text class is held at this beautiful shrine in the southern part of Nagoya. The text class explores the philosophical and mental aspects of the Yagyu Method of swordsmanship. Each month a book or treatise on swordsmanship is read independently by students and then discussed in a small traditional classroom or lecture hall located at Atsuta Jingu.

The Lecture Hall
The official Atsuta Jingu site in english is below:
http://www.atsutajingu.or.jp/eng/index.htm

Atsuta Jingu was founded about 1900 years ago, when the sacred sword Kusanagi-no-tsurugi, one of the Imperial symbols of Japan, was enshrined there. As a result this shrine ranks second only to Ise Shrine as the most beloved by the Japanese people. Atsuta has a large number of swords and daggers, which have been contributed over the years thanks to the legend that the Kusanagi-no-tsurugi sword resides in this shrine. Thus, Atsuta Jingu has come to be called the house of noted swords.The shrine buildings were maintained throughout the generations by the Muromachi and Edo Shogunates, and by the lords of the Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Tokugawa families.
~Information courtesy o f Atsuta Jingu official website

Atsuta Jingu is a wise choice for our class as the shrine property boasts a small forest, many old and beautiful buildings, and presents a calm and soothing atmosphere for study. As you can see from the pictures it is a charming site with lots of traditional architecture and character.

Although the subject matter is difficult to understand, I try to attend the monthly text class as I have read some of the texts which have been translated. There are few texts available in english and perhaps some day I can help remedy this situation. The following are both good and are translations of Yagyu Munenori's book of family strategy, Heiho Kadensho:

The Life-Giving Sword: by William Scott Wilson

The Sword and the Mind: by Hiroaki Sato

The following books are an example of some of the texts which our classes may cover (however I don't think they have been translated from the Japanese yet):

Shinkage Ryu Kiriai Kudensyo no koto: collected from Kamiizumi Isenokami and written by Yagyu Sekisyusai. This book contains the oral instructions given by Kamiizumi Isenokami the founder of Shinkage Ryu. Sekisyusai gave it to his grandchild, Yagyu Hyogonosuke Toshotoshi in 1603. It discusses the concepts of heiho( martial arts) and the art of fencing received from Kamiizumi Isenokami.

Motujimisyudan Kudensyo: by Yagyu Sekisyusai. The title means "Having No taste and No Mind For Fighting" and this book added the sets of technique called Tengu Syou, Nijunanakajo Kiriai, and Okuginotachi. Sekisyusai gave the “Motujimisyudan Kudensyo” to the third headmaster Yagyu Hyogonosuke Toshitoshi adding these three top secret strategies.

Shijyu fujyasyo: by Yagyu Hyogonosuke Toshitoshi. This is his text on Heiho (strategy). He explains both the armoured style heiho (using low stances) and the new concepts for unarmored combat (using upright postures).

Shinkage Ryu Heiho Mokuroku (Renya kudensho): by Yagyu Renyasai Toshikane. Toshikane wrote this text at 12 or 13 years old and it summarizes the techniques of the school as passed down to him.

Studying swordsmanship is more than just swinging a sword and that is why we must study the old texts that have been passed down to us from previous generations. Since our society no longer lives and dies by the sword, our generation will experience the teachings in a different light than those of past students. Those pursing the path of swordsmanship 400 years ago endeavored to perfect their technique in order to survive, while we practice for other reasons. Studying these texts sheds light not only on particular martial techniques and strategies, but also on the politics, society, culture, philosophy, and mores of the time in which the text was written. Of course these things are infused within the text and must be drawn out, but these aspects help us to study the history of the school and to better understand why the texts themselves were written.

These are some other books related to Yagyu Shinkage Ryu and Swordsmanship which I highly recommend:

The Unfettered Mind: by Takuan Soho, trans. by William Scott Wilson / Lives of Master Swordsmen: byMakoto Sugawara / The Book of Five Rings: by Miyomoto Musashi. trans. by Thomas Cleary / The Japanese Art of War: Understanding the Culture of Strategy by: Thomas Cleary / The Yagyu Shinkage Ryu: by David A. Hall (a dissertation) / Sword and Brush: The Spirit of the Martial Arts by: Dave Lowry / Classical Warrior Traditions of Japan: by Meik and Diane Skoss

"The Sound of Water..."

2006-03-20T22:57:00.000-05:00

While searching the internet one day for a decent subway map of the city of Nagoya, I happened upon a very useful website of information about the city. Posted quite conspicuously, as though it were meant exactly for me to see, was an advertisement for Japanese harp lessons. The advertisement appealed to me straightaway as I have always loved the sound of harps and the last line, which read, "Lessons in English", helped make my decision that much easier.

My teacher, the youngest looking Japanese woman I have ever seen, is 41 years old and teaches private lessons in her small apartment in Nagoya. The room in which we practice is no more than 7 feet by 10 feet, but somehow we manage to fit a bookshelf, a desk, two kotos stretched lengthwise on wooden stands and ourselves into this tiny space. This is even more amazing when you take into account that each koto is nearly 7 feet long. The following is a description of the Japanese koto.

"The koto, or Japanese zither, is defined by its long board resonator with an arched surface. A traditional Koto has 13 strings, with 13 movable bridges. It is played with three ivory plectra (plucking tools) that are placed on the thumb, index, and middle fingers of the right hand. From 7th to 8th century, cultural embassies were sent to China. They returned with new political ideas, as well as material culture, including the cheng, a musical instrument that became the koto in Japan. Traditionally, the koto is used to accompany other musicians and singers during Kabuki performances. Kabuki is a highly stylized performing art that combines acting, dancing, and music in an extraordinary spectacle of form, color, and sound."

