Month: February 2024

Kendo

Long time readers of this blog know I love learning about other martial arts. Through one-off introductory workshops I’ve sampled Capoeira, Tai Chi, and Judo. I also attended several self defense workshops led by instructors from varying backgrounds, trained under students earning their personal fitness trainer credentials, and attended an online seminar that wasn’t so much about Kung Fu as it was about body dynamics. So when a friend invited me to the bi-monthly Kendo (Japanese sword) classes he hosts at his dojo I jumped at the chance.

I missed the first Kendo class due to an important karate event. No big deal, this is a casual gathering for the purpose of learning. I had to catch up, but at least I’m used to following along, to being at least few steps behind everyone else. In other words I know how to be a white belt (no rank, new beginner). I know how to learn and I know my own learning style. I know how to manage my practice time. And of course I had a blast learning something completely new. This beginner’s mindset is called “Shoshin” in Japanese. I try to keep my shoshin fresh in karate because, after all, Shodan (1st degree black belt) means “first level.” I’m still a beginner in my primary art (yes, after nearly 10 years).

My primary art is of course empty hand. Weapons aren’t part of the rank tests in the karate organization I belong to. To me dabbling in weapons is a nice little “extracurricular activity,” although I have recently started thinking about the benefits to my empty-hand game. I have started to understand this quote:

”Karate and Kobudo are like brother and sister. They should stay together.”

Nakamoto Mashiro

Studying weapons gives one the chance to compare and contrast, to think about how and why body dynamics change (or don’t change) when one is wielding a weapon. During the pandemic lockdowns I learned bo (Japanese long staff) over Zoom from one of my sensei (instructors). Bo feels natural because it involves push-pull dynamics similar to karate. A bokken (training sword) is another animal altogether. About the only thing I knew going in to my first Kendo class was you use two hands to wield the weapon. The bokken feels very different from my bo, from Filipino Martial Arts canes (in one or both hands) and is totally and completely different from fencing foils. Yes, I took a semester of fencing in college. And yet…

Like many other times when I’ve cross-trained, I heard the late Professor Remy Presas whispering, “It’s all de same…”

 Blogger and Arnisadora Jackie Bradbury explains,

“The meaning of this is that what we do and learn in my style isn’t actually terribly unique in the martial arts world.  Much of what we do can be seen in other seemingly unrelated styles like taekwondo, karate, and kung fu.”

Jackie Bradbury, The Stick Chick Blog

With the bokken I learned angles of attack just like in Filipino Martial Arts. These angles of attack are based on human anatomy in order to cause the most damage and hopefully not catch your weapon on bone and lose your grip on it. This is serious stuff, but so is shattering joints and there’s plenty of that in the empty hand arts. Speaking of the empty hand arts, there is a relationship between Kendo and the style of Karate I study.

Konishi Yasuhiro Sensei founded Shindo Jinen-ryu karate. But before that he was a Kendoka (one who studies Kendo). Konishi Sensei coached the University of Keio’s Kendo club. Just a few months short of 100 years ago (at the time of this writing) Konishi Sensei met two karate luminaries after one of his classes. They asked if they could use the Kendo training hall for their karate classes. The rest was history. A karate exercise I practice frequently, “Te Gatana,” echoes Konishi Sensei’s Kendo and always reminds me of Filipino Martial Arts angles of attack. In 1927 and 1928 Konishi Sensei hosted a guest in his home for ten months: Mabuni Kenwa Sensei who founded the style of karate my friend teaches at his dojo. Talk about echoes of the past!

Kendo and Karate weren’t the end-all-and-be-all of Konishi Sensei’s martial arts life. In addition to Kendo and Karate, Konishi Sensei also studied Jujutsu, Judo, and Aikido. Within the Karate world Konishi Sensei trained with whoever he could. This garnered some criticism but Konishi Sensei held fast to his belief in the value of cross training. I’ve seen its value myself. That and it’s just plain fun to learn something new and different.

In karate I thoroughly enjoy exploring bunkai (interpretation of forms). Imagine my delight when I was taught that Kendo kata (forms) require two people. Instant bunkai! On the other hand, what I like about karate kata bunkai is there can be multiple bunkai for any given movement and/or sequence. Still, there’s something appealing about having obvious and set bunkai. Like anything else, there are advantages and disadvantages either way. I’m stoked whenever I get to explore different modes of learning.

In a way attending a Kendo class felt like coming home. When I was a girl I was fascinated by sword-and-sorcery novels. At Renaissance faires I was more than a little jealous of those who owned real blades. I took fencing in college but the restriction of activity to a narrow lane drove me a little nuts. I was used to having free range due to my study of karate when I was a teenager. Years later I learned the history of the style of karate I now study. Entering the Kendo world just feels like a natural step for me. The cherry on top? A few years ago a co-worker gifted me with a polypropylene bokken at an office Christmas party. He uses his for cosplay. I used mine as a wall decoration. So is this fate? Time will tell. What I do know is this. My first Kendo class was fun and I’m looking forward to the next one.

Squirrel Power!

