2017 06 22 - 00:05

Finally, we've worked out what the problem with my chiburi was - and it's been an ongoing issue with me in one way or another - breaking the wrist. In chiburi I was doing it either during the downward swing, or right at the end of it. It was causing me to slap the blade down, and that's sure not what the samurai intended.

- - -

I am coming up on my second Iaidoversary next month, and although I'm not always one to celebrate anniversaries, I do use them as a time of reflection. I think about who I was and what I was doing when I started, about how far I've come, about the people I know, the people I keep meeting, the sense of community that I've felt sometimes, the way in which this art has become so much a part of my life that I could not imagine it not being there. I remember saying that the first time I picked up an iaito, it was like picking up a paintbrush - I had this "why hasn't this been in my hand my entire life" feeling. It has long since ceased to be merely a thing at the end of my arm that I wave around separate from me.

Am I good at it? Not really - not yet. Sure, I passed Ikkyu, but that's not hard - do the waza in order, don't drop your sword, don't make a face. I suspect that when I test for shodan at some point in the future, it'll be a whole different story. I'm hoping that I'll at least find the tape this time around; I lost it during Ikkyu testing. I was never good at nine ball either; but that never stopped me from playing. I'm better than I was. Things get a little better each week. Honestly, though, with some things I'm just not capable of assessing myself. I wouldn't know if I was good at it unless someone else told me.

I have never really belonged to a "club" before. I was in Girl Guides, but I never truly felt at home there. Feeling like a stranger in my own house is not an uncommon thing for me though. But in the dojo, I forget what separates me from other people. I forget about separation entirely. Being there has given me this art, given me a concept of dedication that I'd never experienced before, given me friends, given me a thread that runs through my life - like my art does, given me something to be proud of and look forward to.

I remember seeing something somewhere - Aristotle or Socrates, I can't remember which - about lives that are too busy are barren. I think it's because you never truly stay in one place long enough to find what is truly important to you. I used to worry about that, about not being 'busy' enough. I thought that if I wasn't doing 'enough', or 'more', that meant I was wasting my life. I realised a long time ago that a quiet life was just as valid a thing as any other, and I recently realised - when I encountered the idea of the barren busy life - that picking a few things that complete or augment you, that you love, that bring you peace, joy, or contentment, was more important.

Being too busy is just noise - you won't be able to hear the music.

And speaking of music, my complete and utter lack of jo-ha-kyu is like a melody with no rhythm; or, rather, an unchanging one. (Rather than moving in 4:4 time, move in 3:4 time; like a waltz, only with somewhat different emphasis - slow, quicker, quick-stop - slow, quicker, quick-stop - slow, quicker, quick-stop. All actions should begin slowly, speed up, then end swiftly.) I'd never thought about that until my sensei said something to me about my lack of rhythm in class today - he made that analogy, about a melody that doesn't move; and much like not breaking my wrist, jo-ha-kyu came together better than it normally does.

One of the things that my sensei has us do, is demonstrate for the class whatever it is he's teaching us. We learn a waza, do it a few times together, then each of us in turn will demonstrate it for the rest. Most of the time we do this with the specific intent of having the rest of the class point out things that could be improved or things that were done particularly well. He's teaching us to evaluate. This is as important to your own work as it is to the person you are critiquing. Today, though, he switched that habit up a little. He'd give us each a koryu waza to do, and along with that, we had to give two main points - things that are different from seitei, things that are significant to the waza, things that would be important to know were you teaching or explaining the waza to someone else. I used to loathe this sort of thing with a firey hot passion. I hate being the centre of attention in that way; hate being under scrutiny by so many eyes at once. I hate being stared at. It's why I don't sing in public. Today he explained why he has us do this, has us explain points and try to teach - part of it is because at some point in our lives - either at work, or volunteering, or something - someone's going to need us to do something, ask us to do something, and we'll be able to just do it. It's to help strip away performance anxiety, to teach us to learn how to teach. Knowing something is one thing, but knowing how to explain it to someone else is a completely different matter.

In the dojo, at least, I've long since lost my distaste for demonstration. Maybe one day it'll carry over into the rest of my life.

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What you see

2017 06 08 - 12:13

Teaching is not just a matter of the instructor holding forth while you absorb the knowledge; at least not in our dojo.

