Kendo Camp, Day 1
Where do you begin with kendo? Trick question—everyone
begins from a different place. Some people take a class because they’re curious
about why people are running around hitting other people with swords. Other
people get into kendo because it looks like fun, and face it—on the surface,
running around and hitting people with sticks is pretty fun. To hear one of the
teachers at kendo camp tell it, he got into kendo because his older brother was
practicing the martial art.
I got into it because of the coolness factor, which I
suspect drives more peoples’ decision then they care to admit. Why not? This is
the chance to learn how to use a samurai sword! Think of all the movie and
comic book heroes who use swords! This is
your chance to be Luke Skywalker!
Of course it’s not that simple. It never is. By the time I’d
learned I was light-years away from being Luke Skywalker the martial art had
gotten in my blood, and no matter how many times I left, I kept coming back.
Kendo is deceptively difficult, and you quickly learn that your best physical
effort isn’t quite enough. You also learn all the ways that you’re screwing up
with each swing of the shinai. And yet each time you screw up you learn
something, and when you’re frustrated and at the end of your rope you just have
to keep trying until you hit that breakthrough, which is one of the greatest
feelings in life. At that moment, you know that you have improved slightly and
you know how much work it took to get to that point. Anyone who wants the
rewards without the journey could learn a lot from kendo.
If you keep at kendo for a few months, you may find it gets
in your blood. You may find that, even though sweat is dripping onto the
hardwood floor of the dojo and you just want to quit, if you had a little more
time to practice you could finally perfect your form! Of course, by the time
you’ve showered and put away your shinai and bogu, you want nothing more than
to sleep. But the desire is still there, and the next time you pick up a sword
it awakens.
Perhaps that’s why I’ve come to kendo camp here, out in
Madison, Wisconsin. I’ve come despite a shoulder that complains if I use it for
too long and a car whose engine tends to shake intermittently. Some things you
just have to power through. Over the next two days I’ll be training hard for
hours on end, pausing only to eat and then go back at it. My stomach is already
tensing at the thought. Still, I know I’m going to learn something, and when I
learn something here, I want to apply it to all aspects of my life to become a
better person. Perhaps I’m seeking God out here, in the form of sweat and a
sword.
Kendo Blog, Day 2
I’m exhausted. And hurt. My right shoulder and arm are
jumping the border of sore and hurt like it was nothing, and I’ve developed
what is called “the kendo walk.” It looks like a duck-footed very old man, and
it’s the standard method of walking unless you make an effort to walk normally.
The weirdest part is that mentally, I’m still ready to go. Put a shinai in my
hand, give me some bogu to hit and let’s get to it. I expect this feeling to
last until about four seconds after I get to bed.
That’s the odd thing about kendo. It revs up your spirit and
your mind even as your body is getting pounded. I think it’s one of the
benefits of kendo—your mind and spirit get as much exercise as your body, and perhaps one day your body will be able to
keep up with your mind and spirit, or at least your mind and spirit will
supplant your body’s strength. Mental and spiritual energy seem to be
ridiculously long-lasting.
Yamanaka sensei and Saito sensei are proof of this. They got
up at around 5:30 am like most of the kendo students and taught an hour-long
session of kata outside. Then they taught two three-hour kendo sessions, and
now they are in the dormitory commons room, cheerfully drinking beers, getting
cheerfully drunk and staying up later than people half their age, up to and
including me.
I never really understood how important the basics were
until Yamanaka sensei corrected a lot about my men strike, the most basic
strike in kendo. Then I started trying to do it right, and I’ve kept on trying
to do it right throughout the practice. The 1st-dan and under class
practices nothing but basics, and I love it. I keep wanting to practice them
more and more. I don’t really care about sparring, or any of the types of
sparring practice that are meant to show us how to use a sword in a “real”
sparring scenario. I’ve focused on getting this one thing right. It’s not a bad
feeling, either. I realize that doing it perfectly is probably not possible,
but it feels almost within my reach, and the feeling I get reaching for that goal
is incredible.
Kendo Camp 3
Well, it’s over. In a way I’m disappointed, because I really
want to still practice kendo. On the other hand, I’m exhausted and want nothing
more than to get back to my apartment and start sleeping. I’m sore, and my
shoulder is letting me know it doesn’t want to be used for a while. Maybe for
the rest of August.
On the other hand, I survived an intensive kendo weekend!
Nine hours of practice, eleven if you count the free-form practice and the kata
practice at dawn. And I didn’t have to
sit out any of them! I feel really accomplished, but more than that I started
to really understand what it meant to make a good men attack. For about the
last hour of practice my men attack became more and more consistent. Not
perfect by any means, but much better than it was. That alone was worth the
cost of kendo camp.
I’m getting my kendo gear all bundled up, pretty much all of
it soaked in sweat accumulated from two days’ worth of practice. I don’t think
anyone other than me would want to touch it. On the other hand, the kote, the
gloves and wrist protectors, are nice and flexible, and almost has me wishing
they’d be like this more often.
Again, the thoughts you have after a kendo practice can be
kind of weird. You want to keep doing more kendo, for one. After reaching one
goal you’re ready to try working on another, although you know deep in your
heart of hearts that concentrating on another aspect of your kendo may cause
the first aspect to deteriorate a bit, since you’re paying less attention to
it. And that’s fine. It’s another part of learning how to do kendo, and on some
level it starts to seep into the rest of your life, too. I keep thinking of
things I want to improve, and instead of wanting to juggle everything all at
once, I think I’m okay with focusing on just one aspect and improving from
there. The result is, to quote the Eagles, a peaceful, easy feeling, a feeling
that yes, you can handle whatever is thrown at you in work or relationships,
with family members or coworkers. It’s odd that all of this can come from
learning how to swing a sword properly, but there you go.
Also on the third day at kendo camp? I let go of fear. Not
that I didn't experience it, that feeling where your guts tighten up and your
legs feel rooted to the ground. But when I started practicing on the third day
I let go of all the fears I had--fear that my shoulder wouldn't last through
the practice went first, then the fear that I wouldn't do good kendo, and
finally other fears just went away and I was practicing kendo, accepting that
whatever would happen to me would happen, and more importantly that I could
deal with it. I don't know for certain, but I think that's what is known as the
zen mindset.
Time to make the drive home.
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