Once again, the country (and the planet) has been shocked by a mass killing, and, as I have done in the past, I waited to hear whether or not the shooter had some sort of involvement in "the martial arts." It has happened before - the "DC Sniper" reportedly indoctrinated his young accomplice with a disciplined lifestyle that included "karate;" and Slate recently ran a story that concluded that young men who killed with swords seemingly belonged to some sort of geek netherworld of Japanese manga and role-playing games. Add to this the constant bombardment of images of hand-to-hand or traditional weapons fighting (with liberal buckets of stage blood) in films, video games and television, along with the occasional loudmouth bully martial artist swaggering on UTube, and it's small wonder that people look at me funny when I say I practice budo. Small wonder also that I downplay my interest from time to time, depending on who's asking.
The most common reaction I get is that people say I don't look like a thug or a badass. I then usually counter that iai is more like taiji than karate. Then they figure I'm some old lady with a New Agey interest in auras and crystals. Usually, at that point, I just change the subject.
But last night, as the narrative continued to unwind, and details about the shooting in Tucson emerged, and were endlessly spun in various directions, I found myself thinking about where my practice fits in to the culture of violence (or not). It really is oxymoronic to say that a practice that includes using real swords and cutting targets from time to time is not violent. In fact, iai is probably the most violent budo out there. It has no inherent sporting element. Iai kata are, as a rule, very brief, owing to the fact that one or two strokes with a surgically-sharp blade is all you need to dispatch an opponent. Some people make excuses by saying that iai kata are defensive; i.e., they are a response to an aggressive gesture from an imaginary opponent, but anyone who has gone beyond basic techniques practices other kata that are more aggressive. A kata in which the scenario depicts someone advancing on a retreating opponent, cutting him down, can't be spun as defensive, pretty much no matter what.
However (and here's the paradox), because of its violent nature, iai is always practiced in an extremely polite atmosphere, with maximum care taken by practitioners to keep their emotions in check at all times. It is not enough to control one's temper; in iai practice one seeks to cultivate a calm state of mind. At the beginning of practice, we make gestures towards each other that indicate respect. We bow in the practice space to set off the time from outside intrusions so people can practice in peace. Even though tempers can flare in martial arts dojo from time to time, in an iai dojo, such outbursts can never be tolerated (in fact, if you ever visit a sword dojo where tempers are in evidence, I strongly suggest not coming back).
We do not carry swords around with us anymore (at least, the non-geeks among us don't). And as my teacher once famously said in class, "If I want to kill someone, I don't use this stupid thing, I'll go buy a gun." What is left to the modern practitioner is to cultivate that respectful and peaceful state of mind, then take that sensibility and use it to deal with the world. It may not be as exciting as the movies, but it works in life a whole lot better.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
Teaching (a series)
Last week, I had a meeting with some of my senior students. I am very fond of my students (and also very proud of them) - they are dedicated and work hard. The problem is that there are not many of them. And since the majority of them are actually college students, I see them mostly during the summer and on breaks (like winter break right now). The meeting was held to discuss how we could come up with more students.
You could say that iai is a niche martial art. It is not very well-known, and, (though there are a *lot* of poseurs) there are not many qualified teachers. Iai has been miscast as a part of the US martial arts scene - we don't compete, except for kata, and then only occasionally. There is no free-sparing. The closest we ever get to free movement is cutting targets - usually rolled straw mats of different thicknesses. One teacher I know compared watching iai to watching paint dry, and that is not far off.
In Japan, iai is more associated with professional-type people, some of whom are descendants of samurai-class families. Rather than a hobby or a sport, iai and other types of traditional budo come closer to being considered a part of someone's identity. It's not just that they are more serious, they don't know how to not be serious. This image contrasts sharply with with the popular US-oriented vision of a martial artist being either (1) a kid; (2) a thugly tough guy; (3) would-be samurai types, whether influenced by movies, video games or some combination thereof; or (4) an actor who does computer-enhanced, impossible stunts for the camera.
The foregoing makes iai a difficult art to promote properly, especially when the class is led by (I'm gonna say it) a woman. In Japan, I have encountered little, if any remark about being female in the dojo. In fact, one of the seminars where I recently trained included numerous women who had menkyo (a license to teach). True, most of the teachers and students were men, but there was a better representation of women there than you will normally see in a US dojo. This is really too bad, for as Dianne Skoss noted a number of years ago, weapon arts are well-suited to female practitioners, since a weapon counterbalances our general lack of brute strength. Acquisition of skill in traditional budo really is - skill, and it can be acquired by any reasonably able-bodied person.
In any case, iai is somewhat self-selecting. It takes years to learn; in fact, one can truthfully say the learning curve never stops. You never "get" iai - there is always some other level, or layer or aspect of practice that reveals itself. It's great for keeping you going, but can also be really frustrating. Realizing that, I know the number of students I continue to entertain will be small. However, it would be nice if there were just a few more of them.
You could say that iai is a niche martial art. It is not very well-known, and, (though there are a *lot* of poseurs) there are not many qualified teachers. Iai has been miscast as a part of the US martial arts scene - we don't compete, except for kata, and then only occasionally. There is no free-sparing. The closest we ever get to free movement is cutting targets - usually rolled straw mats of different thicknesses. One teacher I know compared watching iai to watching paint dry, and that is not far off.