Frequently, what we do is after sensei shows us something, we demonstrate it for each other one or two at a time. After we're done, everyone is invited to comment. We each share what we noticed as good or bad, wrong or right, about our fellow iaidoka's progress and performance. Since everyone does things differently, and everyone is at a different level of progress, and each of us will notice different things than the others do, it's very informative method of doing things. It helps us to assess our own progress, as much as it teaches us to be observant.

Our sensei is on a different path, however; so while he's - and we - are generally looking at each other's form and jo-ha-kyu, for example; we are looking at his intent and purpose when he demonstrates for us. He goes last, and we have to estimate his actions, and comment on what we see.

This works only because we have a small class. If there were more of us we wouldn't be able to work this way. The value of observing others in this way, is like the value of teaching others - it solidifies your own knowledge, when you teach it to someone else.

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Iaido waza

2017 06 02 - 12:59

I put together a list of all the Iai waza that I know of, and stole some info off Wikipedia to flesh it out.

To level the playing field, most everyone learns Seitei Iai waza as set out by the ZNKR, governed by the Canadian Kendo Federation here. These sets ensure that people from different schools are taught something that can be more fairly judged. Each different school of Iaido has different waza. I don't know that any other than Muso Shinden Ryu (the form I study) and Muso Jikiden Eishin Ryu are taught in North America. I know of at least four or five other styles.

You'll notice that between MSR and MJER there is some name similarity - some of those waza are the same as the ones in the other school, some have the same intent but are done slightly differently, some are different waza but given the same/similar names. Junto and Kaishaku, for example, have the same purpose/intent, but are done differently (from what I've seen). I picked this one because it has some other considerations attached, which I think I've explained before: this waza emulates the actions performed by the second (kaishakunen) for a samurai who is committing seppuku (ritual suicide). Some don't consider it a waza at all, but more a form of etiquette. In my school, and in Jikiden schools also that I know of, this is never performed in front of outsiders, would never be used as a demo, and would never be used as part of grading, out of respect for its original purpose and those involved. You *can* find videos of both Junto and Kaishaku on YouTube. And if you choose to watch them, I'll explain the actions.

Anyhow, there are 12 Seitei waza (the ones with a star are the ones I used for my ikkyu grading last year): skip the list

Morote-zuki *
Ganmen-ate *
Soete-zuki *
Shihogiri *
Nukiuchi *

Then there's the koryu waza for my school:



In'yo Shintai
In'yo Shintai Kaewaza







And if I really wanted to torture myself, I could join the other team and learn all the Jikiden waza as well.









So Makuri
So Dome
Sode Surigaeshi
Itomagoi Sono Ichi
Itomagoi Sono Ni
Itomagoi Sono San





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Iaido Weekend (Guelph, Etobicoke)

2017 05 22 - 12:00

Prior to taking up Iaido, I'd always used square knots in the right over left first fashion. A holdover, no doubt, from years in Brownies and Girl Guides. Right over left and under, left over right and under. But since Iai, it's all knots from the left, and everything on the right is always underneath everything on the left. The left side of the keikogi always covers over the right; knots are tied with the left over the right, and so forth. I point this out only because it's now crossed over into things I do outside of Iai.

It was a long, tiring - but satisfying - weekend. Two days on the feet at two different Iaido events. I'm happy to sit for a little while.

Saturday at the University of Guelph was largely with Galligan Sensei - although an English 7th dan did come for a while - but I can't, for the life of me, remember his name. One thing he did bring up - or at least I think he brought it up, I was a touch mentally distracted - was the purpose of Jodan. I'd always thought of it as a "getting out of the way" move, but it is - or can be - a striking move. He had us 'attack' the wall. I think moreso for placeement than anything, but it reshuffled my thinking on that particular position. Galligan Sensei never fails to blow my mind with how much information she can pack into each moment she's speaking, and still be so clear and concise. This year I didn't take away any points on the various waza, but I finally have shifted my focus when it comes to the power one must put into the left hand. I always knew that, that the left hand is the power and the right hand is the guide, but it just never totally sunk in - for lack of a better way to put it. It's been a bit of a hard one for me, because I'm so right side dominant.

The trip through the bowels of construction at UG to get to the new - and very nice - changerooms, was an adventure. Going through the old - and not so nice - changerooms, wasn't entirely unlike a bad 70s/80s youth-centric horror film where you know that whoever's in the gym locker room alone, is going to get snuffed. It's the scene where the entire movie-going audience is shouting, "Don't go in there!" - but you have to go in there. It was very... orange.

