Kendo World Forums - Blogs - Alex in Wonderland by Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?u=2 This is a discussion forum about the martial art of kendo, or Japanese fencing. For more information, visit www.kendo-world.com en Tue, 09 Feb 2010 16:10:50 GMT vBulletin 60 http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/images/misc/rss.jpg Kendo World Forums - Blogs - Alex in Wonderland by Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?u=2 The Concept of Kendo and my Kendo Training http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=52 Sun, 13 Dec 2009 09:15:52 GMT For those who are interested in what is required for Renshi... Looking back, it is a little bit corny. But hey, I got a golden certificate to hang on my wall :) Submitted for the Kendo Renshi Examination 2006-02-12 The Concept of Kendo The concept of Kendo is to discipline the human... For those who are interested in what is required for Renshi... Looking back, it is a little bit corny. But hey, I got a golden certificate to hang on my wall :)

Submitted for the Kendo Renshi Examination 2006-02-12

The Concept of Kendo
The concept of Kendo is to discipline the human character through the application of the principles of the Katana (sword).

Why practice Kendo now, and how relevant is the official Concept of Kendo? What benefits can be gained through training in a martial art which has no obvious self-defence applications? What is the point? These are valid questions for any practitioners of Japanese budo. The benefits of training in any physical activity are obvious, but in the case of kendo, reference is often made to the character-building potential. The educational characteristics of kendo are widely accepted in Japan (if not unquestioned), but many people seem to not understand that just training in kendo is not enough for it to be an effective means of spiritual growth. The practitioner does not become a ‘good’ person by virtue of just turning up at the dojo for training. A conscious effort needs to be made to try and understand the many, often nebulous principles that provide the philosophical basis for kendo.

The physical benefits of training in kendo are relatively easy to discern. As with diligent participation in any form of physical exercise, you quickly notice a boost in energy and vitality. Apart from overall physical fitness, as perfection of form is stressed in kendo, long-time practitioners will naturally develop a straight posture and an air of elegance in movement as well as coordination and muscular flexibility. The mental/spiritual benefits are more difficult to gage. The emphasis on etiquette (rei) encourages the practitioner to treat others with courtesy and respect. We rely heavily on training partners or opponents to improve, and positive cooperation and feelings of gratefulness and humility are encouraged and expressed with rituals of bowing and speech patterns and so on. Also, the quest to master the techniques of kendo requires patience, resilience, determination, discipline, concentration, powers of analysis, vigour, and insight. Anybody who is not blessed with such virtues will be given ample opportunity to develop them as through developing proficiency in kendo. Moreover, the rigour of training and constant yelling (kiai) and attacking in a controlled environment (dojo) is a particularly effective way of relieving stress and maintaining one's mental health.

Kendo is a combat art. Of course, it has little practical application in this day and age as far as learning techniques for self-defence. However, each time you face an opponent, it is a struggle to strike or be struck. Despite the absence of the ingredient of fear and reality of serious death or injury that warriors of old needed to overcome, the actual process and mechanics for engagement remains fairly much the same, and it is this process that lies at the essence of kendo (and indeed other combat arts). In simple terms, the process is as follows:

Facing opponent in on-guard position (kamae) → Mutual probing of defences/applying pressure (seme-ai) → Detection of openings and selection of techniques → Execution of a valid strike (yuko-datotsu) → Physical and psychological composure and alertness after the attack (zanshin). In kendo, emphasis is placed on valid strikes born of “a unity of spirit, weapon and body (気剣体一致) (ki-ken-tai-itchi)”. From a technical standpoint, a valid cut is one in which the practitioner wields the ‘blade’ in the correct manner; which in turn is directly related to the manner in which the shinai is gripped (tenouchi) in fighting position (kamae). In addition, good bearing; smooth technique initiation; and correct strike path (hasuji)—all deriving from correct kamaeare vital elements. Subsequent to the valid strike, physical focus and composure are also demanded. From a psychological standpoint, “striking with abandon”, (sutemi) is required when executing a technique. The ability to strike with abandon, with utter conviction, is essentially a product of the unity of mind, spirit and technique (心気力一致- shin-ki-ryoku-itchi) occurring in a kendo engagement. This unity of mind, spirit and technique is a prerequisite to dominating a match and enables an immediate strike in response to an opening produced during the seme-ai (probing) stage. Moreover, zanshin, or psychological composure following the strike, is concomitant with sutemi.

These are the “principles of the sword”, but how do they contribute to becoming mentally stronger and a better human being who can make a contribution to society at large? Of course, this depends entirely on the efforts and intentions of the individual practitioner. However, through the action of facing off against an opponent who is trying to attack, the kendo practitioner is faced with many difficulties to overcome, the greatest if which is not so much the strength or skill of the opponent, but one’s own personal weaknesses. To be more precise, personal development through kendo is related to overcoming what are referred to as the shikai (four sicknesses of the heart or mind). The four sicknesses are ‘surprise’, ‘fear’, ‘doubt’, and ‘confusion’. When any of these weaknesses are present, openings will result, and defeat is inevitable. For example, when faced with an opponent who is particularly large, has a strong presence, or is renowned for their skill, this could incite fear. If they attempt something unexpected such as a flashy technique, you may find yourself becoming a little surprised. Your opponent may try to entice you into making an attack against your will by leaving a target open for attack. This may cause doubt as you wonder whether it is safe to make an attack. Similarly you may be momentarily confused as to the best course of action or which technique to employ. This confused mental state resulting in hesitation is referred to as kogishin.

If you lose to your emotions, you lose to your opponent. In this sense, your opponent in a match or training is a valuable partner whose cooperation affords you the opportunity to face your fears front-on, with no choice to run away from them. This can be extremely frustrating at first, but consciously tackling your weaknesses in this way is how kendo can serve as a vehicle for continual character development. Thus, your opponent should always be respected for their assistance in your progress. If you are successful in striking your opponent, you are teaching them of their weaknesses, and likewise a successful strike made against you is a perfect opportunity to assess your own faults. Hence, your opponent should be afforded the utmost respect and courtesy. As you become proficient in the techniques of kendo, you will find that when you get struck, it is more often than not a problem resulting from the ‘four illnesses’ rather than a technical deficiency, or something special about your opponent.

An important point to note here is that kendo interaction is based on trust and observance of the rules of engagement. Although both practitioners are vying to strike each other, it is considered weak or cowardly to gain victory through trickery or underhanded means. Of course, learning to develop strategy is an important part of overall development, but at the same time it is considered virtuous to fight ‘fairly and squarely’. You can win sometimes by fooling your opponent, but essentially that is taking the easy route, and only fooling yourself. Having said that, you should be prepared for any kind of opponent, but still strive to deal with them doing kendo as ‘correctly’ and as ‘honestly’ as possible.

As your understanding of kendo develops, you will nurture many attributes and strengths which will serve you well not only in the dojo but in aspects of your everyday life. You will become confident, and be able to remain calm in all sorts of adverse situations. In other words, you will be able to nurture such qualities as ki-gurai, heijoshin, and fudoshin, etc. This is how kendo and “principles of the sword” has aided in my development as a person. I believe I have a social obligation to continue training and growing as a human being, and hopefully have a positive effect on those around me by setting an example. ]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=52 <![CDATA[Zanshin 残心]]> http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=50 Wed, 18 Nov 2009 15:32:10 GMT Some thoughts...

The traditional martial arts (budō) of Japan boast a history that is centuries old. The samurai warriors applied themselves in the study of martial arts not only to master the techniques of killing, but also to develop their ‘spiritual armour’. The teachings of systemized martial schools from 14th century were simultaneously abstruse, mystical and practical in nature. They held the key to the ‘Holy Grail’ of combat ‒ a superlative combination of body, mind and technique which made the warrior invincible in battle both technically and spiritually through a supposed transcendence of concerns for life and death.

Although nobody fights with bows and arrows, swords or spears anymore, the martial arts have survived to the 21st century as popular international sports. However, there is something that sets them apart from other sports. The philosophical and spiritual underpinnings which remain an important feature of martial arts such as kyūdō, kendō and karate maintain a direct connection with the battlefields of old. The world of budō is a precious legacy left by samurai warriors who confronted their mortality every living moment, and practitioners gain fantastic insights into the beauty of life and how to live to their fullest potential.

