Shibata Kanjuro XX died a couple of weeks ago at his home in Boulder, Colorado. The cause was lung trouble, but he was quite old, I am fairly sure, though I am not sure exactly how old he was.
Shibata Sensei taught a branch style of Heki Ryu Bishu Chikurin ha kyudo, and he was a traditional bow-maker (his "XX" title actually related to his bow-making). He taught kyudo in the US and in Europe, chiefly to people who were also affiliated with a sect of Tibetan Buddhism that was established in the US by Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche.
I met Shibata Sensei in the mid-90's. One of my iai sempai had taken up kyudo with him, and waxed on about it endlessly in front of our iai teacher (my teacher was eventually rather put out at the constant enthusiasm, attempting to end the conversation by saying, a number of times "Kyudo - that's for girls." It wasn't that sensei was particularly sexist; it was that no traditional teacher likes endlessly hearing about how wonderful someone else's practice is.) Some time after that, this same sempai arranged for a "power lunch" featuring my teacher, Mr. Shibata, and a taiji/meditation teacher we both knew. To be honest, I don't remember much about what happened at the lunch (this was probably around 1996). I just remember that I thought, for a kyudo teacher, Shibata sensei seemed kind of frail. The taiji teacher noticed the same thing; and it turned out that Shibata sensei had esophageal cancer. I don't know if he knew it at the time, or not, but he had successful surgery for it the following year.
At that time, I was writing pretty regularly for the Journal of Asian Martial Arts, a quarterly that, for a while at least, was doing the seemingly impossible by casting an academic lens on various martial art practices. I wrote book reviews and sometimes contributed a more substantial article. My sempai got it into his head that I should interview Shibata sensei for the journal. The journal editor was all for it. However, things stayed that way for some time, as some of Shibata sensei's students were unsure whether it was a good idea or not. Eventually, after some months of negotiating, it was decided that I should take a "first shot" workshop in Silver Spring, Maryland, on Labor Day weekend in 1998. In the context of that practice, my rota (service, in the Buddhist sense) would be to assist sensei one afternoon, and therefore I would have a chance to ask him some questions.
"First shot" was an intensive practice of the "Seven Coordinations," a kihon-based simple setting of the body, nocking the arrow, and loosing the shot at a close-in target. The practice would take all weekend, beginning Friday, culminating in a completed shot by Sunday afternoon or so, followed by Monday morning of more practice before returning to NYC.
The resulting article, which was published in early 2001, was a combination of a description of my first shot experience, a *very* brief history of kyudo and an overview of how it was practiced in the US; and the interview itself. It seemed only logical to include the other information; while there were a few books on kyudo practice published in English at the time, there had never been a kyudo article published in JAMA. Outlining my personal experience seemed like a natural way to draw readers in to the story - I could honestly assume that this was their initiation to kyudo in the same way the actual first shot experience was for me.
After I heard about sensei's death, I dug up my article. I had not read it really since it was published. I noticed a few mistakes, from odd turns of phrase (did I really write that?) to a couple of inaccuracies, but nothing really major. I was fortunate to have the article reviewed before publication by Robert Dohrenwend, who ripped it apart and made me put it back together again, better.
The interview itself is fairly brief - I had forgotten how brief. Sensei was not given to long explanations. It was not just that his English was limited (it was, but the interview was conducted in Japanese) - it was his way. Sensei said (1) the purpose of practicing kyudo was to make your mind clear; (2) modern kyudo placed too much emphasis on competition and not enough on disciplining the mind; and, maybe most importantly to him (3) the purpose of kyudo was to cut away the ego. "My heart is the target," Shibata sensei said. I was so impressed by that thought, I made it the title of the article.
I practiced kyudo, off and on, for more than a year afterward. There were a number of reasons why I stopped; time being one of the important considerations. When I hear about budoka who have dan rankings in multiple disciplines, my first thought is always "how do they have the time?" Koryu budo takes a great deal of time in practice to even begin to do well. Kyudo in particular, with its exacting form, called for a commitment that was more than I could handle, I knew. I also knew my sempai's circumstances made it easier for him to pursue practice than me. One of the other reasons was political. There were two kyudo camps, essentially, and both camps made legitimate claims regarding the other's practice. I waded into that as far as I dared as a researcher; then stopped. One of my colleagues is fond of saying that politics is endemic to humanity - that wherever you find a group of people, you will find divisions based on opinion. She's probably right, but I never cared for it. I only cared about practice, and though I did not know Shibata sensei all that well, the one impression I always got from him was that practicing was the most important thing. Keep you mind clear. Cut to the heart.
Many things have happened since that time. My iai teacher died in 2004. My affiliations and practice changed (and then changed again!). Some of the kyudoka's affiliations changed as well. JAMA fell victim to the rising costs of paper publishing, like a lot of other journals, and there has been virtually nothing to take its place. The world has gone digital - Shibata sensei's warning that mechanical devices cloud the mind has become true beyond his wildest imagination, I am sure. Even in my practice as a budoka, I often find myself preoccupied with practical concerns, or technical points, rather than the most important point - employing my practice to make my mind clear.
It doesn't matter what the practice is. As sensei said, "The heart is the same."
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