the suffix "do" to the names of the Zen arts. "Do" is an important word in Zen. It is the Japanese translation of the Chinese word, "Tao." It has no direct equivalent in English, perhaps because there is no analogous concept in Western culture. "Do" is usually translated as "Way" and connotes path or road to spiritual awakening. The Zen arts can be referred to as "Ways" and are not limited to the martial arts: kyudo is the Way of the bow; kendo is the Way of the sword; karate-do is the Way of the empty fist; shodo is the Way of writing ("spiritual" calligraphy); and chado is the Way of tea (tea ceremony). Leggett described the Ways as:
fractional expressions of Zen in limited fields such as the fighting arts of sword or spear, literary arts like poetry or calligraphy, and household duties like serving tea, polishing or flower arrangement. These actions become Ways when practice is not done merely for the immediate result but also with a view to purifying, calming and focusing the psycho-physical apparatus, to attain to some degree of Zen realization and express it.3
It was my search for a Way that lead me to Tanouye Roshi and to Chozen-Ji. I was introduced to Tanouye Roshi by Mike Sayama, when the Roshi visited Chicago in 1978. Tanouye Roshi is a Japanese American who was a music teacher until he was certified as a Zen master in 1975. Chozen-Ji and its training center, the International Zen Dojo of Hawaii, were founded in 1972 by his teacher, Omori Sogen Rotaishi, who is direct dharma successor to the Tenryuji line of Rinzai Zen. This tradition emphasizes the integration of zazen with the Asian martial and fine arts. Thus, all students at Chozen-Ji practice zazen and most study a martial and/or a fine art. Tanouye Roshi himself has studied the martial arts for years, with an emphasis on judo and kendo.
Shortly before my second meeting with Tanouye Roshi in 1979 I had injured my knee and had to interrupt my training in karate. My interest in karate was waning anyway, especially as I was exposed to aikido in our training group. Hoping that he would say aikido, I asked Tanouye Roshi what would be the best martial art for me to study. I was surprised when he suggested kyudo. He gave several reasons for this recommendation. First, he thought that it would be easier on my knees than karate. Second, he said that at my age (29) I was too old to gain mastery in karate, aikido, or any of the more physically active martial arts. Finally, he thought that training in kyudo would be a good way to improve my poor posture.
I can think of few other times in my life when a decision felt so correct. In spite of the fact that I had never considered studying kyudo before, I had the sudden sense that studying it was not just the right thing to do but that it was an obvious choice. I thought back to Herrigel's book and it seemed to outline the type of spiritual path that I was looking for. Since kyudo instruction was practically unavailable on the United States mainland, Tanouye Roshi suggested that I come to Chozen-Ji. I immediately started making arrangements to spend a prolonged period there.
Kyudo training had just started at Chozen-Ji. The previous year, Tanouye Roshi accompanied Omori Rotaishi on a cultural exchange to Europe sponsored by the Japanese government. It was on that trip he met Suhara Koun Osho, who was also participating in the cultural exchange. Tanouye Roshi invited him to come to Chozen-Ji to help Jackson Morisawa, one of Tanouye Roshi's students, establish a kyudo school there.
Upon returning from Japan in 1981, I moved to Madison, Wisconsin. I have returned to Chozen-Ji once or twice a year to continue my training with Mr. Morisawa. On my third visit to the temple, in 1983, Tanouye Roshi suggested that I write a book that would help Westerners better to understand kyudo; that is my hope in writing this book.
In spite of the immense popularity of Zen in the Art of Archery, one of the most widely read books on Zen ever published in the West, little is known about kyudo in the West today. While judo and karate are household words, few people would even recognize the Japanese name for the Way of the bow. No doubt this is due to the fact that Herrigel never used the word "kyudo" in his book. Kyudo instruction is still almost unavailable in the United States, in contrast to what must be thousands of schools of other martial arts. Until very recently, Americans interested in kyudo were obliged to travel to Japan for instruction.
My primary focus will be on the relationship between kyudo and Zen. In so doing, I will attempt to expand on the relationship between kyudo and traditional Zen training that was described by Herrigel. The beauty of Zen in the Art of Archery is its brevity and simplicity. Herrigel did not elaborate on many of the philosophical and technical points to which he alluded. My intent is to explain these to the present reader and to put them in the context of Zen training.
My understanding of Zen and kyudo has been shaped by the philosophies of my teachers. In this regard there is one fundamental way in which the philosophy of kyudo training at Chozen-Ji differs from that described by Herrigel. In the Chozen-Ji school of kyudo, the practice of kyudo is integrated with the practice of zazen. At Chozen-Ji, training in the Ways and zazen are complementary processes. Training in kyudo facilitates one's progress in zazen, and one's progress in zazen facilitates one's kyudo.
In this book, I hope to elucidate this complementarity between kyudo and zazen. What I will say about kyudo applies to any Zen art. Most people who study martial arts do not practice zazen. Conversely, most people who train in zazen do not study a Zen art. My hope is that this book will help bridge the gap between Zen training and training in all of the Ways.
This book is not intended as an instruction manual in either kyudo or zazen. The reader should not expect to learn how to practice kyudo or zazen by reading it. Rather, I hope to explain why someone would want to study kyudo; how something as "mundane" as archery can be elevated to a serious spiritual experience when it is studied as a Way. In order to view kyudo as a truly spiritual endeavor, one must treat it as a microcosm of life. In this book I will try to explain how principles involved in the seemingly simple process of shooting an arrow at a target can have profound implications for how one leads one's life.
For readers who may be interested in learning more about the Chozen-Ji traditions of kyudo in particular and of Zen training in general, there are two books that I recommend. First, for those interested in learning more about kyudo, I recommend the book Zen Kyudo by my teacher, Jackson Morisawa.4 It is a comprehensive treatise on the Chozen-Ji school of kyudo. It delves into the technical, philosophical and spiritual aspects of Chozen-Ji kyudo to a far greater extent than I will in this book. It includes detailed explanations and diagrams of the techniques and procedures of kyudo. Readers who are looking for instruction in zazen would be interested in the book Samadhi: Self Development in Zen, Swordsmanship, and Psychotherapy, by Mike Sayama,5 which has translations of instructions by Omori Sogen Rotaishi. Dr. Sayama's book is also of particular interest for anyone interested in learning more about the philosophy and lineage of Zen training at Chozen-Ji. It also elucidates the psychological aspects of Zen and Zen training in much greater depth than I will in this book.
CHAPTER 1
Techniques and Principles
Thousands of repetitions and out of one's true self perfection emerges.
Zen Saying
Suhara Osho left Chozen-Ji for Japan four days after I arrived in Hawaii. I left for Japan four months after that. I had planned my stay in Japan so that it would be convenient to train with Suhara Osho. My wife and I both arranged part-time teaching jobs through the University of Maryland's Far East Division. I had chosen Yokosuka as my teaching site in order to be close to Suhara Osho's dojo in Kamakura. Even though my plans were based on training with Suhara Osho, I hesitated to ask him directly, before he left Hawaii, if I could study with him in Japan. I thought that such a blunt question, coming from a near stranger, would be a violation of Japanese customs. Instead, I told him I was planning to spend some time in Japan and that I would be working near Kamakura. He gave me his address and invited me to stop by and see him.
I called Suhara Osho the day I arrived in Japan. Through an interpreter I explained I had trained briefly with him in Hawaii and that he suggested that I look him up. I had