Budō arts abound with old sayings and tenets of wisdom that provide a framework for life. One such concept is that of ‘zanshin’, or ‘left-over heart’. In battle, successful execution of a technique meant the death of one’s enemy. In modern budō arts it amounts to scoring a point against one’s opponent or hitting the target. However, making a successful attack is only half of the equation. The warrior must never let their physical or psychological guard down.

They must remain vigilant, calm and collected at all times, and somehow manage to subdue the intense emotional excitement and adrenalin surging through their veins. This is not only a matter of survival, but is also a sign of respect for their slain foe. If the warrior’s heart was equated with a cup of water, the enemy is doused with the contents when the attack is made with total integration of body, soul and weapon, and the drips that remain in the cup are the warrior’s zanshin.

What happens if there is no zanshin? Perhaps a straightforward analogy can be seen in movies. When the hero finally vanquishes the villain and is breathing a sigh of relief, we all prepare for the happy ending once again. But, just as we let our guard down, the villain typically makes one last dastardly assault, and it is the lack of zanshin in the hero and viewers that generates the entertainment and excitement. Another example of what can happen without zanshin can be found in mountaineering. Around 80% of climbing accidents happen not on the way up, but on the way down. The inexperienced climber reaches the summit and relaxes their guard on the descent, mistakenly thinking the battle is over.

Indeed, it is an emphasis on zanshin that distinguishes budō from other sports. If a goal is scored in soccer, the triumphant players dash around the pitch unabashedly congratulating each other with delirious enthusiasm. In budō, scoring a point is considered akin to taking a life. It is highly inappropriate to show pleasure, and throwing one’s arms up in the air with joy is clearly an act lacking zanshin. It is not only the point that matters in budō, but the practitioner’s deportment after the fact. In kyūdō, the emphasis on zanshin is so strong that it is impossible to tell just by looking at the archer whether or not the arrow hit the target. Hit or miss, the solemn facial expression stays exactly the same and each subsequent movement is tranquil and resolute.

Learning to stay focused, attentive and respectful regardless of the situation one is confronted with is at the crux of martial arts training. It is concepts such as zanshin that can be applied to one’s activities and demeanour outside the dōjō, and make the study of budō a lifelong spiritual journey. ]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=50 New book--- http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=37 Thu, 27 Aug 2009 13:56:49 GMT I'm sitting in my hotel room in Sao Paulo wating for the 14th WKC to start. At last, I have time to sit down and catch up. The most recent project keeping me out of trouble has been the translation of a book published by the Nippon Budokan a few years ago. With nearly 400 pages, it was quite a mission. But now, after one year of seriously hard work, it is being printed as I write this blog.
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I know what some of you may be thinking. "A book about the Japanese martial arts by the Japanese...Smells like propaganda appealing to the masses about the wonders of Japanese culture..." It could have gone that way, but the Nippon Budokan gave me a lot of freedom in how it was rewritten.

The book was first published in Japanese to commemorate the 35th anniversary of the Japanese Budō Association. It is essentially a report by the various federations outlining the inroads made over the last four decades in popularizing their arts, and the various issues they face in the future. The underlying theme is one of urgency. How can the budō world appeal to generations of people who potentially stand to benefit from what budō has to offer?

I have been a student of the martial arts for over twenty years now. I do not believe that one becomes a “good person” just by virtue of studying budō, however, if one wishes to utilize it as a framework for personal development, the latent possibilities are immense. Through intensive exchanges with your opponent you learn about your faults – the chinks in your spiritual and physical armour. You train hard with humility to purge yourself of any weaknesses, and ideally, learn to exhibit a consequential inner-strength and calmness in your daily deportment.

Organizations such as the Nippon Budokan, and the various individual federations which have contributed to the content of this book, are striving to disseminate budō on a wider scale, both domestically and internationally. They are on a “social mission” of sorts to appeal to the wider community, and reaffirm the many benefits budō has for the individual, and hence society at large.

The purpose and content of the English version is slightly different from the Japanese volume. Much of the preparation has involved not only translation, but considerable editing, and contextual clarification, specifically for non-Japanese readers with little knowledge of Japan’s history, or of the various budō arts that exist.

Budō is enjoying astonishing popularity outside of Japan, more than the Japanese could ever imagine, and the potential of budō as a form of personal development is not unfamiliar to non-Japanese budōka. The main difficulty faced by enthusiasts overseas, however, is the dearth of reliable information. There is a growing number of books written in many languages that address the history and culture of budō, but nothing significant to date that has emanated from Japan. This book is the first such undertaking on this scale, being supported by all of the martial arts federations and organizations associated with the Nippon Budokan. It is my hope that it will provide a dependable reference guide for a more penetrating analysis of budō culture in the future.

The Nippon Budokan will be celebrating its 45th anniversary on October 10, 2009, and the book will be launched then. The very next day, 14,000 copies will be sent to embassies, university libraries, and martial arts organizations throughout the world. The book will also include a DVD introducing the various arts. It will not be for sale initially.We are hoping to be able to retail it in the near future...Just to whet your appetite, the TOC is listed below.

INTRODUCTION
FOREWORD Matsunaga Hikaru (Nippon Budokan Foundation President)
FOREWORD Usui Hideo (Nippon Budokan Foundation Chairman of the Board)
AN ACCLAMATION OF BUDŌ Yōrō Takeshi (Professor Emeritus Tokyo University)
EDITORIAL POSTSCRIPT Mifuji Yoshio (Trustee, Secretary General/Nippon Budokan Foundation)
INTRODUCTION Alexander Bennett (Associate Professor, Kansai University)
THE PHILOSOPHY OF BUDŌ
THE BUDŌ CHARTER (Budō Kenshō)
THE BUDŌ CHARTER FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

CHAPTER 1 THE JAPANESE MARTIAL ARTS
SECTION 1 JAPANESE BUDŌ Professor Sugie Masatoshi (Osaka University)
SECTION 2 FROM BUSHIDŌ TO BUDŌ Professor Kanno Kakumyō (Tokyo University)
SECTION 3 THE MODERNIZATION OF BUDŌ ─ THE TEACHINGS OF KANŌ JIGORŌ
Professor Murata Naoki (Kōdōkan Jūdō Institute Museum)
SECTION 4 WHY STUDY BUDŌ? Professor Nakabayashi Shinji (University of Tsukuba)
SECTION 5 THE ATTRACTION OF BUDŌ Professor Ōboki Teruo (Saitama University)
SECTION 6 THE HISTORY OF BUDŌ IN SCHOOLS Professor Motomura Kiyoto
(Tokyo Women’s College of Physical Education/Previous MEXT Sports and Youth Department Physical Education Official)
SECTION 7 BUDŌ’S EDUCATIONAL POTENTIAL Professor KANNO JUN (WASEDA UNIVERSITY)
SECTION 8 NIPPON BUDOKAN FOUNDATION Nippon Budokan Foundation

CHAPTER 2 JAPANESE KOBUDŌ:THE CLASSICAL MARTIAL ARTS
SECTION 1 WHAT IS KOBUDŌ? Yokose Tomoyuki
SECTION 2 THIRTY KOBUDŌ SCHOOLS

CHAPTER 3 MODERN BUDŌ
SECTION 1 JŪDŌ
SECTION 2 KENDŌ
SECTION 3 KYŪDŌ
SECTION 4 SUMŌ
SECTION 5 KARATEDŌ
SECTION 6 AIKIDŌ
SECTION 7 SHORINJI KEMPO
SECTION 8 NAGINATA
SECTION 9 JŪKENDŌ

CHAPTER 4 BUDŌ PROMOTION, RESEARCH, AND EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS
SECTION 1 NIPPON BUDOKAN PUBLICATIONS
SECTION 2 JAPANESE BUDŌ ASSOCIATION
SECTION 3 NATIONAL PREFECTURAL BUDŌKAN ASSOCIATION
SECTION 4 JAPANESE ACADEMY OF BUDŌ
SECTION 5 JAPANESE CLASSICAL BUDŌ ASSOCIATION (Nippon Kobudō Kyōkai)
SECTION 6 JAPANESE UNIVERSITIES WITH BUDŌ SPECIALIST COURSES

APPENDIX
SECTION 1 INTERNATIONAL SEMINAR OF BUDŌ CULTURE
SECTION 2 EVENTS IN BUDŌ HISTORY
SECTION 3 GLOSSARY OF BUDŌ TERMS
SECTION 4 INDEX
]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=37 Book about Kodokan Judo http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=34 Thu, 25 Jun 2009 14:55:31 GMT JIGORO KANO AND THE KODOKAN
AN INNOVATIVE RESPONSE TO MODERNISATION

Translated and Edited by Alex Bennett

I guess this is one of the reasons why my blog has been a little neglected of late. Have just published a book about the life and ideals of Kanō Jigorō, the founder of judo.

