THOUGHTS ON BUDO AT THE TURN OF A DECADE

The world has changed considerably since I first began to study Budō, several decades ago. It is now a much smaller world, due primarily to the innovations made in communications and computer technology. I can recall that in 1995, computers and the Internet were at best, an insignificant part of most people’s lives, and cell phones (mobile phones then) were large, cumbersome things: hardly anyone had one. In the ensuing fifteen years however, most of the industrialized world has been connected to the Internet and the phenomenon of mobile communications. Literally, billions of pages of information are at anyone’s fingertips with just a click of a computer mouse. Sadly, at the same time, the world has grown more violent and dangerous. In the United States, we witnessed firsthand the attack on the World Trade Center, the war in Iraq, the war in Afghanistan, countless terrorist attacks, and assassinations, not to mention innumerable homicides and heinous crimes here at home. Domestic and foreign terrorism, in all its forms, have become almost daily occurrences, and news of them is now almost instantaneous. We now see crime and violence even as it occurs, often graphically, from the comfort of our easy chairs. When examined, even superficially, the sum of all this tends to reinvorce my feeling that the need has never, in modern times, been greater for people to train in traditional martial arts, such as Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu.

I have no personal knowledge of any official study, however my own understanding is that few, if any people, classically trained in martial arts, have committed the types of violence and terrorism that fill our computer and television screens, as well as the front pages of our newspapers. Acts of terrorism and violence run counter to the very nature and intent of traditional martial arts programs. Classic Japanese martial arts, Budō if you will, is in fact the art of peacemaking. I continue to teach Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu, not simply because it trains one to perform acts of violence, but rather because it trains both mind and spirit to seek out peace and harmony while preparing one to defend against acts of violence; the end result of which is creating, in some small way, a more peaceful world for its practitioners.

While Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu, on the surface, would appear to have little application to contemporary ideas of self-defense, I cannot help but feel that it truly does have practical applications. A broomstick, a mop handle, a cane, with training, can be a real boon for a person threatened with attack. Beyond that, these arts are simple serene, and elegant, bereft of the splendid embellishments and gymnastics assigned them by the cinema and print media, such as manga. In a real sense, however, this simplicity, serenity, and elegance, and the absence of superficial flourishes, have at least in the United States, been self-defeating. It is difficult for the uneducated and the unsophisticated to see how Kenjutsu and Iaijutsu could be of any use in self-defense; thus, such arts have little attraction to those who are instead drawn to more brutal forms of “combat,” such as grappling, Brazilian Jiujitsu, and “mixed martial arts,” which many traditional instructors, including myself, regard as nothing more than fighting. Fighting is what is cool. Fighting is “in.” Fighting is power. Skill in fighting makes one a “tough guy,” which assists in maintaining the “thug is good” thinking, propagated by television and movies, manga, music videos, and worst of all, violent video games. Indeed, contemporary, violent video games occupy the minds and time of American youth far more than such mundane pastimes as study, reading, or active participation in sports. Absent are the enduring values and ethics of traditional Budō, now set aside for the less endearing and enduring values of contemporary “martial arts” training.

Sadly, I do not foresee much change in the way that the “samurai arts” will be presented in literature or the entertainment media. Looking back, I think that the contemporary view of Budō began with the larger-than-life, naïve, unworkable, and improbable portrayals of traditional martial arts by works of fantasy and fiction such as the Teenaged Mutant Nina Turtles. Since their inception, the media has inundated us with anime, manga, video games, television programs and feature films highlighting samurai-like characters that perform gross representations of sword and other martial techniques; which in turn, have created false impressions and therefore expectations, that make legitimate martial arts at least disappointing if not totally unattractive. I say disappointing in view of the large number of would-be students who are disenchanted early on in their training, or even before they begin training, when they come to a dojo in the hopes of learning the “moves” that they saw in some movie or video game, and the dojo is either unable, and often unwilling, to do so.

My own experience recently is that interest in traditional Japanese martial arts, in the United States, does not support nor will it sustain classes in such subjects as Kenjutsu or Iaijutsu; individual, private students yes, but classes, no. In a country that would seem to pride itself and take comfort in its ignorance, obesity, and laziness, and its attraction to that which is crass, serious students are far between. Certainly, I have received inquiries from parents who want to enroll their children in classes; yet, what is the point when the child does not want to attend and has little or no interest beyond the “flash,” nor the common sense or sense of responsibility that goes with learning potentially dangerous techniques? There is none. Even parents are disappointed when they discover that it takes years upon years to achieve the proficiency to earn a black belt, the “holy grail” of American martial arts: not six months, not a year, but years. It is no better with potential students in their late teens or in their twenties; indeed, such students are almost totally absent. The discipline of mind and body that is required is simply not there. What few potentially good students there are tend to be over fifty, college educated, accomplished, and disciplined. Interestingly, these are mature people who potentially suffer more aches and pains then younger students; and yet, are more than willing to endure such discomforts, for the sake of the art.

What the coming decade will hold is of course a mystery. Perhaps, with the diminished American economy and the austerity that it demands, some small side effect will be a turn away from crassness, lack of discipline, and lack of responsibility, toward a new embracing of good, traditional values. Only time will tell.