In Japan, iai is more associated with professional-type people, some of whom are descendants of samurai-class families. Rather than a hobby or a sport, iai and other types of traditional budo come closer to being considered a part of someone's identity. It's not just that they are more serious, they don't know how to not be serious. This image contrasts sharply with with the popular US-oriented vision of a martial artist being either (1) a kid; (2) a thugly tough guy; (3) would-be samurai types, whether influenced by movies, video games or some combination thereof; or (4) an actor who does computer-enhanced, impossible stunts for the camera.
The foregoing makes iai a difficult art to promote properly, especially when the class is led by (I'm gonna say it) a woman. In Japan, I have encountered little, if any remark about being female in the dojo. In fact, one of the seminars where I recently trained included numerous women who had menkyo (a license to teach). True, most of the teachers and students were men, but there was a better representation of women there than you will normally see in a US dojo. This is really too bad, for as Dianne Skoss noted a number of years ago, weapon arts are well-suited to female practitioners, since a weapon counterbalances our general lack of brute strength. Acquisition of skill in traditional budo really is - skill, and it can be acquired by any reasonably able-bodied person.
In any case, iai is somewhat self-selecting. It takes years to learn; in fact, one can truthfully say the learning curve never stops. You never "get" iai - there is always some other level, or layer or aspect of practice that reveals itself. It's great for keeping you going, but can also be really frustrating. Realizing that, I know the number of students I continue to entertain will be small. However, it would be nice if there were just a few more of them.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Solo iai practice
This is a well-worn subject with me, but it still surprises me how little my students practice on their own. As my husband is fond of saying, "Not everyone is a crazy as you are," but one of the great things about Japanese sword practice is that it is 80% solo kata. And it's not nearly as dull as walking a treadmill while watching TV.
Iai, as this type of budo is called, involves kata wherein the practitioner draws a sword, uses it in some predetermined way, and then sheathes it. I am not sure how many styles of iai still exist; certainly at some point there may have been thousands of them. I am familiar with three styles and have seen or attended workshops featuring many others. For safety, iai includes solo kata and partner kata, where the participants enact kata together with wooden swords. There is no free-sparring whatsoever. Technically, iai has no sporting element, though kata competition has become popular.
When my mother was dying a number of years ago, I gave up many things that made me happy, or that required me to be in a good mood. It was just too difficult. But I never gave up going to the dojo in all that time. I gave the studio phone number to my family members and explained that if they needed to reach me on certain evenings during the week, they could find me there. I am not the only one; a colleague whose father was dying told me that he felt like he had to come and practice. Somehow it was more than just endorphins - the meditative aspects of iai practice produced a calming effect in us both, even though our backgrounds, personality, religion and ethnicity were different.
Solo iai practice seems to magnify the effect, even if, unlike some practices, I am not "trying" to meditate. It just happens anyway. And like a number of trance effects, not only does one get better with practice, one comes to crave the experience from time to time. I may tell people that it's because I need to work privately on technique (which is always true anyway), but the calming effect and the sense of rationality tends to produce a sense of satisfaction that lasts until the next day.
And lately I have not had much time for that, which in some ways is good, because not having a choice but to practice alone can produce quite the opposite of a calming effect. But we all should take a moment to act alone, calm down and reflect on what we are doing and why.
Iai, as this type of budo is called, involves kata wherein the practitioner draws a sword, uses it in some predetermined way, and then sheathes it. I am not sure how many styles of iai still exist; certainly at some point there may have been thousands of them. I am familiar with three styles and have seen or attended workshops featuring many others. For safety, iai includes solo kata and partner kata, where the participants enact kata together with wooden swords. There is no free-sparring whatsoever. Technically, iai has no sporting element, though kata competition has become popular.
When my mother was dying a number of years ago, I gave up many things that made me happy, or that required me to be in a good mood. It was just too difficult. But I never gave up going to the dojo in all that time. I gave the studio phone number to my family members and explained that if they needed to reach me on certain evenings during the week, they could find me there. I am not the only one; a colleague whose father was dying told me that he felt like he had to come and practice. Somehow it was more than just endorphins - the meditative aspects of iai practice produced a calming effect in us both, even though our backgrounds, personality, religion and ethnicity were different.
Solo iai practice seems to magnify the effect, even if, unlike some practices, I am not "trying" to meditate. It just happens anyway. And like a number of trance effects, not only does one get better with practice, one comes to crave the experience from time to time. I may tell people that it's because I need to work privately on technique (which is always true anyway), but the calming effect and the sense of rationality tends to produce a sense of satisfaction that lasts until the next day.
And lately I have not had much time for that, which in some ways is good, because not having a choice but to practice alone can produce quite the opposite of a calming effect. But we all should take a moment to act alone, calm down and reflect on what we are doing and why.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
"Moving Zen"?