As judo has become an immensely popular international sport, particularly since its induction as an official Olympic event in 1964, many of the progenitor’s original educational ideals have arguably fallen by the wayside.

The competitive side of judo has always been an important feature since the Kōdōkan’s inception in 1882. However, Kanō Jigorō, the esteemed founder of Kōdōkan judo, was an ardent educator, and developed judo primarily as a way for moral, intellectual and physical education. Although his ideals evolved over the course of five decades, personal documents, articles and lecture transcripts that he left us explicitly state his educational values and hopes for the role that judo would play in the betterment of society.

Reading through these historical materials, one cannot help but wonder if Kanō would be disappointed in the way in which judo has seemingly veered away from his original ideals of self-development to a preoccupation with attaining victory at all costs in tournaments. He would undoubtedly be overjoyed with the extent in which judo has spread to the four corners of the globe, but would surely turn his head at the selfish political motivations seen in some judoka in Japan and around the world, and how judo’s potential as a form of education has not been fully explored.

With these issues in mind, Professor Murata Naoki from the Kōdōkan Judo Museum approached me about publishing this book. He asked me to translate Chapter 3 of Kanō Jigorō (Kōdōkan, 1964). The entire book is over 750 pages long, and Chapter 3 alone consists of 263 pages of documents and commentary pertaining to Kanō’s career, and the various periods of the Kōdōkan’s development. It is a valuable record of Kanō’s genius as an educator, and as an idealist.

The nature of the content, and the way it is linked together, meant that a simple translation would not suffice for an English publication. Many of the documents included in the original Japanese were written in the now antiquated language of the Meiji and Taishō eras. In the Japanese book, quoted materials are followed by modern Japanese interpretations for the benefit of Japanese readers, resulting in considerable repetition of content. The same repetition is not necessary for the English edition, and some sections were consequently omitted. In addition, the content in the original Japanese text was not placed in any particular chronological order. Thus, to make this English version read with more fluidity, I was compelled to remove some of the redundant sections, and retouch others to link them up.

Furthermore, a significant portion of the subject matter would seem strange without a contextual understanding of the historical processes surrounding Japan’s modernisation. In order to help the reader understand the true significance of Kanō’s innovative approach, I was given permission to add to, or embellish some segments for the sake of comprehensibility.

I divided the book into six chapters and moved some text to more relevant sections of the book. This English publication is, therefore, structurally different to the original Japanese, but the crucial points regarding Kanō’s values should be clearer to the non-Japanese reader as a result. It is hoped that this book will be an important contribution in reassessing the core objectives of judo as espoused by its founder.

As it is hot off the press, apparently the Kōdōkan is going to send about 2000 copies to various federations around the world. Then it will be for sale to the general public. I'm not sure where it will be on sale, or for how much yet, but as soon as I know I will post in the KW forums. Hopefully it won't be too much. ]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=34 Life is good, just bloody busy... http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=27 Wed, 13 May 2009 14:04:11 GMT The 'problem' with living in Japan is that there is always so much to do. Especially since posting my previous blog entry, so many things (good things for the most part) have happened that I find myself too busy living life to write about it.

In a VERY small nutshell, I started a new job in April at Kansai University. Kandai, as it is often referred to, was established in Osaka in 1886, and is considered to be one of the top private universities in Japan. (www.kansai-u.ac.jp). The job conditions are great, and the facilities are second to none. To my great relief, I now have a tenured position which means no more sending my academic CV out in vain to bogus job openings, and bogus universities for that matter.

Although I’m an Assoc. Prof. in the Division of International Affairs, I don’t have to teach a single class of English! Another great bonus is the very strong kendo club, and an equally dominant naginata club. What more could I want? It has resulted in a significant change in lifestyle though. Kendo trainings start at 7:30 each morning! Out of the house at 6:00am, home at midnight…

Apart from that, I finally FINALLY published my Ph.D. thesis on April 1. What a mission. Years of rewriting to make it worthy of publishing. The Yomiuri Newspaper was kind enough to run an article on the book a couple of days ago. You can check it out at this link: http://www.yomiuri.co.jp/book/author/20090512bk01.htm

It’s a Japanese book, but roughly translated the title goes something like, “The Bushi Ethos and its Development: Bushidō and the History of Social Thought”, published by Shibunkaku Shuppansha.

Most research of samurai culture and bushidō deals with the question of death as a central consideration. However, it is surprising to note how few studies really investigate the role of the martial arts in warrior culture in any significant detail. Even if it's touched upon, it's usually only a superficial analysis.

In the midst of mortal combat, what fears, emotions and exhilarations were experienced by bushi? The act of fighting in battle (and training for it) was in many ways a ‘religious experience’. I ask the question, 'as an important practical and symbolic medium for violence, what role did bujutsu play in their formation of a distinctive set of samurai values and raison d'etre?'

Even in the relatively peaceful Tokugawa period, the martial arts evolved along with the “taming” of the warriors. The study and practice of combat techniques still played an important role in the maintenance of their self identity and sense of uniqueness vis-à-vis other echelons of society. It gave them a sort of warm, fuzzy 'religious feeling', and a sense of meaning in their lives...Similar, I think, to the kind of satisfaction I get out of doing kendo.

By utilizing cultural anthropologist Clifford Geertz’s definition of a religion, I applied this theoretical framework to the bushi experience. My thesis was an attempt (hopefully successful) to devise a succinct definition for the nebulous and often misused term “bushidō”, and bujutsu plays an absolutely crucial role.

BTW, Geertz’s definition for religion is:
A system of symbols which acts to establish powerful, pervasive, and long lasting moods and motivations in men by formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic... (Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures, p. 90)

If you go to www.amazon.co.jp and type in Alexander Bennett, it should appear on your screen. No, I don’t plan to translate it into English. In fact, I don’t want even look at it again for a long, long time…It was a hellish experience.

Now, back to living again. We’ve got the next issue of Kendo World to get ready.
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]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=27 Kangeiko – Taidai no Meibutsu http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=15 Mon, 09 Mar 2009 16:16:13 GMT It was with lots of anticipation and a certain amount of apprehension that I recently participated in the fifteen-day Osaka University of Health and Sports Sciences (aka Taidai) Kendo Club ‘kangeiko’ (midwinter training). The university is famous throughout Japan for its superb kendo teachers and... It was with lots of anticipation and a certain amount of apprehension that I recently participated in the fifteen-day Osaka University of Health and Sports Sciences (aka Taidai) Kendo Club ‘kangeiko’ (midwinter training). The university is famous throughout Japan for its superb kendo teachers and skilled students. I’ve been teaching at the university for a year now, mainly for the self-interested purpose of joining in the kendo trainings at the end of the day.

The kendo club’s alumnus boasts such illustrious individuals as Ishida Toshiya and Seike Kōichi, both ex-members of the All-Japan team. The sensei include Sakudō Masao (H8-dan) and Kanzaki Hiroshi (K8-dan and current All-Japan women’s coach) and Kokubo Shōji (K8-dan). The university kendo club has won the student championships a number of times in the past, and they are always expected to finish in the top tier, even on a bad day. The level is high, as is the motivation of the students, teachers, and the alumni.