THOUGHTS ON TECHNIQUE IN BUDO I

"One should train themself meticulously and then forget about it."

Ultimately, the reason one practices Budō or a martial art is so that one can make the art an integral part of one’s self. In order to achieve any degree of mastery, that is, competence as well as confidence, it is necessary for one to attain a state in which he or she is able to use the best possible techniques instinctively: without thinking. The only way that one can accomplish this is by learning to deal with every conceivable circumstance.

Alone, our imaginations are not always able to conceive of every possible situation; consequently, in the classes I have taught, as an unwritten adjunct to the curriculum, students are encouraged, actually they are expected, to bring possible variations to a situation up to the class, so that the other students may consider and discuss the circumstance and actively experiment with the various ways to deal with it: good and bad. They work out solutions and in a sense the student becomes a teacher. By doing this, it is possible, through slight variation or innovation, to transform one technique into ten.

One must, however, be wary of allowing their “soul to attach itself to a technique.” That is to say, one must not become obsessed, when for example engaged in combat or practice with a sword or shinai, to become solely focused on technique. If one is simply centered on technique, and not freeing up his mind, if one’s actions and reactions are not instinctive, then the opponent will ultimately have the opportunity to not only strike back but to win.

When in combat or practice, one should not think about “killing” their opponent or what technique will do the job, but rather merging and flowing with an opponent and allowing the techniques to select themselves.

Remember that no matter how wonderful one’s technique may be, if one is focused solely on that aspect of their art, then one, simply put, cannot win. Once techniques are learned, practice without thinking of simply striking, parrying, or thrusting. Let the mind go free so that the movements and techniques come freely from within one’s self.

It is a simple fact that once one has trained themself well, their body, arms, and legs will move automatically; that is, without any conscious effort. So, one’s mind will not be overcome by their physical movements and be able to make use of the techniques they have learned and practiced without having to think. Once this state of mind has been reached, no misgivings or wavering will occur. There is no enemy or opponent, not even a tengu or a demon, who will be able to find an opportunity to effectively attack.

One should train themself meticulously and then forget about it. One should toss aside their mind and thus follow the Way without actually being conscious of it. This is a obscurity of all ways and arts, be it Aikidō, Iaidō, Judō, Karate-Dō, Kendō, Aikijutsu, Iaijutsu, or Kenjutsu.

Copyright 2010 by Hayato Tokugawa, Sekishinkan Tokugawa Dojo, and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part 3)

One might well ask, “What is the difference between strategy and tactics, or between tactics and technique?” Well, they are each distinctively different; yet, they also go hand in hand. Remember, we have defined strategy as a plan of action that is intended to accomplish a specific goal. Tactics can be defined as a procedure, or a set of maneuvers which one engages in to achieve a particular end or goal. So then, strategy refers to one’s general plan of action and one’s tactics are the methods used in order to accomplish the plan.

Methods can be categorized even further into techniques. Techniques, with practice, will instill in one the intuitive response that will enable one to act within a tactical frame of mind and efficiently accomplish their strategic goals through the interaction of the sword.

As mentioned above, strategy, tactics and techniques go hand in hand and thus, often overlap. It is important to keep in mind however, the distinctions between them. Too illustrate, let us consider a reaction to a straight, downward strike with a katana. The basic goal, the strategy, is to cut the opponent without being cut. There are numerous ways to accomplish this particular goal. One tactic that could be employed to achieve this end would be to move to one’s side, then counter strike. A technique which could be utilized to do this would be for one to step forward and to the right with the right foot, whle rasing one’s sword overhead; then pivot back and out of the way with the left foot while executing a downward cut or lateral, decapitating strike.

Strategy then, is something that is accomplished by means of tactics, which in turn, consist of techniques. By being aware of the different facets of each encounter, one allows themselves the opportunity to focus their attention in such a manner that the effectiveness of one’s training is taken full advantage of. By examining an encounter in broad terms, one can determine their goal. By narrowing one’s perspective, one can then determine what tactic(s) best suit the accomplishment of that goal. Having done so, one should then select the techinque0s) which will make up the tactics and then practice them until they are literally done without conscious thought: automatic or intuitive. Practice, however, does not stop there. One needs to practice and practice more until one’s reflexive abilities and knowledge are such that we perform them at the very instant they are needed. One might consider it in this way: one’s goal is reflexive abilities and knowledge that “kick in” automatically the second they are required. The tactic to accomplish this goal is study and practice of the techniques we are taught.

As will be discussed later, the value of all of this extends well beyond the walls of the dojo. If one pursues their goals in this exact manner, one can accomplish great things and have a significant and pleasing upon their character.

Copyright 2009 by Hayato Tokugawa & Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part 2)

To cut the opponent while avoiding being cut is in one sense largely external, because it depends, in part, on technique and strategies which are taught and learned. The second goal, to progress in the direction of perfection of character, is more internal, as it comes from within each of us; yet, it is equally as valid. Both of these objectives are keys to the proper practice of the art of swordsmanship and every subsequent goal is derived from them.