Courtesty: Maxwell Museum of Anthropology - Instruments of the World

www.unm.edu/.../exhibits/ instruments/koto.html

Every month I attend six lessons learning various techniques for playing the koto. Right now I plan on playing one of Japan's most well-known songs, "Sakura" on April 1st at a small festival in Nagoya with my teacher and another young woman from New Jersey who is also taking lessons. Learning to play the koto is very relaxing and feels like a form of meditation for me. I also think that learning other artforms which are not related to martial pursuits offers a healthy contrast to my training in Yagyu Shinkage Ryu. In the past, many of the samurai took up artisitic pursuits, such as calligraphy, tea ceremony, painting, and poetry, probably in an effort to escape the violence of the times. Life must have a balance, and while the martial arts tend toward the destruction of life, and thus beauty, music and art seem to naturally create it.

The virtuous sword?

2006-03-12T22:37:00.000-05:00

...In the early sixth century, a new philosophy made its way to the shores of Japan, a philosophy destined to weave itself into the very fabric of Japanese society. This ideology, brought back from mainland China through various religious pilgrims was Confucianism...

Through my practice in Yagyu Shinkage ryu and after innumerable hours spent sitting on a train bench during the long trip back home from my practices, I have begun to isolate what it is that draws me to swordsmanship. The following is an excerpt taken from a paper I wrote on "Swordsmanship and the Five Confucian Virtues of Gojyo."

...For the Japanese warrior class, the philosophy of Confucianism provided them with not only a framework in which to operate under the orders of their lords (Daimyo), but the five virtues of Gojyo, which served as tools for developing a good character. In Japan, the following five Confucian virtues (Gojyo) were considered very important, Jin (sympathy/benevolence), Gi (Justice/Duty), Rei(Form/Etiquette), Chi(Wisdom) & Shin(Faith/Heart). The samurai strived to embody these principles in their daily lives, as well as in their practice of swordsmanship.
As one of the leading schools of swordsmanship throughout history, the Yagyu Shinkage Ryu also embraced and honed these virtues. Based on the texts and techniques left to us by Yagyu Sekishusai and Yagyu Munenori, these virtues were paramount to understanding the warrior’s path and the depths of swordsmanship. These virtues apply to both physical techniques, as well as to the mindset and philosophy of a swordsman, and do not stand alone but are interconnected.

The doctrine of Confucius, a sage who lived from c. 551-479 BC, was based upon the establishment of a strict social hierarchy with an emphasis on cultivating proper virtues and an upright character. Confucianism integrated well into Japan’s social structure with its rigid distinctions between class and gender. Confucianism created a highly productive and organized society using the Chinese model and brought order and control to the multitude of clans that dominated Japan at that time. The Government of Japan welcomed the bureaucracy established by Confucianism as a way in which to govern more efficiently. Under Prince Shotoku, the Seventeen Article Constitution of 604 a.d. was drafted and modeled after Chinese bureaucratic principles.[1] From this period onward, Confucianism became an invaluable component of Japanese society. The Confucian system greatly impacted the way in which Japan was governed, but was also very influential in guiding the everyday lives of the Japanese people. Filial piety, social hierarchy, a sense of duty, and proper moral behavior comprised the central structure of Confucianism and these ideas came to permeate the customs and relationships within Japanese life. The individual person was perceived as a microcosm of the family unit, the nation, and even the universe, which was based on the principles of Yin and Yang. These contrasting, yet complimentary forces were instrumental in creating personal harmony, which in turn would then have an effect on the larger world of which that person was only a small part. Thus, it was important for each person to cultivate the correct virtues.

The first of the five virtues of Gojyo is Jin, sympathy and benevolence. Jin can be considered one of the most valuable of all the virtues because it implies a communion with humanity. Swordsmanship deals in life and death and a swordsman who is callous to an opponent and his fellow man can be considered nothing more than a device used for killing. On the other hand, someone who has the ability to place himself in his opponent’s position or mind can truly comprehend and consider the potential outcomes of a fight, and thus make a wise decision about his approach. This notion extends beyond the boundaries of a single person or fight and is equally applicable to rulers and large scale battles. Yagyu Munenori states that;

“There are times when ten thousand people suffer because of the evil of one man.
Therefore, in killing one man’s evil you give ten thousand people life. In such
ways, truly, the sword that kills one man will be the blade that gives others
life.”[2]

In this passage, it is clear that the swordsman who gives ten thousand people life understands the principle of Jin, that he values life and exhibits sympathy toward the many by removing the one. A person who is sympathetic is also an unselfish person. Selfishness keeps the mind fixated on its own wants and needs, while the unselfish person is able to free their mind from all personal distractions. When considering sympathy or benevolence in terms of swordsmanship, we must question whether these terms bear the same stigma as they do when used in regard to everyday matters. Sympathy and benevolence can imply an emotional connection with another person to varying degrees. If a swordsman feels an emotional connection to his opponent there is a greater chance that his resolve will be shaken and he will question himself in battle. This kind of mindset could lead to failure. Instead, Jin might be thought of in the context of developing an awareness of the world and of the nature of life. Then your mind will not become fixated upon your opponent, yourself, or emotions, but will acknowledge the situation with respect, impartiality, and seriousness.

