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