I did get some guidence from Green Sensei regarding standing reiho; but the point I did forget to ask for clarity on, and also forgot to ask Cruise Sensei during the session on Sunday, was about bowing to Sensei if one must do it standing. If you are doing a grading, it's easy - there are only two bows in and two out - one to the sword, the other to the judges. The problem comes in the dojo where, in my school at least, there are four bows in and four out - standing to the shinza, kneeling to the shinza, kneeling to sensei, kneeling to sword. I'm going to guess that if you absolutely must bow to sensei standing, you do it the same way you'd do it during grading or to the shinza standing. My budo buddy during the day for some paired exercise, was a much higher rank than I am, and made me more conscious of seme, of pressure, of the "don't do it" demeanour one must show to one's opponent to put them off drawing their sword.

What I did get from Cruise Sensei yesterday, is a pretty clear idea that most of the koryu waza will be easily adaptable to standing forms; and I finally feel comfortable with most of the first omori-ryu set, except seichuto - that one I still need to learn. It wasn't until we went through them on Sunday, that I realised I did know them better than I thought I did. I wanted to get some more refined pointers regarding standing forms, but there wasn't really enough time. We went from just after 9 until 4. It's a long day. He also refined the position of the sword regarding kneeling bows koryu style vs. seitei style, as well as some other refined points on koryu vs. seitei. But I'm going to need a refresher on those. I also need to ask if judges are going to be fussy about which version of a koryu waza one does during grading. I hope he does another koryu session at some point; or that someone does.

I slept like a rock last night.

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Welland Iaido Seminar, 2017

2017 04 03 - 23:52

The Saturday Samurai at Beamsville District Secondary for the 2017 Welland Iaido Seminar (not in Welland this year, because it's basketball season and all the gyms were booked).

Fabulous as always. I never fail to take away something from one of these events. This year, it was how the turning of the left foot during Shiho-giri turns the body. I've always led with the right hip when turning, and 'pull' the rest of the body after me, but it's really the left foot turning first, which forces the rest of the body to move around and towards the target.

Even if you don't think you pick anything up, you do. You can't not. Partly because you have access to the top-level senseis in the country - which kind of spoils a person, in a way. We're very lucky in this area, to have them so close to hand.

I took this before everyone had shown up, when there were just a few of us there warming up.

Six or so hours on your feet waving a sword around, takes it out of ya, though. By the last hour I had to duck out and sit down. My feet were killing me.

Now it's off to pay my fees for the Guelph Iaido seminar in May.

Welland 2017
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When the student is ready, the teacher appears

2017 03 30 - 23:02

There are some waza that my body just doesn't make it easy for me to do properly - like hiding the sword the way you need to hide it behind you when turning to do the last cut in shiho-giri, or the disembowelling cut during so-giri. The first is definitely partly due to my being very hippy, the other - I'd like to say my arms are a bit too short to get my hands down low enough, but I'm using a 2.45 shaku blade, so that's not it. We tried to figure it last night, but I think the only way to lengthen my arms to get them in the right place, is attaching me to the rack.

Sensei was not there last night, as he's travelling for his work, and it really throws me off when he's not around. It's not that things aren't good, they are - they're more casual, the person who's usually in charge when sensei's not there will ask us what we want to work on, he's also less hard on us - but don't tell my sensei.

My sensei is an incredible person - seemingly limitless patience (though apparently he hates it when people don't put their shoes to the side neatly when they come in his door - piles of shoes at the door are his peeve); he seems without ego; he pushes you hard, but never beyond what he knows you can do; he's become a figure of great importance to me - a mentor of sorts, a father figure of sorts, a father-confessor of sorts, and a friend. There is no way, and I know it, that I'd likely still be doing this if I'd started training with someone else. I don't truly attach to a great many people, but I know there'd be a huge gap in me, in my life, were he no longer around.

You train for yourself, but there's always that small part of you that knows it's training so that you can justify your sensei's investment of time and faith in you.

Someone once said to me, "when the student is ready, the teacher appears." Truer words were never uttered.