To cut an opponent while at the same time not being cut is, as noted above, a largely external goal. It relates to one’s physical actions as well as to those of their opponent. If one thinks about it, however, “to cut an opponent while not being cut” is also a theoretical goal, in that in modern Japanese society, we do not typically use the katana as a weapon. The modern trend is to place far less emphasis on the killing ability of the katana and instead focus on its character as a tool by which one adds or modifies character and self-discipline. It is however, necessary to keep in mind the true, fighting purpose of the katana. One must maintain a concept of the practical reasons for the art of swordsmanship; thus anchoring one to a sense of martial practicality. Each decision one makes; how to hold a sword, how to stand, how to move, how to think; must be based on the actual principles of fighting with the katana; otherwise one’s actions are no longer fixed in the art and its traditions.

Within our dojo, “to cut an opponent while not being cut” is taken quite seriously, both in discussion of tactics and techniques, as well as in practice. Wearing full bogu[i], it becomes a practical matter of not being “whacked” by bokken or shinai – both potentially a painful experience. The intent of such a practice, among others, is not a competition, but rather to take matters one step further in providing a real, tangible means of fixing in one’s mind in the true, practical aspects, traditions, and history of swordsmanship.

The perfection of character, an internal end, relates directly to the state of one’s mind and spirit. It is equally a real goal although difficult to achieve. It is possible through practice to improve one’s awareness, thought patterns, self-discipline, even one’s integrity and ability to live harmoniously within the community, in keeping with the principles of Wa-Dō. Granted, there is no actual need to develop the skills of sword fighting; yet, there does exist a true need for one to refine themselves and to work toward the betterment of themselves and their community.

The more one follows their quest to accomplish the first goal, the more one makes press along the path to the second. Time spent well in practicing kata, in drills, and in other training with the sword, the more the internal goals are achieved. Therefore, when one speaks of strategy, one addresses both the most successful ways to use a sword and the most effective ways to utilizing swordsmanship to fashion one’s spirit.

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[i] Bogu (防具 ) is the specially developed protective armor used in Japanese martial arts, particulary in Kendō. A complete set consist of: men (面 ), the facefask and shoulder protector or helmet; the dō (胴 ) or torso protector; the kote (小手 ) or hand and forearm protectors (long, extended gloves); tare (垂) the leg and groin protector.

The men which protects the face, neck and shoulders, consists of a facemask with several horizontal metal bars, running across the entire width of the face, from the chin to the upper forehead. To this is attached a long, rectangular, thick cloth padding, which curves over the top of the head and extends to cover the shoulders. A plate to protect the throat is also attached to the bottom of the facemask. The men is held in place with a pair of cords, which wrap around the head and are tied at the back. Note that the men is left open for ventilation and thus the back of the head is left unprotected. This is primarily due to the fact that there is no prescribed nor permitted stroke to the back of the head.

The main component of the dō is the curved stomach and chest protector. In its modern form, the dō has a distinct bulge, which helps convey the force of a strike away from the soft, middle areas of the torso. Lacquered bamboo has traditionally used however, molded plastic or fiberglass is now frequently used instead. The dō is held in place from the shoulders by two diagonal ties from the shoulders and a small set of ties at the back.

The kote are gloves that resemble long-sleeved mittens, designed specifically for Kendō. While they look cumbersome, they indeed provide a high degree of mobility for hands and writs in gripping in gripping and wielding the shina (the traditional split bamboo “sword” of Kendō.

The tare is a thick, padded, cloth belt that wraps around the waist and ties under the front flap. The padded flaps that hang from the belt protect both the upper legs as well as the groin area.

Copyright 2009 by Sekishinkan Tokguawa Dojo/Takayama Budokai, Shisei-Do Dojo, Shisei-Do Publications, and Hayato Tokugawa. All rights reserved.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part I)

Saya no uchi. Saya no uchi no kachi. Victory with the sword still in the scabbard. The words almost shout at the swordsman, exhorts him, to remember that physical combat is always the last resort. No matter how confident one may think they are, how many techniques they may know, a master of strategy will always find a way to win without fighting. This is a message that is not unique to our dojo; rather, it has been passed down through the ages.

Sun Tsu once said:

To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence;

Supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.

Did not Miyamoto Musashi make this a central point of his Go Rin No Sho, The book of the Five Rings? Did not Yagyū Munenori, founder of the Edo Branch of Yagyū Shinkage-ryū from which Amatai no Shugo-ryu draws so much, preach this very thing time and again?

The path to mastery of Amatai no Shugo-ryū, Yagyū Shinkage-ryū, or any form of Kenjutsu is long indeed. Before anyone can achieve success by virtue of intellect or willpower, they must have a deep understanding of the principles of swordsmanship and of a nature which will allow them to act in keeping with those principles. One can only acquire this through constant, long-term practice and the study of strategy; which includes the old texts by those Musashi and Yagyū Munenori, among others.

Simply put, strategy is a plan of action with the intention of accomplishing a specific objective. A true swordsman practices his art with two very definite objectives in mind:

n To cut the opponent while avoiding being cut.

n To progress in the direction of perfection of character.

To cut the opponent while avoiding being cut is in one sense largely external, because it depends, in part, on technique and strategies which are taught and learned. The second goal, to progress in the direction of perfection of character, is more internal, as it comes from within each of us; yet, it is equally as valid. Both of these objectives are keys to the proper practice of the art of swordsmanship and every subsequent goal is derived from them.

