It is said that "a master reveals himself in every action." This means that when we observe a master, his/her actions are consistent in every aspect of life. Each daily activity is subject to reflection, observation, consideration and worthy of a constant focus. A true master observes himself/herself constantly, seeking to understand in order to improve. It is the constant scrutiny of an examined life that yields the deepest insight and meaning. The awareness of every moment is the cornerstone of mindfulness.
About 20 years ago, a close friend approached me for advice. She had enrolled in Japan Action Enterprise, Shinichiro "Sonny" Chiba's legendary stunt training school, which produced dozens of stars for live action samurai dramas (called "Chanbara"), superhero shows and other events. As a former gymnast/dancer, she already had the physique and movement skills. She was excited to learn lots of new things, including the sword fighting skills. As a guy known for having trained Iaijutsu/Kenjutsu extensively, she asked me for help in choosing a bokken (wooden sword) for training. I obliged.
Together we went to Suidobashi in Tokyo, a place famous for martial arts gear shops, particularly kobudo and kendo gear. This was the best place to find a suitable bokken. There were many lengths/sizes to choose from. I explained about the types of wood used and the types of training typically done with each variant. In the end, she approached me with one, handed it over and said with a big smile "I like this one." It felt like a pair of chopsticks...thin, flimsy and very. very light. I asked "Why this one? It's so light?" She looked at me as if I was stupid. "I like this one just because it's very light!"
In that moment, I saw that she and I were very different.
I remembered my initial training in Japanese sword and choosing my first bokken during the summer of 1980 when I was just 14 years old. My teacher took me to the big martial arts supply store in downtown Chicago and made me choose, just as I had made her choose. I brought back a bokken that felt like a tree trunk and weighed like a telephone pole. It was far too heavy for me. My teacher smiled. I thought he might have been quietly proud of me. I chose that one specifically because it was solid and heavy, hoping that swinging it 10,000 times would make me strong. It did. Since then, I always choose the heaviest tool in the box.
As martial artists, it is wrong to seek shortcuts or easy ways out. In the end, we come to the dojo to practice, we join martial arts to train. The harder the training, the stronger the warrior. The more we cry in the dojo, the more we laugh on the battlefield.
Sometimes in class, I see students try to cheat the drills, not going deep enough or pushing hard enough. I see them holding back or keeping their strength in reserve. Sometimes they don't believe in the technique or in their own skills. As a teacher, I feel it is an important part of my job to get students to appreciate the intensity of the session and face their hardships with a smile. I hope the students will understand that the deeper they go the stronger they will become. I'll support them all the way.
It is the challenges that help us become the best versions of ourselves.
Choose the heaviest bokken. You'll be glad you did.
1 comment:
I have been doing theater for as long as you have been a martial artist. I tell my students that everything they do matters. The piece of wood you pick for part of a project, where and how you mark it, cut it, and assemble it. Every brush stroke when you paint, every knot you tie in rigging. It all matters. Every board, twisted, bowed, crooked, has in it the best way it can be used for whatever it is you are doing. It is ten thousand momentary considerations that lead to incremental decisions that lead to the finished project. The end suffers when the means are given inadequate consideration.
I did not pick the heaviest, but I considered the usefulness of them all before choosing.
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