Month: February 2020

My training in Japan has concluded. It seems as if only a few days ago, I started the kendo and iaido journey. I am glad I was able to do this. I had several goals and expectations going into this endeavor. I can honestly say that my learning experience far exceeded what I had in mind going in. I learned a lot about myself. Being somewhat isolated afforded me plenty of time for introspection.

I also feel that my educational objectives were met. Actually, they were surpassed. I got to put into practice many of the tools I learned over the years. I gained a better appreciation of those tools through academic studies and testing them out on myself. Again, being isolated afforded me time to focus and apply the tools which resulted in personal and professional growth. I feel my service to future clients and professionals was aided by this experience.

After my final kendo session, I was promoted to second-kyu. I have some familiarity with the kyu and dan ranking system from my judo and karate experience. Kyu is the levels below black-belt, and dan is the black-belt levels. Unlike other martial arts, kendo and iaido do not wear belts to differentiate rankings. Going into this experience, I intentionally did not research the ranking systems in order to maintain a “white-belt” mindset.

I was told by one of the sensei that it is rare for someone to come in and receive second-kyu after six weeks of training. I did not realize until afterward that they saw fit to bypass several levels in promoting me. I give credit to several people in the dojo that pushed me. I never felt that they cut corners or treated me casually during training. They took pride in their art and expected everyone to seek a high standard. I respect that.

The lead sensei announced during the previous week that this weekend would be my final training session. How ironic then that several people wanted to face-off in a match during my final sparring session? I felt this was an honor and a way for them to share an experience together. It’s possible that some of them wanted to get their last crack at the big American before he went home? I mention that in a joking manner as I felt they viewed me as a fellow kendo practitioner and saw it as a means for both parties to have positive takeaways.

Several of them thanked me for pushing them during my stay. I was surprised by that but thought about it afterward on my train ride. I recall my time as a Command Sergeant Major and being motivated by the performance of junior soldiers. I also realized that my sons do that, as well. They push me to be my best through their academic, physical, and career pursuits, and I am a better man due to their examples. I was glad to bring in some outside motivation to the dojo during my short stay. Once I knew it was the junior person’s job to prepare the cleaning bucket, prepare the rags, and clean the cloths afterward, owned it. I wasn’t going to let anyone see me slacking in that job. Of course, there were other examples too.

I was promoted to third-kyu following the iaido training. The sensei threw a curveball at me, which was awesome. There was no one banging on a trash can to alert me that a curveball was coming by the way. The baseball fan in me had to go there. The sensei stopped the class 15 minutes before our usual time to conclude training. He had everyone take a position around the dojo and instructed me to fall-in at the center of the room. He then gave me instructions to perform all the cutting sequences I had been taught to include the opening and closing ceremony.

When I tested, I only performed four cutting sequences as that was the extent of my instruction. Following the examination last week, the sensei taught me the fifth sequence. When I received the instruction, I immediately felt the pressure to get it right. The sensei mentioned to the room that this would be their last time to see what I had learned. The pressure stemmed from my goal of doing things to a high standard, along with honoring the dojo and the instructors who took time to guide me.

I appreciated this opportunity. It was the first occasion since being in the dojo where I felt performance pressure. I had another chance to put some tools into practice. I bowed and waited for the commands to execute the sequences. I felt my timing, balance, and focus was spot-on based on the short amount of time I had been training. I did not make the mistakes I had made during the examination, either. I felt very confident. During practice, I often felt the aches in my leg or my instep cramping from kneeling for so long. I felt no pain while performing the routine in front of the dojo.

After I removed the katana from my side and bowed, I walked back five steps as required. When I turned around, the sensei stated, “well done,” and had a surprised look. That was followed by everyone clapping. For a moment, I felt as if I was on the Gold medal stand. I felt like all the training and instruction provided to me came together for that moment. It was a combination of hard work, great guidance, mentorship, and application of performance enhancement tools that all lined up.