The Tokugawa Period: An Overview of the Western Concept

My view of historical scholarship is that of an attempt to write about the events of the past and as such, it is dependant upon documents from the period(s) being studied. I have also pointed out that many historians, particularly in the West tend to “cherry-pick” their documents, selecting records that tend to match their preconceived notions of history. The result is that such written history fails, sometimes miserably, to provide clarity and truth.

I do not exempt Japanese historians from blame in this matter of imbalanced or distorted history, particularly in the portrayal of the Tokugawa Shōgunate and the period of Japanese history that it encompasses, 1603 to 1868; as a period marked by military dictatorship and oppression. In viewing the Mieji Restoration and the years that followed, one can come to understand how such distortions were possible. Meiji historians took on the attitude and viewpoint of the era, an obsession with Westernization. The entire country was lost in all things Western: Western culture, Western technology, Western politics, even Western scholarship. What was past, what was “Tokugawa” was cast away as unenlightened and thus, of no value to the “New Japan” and the age of Enlightened Rule.

With the end of World War II, during the Showa Era, historians both in the West and in Japan, looked for reasons for the war. Ultimately, their collective fingers pointed at the Tokugawa Period, not only as the Japanese dark ages, but as the root cause of the wars that followed the conclusion of that era. Japanese feudalism was equated with authoritarianism rather than the Confucian concept of a decentralized political system as evidenced in the Zhou Dynasty, a concept idealized by the Tokugawa. Certainly Japanese feudalism (hōken) was not compatible with liberal Western post-war views, often tainted by not so hidden traces of Marxism, political correctness and the European 18^th century “enlightened” view of Europe’s feudalism as their own dark ages. These historians thus superimposed their viewpoint over Japanese history, tainting what lay beneath.

Western history, particularly that of Europe is viewed as having three major eras: a classical era, a feudal era, and a modern era. Japanese history is far more complex, with a myriad of twists and turns, hundreds if not thousands of threads interwoven much the same as a fine tapestry. To overlay Japanese history with the restricted views of Western scholarship simply does not work: it is to ignore the depth and character of Japanese history and culture.

In conclusion, one should be more inclined to view the Tokugawa Period as a forerunner of modern Japanese social and political concepts rather than as the dark depths of tyranny. The Tokugawa brought unity to Japan, for the first time, an actual feeling of nation and country, unique in the Asia and the world, which continues to live in contemporary Japanese values.

THOUGHTS FROM A TAKAYAMA ROOFTOP: Some thoughts by Aoi Tokugawa-sensei on Japanese Thought, Samurai, and Bushido.

Some thoughts by Aoi Tokugawa-sensei on

Japanese Thought, Samurai, and Bushido.

I think of history as a series of lines, not dots. Many of the small things, the small day-to-day things that occurred maybe be regarded as dots, for example a fire, a storm, a flood; but not the major events (a war, a coup, a regime change, etc.). These things are connected to other events of the past with a straight line. The same can be said of the history of thought.

The evolution of thought definitely occurs at the various turning points in the history.
It does not pop into the mind as if God’s own voice. In order for thought to spread through society, it requires a background that people can accept. For example:

Why didn’t European Chivalry take root in Japan?
Why didn’t Islam religion take root in Japan?

I have never seen a Japanese who perform prayers five times in a day and abstain from food, nor do we accept Muslim dogma. Why?Because we Japanese have no background, no history which would permit us to accept it.

The “background” I mention could be anything from a shared history (and shared experiences) to a shared culture (shared thought, aesthetics, character). It could possibly extend to a shared DNA:Japanese DNA inherited from our ancestors – the ancient Japanese.Much of what we are is carried in our DNA; however, this is not something unique to Japanese but common to all the people in the world. No one completely understands the evolution of DNA or how national and social characteristics are passed along, but it would seem that they are. It is part of what makes a Japanese, Japanese, and all Japanese thinking, our viewpoint of the world and ourselves come, in part, from it.

Why do Japanese love Sakura? Because we are Japanese. That is all that needs to be said.

Samurai and Kamikaze pilots must have seen their life in Sakura.Yet, there are people who think that the Sakura is an icon of militarism. Certainly there is a relationship between Sakura and militarism: it is true so I won’t try to deny it. However, for the majority, when we see Sakura, everyone senses its beauty. No one thinks, “Oh! Militarism has blossomed. Oh! Sakura is terrible!”

What I want to discuss in this blog, in the future, is Japanese thought. But do not be too concerned, as I will not harp on the matter of DNA as I mentioned briefly above – it is too difficult a topic for most people, including myself.

The thought has form but no form; we cannot touch it or hold it, but the form reveals itself in human’s behavior.

When it comes to the Japanese thought, the first thing that comes to mind is Bushido.

“Loyality” exists in Bushido thinking as a major principle. Did every samurai obey it? The answer is no. The actual, historical samurai is different from the popular image of samurai (cool and gentlemanly); an image we receive from movies and literature. Because the historical samurai is different from the “pop” samurai, some are inclined to say that Loyalty was a quality that didn’t exist in samurai.