The second virtue, Gi, can be interpreted in two ways, justice or duty. These two definitions are similar, but not the same. Using the first interpretation, justice, Gi becomes somewhat entangled with the notion of morality. A person possessed of a sense of justice has thought well on the principles of morality and what is deemed fair and unfair in life as dictated by humanity and according to his own values. Gi is related to Jin in a way, as justice is partly based on the presence or void of sympathy or benevolence. Anything concerning morality can become complicated and is entirely dependent upon the character of each swordsman. However, it is clear that a person studying swordsmanship should possess rationality in his actions. If no wrong has been committed, then it would be unjust to kill an opponent without giving a reason. Justice demands an ability to see things from multiple perspectives, and a need for accountability. In my reasoning, a person who is skilled in the use of the sword holds a great deal of responsibility in his hands. Just because one has acquired skill with a sword does not mean that he should use it lightly. This is where a sense of duty is important, the second interpretation offered for Gi. Duty to your own ideals or in service to someone else whom you serve includes the attributes of accountability, loyalty, and honor. To be dutiful is to be steadfast in your convictions and this requires inner strength and assurance. Honor can be thought of as the duty you uphold to yourself. A swordsman without honor is one who has not spent much time searching his soul for the raison d’etre. How can a man unsure of himself stand by his convictions? Moreover, can he exhibit great loyalty toward another man without his own sense of honor? Loyalty expands upon the idea of honor by physically manifesting ones personal convictions through service to others. Thus a swordsman who feels no duty to himself or to those he might serve might be viewed as unsure, changeable, and weak.

Rei, or proper form, is the third virtue and arguably a path for developing many other virtues. A knowledge of proper form encompasses not only the physical shapes of the techniques in swordsmanship, but also a deeper understanding of that technique, discipline, etiquette, deference for one’s predecessors. Rei is an extremely valuable teaching tool for those seeking to master all that swordsmanship has to offer. Firstly, Rei provides a means of preserving and transmitting important combative techniques of a school. The repetition of techniques performed within strict patterns ensures less deviation from the original technique as information is passed down from generation to generation. This is important for preserving the true intention of the movement. In this way, Rei generates a prescribed method of training and acts as a kind of control in the quality of student which will come from, and eventually represent, a school. Furthermore, through this constant repetition a student learns the technique so completely that it ceases to be “a technique”, and instead becomes an instinctual or natural reaction.

“When you have exhaustively learned the various practices and techniques and
made great efforts in disciplined training, there will be action in your
arms, legs, and body but none in your mind; you will have distanced yourself
from training, but will not be in opposition to it…The place you come to in
this way is the perfection of the Way. At this level, you enter through
training and arrive at its very absence.”[3]

This method of training also instills etiquette in students by recognizing the contributions of the founders of the school, as well as the sempai currently practicing (through the repetition of techniques developed by them), and pays homage to their dedication and skill. Finally, it takes great determination and fortitude to learn the proper forms and etiquette of a school and this in itself teaches discipline. A swordsman with discipline will strive to do his best in every technique and will use his whole spirit to carry out that technique.

Shin, the fourth virtue, meaning faith or heart, is an essential component of swordsmanship and of life. In my mind, without Shin there is no purpose in studying swordsmanship, or anything else for that matter. Shin is the outward expression of your soul and true character. When practicing, a swordsman must pour his whole being, his whole spirit into his endeavors. Only when he does this will he become entirely focused on the situation and forget everything else, this is the time when he will improve and truly understand. The spirit pushes the mind aside and lets the body work as it was intended. With Shin, a technique is performed with absolute sincerity, and regardless of the outcome of the encounter, a great feat has been accomplished.

“When you have continuously made great efforts and have accumulated discipline
without really noticing, you will have left aside the thought of doing things
well, and will have attained the realm of No-Mind/No-Thought.”[4]

From this passage, it is my understanding that Yagyu Munenori’s theory of “No-mind” is intertwined with the idea of Shin. Shin can also be interpreted as faith. Without faith in the teachings of the founders, sensei, or sempai, a swordsman cannot learn what they have to teach. He must be able to trust in them and follow their instruction, laying aside his own will in order to build his knowledge. He must also have faith in the techniques themselves, believing that they will work, or he will have already lost. A positive attitude and mindset are essential for learning, understanding, and achieving victory.

The final virtue, Chi, or wisdom, is at once an asset and a danger. Wisdom in conjunction with the other four virtues of Jin, Gi, Rei, and Shin should produce a good person and a cautious and rational swordsman. A truly wise man is one who has the ability to see and understand clearly the world around him because he has thought deeply about those things.

“In The Great Learning it says, ‘Extend your knowledge to all things.’ To
‘extend’ means to do something exhaustively. Exhaustively extending your
knowledge generally means to know men as they are in the world and to
exhaustively know the principles of all existing things.”[5]

Wisdom can lead to great achievements and can benefit all of mankind if used properly and with a humble spirit. Many beautiful artistic traditions and cultural practices have been preserved through the wisdom of men, spanning many generations. However, wisdom can also be a barrier in one’s own mind and can cause defeat and misunderstanding. In one of his poems, the Zen Priest Takuan warns Yagyu Munenori that:

“It is the very mind itself
That leads the mind astray;
Of that mind,
Do not be unmindful.”[6]

A person who thinks that they are wise or above others uses their wisdom in the wrong manner. This kind of thinking leads to egotism and clouds the mind and when this happens even if that person is wise he will be unable to pass down his knowledge to others and it will be lost. Chi must be approached with pure intention and selflessness. A true and mindful warrior will seek to cultivate the five virtues of Gojyo because as Munenori writes:

“It is missing the point to think that the martial arts is solely in cutting a man down. It is not in cutting people down; it is in killing evil.”[7]

Practicing swordsmanship is not only in learning how to use a weapon that destroys life, it is about appreciating and understanding your own life and humanity. These virtues are tools which may help the swordsman to better achieve this and to pass this spirit down to future generations.