Apart from tournaments, there are a number of other important events on the club’s calendar throughout the year. Perhaps one of the most challenging is the notorious fifteen-day kangeiko—one of Taidai’s infamous (meibutsu) events. The whole point of kangeiko is to train intensively at the coldest time of the year. As with many grueling practice methods employed in kendo, there is method behind the madness. As it is so cold, you have to keep moving, and what better way to get warm than by engaging in copious amounts of kiri-kaeshi and kakari-geiko!

Thus, kangeiko is a time when kendoists run around with frenzied yells whacking and hacking with all their might to build up strength, stamina, fortitude, and that all-important ‘never-say-die’ attitude. This year, however, was apparently the warmest kangeiko on record… That just made the trainings harder.

Kangeiko started on January 28 at 5:30 am. Starting so early each morning, I was compelled to stay for the entire fifteen days at the university guesthouse. There were many visitors who came and went depending on their work obligations. Four French kenshi from Marseille and I were in for the long haul…

Each morning, I would rise at 4:30am and slowly crawl out of the warmth and comfort of my beloved futon. After putting on my gear and knocking back a sachet of multi-vitamins, I made my way to the campus gymnasium ready for the commencement of the morning session.

We would start by lining up and running fifteen times around the massive gym screaming “Wasshoi! Wasshoi!”—the yell used when carrying heavy portable shrines at festivals. I assume this was to accentuate the festive spirit of the kangeiko—or at least to encourage a cheerful attitude before the fray. As we ran around the gym in regimented style, the OUHS Kendo Club flag draped on the wall would bellow up with the breeze created as we ran past, as if it were applauding our efforts. We then did stretches, two-hundred suburi, bowed in, and got started proper at 5:30.

The morning trainings were divided into three forty-minute sections with no breaks in between. The first forty was spent doing kiri-kaeshi, followed by another forty minutes of kakari-geiko, and finally ji-geiko. The point is to push yourself beyond your usual physical and mental boundaries, and just let go as you threw yourself into the attacks.

Myself, alumni (of which there were so many), visiting sensei, and the fourth-year students usually served as motodachi for the rest of the students. This might sound easy, but believe me when I say it was backbreaking work! Sakudō sensei watched the motodachi carefully, and gave judicious advice on how to receive properly. As he said, “The role of motodachi is crucial. The motodachi is essentially offering his or her body to be carved up, skewered, beaten and hacked for the sake of the student’s development.” The attacking student is privileged for this opportunity to advance. But if the motodachi cannot do their job properly, the students stand to gain little benefit for their efforts.

Aware of the huge responsibility, each and every kiri-kaeshi and kakari-geiko was received with concentrated efforts of unrelenting intensity, carefully maintaining correct distance, applying suitable strength to receive and repel, and maneuvering assiduously while subtly indicating openings to strike.

In kiri-kaeshi, for example, I was instructed to keep my left hand firmly down by my navel and rhythmically absorb or deflect the strikes to encourage the student extend, advance, and retreat without awkwardness. I had to create a situation that felt completely natural to the student and made them want to keep going.

In fact, one of the most important lessons I learned over the course of the kangeiko was the significant function of motodachi’s rhythm. Motodachi has to be in control of the cadence in terms of strength and movement. I am sure that all of us have felt comfortable receiving some kakarite, and a certain amount of awkwardness with others. There is always a tendency to lay the blame on the attacker for any raggedy attacking and broken flow. After this kangeiko experience, I am now convinced that any clumsiness in the attacker is inextricably linked to the ineptness of the motodachi.

Rhythm and movement are not the only considerations. The motodachi also has to get inside the psyche of the attacker. Only then can you put their minds at ease, develop a bond of trust, and make the required alterations to draw all the spirit and skill they’ve got out of them.

Such is the weight of responsibility on motodachi’s shoulders. I immediately thought of how so how people in countries outside Japan are so disadvantaged in this respect. The motodachi can essentially make or break a student’s potential to improve. This is a crucial but often overlooked fact.


Of course, it wasn’t all one way. Depending on the student, the encounter sometimes turned into ai-kakari-geiko where we would both attack in frenzied desperation until one of us buckled. Then it would usually turn into a grappling match against the wall or on the floor. It was the motodachi who decided when each kiri-kaeshi or kakari-geiko would stop, and the next person in line would start.

Sometimes the motodachi would become so engrossed that one bout could go on for ten minutes, or even longer. This was exhausting for both sides, but you didn’t feel the pain, just the urge to go on... You completely lose all sense of time as you become totally absorbed in each individual encounter.

The afternoon sessions in the dōjō started with stretching, 40-minutes of Zazen, followed by 40-minutes of ji-geiko. Zazen actually took a bit of getting used to. It is very difficult to empty your mind of all superfluous thoughts when your legs are aching, and basketball practice is going on in the gym above the dōjō. After I cottoned on to imagining a big black ball rising and falling in sync with my breathing, I found that time passed very quickly. By the last day I didn’t even feel any pain in my legs. My French friends who also participated may disagree.

The students had a few passionate traditions that they engaged in during the course of the kangeiko. For example, “tsubushi”‒ where juniors would gang up on their fourth year sempai and keep attacking vigorously in quick succession, until the senior folded through exhaustion from soaking up the unremitting barrage of tai-atari. Then the juniors would jump on him (or her) and remove his men to a raucous cacophony of triumphant whoops. This is a way of saying “thank you” to the sempai for all of his benevolent guidance over the years, and a way of bidding him or her farewell before graduating. It was sort of well-intentioned ‘death-by-motodachi’ before the fourth-years leave school and make their way in the real world. In this sense, kangeiko is a very sentimental milestone for the students.

It was also the final event of the year that completes the first-year student’s initiation as a fully-fledged member of the kendo club. There is a party the night before the last day in the dōjō. Students get understandably intoxicated (only on a can of beer), and are presented their official name-plates by Sakudō sensei to hang on the wall in the dōjō. With this ritual, the end of kangeiko is but one training away, and their membership to Taidai’s kendo family is ensured forever.

Another great tradition is the “gonin-gumi” which is customarily done as the very last episode, on the very last day of kangeiko. Students break up into groups of five and do enjin-ai-kakari-geiko— that is one person does ai-kakari (mutual attacking) until the drum goes, and then moves to the next person, going through the entire group. Then the second person starts… Everybody is a wreck by the end of it, but as it is the final hoorah, all are in tremendously high spirits. More than a few tears are shed at the end of the gonin-gumi.

I have participated in many hard training camps in my kendo career. However, this one was special for a number of reasons. Few gasshuku last longer than seven days. This was for two weeks. The ups and downs I experienced in physical and mental condition was extreme. It became quite clear that the difference between a good session and a bad one depended on my frame of mind. I found that even in the last stretch of kangeiko when fatigue was peaking, a positive attitude made the difference between a vibrant training and a sluggish one. That was the simple difference between “I want to be here”, and “I have to be here”.

Another fantastic characteristic of Taidai’s kangeiko are the people who attend. The numbers were incredible. In the two weeks, the grand-total of people at all the sessions amounted to over 4,000. On one day there were over 350 people cramming the gym. The youngest were a couple of kindergarten kids whose parents brought them every single morning without fail. That probably meant getting up at 3:30am, and then taking them to kindergarten afterwards. That’s what I call dedicated parenting. There were also hundreds of junior and senior high schools students in the mix, and the 'Who’s Who' of the kendo world with far too many stars to mention. The students kept detailed records of attendants every day.

The things I learned are as numerous as the hundreds of people I was able to train with over the two weeks. There are too many things to process at once, and I suspect I will still be working through them until the day next year’s kangeiko starts. That is a day I wait for now with nothing but anticipation.



(c) 2009 Alex Bennett
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]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=15 Good God! Fourteen Years Already http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=10 Thu, 22 Jan 2009 13:35:31 GMT Remember the massive earthquake that happened in Japan at 5:46am on January 17, 1995? I do. It happened one month before I moved from New Zealand to Kyoto (45-minutes train ride away from Kobe). It hit at the end of a public holiday, just when everybody was gearing up for another year at the... Remember the massive earthquake that happened in Japan at 5:46am on January 17, 1995? I do. It happened one month before I moved from New Zealand to Kyoto (45-minutes train ride away from Kobe). It hit at the end of a public holiday, just when everybody was gearing up for another year at the office. The inner-city area of Kobe was the hardest hit. High-rise buildings and homes were left in complete ruins. Many lives were lost. The official death toll stands at 6,434 people.