Following the training sessions, the dojo hosted a send-off meal. It was an excellent meal prepared by several members of the dojo. It was a large spread of tempura, seafood salad, chicken, pork, and miso soup. I was asked by the Kancho to come back, and several members stated they look forward to the next time we can train together. I, too, hope that my path will cross with theirs sometime in the future.

Like many things in life, the things we do are made possible by the people in our lives that provide incredible support. My six weeks here in Japan were, at one time, a dream and desire. I thank my wonderful wife, Mollie, for her unconditional support and encouragement of me to pursue excellence. She has been tremendous in her support throughout this trip and in all things I do. My sons are always on my mind and challenge me to keep up with them as they pursue growth. I have had tremendous mentors in Dr. B, Dr. M, and Ceci. They have shared with me their experiences with human performance, personal growth, and overcoming challenges. I also want to give a shout-out to the friends and soldiers I have had the pleasure to cross paths with. The example of camaraderie and service is near and dear to my heart. I appreciate your support of me through this journey!

So, what’s next? I think the white belt mindset is a good thing for me to embrace. I like the concept, it has challenged me to continue developing and pursue something that I am passionate about. While this six-week experience has come to an end, the journey continues. I have three more classes until I complete my Graduate studies. I have a lifetime of learning still to come. I plan to continue sharing thoughts and experiences through this blog. I have found this to be a healthy outlet for me, and perhaps it can inspire others to do something similar. It doesn’t have to be six weeks in a dojo, it may be something you are led to pursue. Some say life is full of obstacles. I like to think that life is full of opportunities.

Pat

The concept of Kendo is to discipline the human character through the application of the principles of the sword. (All-Japan Kendo Federation)

People believe that the reason for mastering swordsmanship is to be able to cut down one’s enemies. For myself, however, I seek to master swordsmanship because through it I seek divine principle. Yamaoka Tesshu (19th-century swordsman)

Sunday was a grueling day but very beneficial. The day prior, I was told that my examination for kendo and iaido would take place on Sunday. The only question I had of the Kancho was the time for the exam? I knew Sunday would be regular training in both kendo and iaido. I didn’t want to have the examination take place during class and take away from the other students. I was told it would occur in between sessions or afterward.

The previous weekend was the examination for several students seeking advancement in the dan ranks. I believe the students were testing for their 5th-degree rankings. Two of the participants came from overseas. The dan testing is conducted in front of a panel overseen by the All-Japan Kendo Federation and occurs at select times of the year. My understanding is that members of the federation travel overseas to conduct examinations as well.

None of the members from the Dojo I attend were successful in their examination. I have heard several stories regarding the high standards for testing. Some people have spent a lifetime of practicing and have failed to achieve the higher rankings. That gave me an appreciation of the high standard and dedication that many people continue to show.

I was told several weeks prior that the Kancho felt I was ready to test for my kyu ranking. There are several levels of kyu before the dan rankings. I did not consider being tested during this trip when I began this journey. I have had some experiences in the Dojo in other arts and knew that people generally don’t get tested after being present for six weeks. I took it as an honor that the Kancho felt I was ready. I also looked at it as an excellent experience for my study of performance psychology.

I was initially told the examination would take place next weekend, the final day of training before I flew back home. That changed Saturday, and it was no issue with me. Generally, I get amped up for a test. Obviously, I want to do well in any examination. In preparation for the kendo and iaido test, I had absolute peace of mind. I had no idea what I was going to be tested on and trusted the training and dedication to practice that had taken place since my first day.

Since I was testing for a kyu ranking, the panel of evaluators consisted of the senior members of the Dojo. The standards were set by the All-Japan Kendo Federation to which I would have to meet. As I left the Dojo Saturday, I was asked to come in early on Sunday for a pre-workout session. By the time the class started on Sunday, I had already worked out with a sensei for an hour reviewing the basics. It seemed to me that others were more concerned about the examination that I was. Several people wished me well before the regular class. I wasn’t sure what to make of the comments? Was the exam going to be some deathmatch? What did they know that I didn’t about the examination process?