[1] Lu, David J. Japan, A Documentary History: The Dawn of History to the Late Tokugawa Period, New York: An East Gate Book, 1997, 22-23. [2] Yagyu Munenori, Wilson, William Scott, trans., The Life-Giving Sword: Secret Teachings from the House of the Shogun, Kodansha International: New York, 2003, 69.
[3] Yagyu Munenori, Wilson, William Scott, trans., The Life-Giving Sword: Secret Teachings from the House of the Shogun, Kodansha International: New York, 2003, 75.
[4] Yagyu Munenori, Wilson, William Scott, trans., The Life-Giving Sword: Secret Teachings from the House of the Shogun, Kodansha International: New York, 2003, 93.
[5] Yagyu Munenori, Wilson, William Scott, trans., The Life-Giving Sword: Secret Teachings from the House of the Shogun, Kodansha International: New York, 2003, 74.
[6] Yagyu Munenori, Wilson, William Scott, trans., The Life-Giving Sword: Secret Teachings from the House of the Shogun, Kodansha International: New York, 2003, 116.
[7] Yagyu Munenori, Wilson, William Scott, trans., The Life-Giving Sword: Secret Teachings from the House of the Shogun, Kodansha International: New York, 2003, 72.

A woman's art

2006-02-27T03:38:00.000-05:00

In Japan, the sword was the soul of the samurai, meaning it was also typically the province of men. It seems to be a rare occurance to find women acting in the capacity of samurai throughout Japanese history.* The naginata, a weapon similar to the European glaive, came to be considered the weapon of women. Although my first love is the art of swordsmanship, I cannot ignore the efficiency and skill of those trained in Naginata-justu. In past eras, an opponent wielding a naginata would have posed a serious threat to even the most accomplished swordsman and many schools incorporated techniques designed to fight against these long-range weapons. Thus, I am interested in learning about the naginata in order to more fully understand how swordsmanship techniques might be applied against an enemy wielding this weapon. In the above woodblock print you can see that the women are holding long wooden shafts with sword blades attatched to them, this is the naginata.

The following is a description of the Naginata:

"Naginata can be used to stab, but due to their relatively balanced center of mass, are often spun and turned to proscribe a large radius of reach. The curved blade makes for a more effective tool for cutting due to the increased length of cutting surface. In the hands of a skilled practitioner, one 5-foot (1.5 m) tall wielder could conceivably cover and attack in 380 square feet (35 m²) of open, level ground with a 5 foot (1.5 m) shaft, 3 foot (1 m) blade, 3 foot (1 m) reach. Note also at the opposite end of a Naginata, the ishizuki, (a metal end-cap, often spiked, which functioned as a counterweight to the blade) was attached, rendering the naginata an effective weapon whichever end was put forward. " ~Courtesy of Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naginata

This is a brief history of the naginata, beginning from the Edo period, and explaining how the naginata came to be known as the weapon of women in Japan.

"During the Edo Period...the naginata became... a symbol of the social status of women of the samurai class. A functional naginata was often a traditional part of a samurai daughter's dowry. Although they did not typically fight as normal soldiers, women of the samurai class were expected to be capable of defending their homes while their husbands were away at war. The naginata was considered one of the weapons most suitable for women, as it allows a woman to keep a male opponent at a distance, where his greater height, weight, and upper body strength offers less of an advantage." ~Courtesy of Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naginata

As a woman living in Japan and studying the Japanese martial arts, naturally a "woman's weapon" is of interest to me. Every sunday I attend practice with a small group of devoted women, ranging in age from 10 years old to late 60's. We study together under the tutelage of a female instructor in her late 70's, and she is truly a "woman warrior". She holds rank in 5 or 6 styles of martial arts including Naginata-do, Goshin Ryu Jujitsu, and a rare style called Kusurigama-jutsu (A weapon composed of a chain with a sickle at one end).

This past sunday I was priveleged to attend a seminar taught by one of the top instructors in Japan from Mishima city.

Imagine my gratification as I walk into a dojo where 25 women are wielding 7 foot long bladed weapons yelling "men"! The irony is clear to me in the english language, but in the Japanese martial arts world the word "men" refers to a target for striking- the head.

For four hours we studied Kihon (basic strikes with movement) and kata (pre-arranged fighting patterns). Many of the women attending the seminar were older or had already achieved the rank of Shodan (first degree black belt), while I have only studied the first four naginata kata. Therefore, I was able to watch some of the more advanced techniques being performed and found the seminar extremely interesting.

Right: Students performing Kihon (basics). They are in Chudan kamae, middle level fighting stance.

Left: Students practicing paired Kata (pre-arranged patterns of techniques)

Right: Me practicing with Nakano-san. She was quite skillful and worked with me most of the day on the four kata that I knew.

Me blocking an incoming strike to the head (Men).

