Generous spirits

One of my colleagues was recently in Japan, where he had an opportunity to train, test for a new dan ranking (he passed!) and visit some old friends. From his Facebook postings to a few emails that I had from him, it is clear that he had a great, great time. I'm so jealous! But, that's not what this post is about.

At one point last week, he contacted me on All Media, asking me to call him, as he had some "news" for me. I always think that "news" is bad, though the tone of voice in his message didn't sound bad. Still, I was very nervous. It's not every day that someone on vacation calls me out of the blue because he has "news" that can't be put in an email.

So I called, not knowing what to expect (the phone bill will catch up to me eventually). And I found out the answer to the mystery. And it was not at all what I expected.

Through this friend, who has been very generous, I have met a number of very cool people. It was through his intervention that I was reintroduced to a very important teacher and I am now able to train with him. I met another teacher who has also influenced me greatly. I met a junior-ranked swordsmith and was even able to pound some hot, folded iron in his workshop. Of all of my budo friends, this guy has done more than anyone to help put me on my feet, budo-wise and otherwise, after a fairly tumultuous time.

One of the people I met through this friend is a senior-ranked swordsmith. For reasons of privacy, I will simply call him Sensei N. My friend met him originally when he lived in Japan, years ago. He happened to ride his bicycle past Sensei N's workshop one day, and stopped to ask him about what he was doing. They have been friends ever since, for many years.

About 7 years ago, as I was about to leave for a trip to Japan, my friend suggested I stop by and meet Sensei N. I was a little hesitant; I knew exactly nothing about sword-making, except what everyone knows - folded steel, differential tempering, sharp and flexible. I agreed, figuring that a website I was freelancing for might like an interview with a swordsmith. Then I tried to study up on some of the basics that would get me beyond what little I knew (it helped - some.)

So he met me, and we went to a coffee shop. We sat there for about an hour, and I knew, as I had coffee and kept turning down proffers of food, that I was being checked out - assessed, as it were, to decide what sort of person I was. Sensei N was an older man, more slightly built than I would have thought, with a very soft-spoken manner.

I had deliberately not planned on anything else that day, not being sure what might happen. Even though I was considering an interview, I knew from experience that a formal pen-and-paper or tape recorder type interview was out of the question, without some type of formal arrangement; and a formal arrangement gets you only the most formal of answers. So I drank my coffee, turned down offers of all kinds of treats, and sat through an interview of sorts myself. Where was I from? What did I study? How long? What style? How did I know my friend? I was happily prepared to answer any and all questions, and simply let the day take me.

After some time, we got in the car, and went to a Chinese restaurant. It was still pretty early for dinner. As I said, he was an older gentleman, but we were the two youngest diners there (with me being the only woman) - it was old man dinner hour. I was happy to have declined the treats at the coffee shop. And we talked about this and that. Unusually for me, even though I had more pertinent questions, I waited, ate dinner, and otherwise kept my mouth shut.

Finally, after dinner, we went to his home/workshop. At last. Sensei N lived in a tiny second story of a tiny house, with the workshop down below. First, he showed me some old iron fittings he had stacked around the workshop part of his home. He explained to me that he made his own forging materials from these fittings. He said that the area had many very old Buddhist temples, and, being old, they were fire hazards. Whenever there was a fire, they would replace the old buildings and give the old iron fittings to him. Everything I had read about the "proper" way to obtain materials and make swords went right out the window.

We sat in his upstairs living quarters, stuffed, as many small Japanese homes are, with all kinds of bric-a-brac, where he lived with three very spoiled cats. Sensei N. then pulled out a pile of swords - some unfinished blades, only roughly shaped, some more finished. We sat and looked and talked for hours as it got dark outside. In addition to pieces he had made himself, he had a number of blades that he had bought as examples of different shapes and techniques. What made him decide to make swords? I asked. He told me he had been an art teacher who had made sculptures out of steel. At one point he simply decided that a Japanese sword was the highest expression of steel. Meanwhile, the cats wafted by, walking over everything, the occasional tail brushing a rare blade I was holding up to the light.

After a long time, he took me to the train station, and I went back to my hotel, with tons to write about, but not being certain how I should write it. How could I explain what it feels like to hold a sword that, at the very least, was an art work, and at most, was something that seemed almost alive?

I have had the opportunity to meet Sensei N several other times. Three years ago, he came to see us when I was in Japan with my friend who had introduced us, bringing a number of blades for inspection. Each one had a story - about the forging technique, the shape, or other characteristics. As he has gotten older, he has done less and less work, concentrating on smaller projects that can be completed more quickly, but his mind is an encyclopedia of technique. He could recall details of every piece he showed us, and nearly all of the blades were the result of some sort of experiment. All of them were exquisite.

My friend had a chance to see Sensei N during his time in Japan, which brings us to the subject of the "news." They had a nice visit, and talked of many things; including, weirdly, me. Sensei N decided that he wanted to give each of us a gift; so he is giving me a tanto, of which he is particularly proud. I have no idea what I did to deserve such an honor, and I am truly overwhelmed. I have spent the weekend thinking about our meetings, but not so much trying to understand why he would be so generous. It's also not really about the tanto, exactly. Those of us who study classical budo, in our hunger to gain deeper understanding, find ourselves constantly running down (or at least past) rabbit-holes that really have nothing to do with our practice. The problem is, every rabbit-hole seems so probable. One of these rabbit-holes has to do with the idea that traditions are hidebound and have no room for individuality. We maintain this belief especially when it comes to craftsmanship; especially when it comes to the crafting of traditional items, like swords or lacquer work. And of course, we are wrong. Every craftsman I have met, no matter who he has trained with, at some point charts his own path. Like the flute-player for whom improvisation is part of the tradition, craft traditions have endless variations as well. That is part of what Sensei N taught me.

I have an email penpal whom I have not ever actually met in person. He keeps asking questions about mastering technique, as though, through some form of perfect imitation, one can achieve some sort of self-perfection. Honestly, I don't always answer, but if I were to come up with a decent answer, it would be something like Sensei N's point - perfection is not the point; self-expression that transcends tradition is more like it. Technique, and following what one has been taught, is important, but it's the beginning, not the end, of practice.

So, I have to somehow master my poor Japanese language skills and write a heartfelt letter of thanks to Sensei N for his wonderful gift. I hope I have an opportunity to meet him again, even if I have no idea what to say. And to my friend, who I know reads my blog posts, I would like to express my heartfelt thanks for everything he has done - I am much richer for it.