Some of my former colleagues have put up a website describing their martial arts group claiming that our mutual teacher (who died five years ago) was a Zen adept. I believe this comes from the claim in the West that (1) Samurai were Zen practitioners, and (2) therefore Japanese martial arts practice is somehow related to Zen. It does not help that Suzuki Daisetsu's deservedly-criticized (but still in print, I think) Zen in Japanese Culture openly promotes this idea (at least I think that's what it does. After reading the book about 20 years ago, I looked at it again about three years ago and found it very full of nonsense). In any case, I believe my colleagues are trying for some sort of authenticity for themselves by misrepresenting our late teacher, for several writers have suggested that some martial arts practices can be considered "moving Zen."
This is too bad on several levels, I mean, outside of the misrepresentation itself. My teacher was a Shin (as in "new") Buddhist, though I don't think he actually belonged to any particular sect by the end of his life. He did study sutras and was something of a scholar of Buddhism, but I never, ever heard him say anything about Zen. For those who don't know, Zen (or Chan, in Chinese) is a particular practice. Beyond that, I don't know much about it except of course that it deals in irrationality, among other things. But, not being an expert, I'd rather not say.
Recent scholarship published in the West has suggested a wealth of possible religious observances for members of the samurai class (who, for all intents, existed during the Tokugawa era, when everyone belonged to one class or another). The evidence suggests to me that, as a class, they were as varied as anyone at the time.
Moreover, there was a high degree of syncretism in Japanese religion until the Meiji Period, which means that Shinto and Buddhism were somewhat overlapping practices. This is of course, my opinion (it's a blog) but that strongly suggests you can't really pin someone's religious sensibility unless you were around to ask. Even now, Japanese religious practices can be strongly syncretic. One family I stayed with years ago had a butsudan in the parlor (a cabinet with an image of the Buddha), a kamidana in the kitchen (a shelf with a small, wooden box, put up high near the ceiling - in this case, for the ancestors), and, since it was December, a mini-Christmas tree on top of the TV.
As for the "moving Zen" thing, there is no doubt that movement makes you feel better, mentally as well as physically. This goes for a spinning class as well as a martial arts class, though admittedly, your brain gets a much better workout after the martial arts class. In any case, after a satisfying class, there is no better feeling, not to mention you sleep like a log. But Zen? Nah.
This is too bad on several levels, I mean, outside of the misrepresentation itself. My teacher was a Shin (as in "new") Buddhist, though I don't think he actually belonged to any particular sect by the end of his life. He did study sutras and was something of a scholar of Buddhism, but I never, ever heard him say anything about Zen. For those who don't know, Zen (or Chan, in Chinese) is a particular practice. Beyond that, I don't know much about it except of course that it deals in irrationality, among other things. But, not being an expert, I'd rather not say.
Recent scholarship published in the West has suggested a wealth of possible religious observances for members of the samurai class (who, for all intents, existed during the Tokugawa era, when everyone belonged to one class or another). The evidence suggests to me that, as a class, they were as varied as anyone at the time.
Moreover, there was a high degree of syncretism in Japanese religion until the Meiji Period, which means that Shinto and Buddhism were somewhat overlapping practices. This is of course, my opinion (it's a blog) but that strongly suggests you can't really pin someone's religious sensibility unless you were around to ask. Even now, Japanese religious practices can be strongly syncretic. One family I stayed with years ago had a butsudan in the parlor (a cabinet with an image of the Buddha), a kamidana in the kitchen (a shelf with a small, wooden box, put up high near the ceiling - in this case, for the ancestors), and, since it was December, a mini-Christmas tree on top of the TV.
As for the "moving Zen" thing, there is no doubt that movement makes you feel better, mentally as well as physically. This goes for a spinning class as well as a martial arts class, though admittedly, your brain gets a much better workout after the martial arts class. In any case, after a satisfying class, there is no better feeling, not to mention you sleep like a log. But Zen? Nah.
Here we go
I have been meaning to do this for some time, and now here I am.
My interests, which will become apparent to anyone who reads these posts, is in Japanese martial arts, history, culture and classical performing arts. Also, the nature of teaching and learning traditional, movement-based forms. I want to also consider other issues faced by those who think non-Western stuff is important, and the best ways to convey their essence to Westerners.
I also do quite a bit of traveling in Japan. In the past I have published photo essays on a martial arts website, but lately some of my wanderings have gone off that particular theme. That is one of the reasons for starting this blog, so I can put up some things here that don't seem to fit in other places.
And when I'm tired of that, there will be other stuff, including reviews of performances and rants on related subjects.
There will be many posts (I think), but I will try to keep them brief (I hope).
My interests, which will become apparent to anyone who reads these posts, is in Japanese martial arts, history, culture and classical performing arts. Also, the nature of teaching and learning traditional, movement-based forms. I want to also consider other issues faced by those who think non-Western stuff is important, and the best ways to convey their essence to Westerners.
I also do quite a bit of traveling in Japan. In the past I have published photo essays on a martial arts website, but lately some of my wanderings have gone off that particular theme. That is one of the reasons for starting this blog, so I can put up some things here that don't seem to fit in other places.
And when I'm tired of that, there will be other stuff, including reviews of performances and rants on related subjects.
There will be many posts (I think), but I will try to keep them brief (I hope).
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