I feel the peace of mind I had yesterday resulted from several factors. I was really enjoying the process and felt this experience had been rich, whether I passed an examination or not. Also, I was going to do my best, and that is all I could do. I was confident with what I had been taught up to this point. I felt encouraged by the positive comments several people gifted me during the past weeks regarding my attitude, performance, and ability to pick up on things.

The Kancho announced to the class that training would end precisely at noon for the examination. We went through the regular training events until we got to the sparring session. I noticed every sensei I faced was fighting me with more intensity. I was good with that and was able to focus on the moment. It wasn’t until after the sparring session was over that I noticed how worn out I was. After the formal closing of the training session, I was told to get ready for the examination.

I took a quick drink from my water bottle and presented myself in front of the board, consisting of three evaluators. The examination for kendo wasn’t too bad. I was in full Bogo (kendo armor) and was evaluated on a series of individual and combined strikes against an opponent. Each technique was repeated and executed in succession. Finally, I had to spar against an opponent. The Kancho explained the sparring would last for 20 seconds, but I’m sure the time was measured by a sundial or something was lost in translation. We went quite a bit longer than 20 seconds. It was fun, though.

Following the kendo examination, I was told to remove the armor and prepare my katana for the iaido examination. I am glad I have a decent grasp of the Japanese language since all instructions were given in Japanese. I was taught four of the 12 striking patterns with the katana and would be evaluated on them. I was to perform them in order, beginning with presenting my katana and placing it into the ready. At the end of the final form, I was to remove the katana in a formal manner and bow. Each step is a set process and requires attention to detail.

I made one major mistake during the iaido examination. At the closing portion, I removed the katana and placed it before me in the opposite direction. The final thing I had to do was the bow and to stand up. Before standing up, the practitioner recovers the katana. However, I noticed the katana was lying in the wrong direction. I realized then that I had executed the closing portion with the katana incorrectly placed in front of my kneeling position. I paused and then acted. I reinserted the katana into my waistband and then put my hands on my lap as you would do before each move. I then removed the katana and placed it into the proper position and concluded.

Looking back, I’m not too disappointed with how I performed during the examination. Obviously, I would have liked not to have made a mistake. I am glad I caught the error and made the correction. Realizing an error occurred is key to growth. I asked later in the day if that was the correct way to fix a mistake. One of the evaluators pointed out that I had remained calm and never lost my composure and fixed the error. He said that was the most important part. I reflected back to when I used to preside over boards or performance evaluations in the military. I always thought favorable of the individual when they self-corrected an error.

So, did I pass the examination? I really don’t know, to be honest. The feedback I received after the test was positive. The panel also highlighted several areas I need to work on. Overall, their comments attested to my understanding of the basic tenets of kendo and iaido. The experience was my main takeaway and held more meaning personally. As this portion of my journey heads into the final week, I look back and see the personal and professional growth that has taken place. It also gives me something to build upon and use to connect with other performers I may provide consultation.

Pat

Kirikaeshi (切り返し:きりかえし), the literal meaning of “cutting repeatedly”, is a kend0 exercise, combining the practice of attacking and receiving strikes and is meant to develop physical strength, spirit, and vigor.  Kirikaeshi is also known as uchikaeshi (打ち返し:うちかえし) “striking repeatedly”. Kirikaeshi is a drill done with a partner that involves a succession of strikes to e.g. the head (men, in Japanese). Kirikaeshi was established as a basic exercise toward the end of the Meiji era (1868–1912).  The exercise typically begins with a strike to the center of the head, followed by a series of alternating strikes to the left and right sides of the head (yokomen). Though the exact method of kirikaeshi can vary among dojo, the most common scheme involves a single strike to the center of the head, followed by four angled strikes going forward (starting on the receiver’s left side), and five strokes going backward. Kirikaeshi practice is the staple of kendo training. It teaches a number of important principles including proper distance and timing, accuracy, rhythm, and smoothness. (Wikipedia)

The first night I entered the dojo several weeks ago, everything was brand new. I observed this drill and was later instructed to perform it. There are many elements to executing this drill properly as I have come to learn. That first night, my attention was drawn to the yelling and repeated strikes on the opponent’s shinai (bamboo sword.) “I got this!” I stepped up and confidently went about swinging the shinai with all my might. I chuckle as I think back to when my understanding was very raw and my technique relied on physical power.