Below Center: The afternoon group. The seminar was from 10:00-12:00 and 1:00-3:00. Only some of the students stayed for the second half. There were twice as many in the morning class. I think one of the most rewarding parts of this seminar and the class in general is that I am surrounded by women practicing a martial art. In my swordsmanship class I am usually the only female in the dojo and it was nice to practice with other women. In addition it is nice to see that women are still interested in and practicing the martial arts, particularly one which has historically been associated with women. By training in naginata they are preserving a part of their heritage.

*Although I have found little documentation of women samurai thus far, this will be a topic involving detailed research as my proficiency in reading Japanese language improves.

Life and death in one-quarter inch

2006-02-13T10:12:00.000-05:00

"Presumably, as a martial artist, I do not fight for gain or loss, am not concerned with strength or weakness, and neither advance a step nor retreat a step. The enemy does not see me. I do not see the enemy. Penetrating to a place where heaven and earth have not yet divided, where Ying and Yang have not yet arrived, I quickly and necessarily gain effect."

~ Takuan Soho, The Unfettered Mind: Writings of the Zen Master to the Sword Master,

trans. by William Scott Wilson

The average Japanese sword blade is roughly 28" long by 1/4" thick. Like the misty horizon separating sea and sky on a hazy day, steel lingers perilously between life and death. If one cannot find his spiritual path in that misty horizon, where else can he?

For a long time there has been discussion on the subject of swordsmanship and spirituality. Indeed many of the techniques practiced in the art of combat depend on such subtlety that one-quarter of an inch may determine who lives and who dies in a duel or battle. How then are the two paths of swordsmanship and spirituality related? Are they parallel, diverging, the same path? Anyone who makes a study of the sword must eventually face this question and find his own answer through diligent practice and his personal beliefs.

The Yagyu Shinkage school is one of the few schools of swordsmanship that embraces spirituality, and the texts from this school are infused with the principles of Zen Buddhism. It is clear that the early masters thought long on this subject, but what of the practitioners of today? Today people practice swordsmanship for various reasons, but we no longer practice it in order to protect our lives. How has this change in society affected the way people view the sword?

I have seen both ends of the spectrum. Some seem to view the sword as nothing more than a tool, others approach swordsmanship in the same way they might dance, while still others seem to cling to the old notion of the sword as a weapon. I expect the way in which a person views a sword is based on his or her personal religious or spiritual beliefs, even if only subconsciously. Of course a sword is nothing but a tool, or a work of art if you would prefer to look at it in that light, without the person who weilds it. It may sit on a shelf and be admired for its grace, fine craftsmanship, and the great effort that went into making it. However, from my perspective, the moment that sword comes into the hands of a person it has the potential to take or give life. The unity of man and steel is for this one purpose. Although some practitioners may see the forms they study as beautiful, fluid, and artistic, they should not ignore the intention behind the movements and these should not be taken lightly. When learning marksmanship, people today are acutely aware of the purpose of a gun and are reminded of the potential outcomes of abusing that weapon by watching the news every night. Swordsmanship is no different, except that we no longer brandish 28" swords on the street as we once used to. The same respect, caution, and responsibility should be used when practicing with a sword. I can usually tell those people who have truly thought about what they are doing in practice; they seem to be a little detached, with a twinkle of insanity flickering through their eyes. This is because they understand that life and death hangs inbetween one-quarter of an inch. Despite your own views of what swordsmanship is used for, the important point is to understand where swordsmanship came from, acknowledge it's past and pay respects to that legacy. Then I believe you may follow your own path and practice in whatever truth you hold to be true.

It has been said that swordsmanship is the way to finding your innerself, to discovering your true character and the nature of the world. I think this is correct. Through the study of the sword you may come to know yourself better, form a set of values, set personal goals, and for some embrace a spiritual path.

A Living Legend

2006-02-06T03:51:00.000-05:00

It was on the grounds of the Hozoin temple, in the city of Nara, during the warring era in Japan (late 14C.-early 15 C.), that Yagyu Shinkage Ryu originated. At that time there was a swordsman known as Kamiizumi Nobutsuna who was wandering Japan with two of his disciples, seeking worthy opponents who would test their skills against his new style of swordsmanship, "Shinkage Ryu". Since the head priest of Hozoin temple was well acquainted with the renowned swordmaster of the Kinki District (Osaka, Nara, and Kyoto), Yagyu Muneyoshi, he notified Muneyoshi of Kamiizumi's presence in Nara. Little did these two swordmasters know that when their paths crossed a unique school of swordsmanship would be born, and that school would continue on for 400 years.

Yagyu Shinkage ryu has survived through the birth of modern Japan and the end of the samurai period, through World War II, and it continues to be practiced even now in the land of cell phones and bullet trains. The enduring question is, "why is this archaic combat art still in existence?" I think that Yagyu Munenori, in his text Heiho Kadensho (The Life-Giving Sword) explains the importance of the martial arts and their applicability to not only combat but to a person's daily lifestyle.

"In a match with two opposing swords, victory comes to the man who naturally harmonizes Principle and Function, and whose hands and feet work well. In the same way it can be said that the martial art of the great general is in winning a battle by using his various forces well and by skillfully devising stratagems...a general opposes those two armies in the few square inches of his mind and observes how he will lead his army into battle. This is a martial art performed in the mind. It is a martial art to be mindful of chaotic times while ruling the country in peace; and it is also a martial art to observe the inner workings of a country, to know what causes chaos, and to rule well before chaos begins." ~from "The Life-Giving Sword", trans. by William Scott Wilson.