They felt hunger, they felt pain when a sword cut them; and to die, was terrible. Some of them hated even the thought of hari-kiri: “No, no, I don’t want to die that way!”
The existence of such samurai is to be expected, because they were human beings: not supermen. A few were even brats; yet aside from them, we can see the form of Loyalty in the good, ethical behavior of the samurai.

Thanks to Nitobe Inazo and his book on Bushido and the film The LastSamurai, I think everyone has a bit of knowledge now about Bushido and the Hagakure. However, few seem to know about Shido, which is vastly different from Bushido as described by Nitobe or in theHagakure.

Shido was born as Japan became peaceful society during the Edo Period, parented by such men as Soko Yamaga, Sorai Ogyu who were Confucians. How is Shido different from Bushido? Let me show you a bit of the difference through example.

In the film The Last Samurai, there are lines of dialog that clearly illustrate Shido. In one of the last scenes of the film, after the death of Katsumoto (Ken Wtanabe) in battle against the government forces lead by the Meiji Era oligarch, Omura; the central character Algren (Tom Cruise) has an audience with Emperor Meiji and presents him with Katsumoto’s sword.

“Tell me how he (Katsumoto) died,” said the Emperor.

“I will tell you how he lived,” answered Algren.

Here then, in these two lines,is the difference between Bushido and Shido, layed out for us. How to die is Bushido. How to live is Shido. It is said that Bushido is the philosophy of death; Shido is the philosophy of life.

There are those who regard Shido (those who even know of it) as the opposite extreme of Bushido; yet, I disagree. Bushido and Shido are bound together by the same core of thought: To die with honor, one must live with honor. As one lives honorably, one may then die honorably, just as the cherry blossom (Sakura).

There were many samurai who based their lives on the principles of Shido; such as Byako-tai, the men of the Shinsengumi, the 47 Ronin.In simple terms, they were the personification of loyalty and products of loyalty.

Later, I will tell you of the 47-Ronin and through their thoughts and behavior, I believe we will be able to see and better understand Japanese thought and Shido. We might even talk more about Japanese DNA!

*There are many terms in the Japanese language and thus in Japanese history which are difficult to translate into English. I will use the Japanese words and then attempt to explain their meanings and concepts to the reader. Also, please bear in mind that this is not an academic paper, but simply my thoughts, my blog, so I will write it in my own, humble style.

THE CORE OF BUSHIDO

THE CORE OF BUSHIDŌ

If we wish to find the core of Bushido, we must I think, look at it in its historical context. To do that, I would like to use a metaphor, first put forward by Nitobé Inazo in his book on Bushidō, worn as it may be; I think it is still viable. Certainly, we do not need all the flowery rhetoric or the cryptic European references of Nitobé to grasp what is truly simple.

If we think of Bushidō as the sakura, the cherry blossom, and think of how plants live, our search may become clearer. Japan, of course, is the soil and without the proper soil, no plant can flourish. Some will whither and die quickly, others will struggle over a long time, trying to survive, but never growing beyond some stunted weed. Japan, more than anywhere in the world, was the right “soil” for Bushidō.’ The seeds came to Japan long ago from China, who in many ways is the “Mother of Japan”. The seeds came in the form of Confucius and then his disciple Mencius. If one wishes to understand Bushidō, then look to the seeds themselves: Analects by Confucius and simply The Mencius. Along with these two great fathers came Wang Yang-ming and Lao Tse; thus, the great seeds of Asian thought came riding across the sea to eventually take root in Japan.

The sakura, like any plant, not only needs soil, it needs nourishment and Shintō was just such nutrition for Bushidō. Native to Japan, growing out of the sea with the land, it was there waiting to embrace Bushidō and to give it all that it could. Perhaps the greatest gifts of Shintō were its sense of patriotism, loyalty, reverence for ancestors, and the love of family and parents, which from its birth, lay at the very heart of Bushidō, as it does today. Look in any dojo and you will see the character of Shintō present: from the walls to the etiquette of those who practice there.

Seeds, soil, nourishment, are fine but our analogy still lacks something. The sakura needs sun and rain which was supplied in abundance by first Buddhism and later its refinement of Zen, which went directly to the growth and development of the samurai character – the Samurai Spirit, and provided for the growth and development of Bushidō on the most personal of levels.

Bushidō was exclusive only to Japan. Despite Nitobé’s analogies to European chivalry, they are as different as night and day. Bushidō could only have existed in Japan. It was so destined.

Copyright 2009 by Shisei-Do Dojo and Shisei-Do Publications

Emotions and Forms: Uniquely Japanese

Emotions and Forms: Uniquely Japanese

Much of my formal education and training had been in science and law; both disciplines based upon logic. As I grew older, and hopefully wiser, and as a student of traditional Japanese Budō and Bushidō, I began to read and study about the Japan of past days; and as I experienced life in Japan, not only in the dojo but in the small towns and villages, away from the cities, I began to think about such Japanese things as jōcho (emotion) and katachi (forms of behavior). People took tradition seriously. They often enjoyed dressing in kimono; they enjoyed eating together as a family, gathered around a low table in the living area of a simple home. People who were too loud or boisterous were given a cold shoulder. I witnessed Japanese unspoken communication and personality projection. Away from the cities, the national character was entirely different. Customs and traditions, sincerity and humor, were considered of much greater value than the logic I had learned and trained in at school. Of course there were some people who clamored for “more”, “more is better”, “modern is better”; yet, those who shouted for more reform to the modern ways, were discreetly criticized by the elders as “lacking a proper sense of humor.”