Kirikaeshi quickly became my favorite exercise as we did it repeatedly during warm-ups and extended drilling. When we enter the sparring phase of the training session, each match starts and ends with kirikaeshi. However, when we are in full Bogu (kendo armament), the initial and final strikes are at the opponent’s men or helmet versus hitting the shinai.

I approached the drill for many weeks as an exercise used to enhance technique and build endurance. It certainly does that. It incorporates many facets of kendo ranging from stance, movement of the feet, managing the grip of the shinai through the strike, and focus of the attack. Every session was met with correction leading to a better understanding.

I recently read a book discussing the culture of Dojo in Japan. It highlighted many of the philosophical approaches to training. I recall the author pointing out the fact that a beginner, once welcomed into the dojo, is expected to learn mainly from observation. I wrote that in my journal, and those words have been true with my experience for the past month. That has led to some of my personal frustrations. Early on, I was instructed to do something I wasn’t formally taught.

I reflected on my past experiences going through some world-class training programs while in the military. I could not imagine being a sniper or military free-fall student expected to learn primarily through observation. While the standards were high in those courses, the instructors were phenomenal and trained the students to excel. Later, as I became an instructor, programs such as the Instructor Training Courses and good mentorship were vital to becoming an effective teacher. I had an expectation that I would experience something similar in the dojo.

Those past experiences wrestled with my current status as a student. I often asked myself, how would I instruct differently in the dojo? As I look back, perhaps I wasn’t approaching the current training from a complete white belt perspective. I don’t want to sound as if I received no instruction. Instead, the guidance was often in the form of regular correction. “Feet like this” or “too much power in the right hand, softer!” were regular feedback I received. But I proceeded with an open mind and a positive attitude. The bottom line, I was having fun.

I have been fortunate to have Sensei Kim work with me conducting one-on-one training. He has filled in many of the gaps and broadened my understanding of kendo. He has trained me on many of the fundamentals, which allowed me to maximize the training sessions with the larger class. This past Tuesday, he came in on his off day to provide training. We spent a large portion on the kirikaeshi drill.

For many weeks, I took some satisfaction whenever I saw pieces of bamboo splitting from someone’s shinai when I struck them. I knew that wasn’t the intent of the drill, but the former Special Forces guy in me still gets a kick out of things that go “bang” or break upon contact. I think many baseball pitchers could attest to a little juice flowing when they see a bat break upon contact. Yet, my goal is to have a fundamentally correct strike generated from my leg movement to the snapping of my right wrist at the strike point. I think it was last week where I felt my strikes getting better where I wasn’t muscling the shinai so much.

Sensei Kim also explained the meaning of the kirikaeshi drill. For many weeks, I had performed it incorrectly. The exercise not only brought the elements of a head strike together, but it also incorporates the mental approach of the kendo practitioner. The initial kiai is not a vocal grunt, but a spirit yell from the depths of one’s soul. It is done with one breath, and at the end of the breath, when you can no longer hold it, the initial head strike is executed.

Once the initial head strike is done, one breadth is allowed with the following nine attacks executed with that breadth. It is then repeated for a second iteration. The object is to bring the force altogether, body, mind, and spirit into a series of successful strikes. I thought of the analogy of a formula one car at the start of a race where the engines are revved up and ready to go on the green light. I saw a difference once I was correctly instructed by Sensei Kim.