Image generated by Adobe Firefly

I was near the fireplace insert in my basement office/personal dojo when I heard a startled squeak and scrabbling sounds. “Oh no,” I thought, “Rats.”

Using a jo I thumped the drop-down ceiling and the wall, eliciting more squeaking and scrabbling. The sounds came from the fireplace insert. I looked inside and saw pellets – not wood pellets but squirrel pellets. Not rats. Whew! I heard a growl that I’d never heard before but it sounded similar to other squirrel vocalizations. A quick wiggle of the flue lever confirmed the flue was partway open. That explained the droppings. I opened the flue all the way.

While I was on the phone with a pest control company I noticed a flicker of movement. Squirrel movement. I quickly closed the flue and peered through the glass door of the fireplace insert. In the shadows crouched a soot-covered squirrel. It was scared out of its gourd but it still growled at me and made disapproving “tok tok tok tok” sounds.

Bear with me, I promise I’ll relate this story to karate. Well, OK, specifically self defense.

Pest control folks refused help me until after the weekend. It finally occurred to me that the local wildlife rehabilitator could have a solution. I called and the procedure was simple.

I cut a small hole in what would become the top of a box. I took the additional precaution of covering the hole with waxed paper. It just so happened I have a work light that was perfect for placing on top of the hole, but a flashlight would do the trick too. Using a beach towel and a bath mat I made the rest of the area dark and reasonably secure. Cautiously I opened the fireplace insert door, made final adjustments, and waited to hear the scrabbling sounds of a squirrel checking out the lovely noisy wax-paper packet of peanut butter I’d left in the back of the box.

I waited a long time.

When I came back from a bathroom break I heard scrabbling noises in the box then growling from within the box. Dang, the squirrel was right near the flaps of the box. I would have to take a chance. Slowly I moved the towel and bathmat aside. I could see the critter hunkered down. He was absolutely terrified but he definitely was trash talking me. I took a chance and slowly moved the flaps of the box inward, shoving the squirrel and trapping him inside the box. That squirrel was furious and scolded most vociferously.

Needless to say the squirrel cussed up a storm as I tilted the box (making sure to hold the flaps securely shut), carried the box outside my house, then tilted the box again. When I opened the flaps of the box that squirrel took off like a shot. After the squirrel vanished I found it utterly adorable that this little creature still found the spirit to growl, talk trash, and cuss me out in spite of its obvious terror. My heart melted.

I have a new respect for squirrels. Knowing that a bite from a squirrel is a serious matter is one kind of respect. That’s respect for one’s own safety and the safety of one’s family. Another kind of respect is admiration. A squirrel’s agility, speed, and climbing abilities are indeed remarkable. But there’s another, deeper kind of respect which acknowledges your heart has been touched and you’re better for it. That squirrel’s bravery and knowledge of self defense resonated with me.

The little creature was frozen with fear but it was prepared to fight me to the death. The squirrel thought it was highly likely that I would kill it but by golly it was going to take a piece of me with it. I’ll be honest, the squirrel’s desperate attitude was a bit intimidating. I didn’t know what to expect – would it suddenly leap up and maybe claw my face? Would it bite me? This squares with what I’ve heard in many a self-defense seminar: standing up for yourself gives a potential attacker a reason to look elsewhere. Even if you look like a harmless bit of fluff you can still make someone bigger than you think twice about messing with you.

And yet the poor little thing was scared out of its gourd. That’s natural. Of course if some scary person steps out of the shadows you’re going to have a very visceral reaction. You might even freeze like the squirrel did. A “freeze” reaction isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It might preserve your life. It might give you a moment to assess the situation. A terrified freeze reaction doesn’t necessarily spell instant doom. I have no doubt that if I’d messed with the squirrel or even lingered too long shutting the flaps of the box he would’ve found it in himself to spring out of his tense posture to attack me, run, or both.

Imagine seeing a huge monster looming over you. Imagine being shoved into a room and the room tilts, sways, then tilts again. It’s a scene straight out of a nightmare and would scare anyone. That squirrel very wisely got outta Dodge when I opened the box. Getting away to safety is a valid and, I would argue, best option for self preservation.

So… A stupid rodent who got itself trapped in my fireplace, all talk and no action… A squirrel who was frozen with fear… A squirrel who ran away and didn’t stay to fight… That’s a brave creature? You bet it is. Bravery doesn’t depend on circumstances, on anyone else’s opinion, or your own emotional state. Bravery is finding that spark inside you and making a choice to survive and/or help someone else survive.

Bringing it home to karate. The squirrel had many tools in its self-defense toolbox. That squirrel had strong back legs for jumping, sharp claws for scratching, and a bite from a squirrel is a serious matter indeed. Did the squirrel need to use those tools? No. Would the squirrel have been more brave if it had launched a full-out assault on me? No, it would’ve been a dead stupid squirrel because I’d have killed it. Using “cool karate moves” isn’t always the best course of action. “Knowing” karate puts more self defense tools at your disposal, but your best tools are your instincts and your belief in yourself. In other words… Squirrel power!