I began to realize that, yes indeed, logic had its place, but aesthetics, emotions and forms of behavior could be equally important if not more; things uniquely Japanese. When I mention “aesthetics,” I am speaking of such things as nihonjin no shizenkan, the concept of nature. When I say “emotion,” I am not speaking feelings such as joy, anger, sympathy, sadness or happiness, which we learn about in school and which we all experience naturally; I am refereeing instead to emotions that are cultivated through cultural experience; such emotions as natsukashisa, a sense of yearning for the lost, an mono no aware, an awareness of the pathos of things. By “forms,” I mean the code of conduct that has been with us for centuries, derived from Bushidō, the samurai code of ethics.

When considered together, these are the things that make Japan and the Japanese special, unique in the world. Just as Nitobé Inazo pointed out that Bushidō was the foundation of Japan’s national character, so also are these others. Even as far back as the Meiji Restoration, both emotions and forms of behavior began to go into a gradual, imperceptible decline. The rate of decline was accelerated in the Showa Era and sustained extensive deterioration after World War II, as the country suffered from Americanization and free market principles which reached deep into the Japanese heart to exert their influence on Japanese society, culture and its character as a nation. Even the Japanese educational system, has served to erode the Japanese pride and confidence in their country, largely at the hands of revisionist politicians and historians. People, particularly in the cities began to forget those things that were the country’s traditional emotions and forms of behavior, the things that should have given them the pride to be uniquely Japanese. Instead, the country falls prey to the logic and reasoning of the West and the decline continues through a process of globalization, which is nothing more than an attempt at making the world homogenous. Japan must find the means to realize and preserve its individuality and to recapture its simplicity in living, its emotions, and its forms; thus, remaining forever, uniquely Japan.

LESSON IN MANNERS

Lesson In Manners

gray beard walks in peace

youths want to bully –

painful manners taught

From an incident of yesterday's morning walk. There is not always strength in numbers and the old are not always weak. There are always surprises! Yet, I also failed by my response. Today my harmony is now restored.

THOUGHTS FROM A TAKAYAMA ROOFTOP: The End Purpose of Budo

The end purpose in practicing kenjutsu or any Budo is to make the art thoroughly a part of one's self. One must try to achieve a state wherein one can resond with the best of tacticsas a matter of reflex; that is to say, unconsciously.

This can be accomplished by learning to deal with every possible circuncstance. When one is using a sword aganst an opponent or enemy, one shouldl not allow their soul, their inner spirit, to link itself to the technique. The enemy will perhaps have the opportunity to see within you and strike at you in a way that could cuase you to be defeated. Do not think about being killed (defeated) or whether or no you have killed (defeated) your opponent.

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Copyright 2008 by Hayato Tokugawa & Sekshinkan Tokugawa Dojo/Takayama Budokai

THE CORE OF BUSHIDO

If we wish to find the core of Bushido, we must I think look at it in its historical context. To do that, I would like to use a metaphor, first put forward by Nitobe Inazo in his book on Bushido, worn as it may be; I think it is still effect. Certainly, we do not need all the flowery rhetoric or the cryptic European references of Nitobe so grasp what is truly simple.

If we think of Bushido as the Sakura, the cherry blossom, and think of how plants live, our search may become clearer. Japan of course is the soil and without the proper soil, no plant can flourish. Some will whither and die quickly, others will struggle over a long time, trying to survive, but never growing perhaps beyond some stunted weed. Japan, more than anywhere in the world, was the right “soil” for Bushido.’ The seeds came to Japan long ago from China, who in many ways is the “Mother of Japan”. The seeds came in the form on Confucius and then his disciple Mencius. If one wishes to understand Bushido, then look to the seeds themselves: Analects by Confucius and simply The Mencius. With these two great “fathers” came Wan Yang Ming and Lao Tsu. The great seeds of Asian thought came riding across the sea to eventually take root in Japan.

The Sakura, like any plant, not only needs soil, it needs nourishment and Shinto was just such nutrition for Bushido. Native to Japan, growing out of the sea with the land, it was there waiting to embrace Bushido and to give it all that it could. Perhaps the two greatest “gifts” of Shinto were its sense of patriotism, loyalty, reverence for ancestors, and love of family and parents, which lay at the very heart of Bushido at its birth as it does today. Look in any dojo and you will see the character of Shinto present from the walls to the etiquette of those who practice there.

Seeds, soil, nourishment, are fine but our analogy still lacks something. The Sakura needs sun and rain which was supplied in abundance by first Buddhism and later its refinement of Zen, which went directly to the growth and development of the Samurai character – the Samurai spirit, and provided for the growth and development of Bushido on the most personal of levels.

Bushido was exclusive only to Japan. Despite Nitobe’s analogies to European Chivalry, they are as different as night and day. Bushido could only have been in Japan. It was destined to be so.

