The Duel

A renowned warrior came into a field to do battle.

The first challenger he met was his greatest adversary: Ego.

Both soldiers drew their swords and engaged in battle. They fought for many frantic minutes with no harm coming to either individual; both becoming increasingly fatigued as the conflict went on. But at a crucial moment, when the first warrior had Ego nearly defeated, he misjudged his opponent's strength and was pushed off balance and fell to the ground.

Ego, a smile coming across his face, raised his weapon and prepared to finish the conflict with one mighty swing of his sword.

But before he could do so, a chill breeze moved across the field, and on it sailed an arrow that pierced the armour of Ego, causing him to fall dead to the ground. The first warrior, incredulous, looked to his right and saw a third warrior carrying a bow.

His name was True Self.

more lessons on weapons...

Despite my wavering (and likely naive) opinions on weapons as of late, I decided to jump right in and go to a seminar on classical Japanese sword technique.
And, well, I loved it.
 The instructor, who I have attended sessions with in the past, is truly one of the best I have seen. His breadth of knowledge is immense, and his ability to simplify seemingly intricate techniques is incredible. To top it all off, I got to work on what he showed us with my own sensei for the entire three hours.
And while many realizations were had during the course of the afternoon, two things really hit home with me this time.
Firstly, although I have always known the link between weapons and empty hand exists, this was one of the clearest examples of this concept for me. I could see how the difference between the two could seemingly dissolve, and how the bokken, or wooden sword, could truly become an extension of one's body. (I am not claiming to have mastered this... I am claiming an understanding of how one could master this...). Likewise, I could further feel how one's body could feel more weapon-like, and how the two could in fact be melded together.
Second, and one of the most valuable things I am getting out of my recent foray into the world of weapons, is an intensified view on the importance of timing. On the battlefield, life and death could be reduced to a millisecond, as a technique would work or fail based on the same. This instructor really conveyed this concept, and as a result, he made the techniques seem very real to me. (Of course, this extreme awareness of timing is, once again, transferable back to empty hand.)
Don't get me wrong, I still have a sense of awkwardness in comparison to my normal comfort zone of training. I can feel my shoulders are still stiff and I overthink most aspects of the techniques. But my mind is, in fact, being slowly pried open. My brain is absorbing new material and adding it to my previous knowledge base.
And yes, it was fun this time too.....
 

awkwardness and incompetence...

lately, i've experienced epic amounts of awkwardness and incompetence while trying to learn new sword, stick, and staff techniques. aside from one bo kata, i've spent very little time using these weapons, and believe me, it shows.
 i am a total beginner again; it's amusing and frustrating all at once.
i guess, in the past, i have always avoided weapons training (empty hand defenses notwithstanding). i've always felt that i'd rather spend the time on basic self-defense than on something i'd never use, like a sword. but lately, well, it's been kind of pushed on me.
my initial reaction was to just to do it and get it over with. smile, learn a few techniques, then return to empty hand drills. but after being forced to spend more and more time at it, i knew this was not the right way to look at the situation. don't get me wrong, i still am ambivalent, but i am trying to balance out my point of view.
so i'm looking at the weapons training as a way of expanding and exercising my brain; i'm looking at the link between empty hand techniques and those of weapons; i'm further understanding combat mechanics and how a weapon can be an extension of your body; and i'm getting a bit of a history lesson when i think of the countless soldiers and civilians who were once trained in these arts.
and the beginner's mind is good, after all.
it's just that sometimes i need to be forced into it.

diversity...

I am happiest when there is diversity in my training.
While repetition is important, it can be done by revisiting the same techniques over time, rather than two hours each class just hammering the same lesson over and again (there is a time and place for this, don't get me wrong).
The past week is a good example of  what I like doing. Class One: stretches, kicks, strikes, once through all katas, and a fairly lengthy lesson on swords. Class two: stretches (with push ups, sit ups, etc.), focus mitts, light sparring, blocking drills, joint locks/take downs, and a session with the sticks. It was a great mix, and my brain feels like it worked out, too.
We all know that martial arts takes years of repeating a concept, not just specific classes where one technique is repeated endlessly. For example, I have likely done thousands and thousands of wrist throws over the past five years alone, yet never have I spent a whole class just on this one technique--not that I wouldn't. I just think diversity helps, keeping things fresh, and thus allowing greater focus on learning.
Maybe this is just me and my attention span. However, the repetition, if I look for it closely, is still there, just over years instead of hours...
I repeat, instead of hours.... hours... hours...
(groan). 
 