Minor earthquakes are commonplace in Tokyo and the Kanto region, but not so frequent in the Kansai region where Kobe, Kyoto, and Osaka are situated. The Great Hanshin Awaji earthquake took residents completely by surprise. Few had earthquake insurance because of the unlikelihood of it ever happening in Kobe, and many lost everything they owned in the ensuing fires. I remember my junior at the Kyoto University Iaido Club telling stories of how he took turns with his brother guarding their crumbling house with bokutō in hand, in case nefarious thieves and looters visited in the middle of the night.

Exactly fourteen years have passed since that tragic day. If you saw Kobe now you would never know the city had experienced such a catastrophe. Kobe was rebuilt with incredible speed after the quake, and life was pretty much back to normal after two years. Beautiful new buildings replaced all those that were destroyed. Highways and public transport services were back to normal within a year, and greatly improved. Housing displaced residents was the hardest problem, and until recently, there were still people living in ‘temporary’ prefabricated housing.

The entire country got behind Kobe in their plight to rebuild. Thousands came from all over Japan to volunteer in the cleanup. Donations of food and clothing kept coming for many months after the quake. Even the celebrities in the monolithic Japanese entertainment industry, usually drunk in their own self-importance, actually did something useful for a change and volunteered for special fundraising programs and telethons to raise cash for the victims.

After the disaster there were countless complaints about the Japanese government's astounding inability to respond in timely fashion to such emergencies. There were also criticisms about the haphazard urban planning—a common problem in Japan—that made it almost impossible to prevent fires spreading through the suburbs. Hopefully they’ve learned their lesson. It’s really only a matter of time before another big one strikes some densely populated city in Japan. In fact, there was a tiny tremor as I was writing this blog. I kid you not!



Magnitude 7.2
Houses destroyed 153,099
Damaged 119,893
Fires 12,876
10 trillion yen in damage

(c) Alex Bennett 2009 ]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=10 A spot of New Year’s skiing, anyone? http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=9 Sat, 10 Jan 2009 04:30:43 GMT Yes folks, there’s more to Japan than just kendo. Japanese people love to go skiing. It’s not exactly a traditional activity, but I’d be willing to bet my furry slippers that more people in Japan ski than do kendo. Even Japanese who are not into sports all seem to have had some skiing experience.... Yes folks, there’s more to Japan than just kendo. Japanese people love to go skiing. It’s not exactly a traditional activity, but I’d be willing to bet my furry slippers that more people in Japan ski than do kendo. Even Japanese who are not into sports all seem to have had some skiing experience. Come rain, hail and especially snow, skiing is the number-one winter leisure-time activity in Japan. They reckon that 80% or so of people between the ages of 18 and 35 have been skiing, and over half of them make regular visits to the slopes every year!

Skiing hasn’t even been in Japan for a hundred years yet. Actually, it was introduced in 1911 by Major Theodor von Lerch, an Austrian military attaché. He taught Imperial Army soldiers how to ski in Niigata prefecture. The Japanese skiing team made their Olympic debut at the second Winter Olympics in 1928, and has since hosted a few in Sapporo (1972) and Nagano Prefecture in 1998. It just keeps getting more and more fashionable, and the level is comparatively high.

The ski season reaches its peak around the New Year period, which means it is probably a good time to avoid going if you’re serious about it. It can get bloody crowded. Add a kamikaze beginner to the mix who doesn’t know how to stop… Anyway, right about this time of year, hordes of ski bunnies jump into their spotless 4-wheel drive Mitsubishi Pajeros and zip up to the mountains for a day of slipping and sliding. This yearly excursion into the ‘wilderness’, even just once, seems to justify owning a 4WD in Japan. Others who can’t afford Pajeros prefer to ride the overnight bus on some hassle-free package tour that isn’t too harsh on the wallet.

Most of the ski areas in Japan are fairly modern, with decent lifts and the mandatory snow making machines. Background music is played all over the mountain just like a hotel lobby, and there are always comfortable rest-houses where you can relax and have a bite to eat. The option of taking lessons from a professional instructor is popular. That way you can learn to zigzag down the mountain and not look so obtuse in your brand-new, expensive, and very trendy ski wear which no self-respecting Japanese ski BEGINNER would be seen dead without. The first rule of learning to ski in Japan is to look the part first, and worry about the skiing later. By the next time they go the gear is usually outdated, and it’s obligatory to buy another outfit. Household rubbish piles come springtime look like mountain trash.

Part of the attraction of going on ski tours in Japan is not only the skiing but also the fun had afterwards. Skiing serves as an excuse to get away from the big smoke and head into some of the more beautiful parts of the country. That’s why ski areas with hot springs are particularly trendy. Japanese coined a word from English ‒ “Afutaa Skii” i.e. soaking in onsen followed by drinking, partying and karaoke.

Of course, the media has had a lot to do with the popularity of skiing in Japan. The winter season bookstands abound with skiing magazines, and on the box there is the usual assortment of commercials with cute young couples flirting on the slopes, ‘how to ski’ instructional programs, and banal dramas where people get dumped, fall in love again, and live happily ever after all with skiing in the background…In this sense, ski fields in Japan are sort of promoted as places where you can go and be a part of your own romantic little drama. I have to admit, spotting JBabes decked out in ski suits has its appeal, and provides an incentive to get good quick…

Snow-boarding is the rage for many young skiers. These young ski rebels are despised by the more conservative skiers, and often the ski fields are divided up for separate use to avoid unnecessary friction and slope-rage. Japan also boasts some skilled ski-jumpers/maniacs. The Japanese team always does well at international competitions and guys like ‘Smiley Harada’ have become household names.

I don’t mind skiing myself, but avoid the popular ski fields like the plague at peak season. Judging by how Japanese people tend to gravitate to places where there are MORE people rather than where there are few, I guess you could safely call them social animals. I, on the other hand, am by comparison very anti-social, and like my space. Fortunately, there are countless unpopular ski fields scattered throughout the country. Because they are unpopular, they are almost totally empty and devoid of human obstacles. You’d think they’d quickly become popular because of this, but Japan is a funny place. Suits me fine though. I can do my own kamikaze skiing in a makeshift ski outfit fashioned from rubbish bags, and nobody is any the wiser.

(c) 2009 Alex Bennett ]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=9 International Martial Arts Symposium http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=8 Sun, 21 Dec 2008 07:46:27 GMT Attachment 563 (http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/attachment.php?attachmentid=563) The question of etiquette or ‘rei’ is a crucial element in budo. Without it, budo is pure violence at worst, and just another competitive sport at best. A couple of weeks ago I was very fortunate to have been asked...
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The question of etiquette or ‘rei’ is a crucial element in budo. Without it, budo is pure violence at worst, and just another competitive sport at best. A couple of weeks ago I was very fortunate to have been asked to participate on a ‘Budo Panel Discussion’ at the well-known National Institute of Fitness and Sports in Kanoya. Kendo buffs will have heard of this university as it boasts a large number of Japanese national collegiate titles. The theme of the symposium was “The Spirit of the Martial Arts — Rules of Propriety” and it aimed to make a comparative study of instructional methods regarding forms of courtesy practiced in foreign martial arts settings. The morning schedule included a Judo and Kendo Workshop with Mr. Muneta Yasuyuki and Mr. Miyazaki Masahiro. The afternoon session consisted of a keynote lecture by Yamashita Yasuhiro and a Panel Discussion with me, Mr. Eve Cadu, Committee for Education and Diffusion- France Judo Federation, Professor David Matsumoto, San Francisco State University, Murata Naoki, Kodokan Library General Manager, and members of NIFS faculty. The following is a transcript of my speech. It is quite long for a blog entry, but please feel free to leave any comments :)


A Study of the Attitudes of New Zealand Martial Artists in Regards to the Concept of “Rei”:
An Analysis of Kendo Practitioners

1. Introduction
Like most countries around the world, Japanese budō is gaining a significant following in New Zealand in recent years. This can be attributed to two social trends: (a) A shift away from traditional New Zealand values in areas such as sport and religion; (b) and the growing number of Asian immigrants to New Zealand.