Copyright 2008 by Hayato Tokugawa and Sekishinkan Tokugawa Dojo

BUSHIDO: A BRIEF INTRODUCTION

現在、武士道に関する本を執筆中です。これはその中からの抜粋ですが、まだ推敲中ですのでその旨、ご了承下さい。

PREFACE: Because Bushido has tended to become an obscure subject to many modern Japanese people, perhaps being forced aside in favor of "Americanization" or "Globalization", the question has come up here several times "What is Bushido?" We could probably write a great volume here but this is not quite the place and a major work on the topic is in progress. Instead, we offer this very brief introduction in the hopes that it might begin to answer that question and stimulate discussion, thought, and study.

BUSHIDO: A BRIEF INTRODUCTION Bushido, meaning “Way of the Warrior” is a code of conduct, a way of thought, as well as a way of life which had existed for centuries and which is part of what makes Japan unique among nations and cultures, and which is part of what makes being Japanese unique as well. It originates from the moral code of the Samurai and stresses such things as loyalty, frugality, mastery of Budo and most importantly, honor. Bushido took “root” or began to develop as early as the 9th Century, although much of the formal literature about Bushido does not begin to appear until the 17th Century. So, one could define Bushido as a unique philosophy or ronri that began to spread through the warrior class In the Muomachi (chusei) Period.

As Nitobe Inazo stated in his book Bushido: The Soul of Japan, it is a code of moral principles that Samurai were instructed to and expected to observe. More often than not, Bushido is a code which has been largely unwritten (not written as a unified code until much of it was adopted into the Japanese Feudal Law under the Tokugawa Shogunate) but rather in a number of various writings. Much of Bushido was taught verbally, directly from sensei to pupil, from father (or grandfather) to child. It has always been a living thing: growing and evolving over the centuries and continues to evolve to this very day, although often pushed aside in favor of “Americanization” or Globalization. There is however a strong and every growing feeling among Japanese, old and young alike, that a return to the core principles of Bushido is perhaps needed in order to preserve and protect the unique Japanese culture.

In keeping with the simplicity of Zen, which itself has had a tremendous influence on Japanese culture (and Bushido itself): Bushido is being Japanese. -Tokugawa

字数の関係で日本文と英文は対応していません。 世の中がグローバル化するにつれ、日本人は増々アメリカナイズされ、武士道精神は過去の遺物として、脇に押しやられています。 さて、武士道は何かという質問が私のもとに時々寄せられますが、今はその問いに対する入り口程度の回答でご勘弁願います。 武士道は立ち居振る舞いから考え方に至るまで、日本人を日本人たらしめている教えです。 もともとは、侍の守るべき道徳でした。忠誠心、質素倹約、武道修行など侍のための心得です。 9世紀ごろに生まれたこの思想は17世紀に入るまでは正式な書物としては世にでていません。 武士道は室町時代に武士階級を通じて世に広まっていった哲学であるといえます。 新渡戸稲造は武士道の副題に「日本の心」とつけています。 それは武士の守るべき道徳律です。 その教えが統一されたのは、家康の時代、封建法の中に組み入れられるようになってからです。 武士道の教えは口伝えで先生から生徒へ、親から子へと伝わりました。 その教えは、人から人に伝わり、育まれ、進化し、現代まで伝わっている生きた教えです。 日本人はアメリカナイズされつつあるとはいえ、今の日本には武士道精神が必要であると強く感じている人たちがいます。日本を見失わないためにも、それが必要です。 禅の思想(侘び、寂び)は日本文化に多大な影響を与え、私たちの中に深く浸透しています。 武士道も同じです。
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Copyright 2007 by Hayato Tokugawa, Aoi Tokugawa, Sekishinkan Tokugawa Dojo

壬生義士伝 MIBU GISHI DEN: An In-depth Review

壬生義士伝 Mibu Gishi Den

(English Title: When The Last Sword is Drawn)

Winner “Best Film” Japanese Academy Awards

Winner “Best Actor” Japanese Academy Awards

Winner “Best Supporting Actor” Japanese Academy Awards

Director:

Yojiro Takita

Writers:

Jiro Asada (story)

Takehiro Nakajima

Release Date:18 January 2003 (Japan)

Late one Tokyo night in the winter of 1899, as Dr Ono Chiaki (Takehiro Murata) and his wife are packing to move their small medical clinic to Manchuria, they are visited by an elderly man with an ill grandson. Amidst the chaos of packing crates and boxes, the man, Saito Hajime (Koich Sato), spots an old photograph of a samurai, Yoshimura Kanichiro (Kiichi Nakai), whom he recognizes from some thirty years earlier. The photo triggers in both Ono and Saito a series of complex memories of Yoshimura as the incarnation of the samurai's heroic code at a time when such a code was fast becoming an irrelevant detail of history.