Sword and Stone

The legend of the sword and the stone is a well known myth, conjuring up images of King Arthur and Camelot.

The outer meaning is simple: The person who can dislodge the weapon from the rock is preordained to become the ruler of the kingdom. There is apparently a magic spell fusing the sword and stone, and although not based in any real physics, it provides a mysterious beginning to the lore of the round table. Kids love this stuff.

But as always, there is a second meaning when it comes to mythology.

And in this case, the esoteric meaning is profound.

Stone, a very dense substance, is often a symbolic reference to the world and its matter. Limiting and immovable, it is bound to the physical laws such as gravity. It represents the Earth and our mortal bodies.

The sword is spirit and intellect. It cuts through the veil of any false perception and allows us to experience the spiritual aspects of life.

The King is the higher self who realizes the two different aspects of Self.

In a more eastern context, the fusion could be seen as yin and yang.

The fact that the many knights and dukes who feel entitled to the kingship fail to remove the sword despite their utmost physical effort is telling. It is the meek and ego-less boy who manages the feat, and he does so with no strain whatsoever.

A familiar lesson to be sure.

Moon in Water

Technique must be unconcious.

The following quote from an ancient writer (as borrowed by Daisetz Suzuki in Zen and Japanese Culture) explains a teaching used in an old school for swordsmen.

"...The main idea is to grasp the way the moon reflects itself whenever there is a body of water... Again, it is like one moon reflecting itself in hundreds of streams: (However) the moonlight is not divided into so many shadows, but the water is there to reflect them; the moonlight remains ever the same even when there are no waters to hold its reflections."

The Zen goal of swordsmanship was to not to become entangled in the illusory conflict between two forces. Rather, it was the playing out of a unified force of nature. There existed no difference between the two combatants, their swords, or the earth itself. No warrior won and neither could lose. They became as the moon, not its reflections. The reflections were merely the technical aspects: the steps, the blocks, and strikes.

Reflects Suzuki:

"When this is not realized.... instead of flowing, as (Takuan) says, from one object to another, the mind halts and reflects on what it is going to do..... (these thoughts) must be given up so that they will not interfere with the fluidity of mentation and the lightning rapidity of action."

*Takuan Sōhō (1573–1645) was a major figure in the Rinzai school of Zen Buddhism. -- wiki

The Zen Art

Budo is definately a Zen process.

My last post, exploring inherent weaknesses and bad habits in my own technique, was well commented on by Sensei Strange.

He said:

"Lowry Sensei told me in a phone conversation that Budo is a Zen art, because every time you take to the mat you regain the beginners mind. You always find a problem that takes you right back to a beginning."

Perfectly put.

It reflected a passage in Nitobe's book Bushido that I had recently read and had yet to put into context.

"A foremost teacher of swordsmanship, when he saw his pupil master the utmost of his art, told him, 'Beyond this my instruction must give way to Zen teaching....'"

And while the student will have to come to terms with this Truth in order to advance his skill, it is likely that his training in swordsmanship was a lesson in Zen all along.

stalemate.....

--green samurai by craig mullins

"An episode in the doctrine of kenjutsu, concerning two swordsmen who had evidently delved deeply into the theory and practice of this principle of application, is instructive. When these men met, they both felt an irrepressible urge to test each other's respective skill in swordsmanship. They selected a quiet spot for the encounter, girded themselves for battle, unsheathed their weapons, assumed basic stances and guards, and ... waited. Whenever the one or other would change his posture of readiness to another he felt was better suited to a specific sword attack, the other man would change his posture accordingly. This process of coordinating postures, of adapting to the opponent's strategy and thereby of controlling and neutralizing it from moment to moment, continued until dusk--at which time (or so the story goes) both men burst out laughing, sheathed their swords, and, as peers, went back to town to celebrate a new friendship."

-- as told in Secrets of the Samurai by Oscar Ratti and Adele Westbrook