With regards to (a), I am alluding to a distinct distancing from traditional organized religion, and hence a growing number of individuals seeking “spiritual fulfillment” through alternative means. ‘Mystical’ Asian culture and ideals are recognized as providing a holistic approach to physical and spiritual wellbeing, and are thus gaining in popularity.

Also, a move away from so-called mainstream sports in New Zealand is occurring, and recent generations are opting to engage in unconventional athletic activities such as the martial arts. It may be argued that increased violence in society is also a motivation for many to undertake the study of martial arts. In this sense, by far the most popular martial arts in New Zealand are karate, judo, and taekwondo.

However, this paper will briefly outline the perception of “rei” (etiquette and respect) and “discipline” in the New Zealand kendo community. There are also a small number of iaido and naginata practitioners in NZ. As the majority of these practitioners also study kendo, I will contain my comments to kendo, but have included the other two arts in my deliberation.

2. What Kind of People Practice Kendo in New Zealand?
Given that the practical application of kendo is limited compared to karate or judo, what is the main motivation for New Zealanders to undertake its study? To date, due to the relatively small population of around 500 members, aspects such as competitive aspirations do not figure highly. There are few tournament events in which practitioners can participate, and the overall level is still quite low. Broadly speaking, there are three significant groups of kendo practitioners, and their motivations are different:

1. Naturalized New Zealanders (approximately 50%)
2. Immigrants (30%)
3. Transient Asian residents (20%)

Starting with the smallest group first, transient Asian residents comprise of mainly Japanese, Korean and Chinese company employees and students. Most of the Chinese students start kendo for the first time in NZ, but the majority of this group are Japanese and Koreans in their twenties through to forties who are experienced kendo practitioners usually 2-dan up to 5-dan level. Typically, they stopped doing kendo in their home countries only to discover it in New Zealand, and decided to take it up again out of nostalgia or as a way to make new friends.

Immigrants are the second group which also consists mainly of Korean, Japanese, and some Chinese. As is often the case, it is the children of these immigrants who become members of local kendo clubs rather than the parents, who tend to take a passive role in club activities. Parents send their children in the hope that they will maintain a link with their Japanese or Korean (or Asian) heritage, and also learn discipline and traditional forms of etiquette which would otherwise be lacking in their typical course of education in New Zealand. This motivation is reminiscent of Japanese parents in the kendo boom of the 1970s and 80s.

Currently the largest group of practitioners are naturalized New Zealanders. Their motivations vary but can be summed up in the following groups:

a. Teenagers or students who have a keen interest in Japanese pop culture such as anime, samurai movies, and traditional aspects such as bushidō and so on.
b. Young men or women who have spent some time in Japan and dabbled to varying degrees in kendo there.
c. Mainly adult men who have trained in other martial arts but are dissatisfied with the emphasis on competition, and are seeking something more ‘spiritual’ in nature.

These factors sometimes overlap but the common thread running through the groups is the comparative lack of preoccupation with competition. Although the interest is there to a certain extent, the opportunities are few. Those who start kendo for competition or as a form of self-defense inevitably give up before long. This immediately makes kendo distinct from other martial arts in NZ. Although there are exceptions, generally speaking, only those who immediately recognize or come to view kendo as a way for personal-development and self-discipline stay the course.

3. The Ever-present Japanese Influence
Despite the rapidly increasing number of Korean immigrants practice kendo (often in Korean-run dōjō), most of NZ kendo is still influenced by Japanese ideals of rei in form and manner. This is in part due to the policy of the NZKF to abide by Japanese protocol. Undoubtedly one of the attractions for many kendōka in NZ is the emphasis placed on ritual forms of etiquette. NZ students consciously bow when entering and leaving the dōjō, bow deeply and carefully to the shōmen, seniors, training partners, and perform sonkyo awkwardly but diligently before engaging in a bout.

Having lived in both countries, I can attest to the fact that rules of etiquette are often conducted with seemingly more passion and exactness in NZ than in Japan. The reason is precisely because all of the ritual forms in kendo are completely foreign to New Zealanders, and are thereby not apt to be abbreviated, as seems often the case in Japan. Ironically, not to bow deeply when entering the dōjō would be considered sacrilegious by many New Zealand kendōka. It is part and parcel of the accepted formal procedure in kendo that is emphasized by visiting high-ranking Japanese teachers and local instructors, who frequently lecture students on the basics of rei in kendo as demonstrated through the forms of etiquette and the required meticulous application.

New Zealanders who commit themselves to something as exotic as kendo make every effort to do what they are told, especially by Japanese teachers. They also unconsciously perpetuate breaches of Japanese etiquette such wearing a hat in the dōjō simply because they have never been told not to. Moreover, most will not understand exactly why we do sonkyo in kendo, or utilize various ways of bowing, or stand up with the right foot and sit down from the left, but are usually happy to comply with the simple understanding that it represents ‘respect’ to other people in the club, the dōjō environment, and even the equipment that we use in training. It is looked upon as a sacred ritual of respect that must be done properly.

Practitioners also find meaning in folding the hakama properly when they know that each of the pleats represents the five Confucian values; or look after their shinai not only for safety but also because it is supposed to symbolize a katana; or prostrate to their opponent because “without the bow of deference, the act of hitting each other with sticks amounts to no more than an act of violence.” As part of the ritual they will even say “onegai shimasu” before a bout and “arigatō gozaimashita” after, instead of a simple “please” and “thank you”.

Despite a few unwitting errors in form and circumstance, adherence to “correct Japanese kendo etiquette” is highly regarded in the small New Zealand kendo community. New Zealanders are generally happy to comply because they find solace in the ritual itself, with a general understanding that it represents “respect”‒ a virtue valued in all societies. In many ways, a New Zealand kendo dōjō looks as if it has literally been transplanted from Japan, but with an arguably higher standard of adherence to prescribed forms of courtesy, albeit somewhat rigidly. And this intensity remains throughout the typical training session.

4. Bokutō Training- An Understanding of ‘Rei’ Born through Fear and Trust
But does an adherence to forms of etiquette equate to an understanding of true rei or respect? And, is that form truly of consequence as long as the same feeling of deference is present? This question is particularly important in the international kendo community now as countries such as Korea are omitting ‘traditional Japanese etiquette’ such as sonkyo because it has no bearing to Korean culture. Regardless of whether kendo is traditional Japanese culture, some non-Japanese sectors are questioning the validity of teaching Japanese etiquette instead of that of their own culture.

Ritual form is important as it provides a framework for expression of respect and solemnity. Still, even in Japan I frequently see instances where rei is either taken for granted in form or feeling, or both. For example, in the naginata dōjō I am always amazed to see two practitioners bowing to each other deeply according to correct form, and then bowing once again informally immediately after with smiles on their faces saying thank you. One is left wondering, what was the purpose of the first bow? Was it simply ritual for the sake of ritual? I believe this situation to be endemic.

For the last four years, I have been running an experiment on students from New Zealand and other countries. Through a lack of expensive equipment, I have conducted classes using only bokutō, and teaching “bokutō ni yoru kendo kihon waza keiko-hō”, a set of nine techniques developed by the AJKF. In courses of 10~15 sessions, we practice these forms interspersed with what I call “soft kendo” (similar to “sports chambara”). I talk briefly about important concepts in kendo such as ki-ken-tai-itchi, zanshin, seme, but not in too much detail. I also teach correct etiquette as the very first lesson, and mention the importance of rei as a key component in keeping the dōjō safe.

At the conclusion of the course I ask students to write reports on their impressions. In many instances the students themselves wrote of the importance of etiquette and respect without any prompting from me. For many, it was the first time they had used a bokutō and the act of making sundome strikes on their training partners, and receiving attacks just above vital targets understandably created considerable apprehension. Typically they were “afraid of making a mistake” and accidentally hitting their partner, and also receiving a painful blow if their partner erred.