Sensei and the Painter's Tape

2017 03 02 - 22:30

You would think this was a tree. It isn't. This is the angle of the cuts in the seitei waza So-giri. The bunkai could be either you striking one opponent multiple times, or many opponents. You cut the face down to the chin, from the right shoulder down to the solar plexus, then from the left shoulder down to the navel, and finally across the trunk between the hip and the waist - for the purpose of gutting the opponent. The final cut is a centre-line straight cut.

Each of those first three cuts must exit out of the body at the same angle they went in.

This is probably the most obviously difficult of the seitei waza, and is not one that beginners do. It would be considered grossly arrogant for anyone at a low rank to use this during grading. I plan on never using it at all, but at higher level gradings you don't get a choice as to the seitei waza you do, and they do trot this one out.

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The evidence. My certificate arrives

2017 02 16 - 16:38

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2017 02 02 - 16:53

I will take any hour in the dojo with my sword in my hand that I can get. I don't care who's leading the class. I'll share the dojo with kendo, which - as I've said before - is like inviting a military onslaught into your living room, along with its sound effects crew. I'll go out of town. I'll go alone. I'll get up at 6 on a Sunday morning even. You can always learn something, and always do. If you aren't learning something, you're not trying hard enough.

I haven't yet met a sensei that I didn't learn from - even Ohmi Sensei who, a great deal of the time, I can't understand. A Japanese accent + echoey room + unpractised ear = confusion. At least I've got past my Cruise Sensei freaks me out issue. He's a nice guy; he just looks stern. He does like to keep things going quickly though, which utterly threw me off during last Saturday's Lunar New Year special class. (At least we got use of the dojo <em>before</em> kendo, who were coming in for their annual New Year's beating.) But, when you're trying to work with a large group of people with a limited amount of time, you pack as much in as you can; which does sometimes mean going quickly.

My sensei did ask me during class tonight, how I'd enjoyed Saturday. I always, like I said, enjoy my time in the dojo; but I can't settle in to my body or the waza when Cruise Sensei has us working so quickly, so I felt thrown off much of the time. I can't perform things very well or precisely when we go that fast.

Shiho-giri, I think, is fast becoming my favourite waza. Maybe it's because it involves so much - three cuts, one strike, piercing, waka, jodan, and four imaginary foes. Someone once said to me, somewhat snootily, that what I was doing was useless, that at least she knew how to get a sword out of someone's hands. And all I could think was, "Rule number one in that game, is that you don't <em>try</em> to get a sword <em>out</em> of someone's hands at all." With shiho-giri you do learn how to at least slow down someone with a sword, and that's by striking their hands/wrists with the flat part of the tsuka of your sword. If it doesn't make them drop the sword completely, it will at least cause them enough pain to slow them down long enough for you to get back to them.

Tonight I did learn something that this video, though fabulous, does not mention about this waza: when you're turning from striking the first opponent's hands and push forward to pierce opponent number two, the force does not come from the arms - it comes from the right hip, which you push with as you're moving forward, throwing the weight of it forward, which moves the rest of you forward.

This video should start where Ogura Sensei is showing the thrusting pierce.

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Happy New Rooster Year

2017 01 29 - 17:01

Saturday afternoon we had a special New Year class with my sensei's sensei; a man that used to freak me out just by looking at him. I have since discovered he's a nice guy, but he still freaks me out some.

I end up doing poorly with him teaching sometimes, especially when he's just having us do drills, because he wants us to move quickly with no zanshin, and speed is my worst fault. So if I do things as quickly as he has us do them, I don't do them well. Every week I work to keep things slower, paced, so it throws me off when I'm asked to move more quickly.

I did pick up a couple of good tips though, particularly about what I do during furikaburi (a position right after nukitsuke - normally - and prior to bringing the sword down in a cut from an overhead position). Apparently rather than sending the tip first, I have a habit of pulling the tsuka (hilt of the sword) forward a little before I send the tip. This would be okay were I about to clock someone in the forehead prior to cutting them, but not so good elsewise. Being more mindful of that, reminds me to place my left hand more towards the end of the tsuba than I normally do, which is probably the biggest reason for my sword bouncing at the eend of overhead cuts - also the fact I don't lock my wrists enough.

I never fail to learn something each week. Now let's hope I can remember it from one week to another - long term.

I was glad to spend the afternoon in the dojo though - any excuse or chance I can get to spend another hour with my sword in my hand, I'll take.

Lunar New Year

For a samurai, nothing says Happy New Year (rooster) like spending your Saturday sweating.

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