In this way, the principles on which Yagyu Shinkage Ryu are based are those which should influence and guide the entire life of a practitioner. The demeanor and character one propagates in the training hall should translate into his or her everyday lifestyle. Likewise, as Munenori points out these principles apply not only to private individuals, but to those in positions of government and other leaders of nations. This is why Yagyu Shinkage Ryu has survived to this day. Although no one wears armor or carries a sword in these modern days, those values and ideals remain the same and are still important. Those few people who diligently practice this art realize the truth and wisdom to be learned through the discipline of the sword and this is why I have come all the way to Japan, from a small rural town in western NY, to practice the art of Japanese swordsmanship.

Recently I have found that it is when I forget all thoughts of training, all thoughts of winning or losing the encounter, all thoughts of improving my technique, that is when everything comes natually and I am able to best understand the nature of the techniques. This is when my mind is clear and I can feel the energy surging between my practice partner and myself. When the other people in the room seem to sink into the shadows and there are only two of us, singularly focused. All of my focus and spirit are poured into each and every technique, as if it were the last thing I was going to do. And when I have finished a set of kata, I feel like my spirit has been rejuvenated, expressed, cleansed. Munenori suggests that:

"When practicing archery, if your mind is occupied by thoughts of shooting the bow, your aim will be disordered and wandering...When the man shooting the bow forgets about the mind that is shooting the bow and releases the string with the ordinary mind he has when doing nothing, the bow will be tranquil." ~from "The Life-Giving Sword", trans. by William Scott Wilson.

So this is what I strive for in my practice and hope that through this I will come to better understand the principles engendered by Yagyu Shinkage Ryu and the winding path of life.

Classes with "The Red-Stick School"

2006-01-30T01:08:00.000-05:00

Affectionately known as the "red-stick" school of swordsmanship in our Ithaca dojo, these pictures were taken at my weekly class in Yagyu Shinkage Ryu in Nagoya, Japan. Unlike Kendo, which is fast-paced competition sword fighting, or Iaido, which is comprised mostly of individual pre-arranged sword draws and cuts, my instruction in Yagyu Shinkage is a mixture of techniques.

In the picture (left) Yagyu Koichi (left side) and another American student are practicing paired pre-arranged sets of techniques. They are dressed in keiko gi (practice uniforms), which would have been part of the everday clothing ensemble worn by the samurai of old Japan. The "red sticks" you see in their hands are called Fukuro Shinai (bagged shinai) and are the practice weapon used during training. These weapons are constructed of a stick of bamboo about 1 1/4 inches in diameter by 40 inches long. They are then split into 8 sections for approximately 2/3 of the length of the bamboo. This gives the bamboo flexibility when striking and prevents serious injury. The bamboo is then slid into a long leather sheath which is covered with multiple layers of red lacquer. This stiffens the leather and protects it from repeated strikes and blocks. A long lace extends from the leather sheath which is then wrapped around the exposed "handle" of bamboo to secure the sheath.

Before the invention of the shinai, schools teaching swordsmanship used wooden swords or real swords for practice and many pupils were seriously injured or even killed. The Yagyu Shinkage school is one of the few to use this unique looking fukuro shinai.

The picture below right shows several pairs of students practicing the paired techniques together in a row. As you can see they are all moving and it was difficult to catch them still for even a moment! Within the training system there are several levels of kata (pre-arranged techniques, like mock duels) that one learns. There are of course two sides, the student's side and the teacher's side (as seen in the above pictures). As a beginner you first learn the student's side. After you have become proficient in about 9 sets of paired technqiques, with each set having at least 6 techniques within that set, then you will learn the teacher's side of the kata. After this, a practitioner might learn the use of the short sword, techniques designed to defend against a sword if you are unarmed, and other more advanced teachings. Presently I am learning the fourth Kata set in paired practice.

In addition to the paired kata, we also practice Yagyu Seigo Ryu Batto Jutsu. These are solo kata using a non-sharpened sword. Every second and fourth tuesday is devoted to the study of these techniques. Below are a few pictures from that class. I am still trying to understand many of these techniques, which seem to stress spirit, strong stances and control. Working with an iaito (non-sharpened practice sword) feels completely different than working with the fukuro shinai. The weight and balance of a real sword come into play and you must learn how to draw and resheath the sword smoothly and efficiently. An iaito also presents the challenge of cutting at the proper angle, which is not as obvious an issue when using the round shinai. At home, I also practice using a real, sharpened sword for the purpose of ensuring that my techniques are executed properly and precisely. Unfortunately, Japanese customs frowns on importing real swords (shinken) and so I only work with an iaito here in Japan. Presently, I am learning the third and fourth kata in Batto Jutsu.

Studying both Tachiwaza (standing paired techniques) as well as Batto Jutsu gives the student a good idea of how the sword feels in the hands as well as how it comes into play against an opponent. A
s Yagyu Sensei always says, "Gambatte!"
(Good luck!)