Interestingly, it was through this “nerve-wracking” process that students independently nurtured feelings of “care and consideration” coupled with bonds of “trust”. The ritual of the bow at the beginning signaled the start of the encounter and the “need for heightened concentration, care and reliance”; and the final bow signified a job well done, and “thank you for co-operating.” These are the comments that many of the students recorded. Without the need to accentuate the importance of rei too often, students were able to learn for themselves, as they were aware of the dangers in training with weapons. The dangers are not so obvious when training with shinai and bōgu. Many students have commented that they felt invigorated and excited by the danger and the resulting interaction with their training partners based on “mutual respect”.

5. Conclusion
Instructors emphasize that kendo starts and ends with a bow, and also teach the correct forms of etiquette, often without knowing how it came into existence. A search of historical documents proves that many of the forms of etiquette used in kendo today were developed in the twentieth century, and are not very old. Still, as the simple act of bowing is customary practice in daily human interaction in Japan, the true significance of the act in the dōjō is sometimes overlooked. On the other hand, as it is not customary to bow in NZ, students in kendo clubs have a tendency to abide by the protocol as closely as possible, but have a need to justify why the action is important. For the most part, they are content with the notion that it connotes respect and courtesy albeit in a somewhat exotic form.

In my experience, this understanding became more vivid and appreciated in the NZ context when an element of perceived danger was introduced into training through the use of bokutō. In conclusion, the general consensus in NZ is that rei is an integral part of the study of kendo; and, that executing the forms of etiquette as correctly as possible provides a framework or gateway to focus on or be reminded of the importance of rei in the immediate environment.


(c) Alex Bennett 2008
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]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=8 ABCD- Budo for Everyone! http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=7 Tue, 02 Dec 2008 06:57:03 GMT Attachment 559 (http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/attachment.php?attachmentid=559) Bruce Lee, Steven Seagal, Chuck Norris, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Mr. Miyagi. Well, we can leave Mr. Miyagi out, but on the whole, most people have preconceived ideas of budo being the domain of rough, tough, staunch,...
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Bruce Lee, Steven Seagal, Chuck Norris, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Mr. Miyagi. Well, we can leave Mr. Miyagi out, but on the whole, most people have preconceived ideas of budo being the domain of rough, tough, staunch, and cut individuals. The cool image of the athletic warrior serves as an incentive for many people to start the martial arts, but at the same time it prevents many others from taking that first step into the dōjō.

Of those who have started and continued with their training, how many of you have ever complained about blisters on your feet, aching muscles, or minor injuries to get out of training…? Most of us have at some stage. It is very easy to forget how lucky we are to actually be able to participate in hard training and feel the pain. It’s easier to complain.

A few years ago, I became involved with a group known as ABCD ‒ an acronym for Association of Budo Culture for Disabled. Through this group I became acquainted with a Swedish fellow by the name of Pontus Johansson who serves as the president.

Images of the supreme warrior and pain never really concerned Pontus in his martial arts training. He has cerebral palsy, and has been undergoing an intensive regime of rehabilitation since childhood, and was finally able to walk on his own at age eleven. Before long, his disability intensified and he found himself unable to walk independently.

He took a bold step in undertaking the study of karate from the age of sixteen to supplement his love of swimming and strengthen his body for international competitions such as the Paralympics. He sought instruction in such schools as the Shōrin-ryū, Shōtōkan, Kyokushinkai, Shitō-ryū, and has now been studying Wadō-ryū for over fifteen years. Through his training in karate and other budo arts, he refined his sense of balance, and once again learned to walk unaided. Thanks to these positive experiences, Pontus realised the potential of budo as an effective means for rehabilitation and recreation for other people with disabilities. With this in mind, he started teaching in a dōjō in the north of Sweden, and has dedicated himself to promoting the benefits of studying budo for all people.

Last week (Nov. 26, 2008), Japanese budo powerhouse Kokushikan University held a seminar investigating the potential for teaching budo to the disabled and what everybody stands to gain from active participation. I was present as Pontus’s interpreter. The following is a synopsis of his thoughts on the “paradox” of budo for the disabled.

Is budo participation really possible for disabled people? Of course it is. Pontus is living proof of that, as are over forty of his students in Sweden and countless others spread throughout the world.

“It is very difficult to write a 100% accurate manual that applies to every aspect of this topic because the various types and degrees of disabilities make instruction methodology a ‘case-by-case’ situation…We have found over the years that a ‘one-on-one’ perspective with a group mentality is often the optimum solution.”

Pontus relayed to the interested throng of listeners that some cases are easier to predict than others.

“As an example we could say that a spinal cord injury is much easier to conclude possibilities and abilities than a brain injury. We can model this in the same way we regard traditional kata within budo; with a fixed set of rules we have to think ‘outside the box.’”

When a disabled student joins a dōjō, regardless of what that budo it may be, it is not necessary for the instructor to become an expert in the disability.

“Often in any given situation the best way for me as an instructor and my students is actually training together to find out what works and what doesn’t…The point is to not try and establish what they can’t do, but what they CAN do! Sure, there are some special circumstances that apply, but a disabled student should be encouraged like any other student. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

To Pontus and his students, budo provides a vehicle to “move uninhibited in daily life, and to keep the doctor away… We teach how budo can be an integral part of life and rehabilitation. Shiai is important, but is certainly not the main objective for training.” Apart from the wide range of possibilities for rehabilitation, the real goal, according to Pontus, “is to survive the day and win the toughest battle of all ‒ over the self.”

It is his greatest hope that the need for an organization such as ABCD will fade away as people gradually become more aware that budo is not, and should not be exclusive. Budo is for everyone.

(c) 2008, Alex Bennett
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]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=7 <![CDATA[College Women's Association of Japan Speech]]> http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=3 Tue, 25 Nov 2008 06:24:12 GMT
College Women's Association of Japan Speech
“Japan’s Spiritual Sports”
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Last week (Nov. 19, 2008) I was asked to give a speech on the beauty of kendo to a rather remarkable group of ladies. Formed in 1949, the CWAJ is a nonprofit organization consisting of Japanese and non-Japanese women who get together regularly for volunteer activities in the wider community.

The CWAJ currently has a membership of 550 women from over thirty countries and a system is in place where Japanese and non-Japanese members are paired together to work on an array of given projects, including the famous CWAJ print show which raises money for scholarship programs. According to the information on their HP “One scholarship category is dedicated to non-Japanese women undertaking advanced Japanese language studies at the Inter-University Center in Yokohama. Another scholarship category is for men and women with visual impairment. Awards are also given to encourage hanga art.” (http://www.cwaj.org)

Equally remarkable was the venue in which I gave the speech. The CWAJ meets on a monthly basis at the American Club which is now based temporarily on Mitsubishi-owned land near Shinagawa. This club was founded in 1928 by some American businessmen residing in Tokyo. Naturally it was closed down during WWII, but was re-established again in 1949, and eventually relocated close to the Russian Embassy in Azabudai. “There, the Club entertained military personnel, celebrities, royalty and foreign diplomats while fulfilling its mission of cultural exchange and international community.”

In other words it was, and still is, an elite venue for ‘movers and shakers’ in international business and politics to hobnob with each other. “The Club”, as it is affectionately known by members, is currently undergoing a massive facelift, which is why it is temporarily based in Shinagawa. Pelli Clarke Pelli designed the new facilities which are scheduled for completion near the end of 2010.

With the joining fee at around 2,400,000 yen (USD $24,000) plus the monthly fees, a deprived academic like me could never join the ranks of this affluent clique of transients. I only get to see how the ‘other ‘arf’ in the ex-pat community lives when lucky enough to be invited. My immediate reaction was one that vexes me a lot recently. “Why didn’t I get a degree in accounting or law, or something more conducive to making crass amounts of cash in Japan, instead of a Ph.D. in anthro-bloody-pology...” I inevitably console myself with the thought “Well, at least I have time to go to kendo”.

That was the topic of my speech; “Japan’s Spiritual Sports: Kendo”. Michael Ishimatsu-Prime, “Kendo World” partner-in-crime, joined me for the event. After a main course of lamb chops (a refreshing taste of home), it was my turn to stand before the 100 or so ladies and try to explain the history and significance of kendo in the modern age. As most people in the surprisingly attentive audience had never done kendo before, I wasn’t sure how well the speech and ensuing Kata demonstration with Michael would be received.

