CHAPTER TWO: I fight thee, with my cookie dough sticks of Doom!

My first love will always be swords. Ever since I held that first bokken, I have wanted to study the art of the Japanese sword. My love drove me to the point of craziness enough that, upon getting an internship to teach in Japan for the summer, and when asked what it was that I would like to do there, I said kendo. Now, here is where my mind got side-tracked. Mu was a student of kenjutsu- he preferred sparring with bokkens. I realize now that, done with just any Joe off the street (or the web), I probably would have died. I accidentally picked a safer route for myself by choosing kendo.

I told the leader of this internship, my boss, my “cultural experience” choice, and he was befuddled. “Kendo? No, surely you mean flower arranging, or tea ceremony.” He said this in broken English, which was funny considering he was barely understandable, and I could understand his Japanese just fine. So I repeated, “No, I want to try Kendo.” And he repeated, “Flower arranging? Tea Ceremony?” I can tell you that an autistic girl would not do well doing either of those things. Eventually he caved in.

I remember the first time I put the bogu, the gear, all on. It was the hottest day of the year. Not to mention that the keiko gi that was borrowed for me was a heavy weight grade, which did not breathe at all, and weighted an extra fifteen pounds with sweat built up in it. On top of that, I had to carry all of this extra weight while not allowing my heels to touch the floor. The head instructor, a man named Ito-sensei, would come by and, with his shinai (a training tool designed for the primary purpose to not hurt), tap me on the Achilles tendon. How nice. It did such a good job of teaching me to keep my heels off the floor, that it took me nearly a year to write it out of my brain when I took up iai in the States. I wasn’t allowed to spar really- I would have killed any one of those children who-incidentally- were also my English students. However, it was Ito-sensei who showed me the first thing- and honestly, the most important thing-I have ever learned about sword work. The very first thing I did was wait in line behind a bunch of six year olds beginning kendo the same day, for my turn to hold his sword. He told us, “This is why you do kendo. “ Now, this comment is not in any way saying that kendo will help you navigate a Japanese sword, because I will tell you from personal experience that it does not. I will get into this later. I think what he was trying to say was, “This is a weapon that can kill you- have some respect for it.” There’s not too many ways that I know of that directly instill fear, but for a martial artist who likes weapons, getting to hold someone’s sword that has a bigger net worth than you do and being trusted not to break it when you have never touched such a thing before certainly instills fear into me. I stood before the mirror and watched as Ito-sensei taught me how to do an overhead cut. I think if I wasn’t hooked then, I was at that moment.

There would be many weapons after that one, but another Ito-sensei gave me is also very special. On my twentieth birthday (twenty is a big age in Japan- it is the coming-of-age year), my host parents and the town threw a party for me, complete with the most delicious cream soda and presents. Ito-sensei attended, and brought for me a white oak bokken. It was beautiful. He told me I should clean it with a cloth once a month. It is so nice that I only used it once for the first day of iai class. The funny thing about that bokken is that it reads, “To Mr. Ito, thanks for coming to our seminar.” It’s a re-gift.

Head Sensei saw me use it the first day of class, and immediately stepped in. He told me it was a really nice bokken- too nice to be using it in this class. I figured, okay, but why? And then I learned. Kendo was far different than iai, in so many ways. The main difference was getting hit. Sure, I got my fair share of wraps when a child or a local police officer would miss my kote entirely, leaving this big welts on my forearms for days. But it meant nothing compared to getting hit with a bokken. I think, despite obvious loss to limb or possibly life, I would rather sometimes get hit with a sword. Bokken, in the hands of crazy people, turn you all sorts of colors. In any case, there were some people in my class, Happy Sensei, for one, who didn’t know the meaning of the word “light.” I didn’t like the idea of denting my beautiful white oak bokken, let alone slitting it in two, so I bought a red oak one; it lasted for almost two years before finally cracking. Bokkens are probably my favorite weapons because they are forgiving, unlike a sword. A good one will last nearly forever if you take care with it.

My first experience with iai was having to change my chudan-no-kamae. In kendo, the chudan stance involves the point of the shinai to be rather high, so as to go into the tsuki strike area or the throat. The idea is really the same for iai, except one major difference; the bokken (like a sword) is curved, the shinai is not. If you were to point a sword in the kendo style of stance and then thrust it, you’d end up with the point ending somewhere in your opponent’s forehead. The iai stance, the point is lower, so you only see the point of the sword if you are looking at yourself in the mirror. It’s supposed to conceal the length of your blade- can’t really do that with the shinai. This was one of many headaches iai gave me. Then, there was my footwork. Kendo feet are balancing almost on a tightrope, where as iai is very natural. It’s hard to believe now I could screw up “natural” walking, but it’s easy when you are used to walking on the balls of your feet. If this wasn’t bad enough, I had this kendo habit almost broken before I went back to school that fall and picked up kendo club. A word to the wise for anyone: never EVER do two sword styles at once. I don’t care what the All Japan Kendo Federation says, I cannot fathom being able to do kendo and iaido together, without going crazy.