Coffee and Philosophy

2006-01-21T03:17:00.000-05:00

Blistered hands, wet brow, legs that feel like lead, permanent smile, this is my typical state of body and mind following the usual Tuesday evening keiko (practice) in Nagoya. Dragging two gear bags, my sword case, and heavy feet I follow Mr. Suzuki, Mr. Ban, Mr. Yagyu, and Yagyu Sensei (teacher) into the silver station wagon and perform the ritual bows and waves to the other students who are patiently waiting along the sidewalk for sensei to leave before going home. Then we drive to the nearest coffee house where the five of us camp out for between 2 and 2.5 hours, settling in with our steaming hot cups of coffee, or cold soda in my
case.
Since Yagyu sensei is 87 this year, the senior students feel that it is a good practice to spend time talking about the future of the school, any business matters that might need attended to, philosophical points, or just the day's small talk. They feel this is necessary so that they truly know sensei's mind and plans for the Yagyu kai(school). I myself feel priveleged to sit quietly in the corner sipping my cold coke and enjoy listening to them discuss everything from swordsmanship to this year's persimmon crop. After all, it is a notable feat to personally pick and peel 3,200 persimmons, which is what Mr. Suzuki did this winter.

(Far Right) Some of Mr. Suzuki's 3,200 persimmons drying on strings that hang down from the eaves of his old house.

One evening, after the change of the New Year, I offered Yagyu
sensei and Mr. Yagyu (the heir to the school) presents I had brought for them from the states. The gifts were my way of thanking these two men for welcoming me into the Yagyu kai and for the training they were giving me. Handmade by a friend of my father, I had two small Japanese "tanto" style knives in simple black cases. I think they were a bit surprised by the gifts and smiles crossed their faces when they learned they were handmade. Little was said, but I know they appreciated them and it made me feel that I was giving something back to them for all of their patient teaching.

(Above) Yagyu Sensei, 87, holding a tanto knife by Gary Bradburn of Wichita, Kansas.
www.bradburnknives.com

(Below Left) Mr. Koichi Yagyu, Heir to the Yagyu Shinkage Ryu school of swordsmanship.

Last week, conversation was a bit slow and everyone seemed weary after keiko. This quiet interlude gave me the opportunity to ask some questions about the Yagyu family book of strategy, which I have been reading (in english). Having never practiced swordsmanship, the translator offers a good interpretation of the book, but sometimes gaps occur between the written literature and the physical application. I am sure this was also originally done in part to protect the techniques of the school from rival styles who might obtain a copy of the book. To my surprise, Mr. Yagyu spoke quite openly about a technique I had been wondering about for some time called "The moon on the water." Thankfully, he speaks english, making my comprehension of these difficult concepts easier.

Yagyu Book of Strategy- "The Sword and the Mind"

From volume 3, The Life-Giving Sword:

"The mind resembles the moon in the water;

the form is like the shadow in the mirror."

Coffee and philosophy, not quite as good as sake and philosophy, but a treasured weekly occurance to be sure!

A Contradiction of Terms

2006-01-13T22:25:00.000-05:00

A gaijin (foreigner), a young woman, and a practioner of traditional Japanese swordsmanship, I am all of these things, yet many people wonder how this is possible. The answer is, "I don't know." In Nagoya, there are two weekly classes in Yagyu Shinkage Ryu, held on tuesday and thursday evenings, and at almost all of these classes I find that I am the only woman in attendance. I know all of the sempai (high ranking students) in the Nagoya dojo and they seem to have accepted me as an anomaly, but the intermediate and beginning students usually regard me with a kind of curiosity, mixed with surprise, and perhaps a bit of ambivalence. However, when we walk out onto the floor and begin practice, gender fades away and all that is left is one person pitting their skills and spirit against another. My fellow students can and will hit me as hard as any other student if I fail to block or let my guard down. This occurence must certainly be a phenomenon within Japanese society where heirachies of age, experience, and gender seem to be lurking behind all relationships. I have not yet discovered if this is only due to the nature of this style/school or if it has something to with with the fact that I am a foreigner. I hope that time will answer this question.

I am, and always will be, a gaijin in Japan. There is no mistaking this with my blond hair and blue eyes, but I still strive to understand and appreciate the values and philosophy of swordsmanship, just the same as the Japanese. I endeavor to constantly improve my technique and to draw out my spirit when using those techniques, keeping in mind that the ultimate purpose of a sword is not for learning kata (pre-arranged sets of techniques), but for the destruction or preservation of life.

Left: Me at our home dojo (training hall) in Addison, NY.

Masters of the Elements

2006-01-09T03:01:00.000-05:00

Fire, air, wood, water, clay, and steel...are all necessary to make a Japanese sword. Early last week I attended a "first hitting" in the city of steel, Seki, Japan. At one of Seki's museums dedicated to "nihonto" (Japanese swords) a small stage was erected to the right of the exhibit hall and a demonstration was held to commemorate the new year. Although Seki is somewhat remote and snowy, many people came to witness the "first hitting" and the Shinto ceremony that begins this tradition. Shivering in the cold breeze, a hush came over the whispering crowd as a dozen men in white flowing robes emerged from a small door behind the forge. They were followed by about 20 men in business suits and a few women in Kimono. Tall, strangely shaped paper objects, low chanting, and many bows marked this ceremony, which was obviously quite an important part of this whole demonstration/tradition. A spark was created to light the fire in the forge and soon after finishing the ceremony,
the men in white paired up and began tying up the long sleeves of their neighbors. Then four men stepped out of the small crowd and one took a seat near the forge. He began the laborious process of pumping the billows to increase the temperature of the forge in order to heat the steel, while the other three made sure their sleeves were secure and began to stretch their arms and legs.