The video was from Tuesday when I trained with Sensei Kim. Wednesday night’s session was with a regular class. Several of my dojo mates commented on the level of improvement they have seen in my techniques. I felt as if many things came together last night. I had more instances where things seem to ‘click,’ and I executed fundamentally correct techniques.

As I was preparing to leave the dojo last night, the Kancho called for me in the room next to the changing area. He mentioned he had watched me through the video throughout the evening, and he saw tremendous improvement. The Kancho then remarked, “Pat-san, you will be leaving us in a little over a week. Many of the people here are sad to see you go. They wish you could stay here so that they can make you into a great Kendoka.”

During the train ride back last night, I thought about the instructional methodology up to this point. I realized I had learned a lot. Initially, the learning curve was very high, along with my personal expectation of doing things at a high standard right away. Perhaps, my approach was to perform techniques at a graduate-level versus embracing the fundamentals at the 101 level? I realized that while a lot of the instruction involves observation, the experiences of performing the techniques at my ability level complimented by expert correction has molded me to this point.

Pat

“Study how water flows into a valley stream, smoothly and freely between the rocks. Also, learn from holy books and wise people. Everything – even mountains, rivers, plants, and trees should be your teacher.” Morihei Ueshiba

It never ceases to amaze me the lessons that come our way when we are in a receptive mode, or the learning mindset is switched on. An experience occurred yesterday on the way to the Dojo that further impacted me later in the day. More on that in a bit. Training has continued to go well as I closed out my fourth week. After an off day today, I head back to the Dojo Tuesday and Wednesday before the weekend sessions.

I have reflected quite a bit over the past several days, fueled by a podcast my wife sent. Mollie attended a course, and during one of the sessions, the instructor discussed noise. He shared his podcast with the class, and Mollie passed it on to me. Here is the link: https://overcast.fm/+IUPACgmIw I think you will enjoy it and find value. It’s a 15-minute podcast that may impact your life.

In the podcast, the host spoke about the first and last thoughts we had for the day. Fascinating thought. I ended up listening to several other podcasts by the host discussing noise. I have been aware of a lot of my internal noise that occurs during pre, during, and post Dojo sessions. We often see examples of athletes or soldiers dealing with pressure situations where the environment is chaotic all around them. They will often mention how they are able to block out the noise around them.

Similarly, I am aware of the audible sounds filling the Dojo when we are training. During the sparring sessions, the noise I most often hear is what is going on internally and not the other matches taking place around my opponent and me. I can’t say that I hear constant noise as I sense that my focus is on the match. However, there are times when the internal noise is present. Sometimes, the noise of frustration that I missed an opening or left myself open for an attack circulates in my head.

While thinking about the podcast, I made it a point to capture my first thought yesterday morning. The first thought was to make the most out of the day’s training with the intent of being a better version of myself than the day prior. My last thought yesterday was the homeless man. The homeless man revealed a lesson that came full circle after yesterday’s kendo session.

I exited the subway at the final station and was making my way to the exit leading to the street closest to the Dojo. The exit is 230 meters from the turnstile. As I turned the corner, I saw a man in some unique clothing up ahead. He and I were the only people heading in the same direction. Tokyo is known for its variety in fashion, so my initial thought of the man’s attire was of someone displaying a unique fashion taste.

The man was about 50 feet in front of me, walking at a slow pace. I then noticed he was carrying two plastic bags. As I continued to walk, I saw some trash cans and was met by a strong odor. I put two and two together and realized he was a homeless man. His clothes were ripped, and it barely covered him. The two bags he was carrying was from the trash can. He was likely taking it somewhere hoping to find something to eat inside the bags.

Earlier in the morning, I had purchased a bottle of water for the workout. A couple of people were walking towards us, and I noticed them gaze away as if they did not acknowledge the homeless man. I thought to do the same as I was catching up with him. But a voice inside of me said to give him my bottle of water. After passing him, I grabbed the bottle of water and tried to hand it to him. He caught my eye but looked away. Maybe he was too ashamed or embarrassed to receive something?