I focused my talk on the concept of ‘zanshin’, and how it and other aspects of kendo can be of use in or out of the dōjō:

• Discipline.
• Pushing one’s physical and mental limits.
• Respect for the training environment, training partners, opponents, seniors, juniors, equipment…
• Importance etiquette rituals and humility.
• Necessity of maintaining composure and confidence even in the face of adversity.
• Zanshin (constant alertness and never taking anything for granted).

In a nutshell, all this makes kendo an extremely valid ‘framework for life’ if one chooses to utilize it as such.

Apparently the speech was enjoyed by most, and on the basis of the questions I was asked afterwards, I was awoken to the potential of starting up special kendo classes designed for children and women in the ex-pat community in English. I wonder if they’d let me use the massive gymnasium in the Club. That could be my only way in…

(c) Alex Bennett, 2008
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]]> Alex http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=3 Musashi Meets a Green Beret http://www.kendo-world.com/forum/blog.php?b=2 Mon, 17 Nov 2008 10:00:03 GMT Musashi Meets a Green Beret Our mortality is our greatest fear and also in many ways our greatest fixation. The number of TV networks that broadcast series exploring topics from state-of-the art weaponry to survival techniques, historical battles and stylized combat traditions is on the rise.... Musashi Meets a Green Beret

Our mortality is our greatest fear and also in many ways our greatest fixation. The number of TV networks that broadcast series exploring topics from state-of-the art weaponry to survival techniques, historical battles and stylized combat traditions is on the rise. Maybe the enthusiasm to scrutinize violence is a consequence of the barrage of graphic images of destruction and carnage that we see on the news every day. In view of that, there also seems to be a distinct upsurge in interest from networks in the ‘mystique’ of Japanese martial arts and samurai history.

Japan boasts a top-heavy abundance in combat arts, albeit antiquated ones. From the blood and gore of medieval battlefields, Japan has cultivated its science of war into athletic-aesthetic pursuits that, ironically, ultimately encourage adepts to cherish life rather than take it. No other nation has so successfully rationalised, justified and beautified its warrior culture than Japan, to the extent that modern Japanese budo arts are lauded (at least in Japan) as making contributions to world peace and mutual respect between people of all colours, creeds and generations. Maybe it is in this paradox that TV producers see the potential for gleaning insights into the “absolute best and undeniably worst” traits of men witnessed in the throes of conflict.

In the past eighteen months I have been contacted by a number of cable networks to help out with MA interpreting. In September of 2008, some of you may have seen me masquerading as a kendo ‘specialist’ on Anthony Bourdine’s Discovery Channel program “No Reservations” where I was introduced as an Australian!

(http://crackle.com/c/Travel/Anthony_...asters/2354390).

Never mind. The star of that show, apart from Anthony of course, was the renowned Nitō master who everybody in the kendo world adores, Toda Tadao sensei (8-dan). And, it was rather by chance that I was recently contacted by yet another American company that is producing a new series called ‘Warriors’ for the internationally popular History Channel.

This series (scheduled for broadcast early next year) seeks to explore the plethora of fighting techniques, rituals, philosophy and teachings of warrior cultures in all four corners of the globe extending from AD 100 up to the 1800s. ‘Warriors’ is an “immersive program” where the host, Terry Schappert, investigates the tactics, weaponry and warrior traditions of Eastern and the Western cultures by actually getting in there and testing his combative mettle.

(http://www.history.com/minisites/warriors)


Being a trained actor and a combat operational member of the elite Green Beret special force means that Terry is one staunch dude who you definitely want in your rugby team, and in your drama club too. The episode that I was asked to assist with concerns samurai culture; in particular the legendary swordsman Miyamoto Musashi and his two-sword school the Niten Ichi-ryū in the small city of Usa, Oita Prefecture, Kyushu.

Was it just coincidence that Terry comes from the USA and Musashi’s Niten Ichi-ryū is being practiced in Usa, or was it just a quirk of fate? Amused with the irony we made our way to the Usa Hachimangū Shrine. This ancient shrine first appears in records of the Yoro era (717–724), when the enshrined deity Hachiman is said to have helped the imperial forces against the Hayato rebels. As the guardian deity of warriors, Hachiman had a huge following among samurai, and the Usa Hachimangū is esteemed as the principal shrine for over 25,000 Hachiman shrines scattered throughout the country.

The setting was perfect for the interviews and demonstrations of Musashi’s swordsmanship by Yoshimochi Kiyoshi and his students. Terry expressed the awe he felt at visiting a shrine that held profound sacred value for warriors long before America had even become a country of united states.

In the meadow below the picturesque Noh theatre overlooking the serene pond, he was introduced to the practice of tameshi-giri with a frighteningly sharp katana. He was taught how to hold the katana correctly, how to stand, and how to cut through sodden straw bales with cold precision by combining mind, body and weapon.

Following this demonstration of how truly lethal a weapon the katana is, Yoshimochi sensei taught Terry sessan, the first kata of the Niten Ichi-ryū. He was already impressed by Terry’s adeptness in cutting with vigour and controlled exactitude, but the speed in which he learned the kata and the decisiveness in which he was able to execute it was equally remarkable.

Aside from performing the required physical exploits, Terry’s job was to talk into the camera while simultaneously absorbing the torrent of technical information I was translating for him. He also had the added pressure, no doubt, of knowing his special force mates were not going to give him an inch if he screwed up in word or action, preferably both.

But his comments were lucid and valid. Most impressively for me, though, was his tremendous demeanour. I rarely have the privilege of meeting people who are cheerful, polite, and so acutely aware of other people’s feelings as Terry. There was definitely a bond forming between them as the day progressed, but there was also something quite different about the two which I couldn’t quite isolate at first.

It finally became apparent to me as we did the last ‘cut’ for the day. I don’t think it will be included in the program itself, but one moment in particular stood out in my mind, and I know I will not forget it; to use T.S. Elliot’s phrase it was a “timeless moment” for me as translator, and I am in no doubt for Master Yoshimochi and for Terry. The two exchanged gifts. First, Terry expressed how many special force soldiers know of Musashi and are avid readers of Gorin-no-sho (The Book of Five Rings) not only because the practical combat wisdom is universal and eternal, but because they want to grow as human beings as Musashi did. He then presented Yoshimochi sensei with a plaque from the Green Beret unit that represented their honour, fortitude, and objectives as soldiers. The motto being “De Oppresson Liber” (liberate from oppression).

I could have translated that directly in Japanese, but it didn’t seem suitable. Instead, I expressed the sentiment with the phrase “katsujin-ken”—‘life-giving sword’ i.e. “the sword that kills one man’s evil allows ten-thousand to live in peace”— which was made famous Yagyū Munenori, one of Musashi’s contemporaries in the early seventeenth century.

Master Yoshimochi reciprocated by presenting Terry with two bokutō (wooden swords) from the Niten Ichi-ryū. With diminishing audibility he uttered the words “Please take the spirit of these swords with you when you go to Afghanistan, and for God’s sake take care of yourself.” By the time sensei got to ‘Afghanistan’ the tears had welled up in his eyes, and he could barely get the rest of the words out. Neither could I. It was like a father sending his son off to war, and for some reason I was stuck in the middle with the translation lodged in my throat.

Terry took the swords with genuine deference. He humbly retreated down the steps of the Noh theatre lest his emotions got the better of him. There was nothing but silence. The cameramen, producer, sensei, Terry, and all the staff and onlookers surely confronted some emotion for that brief, but timeless moment.

Then it dawned on me. Master Yoshimochi is a pacifist who understands combat; and Terry is a combatant who understands peace. What they have in common is an acute comprehension of the two faces of humanity. Good and evil. We all have both in our genetic makeup whether we care to admit it or not, but the path we choose to walk depends on us. Mutual respect secured through an informed realization of the yin-yang relation between good and evil, based on a veritable appreciation of our own mortality, is probably the only way to true peace. In this sense, I reckon the History Channel is onto something, just as long as the hype doesn’t distort the kind of humanity that I saw for that brief but phenomenal moment.

(c) Alex Bennett, 2008
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