The first time I sparred in kendo was with a third grader half my height. I couldn’t score on her because she was too fast, and she could not score on me because I was too tall. We battled to a 0-0 tie, and I was just fine with that. The first time I sparred in iai was with these things called goshinken sticks, crazy little Nerf bats of doom. I went against the youngest sensei of that time, a kid I will call Broody, because he always seems to be in a state of gloomy…except when he did sparring. He enjoyed slapping the crap out of people. Besides Head Sensei, he was the only person whom I ever heard make a cracking sound with the goshinken stick that resonated across the dojo. The first time I sparred with him, I won. This was the only thing kendo actually helped me out with. That pissed him off, so he hit me in the head. I don’t remember much after that. Broody and I ended up becoming really good partners for each other. He with his skill and speed and I with my quick thinking made for some good battles. I think you could say he was my first favorite opponent. But then all too quickly, he was gone.

Some of the older sensei have older models of the goshinken not made by the Actionflex company. The insides of these models were made out of anything from wooden dowels to PVC pipe, and very often would break with one good hit. One of my teachers, Happy Sensei, had one that reminded me of a fukuro shinai- the early model of the modern shinai. It was basically a wooden rod with a bag sewn over top of it. He cracked me in the mouth with it, and the whole side of my face went numb. For days, I checked for a bruise, which I did find upon brushing my teeth several days afterward. The inside of my cheek was purple. It was the coolest bruise I ever received, and I was thankful for not having to lose teeth from it. Thank goodness for technology. As much as I hate the idea of untrained kids hitting each other with sticks, knowing that they are going to do it anyway, I am thankful for Actionflex and Nerf. They may be poor substitutes for the real thing, but do you really want sharp swords in the hands of idiots?

I loved the sword because of its safe distance it put between me and the other guy. Sure, you can’t cut them if you are too far away- a lesson Head Sensei taught me several times over- but it helped a mildly Autistic girl get over her discomfort with having to get close to people. Weapons became my joy, and addiction. Yu can never, as far as I’m concerned, have enough weapons. I don’t own a gun, but if I ever did, I’d probably collect them too. I started to do something similar going through the ranks of karate.

Firstly, there is the ubiquitous bo kata that everyone must learn- for what reason, I do not know. The bo wazas were much more helpful in learning how to use the weapon, and even those I didn’t fully understand until I was preparing for black belt. The XMA bo katas perplex me for all the wrong reasons. First off- metallic staffs. The dizzying aspect of being a judge, having to watch something that shiny spin round and round repeatedly, reminds me of a bad carnival ride which causes you to have a seizure or throw up. At least at the carnival, you can stop the ride. Secondly, the fact that most of these staffs aren’t even wood, but plastic or fiberglass. I have these visions of bo shards spiraling into crowd, causing loss of eye to unsuspecting bystanders, screaming “My eye! My eye! The toxic chrome paint chips are burning!” Obviously, a joke, but I watch these XMA children perform, and it worries me that they can do spins and release moves, but not a proper block. I can just imagine these children actually trying to block a swing from a competent artist, and watching in horror as their super-expensive stick gets obliterated. I am a traditionalist- I take my bo in natural finish wood only- no frills needed. The staff is not cool if you suck at using it, no matter how shiny it is. This is a lesson I am reminded of when one Purple People Eaters comes marching across the floor with their bo out horizontally, ends searching to spear anything and anyone in its path. Children with any weapon is a scary notion, but I’d rather them have a bo then some other weapons. But that is another argument for another time.

My latest conquest has been the tonfa. Sleek, light, and practical (if you are a police officer), they are probably the easiest on my hands and have a definite “badass” feel to them. It’s not flashy at all, and it will punish you if you are unskilled (namely, the radial nerve in your arm will punish you when you hit it- numb city). I just wondered if tonfa was a popular XMA weapon, so I went on Youtube. You can see a couple use it, but notice right away that they don’t use the tonfa much. I suppose like the sword, it is rather unkind-looking to those not dedicated to its practical use.

Suddenly I am reminded of the kid that came into our school, looking for sword instruction. The kid bragged that he had trained in fifteen martial arts. The kid wasn’t a day over eighteen, meaning that if he were being truthful, he would have tried and quit a martial art every year of his life since age three. By today’s standards of professional children, I don’t doubt it as a possibility. However, it wasn’t this, or the Nascar-like gi top he wore to class that alarmed us. It was the fact that when unsheathed his sword, you could hear the earth split in two (or at least our eardrums). This cocky brat thought that, because he owned a sword, he could use it. That’s like saying if you have the ability to jump off a cliff, you should- before knowing how deep the water is below (or if there is water). The child was furthermore very offended when Head Sensei told him to “stop toying with that” and did not think he needed any instruction for how to properly draw out the sword. This, Head Sensei counted on, as he wanted no part of this awaiting travesty. The kid did not come back. It’s moments like this I thank Darwin’s Theory of Natural Selection.

Next Week: Friendship kuki-do