After about 15 minutes a piece of steel was brought out of the fire and the three men standing nearby picked up large hammers and began a rotation of hammering out the steel. The rhythem was slow and the hammers looked heavy. After three or four rounds the steel would have to be reheated. This process was repeated several times before the steel was folded over onto itself for the first time. Watching this incredibly time consuming formula, I understood why even a new Japanese blade could be sold for $30,000. 00. The amount of time, sweat, and dedication by all involved was substantial and worthy of a high fee. Seeing the glowing red hot steel on the anvil was exhilarating and I felt like something sacred was being created as I watched.

The demonstration lasted no more than one hour and when it finished the piece of steel looked the same to me as it had when it was first produced from the glowing embers. However, the steel was already changed and inside that lump of raw elements lay the potential for a true objet d' arte.

The Welcome Wagon and the hostile yard

2005-12-29T21:40:00.000-05:00

On Wednesday evening, I was invited to a party held by the International Friendship Association of Osuka-cho to welcome me to the area. The Friendship Association is responsible for helping to organize and host sister cities events between Corning, NY and Osuka, Japan. Eleven people attended and I knew almost all of them. We had a traditional tatami room in the back of a local restaurant and when I slowly slid the screen door open, smiling faces greeted me in Japanese and english. When I entered the room there were heaping dishes of food and pots ready to cook more. The two nabe pots on the table were filled with all manner of seafood and vegetable from clams to crab legs to cabbage. Everything was delicious and after those dishes were finished sashimi platters of raw fish were brought out. Luckily for me, I eat raw fish! The raw octopuss is usually turned down by westerners, so the crowd took in a deep breath when I reached for a piece and actually ate it! The little purple suction cups are a bit scary, but it tastes good, so you just have to push aside the image and eat it! Then they all laughed and joked with me about it. After that we had the traditional bowl of noodles to celebrate the new year and a long life ahead. The long noodles symbolize long life and it is the Japanese custom to eat them before the New Year's holiday. As I loudly slurped my soup I felt good to know that so many people were looking out for me and would take time out of their busy holiday schedules to come to the party that evening.

Above- The women at one end of the table
Right- The men at the other...

And this from my father:
"What's a Japanese red neck 7 course meal? Six tentacles and a case of ichiban beer...! " Thanks Dad.

The Hostile Yard

Now begins the unwelcoming part, our hostile backyard. At some point last year, the board of education decided to turn our lovely, and rather large (for Japan), backyard from a cozy lawn into a barren, rocky desert. All of the grass was ripped out, leaving only large gravel dotting the space and a myraid of weeds. The only thing left to us is the meager hedgerow that lines the inside of the ugly green wire fencing, a mass of unkempt shrubbery and one small summer orange tree that is no more than three feet in height. Being an avid gardener, I grimmaced at the sight of our lawn and decided to take matters into my own hands. I purchased a small pair of hedgeclippers and set to work. The result? A trimmed shrubbery, stack of brush, and a pile of rocks. Actually, the pile of rocks is set in the shape of a flowing stream winding in and out of the newly trimmed shrubs. Now if we just had a few more shrubs and rocks...we will see what spring brings to the "Gaijin House." (Gaijin means foreigner)

Mt. Fuji on the Horizon

2005-12-19T23:32:00.000-05:00

While wandering Daito town on foot I found a small shrine tucked away in a grove of trees next to a formal cement pond with water lilies. It was very quiet at the shrine except for one crow who watched my approach from his place next to the tree row. I took a picture and left the crow to his peace. Having a rough idea of the perimeter of the town from my adventures on foot, I walked southward toward the ocean and the center of town. Meandering along twisting narrow roads I came across a tiny garden with lots of vegetable growing abundantly in a patch of earth. The funniest site was a kind of support rack where a vegetable, that I assume is Daikon or Japanese radish, was hanging from. The long white cones with their bright green tops stood out against the grey and brown hues that tell me it is winter here in Shizuoka prefecture. I chuckled as I thought of a Daikon stuffed character that I saw last spring in an arcade game while visiting Osuka town for a week.

The wind whipped brutally at my scarf as I continued to walk down the road and the houses fell away one by one, leaving only rice fields for the wind to skip across. Finally I came upon a low flood dike on the banks of a small river and climbed to the top to have a look at the scene stretching out in the distance. The rounded hills that surround the majority of Daito stopped, leaving a hole where the horizon seemed to be endless. I scanned the miles of small towns and houses in front of me and then something caught my eye. The sky was a clear, cloudless blue with the exception of one cloud puff, or so I thought. What I was really looking at was the top of Mt. Fuji!! When I looked closely I saw the entire outline perfectly formed against the blue sky and the snow capped peak stood out like a cloud. I had heard that on clear days you could see Mt. Fuji from this area, but had never seen it myself and so I was a bit skeptical. Fuji-san, as the mountain is called in Japan, is about 1 and a half hours away from where I live. The site was awe inspiring and I had a difficult time tearing myself away from it to continue my journey on foot to the center of town. Since that day I have also discovered the Southern Alps mountain range which lies to the north of Daito. These mountains are large and covered with snow in places. They are beautiful and when the weather warms up I would like to go explore some of them.

Jet Lag in Japan

2005-12-13T20:21:00.000-05:00

I arrived in Japan on Saturday, December 1oth at 10:42pm exactly (as the trains run.) After a grueling variety of flights, trains, buses and taxis I finally stepped out of the train station where my six foot tall, blond haired American friend was waiting, bundled up in a parka. Welcome to Kakegawa. So begins my journey in search of ancient Japan...