I saw a trash can up ahead, so I went to it and called out to him while I placed the bottled water on the bin. I continued to my exit, but right before I climbed the stairs, I looked back to see if he had grabbed the water. He stopped at the bin, looked through the trash, and left the water on top.

Walking towards the Dojo, I recalled something my mother had shared with me many years ago while living in Japan. She mentioned to me that even some of the homeless people had pride and would not receive something directly from another person. At the time, we lived next to a car garage, and there was an employee who often helped the shop owner. My mom had her car serviced, and in appreciation, she went to take a gift to the employee. He would not accept the gift which is a rude gesture in Japan. Usually, you receive it and return the act with a gift.

My mother later learned that the employee was homeless and likely refused the gift so that he didn’t feel the shame of not being able to respond in like manner. I thought about that yesterday following my brief interaction with the homeless man in the train station. As I continued to make my way to the Dojo, the voice inside me asked a hard question. What kinds of gifts are you refusing to accept? Some of the noise I often wrestle with is the noise of pride, perfectionism, and doing things the hard way. It’s not always bad, but at times, it does affect relationships and how I go about doing business.

I believe it affects my performance to some degree as well. I have seen during the Dojo sessions that I have shunned positive comments. I am quick to capture the feedback that is negative in nature. While the majority of the comments are corrective, my perfectionist tendency expects that I do it right immediately. I have received plenty of complimentary comments, which I mostly wave off. If I were to do a better job accepting the positive comments, I could build upon the progress and capture the elements which are working. In turn, it could aid in attaining goals versus counting on lessons from the school of hard knocks.

When I thought about the gifts I struggle with accepting, I immediately identified compliments. Yes, I hear them, but I don’t let them sink in well. So, before entering the Dojo yesterday, I made a mental note to be aware of the internal noise and to measure how I received feedback.

I love the training environment of the Dojo and am really enjoying being a student. A couple of the folks know that I am retired from the military. But for the most part, I am known as a college student from America. I often feel as if I am in a laboratory learning about myself and applying performance enhancement tools as I navigate the terrain of the Dojo.

My favorite part of the sessions is the sparring. The senior guys line up on one side, and we fall in line, bow, and commence to spar. The matches are not timed, and you spar for as long as the sensei feels like going. My goal is to go against each instructor at least once as time allows.

Yesterday, the time was coming to an end, but I wanted one more match. As I saw one student come off the line, I jumped in front and bowed to the sensei. This guy, in my opinion, is the top guy. He is the senior-most instructor during training and second to the Kancho. He epitomizes the quiet professional. He has an intimidating aura about him. He is the one guy who has barely spoken to me since I showed up. I don’t think he is a rude person as I rarely see him speak with anyone. He is 100% business from the time he enters the Dojo until leaving.

We paired off, and I postured up and went at it. Yes, the sensei got in more shots on me than what I landed. Not surprising, as he is a 6th degree. However, I got several head strikes that felt right as far as seeing the opening, making the strike and posturing up immediately after. There were several times I felt as if all the portions of a solid attack were present from initiation to follow-through. A couple of times, he even commented, “good men hit.” Men being the strike to the head.

That was the first match where I realized I had not noticed any internal noise. I felt progress. After training, that sensei came up to me and mentioned how much progress he had seen with my techniques. I thanked him and bowed. I remembered the internal voice asking the question earlier in the day, “what kinds of gifts are you refusing to accept?” I recognized that it was a gift and acknowledgment of hard work and my desire to learn. Additionally, it was a validation of the purpose of this trip to Japan.

This journey continues to teach me so many things. I came here to study a martial art and apply tools from my graduate course studies. I am certainly doing that but also learning a lot about myself. The homeless man I crossed paths with may not seem of value to too many people. Perhaps, he may not value much in himself. For a moment in time, he was used to teach a lesson and challenge my thinking.

