kendo begins

“Kendo and Iaido are the two wings that the bird needs to fly”

Heard from Matsuoka sensei

I did not like kendo. Shouting men, bouncing into each other and hitting their heads with bamboo sticks. To my eyes it seemed superficial at best, at worst one of those rituals that silverbacks perform in front of each other to keep control of the herd without going through the real confrontation. Superficial, and showy. 

Then again, I’m lucky that there are no fines for being stupidly wrong. 

It all begun quite a while ago, actually. It was my first Iaido Central Training, and I got to talk with a sempai, asking about the most advanced aspects of our ryu. Sempai told that we might never get that far in our ryu, since Shinkage ryu also involves an ancient form of kenjutsu, and very few of us were practicing kendo at all… so it is uncertain if sensei would even try to get us there. At that moment I discarded the conversation with a shrug, and under the impression of my first Central Training, I quickly forgot it. There is so much to learn in seitei Iai anyhow!

But then I didn’t forget. 

Eventually I got to ask around, and my picture of kendo begun to change. Sure, I heard that kendo is competitive… but we compete in Iaido too. I did realize that most of the iaidokas that I admire do train kendo. Asking people around, it did dawn on me that both our Iaido sensei’s hold high kendo degrees. And with some further asking around I discovered that quite some of our dojo members would like to practice kendo. Suddenly it did seem not only worth, but possible to try. 

I am not particularly proud of my memory, yet I’m not going to forget the words that sempai used to start our first practice. “kendo is all about contact. It isn’t about doing your thing, it is about doing something together with your partner. Kendo is about learning to read somebody else, and learning to learn from each other”. How not to like keiko that so starts? 

Jigeiko then, few months after that first day. Facing a sempai way ahead of me in the road. Trying to relax and also to perceive the right moment to strike. Perceiving that sempai is quite aware of what I am thinking, and dropping the thought. He could be an advanced kendoka, but that does not give supernatural powers, does it now? So relax the wrists, move a bit… and there it is: an opening of the center. Go now, go! 

A moment after, my shinnai has swing into empty air, and there is a clear pock! in my head, from the shinnai of sempai having hit a perfect ippon on me. Sempai is way… and I mean way! behind me, where his zanshin brought him. I turn, and there he is, fully prepared and once again reading me. Oh yes, he is reading me alright. I will try again and again… and now and then I’ll get the feeling of being able to read… perhaps a word from the whole book that sempai is. 

Have I already say that I love kendo? 

D’you see? All what we people do is try to read other people around. Mostly, we fail. If we are lucky, after years of trying we get to understand some of the persons that we happen to love. Yet think about how many problems have you run into, by having misread somebody else. And what about the times that you were misinterpreted? Kendo is, literally, the way of the sword. Its origins are rooted several hundred years ago, in sword techniques meant to kill. Yet today, in this very beginning where I am, I’m being taught to understand the reflexes of somebody else, I’m learning to read an opponent. Yet that’s not all at all, since I’m also learning to allow my opponent to read me. It is not at all about winning, I believe. It feels like it is about opening myself, about talking with my opponent… that becomes a partner in dialogue, who wins when both of us win, when both of us have talked and read and act upon. 

It is very likely that in the years to come I will learn that what keeps me excited about kendo today is just one aspect among many, from which I have no clue, today. I guess that kendo, just like once I wrote about Iaido, is like a mountain, from which beginners like me can only see the very first slope, without even conceiving what is beyond, waiting to be discovered. I guess there is much more to learn than what I’m struggling with today. But is that not wonderful in itself? 

So I am, indeed, grateful to all those other climbers that have walked this road before me, and still look back and offer a hand to support my first, clumsy, steps. Those who are talking to me with their shinnai, inspiring better keiko, teaching to read and to be read better. And to the others that, not even practicing themselves, have gave us the organization to practice. Thank you sempai!

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