of Japanese martial arts: karate-do, judo, aikido, and iaido. My professional studies as an anthropologist (someone who specializes in the description and interpretation of foreign cultures and societies) nicely blended with my personal interest in budo as a vehicle for physical and spiritual cultivation. I found that my studies in Japanese history, language, and culture, combined with the insight generated from the discipline of anthropology, substantially enhanced both my appreciation and understanding of the martial arts.
This advantage was made even more evident when I began to study Kendo. This art is highly formalized, heavily symbolic, and still very strongly linked to traditional Japanese culture. It has been molded by the Japanese historical and intellectual experience.
Very little written material on Kendo is available to nonspecialists outside of Japan, when we compare it to other martial arts. What are available are works of a primarily technical nature, or works on philosophy and the martial arts in general. Comprehensive yet accessible texts dealing with Kendo are rare. One of the many aims of this book is to attempt to partially fill this void concerning Kendo literature in English. In particular, as I put this book together, I kept in mind the questions I had when I began the study of Kendo, the concepts that seemed to help me, and the images that helped me make some sense out of my dojo experience. In many ways, then, this is a book that attempts to serve as a basic guide for beginning Kendoka.
I make no claims that this is a definitive work in a technical sense. Kendoka look primarily to their sensei for guidance in training. This book is in no way meant to replace the absolutely vital technical and spiritual guidance that the trainee receives in the dojo. At the same time, however, many of my fellow trainees, who were attracted to the art precisely because of its philosophical and cultural depth, lament the absence of any holistic treatment of Kendo.
In the final analysis, I am convinced that the insights I have gleaned as an anthropologist—a grasp of Japanese history, culture, and philosophy, and an understanding of how they relate to the martial arts in general, and to Kendo in particular—could help other martial artists and those interested in Japanese culture come to a deeper appreciation of Kendo.
So this book is "comprehensive" in the sense that I have attempted to provide as complete and balanced a treatment as I could. I do not mean to imply that this will (or should) be the final word on the subject. I do hope, however, that it gives the many people interested in Kendo a clear picture of what the art is and what benefits it provides. If this little book helps in this regard, I shall be very pleased. The Way is long, its significance profound, and I have but begun to walk this path. I would, however, like to share some of the insights I have gained along the journey so far.
PART ONE
GROUND
In the Book of Five Rings, the famous swordsman Miyamoto Musashi begins his reflections with a consideration of basics. He discusses how the masters of all trades are those who take the time to learn the basic things: a devotion to fundamentals is a hallmark of mastery. They are people intimately familiar with even the tiniest details of their callings. Today, in an age obsessed with speed and immediate gratification, a more measured, careful approach to mastery is sometimes difficult to understand. Nonetheless, the experience of generations of swordsmen bears Musashi's contention out. While we all aspire to mastery, it is appropriate to begin with first things first.
The study of the Way of the Sword opens a number of new worlds to the trainee: new ways of doing things, new customs, new surroundings. Any worthwhile learning experience is one that is not only challenging and rewarding, but also a bit confusing. Therefore, as the novice Kendoka begins study, a bit of explanation and orientation may be in order.
1. Sword and Spirit
The sword is a living thing. Although a product of man's technical precocity, it is far more than just a tool, a fusion of carbon and metals hammered and shaped into utilitarian form. A sword is a conduit of power. It pulses with the psychic energy of its wielder, and takes on the nuances of that individual. It transforms the holder, investing the swordsman with a form of force that is the result of some occult melding of body and blade. The Japanese tell tales of swords that sing in their scabbards to warn their owners of danger, of blades forged by evil men that do evil deeds, of other swords, created by beneficent smiths, whose razor edges would not cut a leaf innocently borne to them by wind or water. The sword augments our strengths, it magnifies our faults. It is an implement of discipline, a symbol of courage, a tangible representation of justice.
The human fascination with the sword transcends cultural boundaries and time. The magic of Excalibur and the failed quest of Arthur are as compelling now as they ever were. A new generation of children respond viscerally to the power and danger of the Force and light sabers. It is the skill of a master fencer (and true love) that rescues the Princess Bride. Watch the eyes of any child as a sword is drawn from its sheath. What you will see there expresses the power of the sword far more powerfully than any prose: the recognition of beauty, danger, and potential embodied in a gleaming, elementally cruel form.
To attempt to come to grips with the sword in all its implications is to explore peril, fear, and wonder in a fundamental way. The sword is a physical entity whose utilization demands an intense discharge of psychic energy. At the same time that it enhances our power, it also makes us vulnerable to others similarly armed. Because it is a weapon, it confronts us with the terror of mortality and considerations of moral action, often making the linkage between the two painfully real and present.
The sword, as a Yagyu swordsman once said, can both give life and take life. To take up training in the sword, then, is to confront life itself.
2. The Way of the Sword
Over centuries, Japanese warriors, or bushi, reflected on and refined the use of weapons. While armed with a variety of fighting tools—the bow, the spear, the halberd known as naginata—over time, the professional class of feudal fighters known as samurai developed a special affinity for the sword.
When a samurai boy reached the age of five, he underwent a special ceremony. Standing on a go board, the child was presented with a replica sword, henceforth to be carried as a symbol of his status and his duty.
Of course, for fully adult samurai, the sword was more than a symbol. It was a tangible source of power—the back-country clans of military retainers had literally hacked their way to political primacy in Japan. Their fascination with the weapon had a practical dimension, since it was by skill in military arts such as kenjutsu (swordsmanship) that a samurai served his master, provided for his family, and preserved his life (when possible).
Over the years, as a practical need for sword arts faded, the Japanese nonetheless persisted in training. This was because they felt that the pursuit of excellence in technique, the focus needed in matters of life and death, and the discipline required of the trainee had the potential to help the individual transcend questions of protection and lead to a type of spiritual illumination. Even as the feudal era passed away and the Japanese were confronted with the promise and peril inherent in the modern era, they sought to preserve the warrior's training. What evolved were any number of martial disciplines centering on different weapons and many that used the suffix do (way) to stress the spiritual element in training.
Budo
Kendo (the Way of the Sword) is the modern martial art that perhaps lies closest to this intent. It is an activity demanding great energy and skill and a fidelity
