I was watching an otherwise excellent
documentary by NHK called “Real Samurai” about modern practitioners of Tenshin
Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu. It’s a very nice look at the modern practice of a
great koryu budo. One thing bothered me though. The narration kept referring to
budo in general and Katori Shinto Ryu in particular as the “art of killing”. I think this may be the biggest misconception
about budo as it has been practiced since the Pax Tokugawa took effect in 1604.
The documentary repeatedly talked about Katori
Shinto Ryu as an “art of killing” and emphasizing the potentially lethal
aspects of what is taught and studied. It seemed unable to deal with the
contradiction offered in nearly every frame and comment by the
practitioners themselves, that Katori Shinto Ryu practice informs and
transforms their way of life.
For me, the fact that the skills we study can
result in killing is outshone by their usefulness in living, and living fully.
I find it hard to imagine that even during wartime the focus of bujutsu study
was killing. Despite a few folks like Yamamoto Tsunetomo who were obsessed with
dying, budo has always been about living.The reason for studying these arts,
even five hundred years ago, was less focused on killing than on surviving
horrible circumstances and going on living. Perhaps budo is not really an art
of killing. If it’s not an art of killing though, then what is it?
Without the constant threat of warfare, there
would be little reason to study arts of killing. Peace encourages us to
consider not just living, but how to best live. Budo as an art of killing isn’t
relevant to a life of peace. But budo is just as much about living. Life
is filled with conflicts of all sorts, and all forms of budo are intense
studies of conflict, both physical and non-physical. Methods of dealing
with conflict can also be applied throughout life.
In budo,
the first things you practice are things you’re already doing all the time. You
learn how to hold your body, breathe
well and move powerfully. What’s more essential
to living than breathing? The building blocks of good budo turn out to be the
same ones used to build the foundation of a good, healthful life.
 |
| Enjoy the blog? Get the book! |
Budo reminds us, every practice, of our limits.
We stare death in the face with every kata we practice. Most koryu budo kata
are paired, and being off just a little for either person can result in a nasty
whack that would be deadly with live weapons. Crucially, someone always loses
in these kata, and losing equals dieing. In the paired kata we learn to see
just how narrow the difference between success and failure, life and death,
really is. Learning this is solid preparation for life outside the dojo. The
lessons about moving enough, but not too much, emphasize the need to respond
appropriately to whatever happens. I can think of many kata in Shinto Muso Ryu
where action is essential to not getting hit in the head with a weapon, but
where overreacting is nearly as bad as failing to act. When uchitachi thrusts
during Sakan, if you don’t act you will be stabbed in the gut. If you
overreact you block the thrust but leave yourself open to a number of follow-up
attacks that flow smoothly from your excess movement. If you do everything
right, you move when uchitachi has committed to the thrust and you
deflect the sword tip just enough to miss but not so far that the sword can
come in through a new opening. Action must be appropriate to the situation.
I’ll say this again and again. Breathe well.
Remain calm and relaxed. Budo practice
emphasizes this. It doesn’t matter if someone is trying to throw you across a
room, split your head open, or choke you. You still have to be calm and keep
breathing. It’s amazing how often people in the dojo have to be reminded to
breathe. Under stress they start holding their breath. It happens so often I
have to wonder that people aren’t passing out right and left in their everyday
lives. Budo practices teaches us to relax into stress.
Tightening up only makes things worse.
Stiff arm a judoka and the result is a beautiful throw or an elegant
armbar. Tense up while holding a sword and you’ll be much too slow to respond
to whatever your partner chooses to do. A lot of practice is required to
overcome our bodies’ natural tendency to tense up under stress so we can relax
into difficult situations. Someone yells at us at work. A deadline gets moved
up. Our uncles get into an argument over politics at the family dinner. Things
that can cause us to tense up are everywhere.
Breathe. If you find yourself getting tense, let
go of the tension. Don’t cling to it. Budo practice is the only place I’ve
found that practices the essential art of relaxing into stress. Having someone
try to throw or choke or hit you is stressful. If you can learn to stay relaxed
and calm under this pressure, you can do it anywhere. When life tries to hit
you over the head, relax, breathe, and move just far enough to avoid getting
hit, but not so far that you can’t hit back.
As a kid, I always thought that being “grown up”
meant that you were finished becoming you. Budo has a way of reminding me that
I will never be finished becoming myself or becoming a better person. I’ve been
at this budo stuff for over 30 years and every day I make new discoveries about
myself and how much I can improve. It is often said, and always true, that budo
is a path, not a destination. We’re never done learning. We’re never done
polishing ourselves.
It’s easy to forget that we’re never done
changing, so the opportunities for improving never cease. We can keep working
on our technique, and ourselves, until we die. My iaido teacher is 94. My jodo
teacher is in his 80s. When Real Samurai was filmed a few years ago, Otake
Sensei was 88. One of the saddest things I hear people say is, “That’s just the
way I am,” as an excuse not to change and improve. It’s the way you are today.
Whether you want to or not, you will change and be a little different tomorrow
and each day after that.
The difference that budo makes in my life is
that it teaches me over and over again that I don’t have to be satisfied with
what I am today. I can influence how time changes me. I can passively receive
the way life molds and shapes who I am, or I can actively participate, choosing
how I want to change and who I become. This is the art of living that budo
teaches us.
I’m not finished. My teachers aren’t finished.
They still practice. They are still changing and improving. That time spent
refining my kirioroshi and my hikiotoshi uchi is not just time
spent learning an obscure skill with an archaic weapon. It’s also about
refining who I am. That practice breathing calmly and deeply is useful wherever
I am, whatever I am doing. Teaching myself that my default condition is calm
and relaxed even when someone is actively attempting to throw me across the
room, and especially when they succeed in throwing me across the room applies
to dealing with “all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.”
Budo is not an art of killing. Budo is an
art of living.