Pat

I stated in a previous post that my purpose in coming to Japan was to study Kendo while applying many of the tools presented throughout my graduate studies. The Dojo offered Iaido at no additional cost other than time and having your own equipment. I felt studying Iaido would enhance my experience and compliment my studies. I am glad I did.

Iaido has provided me insight into another domain that I may find myself serving within the performance realm. Performance and sport psychology are often viewed as something found in the sports and military realm. Through my studies, I have learned and come to appreciate the benefits of performance enhancement tools in the performing arts realm, as well. I view Iaido as an experience where I can possibly connect with practitioners in that domain.

My Iaido training consists of twice a week for two and a half, sometimes three hours per session. It is not physically exhausting as Kendo training. However, mental focus is much the same. Much like Kendo, there is a strict protocol, and I am constantly reminded that every move has a meaning. Needless to say, I have found myself mentally and physically spent after training for 12 hours over the weekend. My fitness tracker registered nine hours of sleep Saturday and Sunday night.

On one of my train rides back to my apartment, I recalled an article given to me by my Karate sensei when I was a teen. The article was titled, Hito Kata San-nen, translated to say, One Kata, Three Years. The essence of the article was the discipline and commitment to study a form for three years before learning a new form. That may have been philosophical or factual, I am not sure.

I certainly appreciate the point behind the saying. Personally, I think it mirrors the approach Cal Ripken had when discussing baseball practice. Many of us grew up with the saying, “practice makes perfect.” Ripken stated in several of his books and videos, “perfect practice makes perfect.” I appreciate the talks I have with Tajima Sensei and Kato Sensei (two gentlemen in the video) discussing their lifetime of study. Their dedication to perfect skills has been a lifelong endeavor.

My experience has been that practicing kata has not been a favorable discipline with martial artists I have engaged. I can appreciate the draw of putting into practice the techniques one has been taught. I certainly can’t see a batter only practicing the mechanics of a swing and not facing live pitching. One would need to consider the purpose of the technique they are practicing.

With Iaido, a lot of my approach has been similar to handling a pistol or a long gun. Dry firing a weapon is similar to working a katana. That truth came to light this past weekend. Tajima Sensei observed my drawing of the katana and explained I was moving to fast. He further explained the mindset one needs to have. I was quick to draw the katana out and execute the attacks.

I didn’t quite grasp the ‘why’ one would pause before drawing the katana. The sensei explained that the goal is not to present the katana except as a last resort. And when you uncase the katana, you have to be precise in its use and handle it with confidence. I remember smiling after sensei’s explanation as I drew upon my experiences with a long-gun or pistol. The mindset and decision-making process required to place the weapon into an aggressive posture and being aware of my surroundings, intent, along with bodily mechanics such as the trigger finger is something I understood.

There were times I moved to draw the katana earlier than I intended because quite simply, I could feel the ache in my knees and ankles begging to be moved. Once I gained a further understanding, I was able to place the pain aside (temporarily) and visualize the purpose to put the katana into operation. There are many aspects of drawing the katana that is similar to other motor control required to execute a task. Such as, minimizing movement from one chord to another while playing the guitar or the movement path going from your primary weapon to secondary.

I enjoy the development and practice of fine-tuning the movements. I see a similarity with many aspects of our lives in mastering a task. Synchronizing the mental and physical posture, breath control, and dynamic movements are natural elements of placing the katana into action. The katana is a magnificent work of art. Effectively utilizing it and making it an extension of one’s persona is merely beautiful.

I thought of the picture of a batter. Many players swing a bat. However, we often think of Brett, Griffey, W. Clark, and other ballplayers of having a beautiful swing. I believe it is the same with Iaido. Six weeks of training is simply a drop in the bucket when it comes to being able to perform the task halfway decently. However, it is a positive step in the journey towards mastery. Much of the performance aspect is understanding the ‘why’ behind each move and being in the correct frame of mind.

Pat