Along with Yamada Yoji’s superior The Twilight Samurai (2002) and Edward Zwick's entertaining The Last Samurai (2003), Takita Yojiro’s “When the Last Sword is Drawn” or “Mibu Gishi Den”, set in the same period, forms part of a growing body of revisionist literary and cinematic works that re-examine samurai values in their death throes - in much the same way that revisionist westerns like Sam Peckinpah's 'The Wild Bunch' (1969) and Clint Eastwood's 'Unforgiven' (1992) reexamined the rapidly vanishing ideology of the cowboy. In Takita's film, Yoshimura is depicted at the outset as a deeply unconventional samurai - clownish, obsessed with money, unconcerned with saving face, and always valuing wife and children over clan, life over death. The more traditional Saito's first recollections of Yoshimura are as "the man I hated most", "an awful country samurai bragging about home and family" - and his first impulse upon meeting him was to kill him on the spot. "What kind of samurai is that?" becomes a recurring question.

The younger Ono, on the other hand, who as a boy lived in the same provincial town as Yoshimura, remembers him more sympathetically as "strong and gentle", a wise teacher and a skilled swordsman who deserted the local clan and sought work in Kyoto for the Shinshengumi (a special police force of the late Tokugawa Period) to prevent his family from starving to death. As Saito and Ono begin to share drinks and memories privately with the audience, their view of the man in the photo starts to shift subtly, and the narrative that they weave together

transforms a mercenary buffoon, and the shabbily pointless end that he meets, into a heroic example of samurai virtues whose crowning glory is an act of extraordinary self-sacrifice.

The cinematography is excellent and while the editing has a few “bumps” the story moves well and draws the viewer in. The dialog and acting is straightforward with no “tricks” in the characters or plot, thus making it a thoroughly enjoyable movie. There are, within the film, scenes of great violence and brutality (one of the reasons we watch Samurai films ne) but there are also scenes of great dedication, love and compassion, as well as futility, which will bring tears to the eyes of even the most jaded viewer.

Commentary:

NAKAI KIICHI (Yoshimura)

“The Shinsengumi provides a historical background. As I understand it, love toward friends and family is the main theme of the film. In this modern society, when you say, “stick to our conscience”; I wonder what is meant by “conscience” and wonder if people actually do have a conscience. I realized that in this society, how other people perceive you is more important. It seems really important how you see yourself within this society, but actually, how you want to live should be more important than what others think of you.

“You must have your own philosophy on life. In my role as Yoshimura…he sticks to his own way. This might be for his family because he loves his family and wants to protect them. It is not because he should protect them but because he wants to.I hope through this film, people could see the importance of having their own principles. For the young generation and for my own generation, it is necessary to find and stick to our own philosophy for the future of Japanese society.

SATO KOICHI (SAITO HAJIME)

“I understand the samurai spirit to be like the soul of young boys who have difficulty accepting societal rules. The film describes the conflict which Yoshimura has to face between his samurai spirit and his responsibilities towards his family…this is the matter of conflict which Yoshimura has to face. First he tries to refuse accepting the societal rules but gradually compromises to survive as a real man.”

TAKITA YOJIRO (DIRECTOR)

Question: What was the “trigger “ for making the film?
“I was asked by the producers…I was reading the novel for awhile when it was serialized in a magazine. Then I read the whole story again before making the film. It was amazing. I t made me cry…thinking that I had become hold…but I doubt if there is anyone who would not cry. I am sure everyone would.

Question: What is the most important part of the film?
“That’s it. I believe this film is not only about the Shinsengumi. Even in today’s society, men like Yoshimura absolutely exist. This film is refreshing because it makes us aware that men like Yoshimura exist and are needed in our society.

“It is difficult to explain conscience but I was really attracted to his spirit…if you read the novel you would realize what I realized. I realized I could ask myself “could I live according to my own conscience?”

“I am glad I knew about this novel. It gave me a good chance to think about my job and my role as a film director.

ASADA JIRO (AUTHOR)

“People have pride. Because of this pride the samurai tried to hide what they really felt. This, I think, made them heroes…but Yoshimura was different. He was honest. If he didn’t have money he would say so. He made money by killing people to support his family. He didn’t care about his pride or social status.

“I tried to imagine what he was like and I created his character in my head. I created the “ideal” man. In real life, it might be impossible to find such a man as a husband and as a father. When I think of him it tells me how I should live, as a man, as a husband, and as a father even though I created him myself.

“I wanted to write a story about the least heroic Shinsengumi. For me the worst and the least heroic samurai is the coolest one.

“What are our real responsibilities or duties as a human being? That is what I wanted to convey to readers. In this modern society, although people may already know what they really should do, most are unable to do it because there are so many temptations. At Any time and in any kind of society, what is important for us is the same. I wanted to describe people who do the right thing.

“Another important thing in the story is the love for his [Yoshimura] for his home province. It is one of the main themes of the story. I feel that in the whole world it is only the Japanese people who do not appreciate tat we are Japanese. We have become half-American. In the story, I describe Yoshimura’s love for the province of Morioka. However, what I aimed for is to remind readers of their hometown…or even, in a broader sense, of Japan.”

(c) 2007 Hayato Tokugawa http://360.yahoo.com/tokugawahayato

BUSIDO LESSON

A man in a position of authority is often self-absorbed, existing in a state or mind-set of all-powerfulness and supremacy. When people follow his orders and directives, doing as he says, that man gets a false sense of importance and power. A wise leader never shows such defects and learns how not to behave. He endeavors to learn how to balance the welfare and interests of the people with political necessities.

(c) 2007 by Hayato Tokugawa & East Meets West Fine Arts.